#I want him to be yandere too

[iamfujoshiwe]

Unhinged Pete idea:

Imagine Pete being obsessed to Vegas even before the canon timeline. Lets make Pete likes Vegas from the first time he became a bodyguard of the main family.

The reason can be simple love at first sight. Like, Vegas had smiled at him? Or Pete had accidentally stumbled upon Vegas torturing their enemies? Or maybe Pete listened to Vegas talking in english in his smooth voice and Pete just melted all over

At first it was a simple love, or mere idolizing. Vegas is someone he wanted to be. Confident, doesn't care about people's opinion, charismatic, etc etc. When he found out Vegas' relationship with his father he felt even more connection because they basically have the same experience. Overtime he became more and more obsessed to the point of worshipping.

Pete knows all about Vegas. From his personal information, schedule, even his boytoy (sometimes even uses the boytoy himself, bc hey Vegas' leftover is worth it)

He has a few bodyguards and staffs in the minor family blackmailed so he knows Vegas' every move. They even take photos of him too.

Of course he's still the Sweet Pete, Sunshine Pete, unassuming and flat. Not interresting. Not attracting attention. But he's actually very clever. He can keep his obsession secret. He can sneak out of his duty undetected whenever he wants to see Vegas when the man visits main family compound.

Pete often spends his days off stalking Vegas. He has an apartment outside of the main family compound (ofc nobody knows) specifically to collect anything related to Vegas (lighter, used shirt, used bottle of water, etc etc). The walls are full of Vegas' photos taken by minor family bodyguards and ones he's taken himself when stalking him over the years.

A few times when he's lucky, the minor family's bodyguards smuggled him to Vegas' closet in his bedroom. Pete would spent all night staring at Vegas' sleeping form from the gap of his closet, surrounded by his clothes. And Pete swears that was the happiest moment in his life.

Oh and this one time when he sneaked in, Vegas was having a boytoy over. Pete watched Vegas doing the do in bed with his boytoy and Pete imagined himself in the boytoy's place. Pete was so turned on he almost passed out.

Pete has spy camera installed in Vegas' bedroom and in the shower. Let just say that our Pete is so smart that he can tamper with technology that even Vegas doesn't realize there're cameras. The recording is in his appartment. He plays it over and over whenever he's there.

Only Tankhun knows about this. Pete almost killed him for that but realized that the man meant no harm. Tankhun confronted Pete in his own unhinged way and found Pete's obsession hilarious (ooh I love your drama. That devil cousin of mine has a stalker? And he has no idea at all? Good for you Pete! Keep going!)

[choccy-milky]

SHUT UP ABOUT THE DARK ARTS 👊💥

[just-null]

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[cynnkk]

mammon. oh mammon.

since he's competing w/ all the other devils for your attention, he decided to be owned by you, not the other way around.

He opened up and admitted that he fell in love with you at first sight. if you remember, you were resting on his chest when you woke up in the hospital and he spent all that time thinking about how wonderful, breathtaking and powerful you were and what it would feel like for you to own him, for him to belong TO you.

He would be solely and exclusively devoted to you and to your well-being. Mind you, he's not a low level demon: he's the king of Tartaros, the wealthiest kingdom in Hell and everything belongs to him but, as his master, everything will belong to you as well.

The whole thing is new to the both of you but he's resolute: he likes you "just because", not because you're solomon's descendant but because you are you.

You'll come around someday and love him like he loves you. He wants you to surrender to your greed, to take everything from him and he'll accept everything you have to offer: from lovely dates along the tartaros river to long fucking sessions on his throne, he would lap it all up, like the good sub he was always meant to be.

in a world where you are seen as somebody else's stand-in, he's the one asking you to recognise him.

You're his master after all, no one can replace you.

He's yours. you just have to accept it as a fact, because he's not letting you go.

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.

word count ⟢ 963

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3

“Yuu…”  “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”

Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.  

“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”

Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point. 

Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.  

The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves. 

“Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.” 

After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.

Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.

Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.

“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.

Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.

“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”

Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.

“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”

For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”

Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”

The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.

“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.

“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.

He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.

You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.

“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.” 

[downbadmostofthetime]

it sucks being a sunday fan in these trying times because even after the 2.2 story people think that he’s this horrible abusive manipulator who would lock someone in a cage for the rest of their life.

[sanjisboyfie]

yandere zoro headcanons

male reader of course <3 also this is actually a very soft yandere zoro, nothing super duper hardcore...i think

yandere ! zoro . . . just expects you to know that he likes you. it's so annoying. he does the bare minimum and genuinely thinks that's enough for you to know. he's held the door open for you one time and equated that to a love confession. because he's not gonna ever blatantly confess to you, so he does these other minuscule things to get your attention and make it "known" that he likes you.

yandere ! zoro . . . will be at your beck and call. he will do whatever you ask of him. he'll act like its annoying, but he is more than happy to do whatever you ask him. it's undeniably a really sweet gesture that he does, but sometimes he gets really pushy and aggressive with it. the reason why is because he wants you to completely rely on him, even for your own basic needs. he wants to be doing everything for you for the power-trip and control it gives him.

"give it to me," zoro gruffly said, taking the bags from your arms. you were more than capable in carrying the groceries, but zoro took them off your hands. he knew you could handle them, but he felt the need to aid you.

"i am more than capabl-"

"shut up, i'm doing you a favor," zoro rejected your want to carry the bags, shaking his head.

"fine, thanks, zoro." a flash of your gentle smile was enough to send him into a flustered, crimson red blushing state.

yandere ! zoro . . . kind of going hand in hand with ^ that one, zoro would easily kill for you. the amount of dead bodies you'd be responsible for would be uncountable. every single man or woman thats hit on you has - unknowing to you - have been murdered by zoro. he doesn't take people trying to take you away from him lightly. to him its serious enough he needs to take their life. and he has and he will continue to.

yandere ! zoro . . . is very pushy on affections. it may sound out of character, but zoro never thought he'd get lucky enough to find someone like you. so now he's found you, he's gonna be selfish about, as far as he can go.

zoro had a nasty habit of physically taking you away from conversations. it would be out of nowhere - when you're just playing games with chopper and then you're suddenly being thrown over zoro's shoulder. you could try fighting against him all you want, but he easily overpowers you.

and when you're finally dropped onto the crow's nests floor, you berate him, "what's your issue?! chopper and i were talking you know!"

"i know," zoro says, not bothered one bit by your shouting.

"so?" you say expectingly, not enjoying how nonchalant he was being about the whole situation.

"if you're my boyfriend, don't i have the right to spend time with you?"

"i can still have friends though,"

zoro yawned, taking you into his lap and trapping you in hie arms, "come on, let's just sleep. we don't have to keep talking about stupid shit like this,"

"you can't just-"

a hand on the back of your head made you crash into his chest and effectively shut you up, his chest silencing you as you were smothered (suffocated) in it.

yandere ! zoro . . . has two sides of his personality - one he uses with you, and only with you, and then the side he shows everyone else. he never speaks as softly as he does with you as he does with other people. he's hyper aware that he looks intimidating to others, but he goes out of his way to be softer with you. it's sweet, honestly, but it's terrifying to see it happen in real time.

zoro had an arm drapped around your shoulder, simply following in whatever direction you took him to. whenever he saw something that he'd think you'd like, he pointed it out to you with a hidden smile.

"wait, look, do you like it?" zoro gently asked, picking up the ring and examining it in the natural light, "i can get it for you, if you want?"

"but it's pretty expensive-"

"don't worry about it, i can afford it," zoro shrugged, enjoying the way your eyes brightened. if only he could keep that for himself completely, hide you away from the rest of the world.

the two of them walked up to the vendor. zoro's soft smile was wiped away in an instant, looking gruff and annoyed at the man, "this one."

"what a lovely ring, you two are-"

"could you just hurry up? our crew might leave without us," zoro lied, already so annoyed with the innocent man who was just doing his job. you slapped him on the chest, shooting him a look.

seeing the disappointed expression on your face, he faltered in his glare a little bit. and an embarassed blush came onto his face, looking to the side and forcing himself to not glare at the vendor.

the man looked grateful for your intervention, quickly taking the exchange of beri and handing you the ring. a quick thank you left your lips before you walked out of there, zoro in tow.

"you're such an asshole," you murmured in annoyance, shrugging off his arm from your shoulder.

"babe, c'mon, don't-" but he shut up immediately when he saw the look you shot him, a warning look. it worked and he kept quiet the rest of the walk to sunny.

he practically grovelled for forgiveness the rest of the night, only gaining it back when he gently put the ring around your finger and peppered kisses on your face.

yandere ! zoro . . . is really only nice and doting to you - he doesn't give a shit about anyone else but you and makes it known. it earns him a scolding but he needs you to know that everyone that isn't you doesn't even cross his mind. you're the only person he thinks about and will continue to think about - everyone else isn't even worthy of being as important as you are in his head. you are the only thing he cares about, he devotes his entire strength in making it known he is at your disposal.

[bunnygirllover45]

Is Isamu new oc of yours?? I don’t think I have seen him before. Who is he?

He isn't new, I have posted about him before in both of my accounts, he's a background character in my visual novel, but was the mc for a sound novel I made a long time ago (it's in Spanish, and it's buried in a pendrive never to be seen again.) some old drawings of him.

He's just a sad nobody who works as a teacher, hates his job and decides to hyper-fixate on the first person who shows him some semblance of kindness.

[cloudsofteeth]

Wanted to draw more of the skinny freak <3

[kindofatheatrekid]

Soft Yandere! Veteran being pegged! (No. You're not on top.)

How long has it been since I promised a male reader pegging this old dude? Uhhhhh... 😢

How about we not think about that and like- uh- focus that it got done? I have absolutely wonderful pookies that motivated me to finish this so let's all thank my lovely alphas for this! I wanted this to be on kinktober but writer's block and all dat- 😄

This has pegging. Which is in the title. It's clearly NSFW. So like-

MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI.

Alright! Now that that's all said and done! Enjoy fucking this old man!

TWs: overstimulation, condescending behavior towards reader, cum play, nipple play, I think that's it- comment if I forgot something pls-

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

KINKTOBER DAY ONE: TEMPERATURE PLAY

Pleasure. That’s the only thing you could possibly be thinking of right now. With your dick shoved into his ass, yet he was the one in full control of this situation. It didn’t matter that it was your hands on his hips— no. Your hands were just finding a place to grab onto while he rides you like he’s trying to drain you dry of both cum and life. This had to be why he looked like a silver fox, right? Stealing the vitality of the poor youth that got caught in his seductive ways. Which, in this case, was unfortunately and fortunately you. It was so warm inside him, the slowly cooling water only accentuating just how much more warmer he was— both from the soft walls that were clenching onto your dick like a vice, and from his skin. The wrinkled, aged skin that only made him even hotter in your eyes. White mixed with black hair on his arms just like his head.

Your eyes tear up from the sheer euphoria he was giving you, tongue almost shamelessly lolling as your mouth stayed open. If it wasn’t for that familiar, irritatingly enchanting glint in the old man’s eyes— moan after loud moan would have been falling off your kiss-bitten lips by now.

Speaking of lips, the reason for your current dilemma was now sliding his thumb over your bruised lower lip. His other hand goes to caress your cheek, the warmth forcing a groan to slip from you without warning. He notices the drool that threatened to leak, using it to coat your dry lips— dry from the heavy breaths you forced yourself to take as he rode you.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles out as you try to focus a glare on him, pathetically failing due to your vision blurring from the incoming tears. His hips suddenly slam down onto you; a brash, animalistic noise leaving you as you’re buried down to the hilt.

Heaven. This must be what heaven felt like.

Your hands scramble to grab onto his hips, grip almost bruising as if he was the only thing grounding you to reality right now. The almost hypnotic grinding of his groin towards yours not helping with the way your mind wanted to shut down immediately. The cool water, the heat from your combined breaths, the way his hands left trails of fire with every inch they grope your skin— there was just so much for your poor brain to handle.

It honestly felt like you were being used as a dildo with how little work you were doing for maximum pleasure. To be honest, you would happily live your days out as his dildo if that was a choice. His raging hard-on kept on rubbing against your stomach, pre-cum and bath water slick on your skin.

Water droplets dripped down from your hair as you chewed on your lower lip— eyes laser-focused on his cock. His cock that you wanted to touch and feel in your hands. Your left hand lets go of his hip just for it to tentatively stroke his neglected dick; the heat in your palm making you shiver in the water. Thumb slowly tracing circles along the slit of its head, pre-cum continuously dripping down to your wrist and into the already cloudy cold water.

You didn’t want to be the only one losing their head, determined to make him fall into this mindless pleasure you were presently in too. You wanted him to bear himself out like you were doing, to show you the raw, primal instincts that you also had. To the point where manners would be shoved aside, and the two of you would just take and take from each other.

His pace noticeably slows down at the growing pressure of your strokes— hand slowly, yet purposefully, running down his entire length. Fingers smearing the thin fluids along the veined skin, feeling it throbbing in your hands. You could hear the way his heart quickens to the same -if not faster- pace of yours, could see the lust-induced haze in the corners of his eyes.

You use this chance to buck your hips up without warning, relishing in the way his throat hitched. Hand reaching down to squeeze his aching balls that were full of cum ready to be released. Your own cock twitched inside him, not faring better than him— overstimulated, needy, desperate: those were the words that could perfectly describe your deafening thoughts at the moment.

Right when you think that you’ve managed to win this unspoken game between the two of you, his lips curve up into a grin. His eyes held a knowing glint, as if he could read what was exactly on your mind right now— it felt like he was stripping you with his gaze despite your nudity. Crow’s feet deepened while his eyes held an obvious twinkle of mischief.

You should’ve remembered that unspoken games have unspoken rules.

He brings his roughened hands up from the water, skin ice-cold from being in the water for too long. His hands sensually slide up your body -your warm skin prickling from the cold- until they stay on your chest. He could probably feel how hard your heart was pumping right now, wrinkled palm right on top of it. Your eyes meet: calm meeting with panicked, smug meeting with wary.

Rule #1: He’ll always be in charge.

Your back arches when his weathered fingers pinch your nipples— senses confused as warmth floods inside your body, yet everything outside is cold. A gasp-like moan involuntarily leaves your lips, lips formed into an o-shape as your grip on his cock tightens reflexively. A deep groan escaping him as well from the squeeze, cool fingers still refusing to stop as he twisted your nipples almost painfully.

Another, louder, moan is forced out from your vocal cords when his head dips down— lips clamped onto one of your nipples, rough stubble grazing against your wet skin. You couldn’t help but come when his hot tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, teeth grazing against the already tortured skin. Eyes rolled back once again for what felt like the hundredth time. Your other nipple, receiving the same cruel treatment with his icy fingers. He definitely felt when you came; the water significantly more opaque as your cum dripped down his thighs and into the tub you were both in. Your cock still painfully hard in him despite coming just a few seconds ago.

Rule #2: You’re the bitch. Not him.

His eyelashes flutter when he finally releases your nipple from his soft lips, fingers already tweaking it before you could even sigh in relief. Your hand quickly lets go of his cock to grab onto his steel reinforced hips for bearing again— forehead pressed against his chest as you whine for him to stop.

“Why are you moaning, лапочка? I’m the one with your dick in my ass so why are you acting like our positions are reversed, little one?” Fuck. His dirty talk only made you want to beg him for more.

Your moans only get louder as he pulls on your nipples, drool pouring out from your lips like you were a brainless zombie— lips unable to remain closed. Shivers ran across your entire body, body trembling from both the cold and your overused cock. You were sure that you were only shooting blanks by now, every pathetic squirt easily seeping into the cloudy bathwater. You’d need to take a shower afterwards to clean all the come off you.

Rule #3: Don’t ever expect to walk after he’s done.

A choked whimper leaves you when he finally pulls himself off you agonizingly slow, your limbs feeling like jelly by now. You didn’t resist when he brought you into his arms, mind a slurry of contradicting sensations and abused instincts. Your eyelids drooping when he captures your lips in his, the kiss a slow, but careful one— everything he did had a reason and was meticulously planned out. A likely habit from his youth.

“You did so well, Солнце. Such a good boy for me. I’m so proud of you~” He croons out in a heavy voice, peppering kisses all along your face as his scarred hands snake up to your neck— his touch tender as he strokes your warming face. His own, ignored, cock still stiff and raised while he pampered you with the kisses you desperately needed right now. Your voice just whines for more of his attention, arms wrapping around his cold body to pull you closer to him.

The two of you just stay in the chilled bathwater for a moment, clinging onto each other for warmth as your labored breaths become background white noise. His lips trail down to your neck, pressing kisses onto your frigid skin— your breath hitching as his tongue slips out to run a fiery trail of saliva up to your jawline. An almost hissed out groan leaving his lips when he tastes the cold salt on your skin.

His eyes looked practically feral at this point, licking his lips clean of your taste before he crashed his lips onto yours to share what he thought was his own heaven. Swallowing down all your moans and whimpers like a starving man who finally got a feast laid out in front of him.

He reluctantly breaks from the kiss for the both of you to breathe. His hot breaths harsh on your skin as he leans his lips closer to your ear— whispering at a volume where you could only hear even if there was no one else around you two. A little secret that only you would know with him.

“As sweet as ever, Милый.”

Translation:

Солнце = sunshine

лапочка = sweetie pie / cutie

Милый = dear / darling

A/N:

Damn. I honestly didn't think this pegging would win. It was honestly included as both a joke and the consequence of staying up too late for too many consecutive nights... (Y'ALL TORTURED ME. THIS WAS SO HARD TO KEEP THIS OLD MAN'S HOLIER THAN THOU ATTITUDE WHILE BEING RAMMED!!) 😟

There. Y'all got to fuck the old dude. Happy now?? But anyways please comment anything you want me to do. (It'll take time, though. I'm not chat GTP okay?) 😩

Just no vomit, scat, and the works okay? Golden showers are a hell no too. Look. I'm not going to kink shame here, but I cannot write anything like that due to my BOUNDARIES. Non-con, baby trapping, and other dark matters are fine. I love that shit. But yeah. Maybe I'll make another OC, maybe not. It really depends on my mood. 😘

AUTHOR OUT! 😌

[choccy-milky]

hi ik i just sent u an ask and i hate to be a bother but HOW DO YOU DRAW SEBASTIAN'S HAIR

LIKE THIS!!

honestly its different every time but this is the gist of how i do it...i start with his lil ear curl parts, then i do the sweep/bangs, and then add the rest. his hair is chaotic af but HOPE THIS CAN HELP!!

ALSO THANK YOU BAHAHAHA

@sleepingmissingprincess IM GLAD YOU THINK SO!! TY!!💖💖🥹

@strawberrysnmatcha THANK YOU BOTH 💖💖 and i responded to an ask last month about the same thing/my process for writing, you can see my answer here!! ive also talked about my writing methods more than just this time, so if you go back through my asks im sure you can probably find more of my yapping about the subject bahaha. GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR WRITING!!

@foundthatoldzeppelinshirt LMAOOO NOOOOO THIS MADE ME SO STRESSED WHEN I FIRST READ IT BAHAHA now im just imagining if clora's fell out and her and seb only realize once they get home and they have to go looking for it😭😭if only we were drawings and didnt have to worry about it falling out/deal with gravity...😔cuz im with you girl i just keep it on my desk🥰my clora shrine🙏

LMAOOO IM WORKING ON SOMETHING RN, TRUST!!! BUT IF ANYONE HAS ANY YANDERE SEB IDEAS PLS SEND THEM TO ME!!! I NEED MORE!! i want to draw yandere seb but i have like no ideas...im ashamed bc i love yanderes so much....😩😩i gotta go replay my otome games for a reminder...on my switch aka my otome visual novel machine 🥰

[just-null]

are you oka- oh.

[cheesecakethots]

that’s not fair, if i have to dress up, so does uvo. i want him to be a pretty princess too. do his makeup and shit.

i would say i want shalnark to dress up as well but i just know this mf act like he’s doing you huge favor by participating. make it a big deal so he can ask for something later. or he’d just pick two main characters from some hentai that he could not give less of a shit abt. all that matters is that they canonically fuck.

the Virgin Cuck Loser Uvogin who refuses to dress like a pretty princess VS the Alpha Female Shalnark who will dress both you and him up as magical girls

[tv0rog]

more of kinitopet + my take on his humanoid(??) version

gonna make sketches of his friends next

[merakiui]

ALIEN SCARAMOUCHE WITH OVIPOSITION MERA ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 I need more, what would he look like, what are his motivations... Omg... Maybe some kidnapping going on...some experiments on humans...him studying how humans reproduce and if his race can use them... Aaaa my mind is going crazy with ideas, please do share yours too! <3

What if he doesn’t have a form of his own (something that sort of ties into canon Scaramouche’s obsession with wanting a heart and a purpose)? And maybe he’s more like a shadowy mass that can take the form of anything so long as he’s encountered said thing (i.e. made contact with it? Or maybe he has to kill the original in order to take its form? Or it’s something like a reflection where if you happen to look at him long enough he’ll have a good enough idea of how to replicate your form from staring and analyzing it.) and since he’s so dedicated to having a form that really fits, that truly feels like him, he’s continued to adapt and evolve as the years pass throughout every planet in the solar system.

Perhaps he does have a few features of his own, but maybe they’re sort of scattered?? Or they aren’t really features his species is known to have? He’s like a mixture of various things he’s observed over the time he’s spent on your planet in an effort to shape himself into something beyond the formless shadow he’s lived as for so long. Like a patchwork copycat composed of so many different parts because he’s desperately trying to understand all of these things. It’s like his version of trying on clothes and new fashion styles. So maybe he has horns or maybe cat ears because he’s seen so many stray cats and they’ve always fascinated him for some unexplainable reason (maybe in order to have these features he’s had to ingest part of the living thing he wants to replicate??? Just something a little extra horrifying for our beloved alien mouchey. <3) And maybe the only thing he has from the one who created him (Ei) is the same piercing stare in a pair of brilliantly colored eyes she graciously bestowed upon him.

Maybe Scaramouche can’t understand human emotion in the usual sense that other humans might, so he assigns flavors to these unusual feelings. When he hurts the things he likes or is interested in (cats, the human he stole his current appearance from (i.e. Kabukimono; let’s pretend they’re two separate individuals hehe), and even other gentle things or creatures who are completely innocent), the taste in his mouth is sour or bitter or so very intolerable. I think over time he hardens himself and learns to live with the foul flavors he often encounters when he attempts to blend in with humans and utterly fails because he can never replicate their emotions as well as he can copy behaviors or appearances. He starts his journey so curious and sweetly innocent, albeit murderous and eerie, and he tries so hard to learn and be good and explore the world with the eyes his mother gifted him and yet he always finds himself hurting. He hates it. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible, and he has never truly felt before. This is new.

When Scaramouche is captured by Dottore, a human scientist who is a little too dedicated to the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, he finally tastes the cruelty of humankind—learns of the lengths they’ll go to in the name of scientific breakthroughs. The researchers run dozens of tests on him. He can’t feel external or internal pain from wounds or injuries; he’s sturdy, birthed from a substance foreign to humans, intended to survive the harshest conditions. But Scaramouche feels pain—the emotional kind. He’s never felt fear; he’s what humans would call an apex predator. He’s strong. He’s never needed to feel fear, and so he doesn’t fear the unknown. He isn’t scared of the sharp tools, of the peculiar creatures he’s shown in hopes that he might replicate them and their features, nor does he fear the trajectory of this new life. The concept of ethical practices means nothing to him even though he’s aware he’s a lab rat, a grotesque curiosity that doctors poke and prod at. He reacts to everything in unique, defensive ways. He impaled a doctor through the throat with a strange shadowy spike. It moved as though it were liquid, yet it struck very solidly, sharply, deadly efficient. Dottore likens its movements and behaviors to that of an octopus’s tentacle; Scaramouche is unsure of this comparison. This is merely a shadow of something he has observed—a reflection. A cheap copy. He has never been original.

You’re the first human he meets who isn’t adorned in sterile white. No lab coat, no gloves, no goggles, no protective gear. Just clothes. Normal clothes. The both of you are separated by indestructible glass, placed in two very white rooms, and you can see one another so clearly. Scaramouche hates the purity of white because he knows that when he’s forced into a white backdrop he’s meant to stain it red. And lately he doesn’t want to break things that are undeserving of it. Perhaps he’s feeling too much. Perhaps he ought to tear these human feelings out and go back to the blank, shadowy slate he once was. How he intends to accomplish that, he has no idea.

He’s uninterested in you at first. You’re a human. He’s seen humans. He interacts with them daily. He’s killed plenty. But you spend nights in that white room and he watches you sleep. He tries to sleep in the same way you do; he has no need for sleep. He regulates his energy differently. He tries to breathe like you. He blinks at the same times you blink—or he comes awfully close. He tries to copy your movements and mannerisms. One night he presses himself to the glass and takes your form and watches you, counting every rise and fall of your chest as you lie so comfortably on the very uncomfortable cot. With hands that mirror yours, he pokes at these human features. He fits one hand in the other and pretends he’s holding your actual hand. There is no warmth, though. Humans are warm; Scaramouche is not. He’s frigid. His home planet is gloomy and cold and desolate. He thinks humans are lucky for cyclical days—for being in close proximity to the sun. There is no sunshine where he hails from. He likes the way the sun feels on him. It used to burn terribly when he first arrived on this planet. Now it’s like a hug—a hug that still singes, but a hug nonetheless. He’s never known what a hug is, but he thinks this is what it must feel like—like the burning warmth of a sun.

Scaramouche feels true, raw, animalistic, paralyzing fear when you’re taken out of the room after two weeks and replaced with a new human. You’re gone. Replaced. Are you dead? Did he kill you? Did he stare too long? He’s distraught, overcome with a horrifying emotion that has him curled and trembling in the corner of his white room (a cage if he’s ever known one). Why aren’t you here? And why is he so…restless? He can’t call it fear because he doesn’t know that word. But oh he’s scared. He’s so scared. You were the first human to smile at him, to put your hand on the glass where his rested, to sit close to the glass and eat meals alongside him. You were like the stray cats he’s interacted with: kind, soft, gentle, sweet. He’s so scared he loses the ability to remain in his human skin, and he practically melts into a shadow, clinging to the corner like glue or slime. He’s empty and alone. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible.

The humans that follow are terrified of him. Either that or they’re disgusted, baffled, cautious. He hates every one of them, so much so that he’s tried to break through the glass numerous times to dispose of them. Weeks pass; he’s forgetting your features. There are no mirrors here, so he must rely on the reflections shown in the glass. Some days he thinks he looks just like you; other days he’s certain he’s a monstrosity—a sloppily stitched version of you. The you he saw did not have pointed fangs or curling horns. He hates his reflection because it isn’t you. Most importantly, he hates that the humans he’s forced to look at are protected by this thick layer of glass. If it wasn’t so indestructible, he’d tear through every human nuisance until he reaches you.

Scaramouche is not sure how many months pass, but you return. And when you do the fear ebbs away. He feels…happy? Is that the right term? He’s pleased to see you, and for the first time in a while he returns to his human appearance—to the one he took from a young man many centuries ago. You’re back. You’re here. He’s so happy. He detaches himself from his corner and he tries to smile in the way you do. And, though it’s awkward and strange and sharp-toothed, you smile right back.

Dottore decides then that you are to be the next subject in this experiment. He’s observed Scaramouche’s reactions to you and compared them to reactions to the other humans and found that you are the best suited to this role. If anything, the alien couldn’t have picked a better specimen to adore. You’re helpless and so naïve. You need the money; it’s why you allowed yourself to live in that room for a few weeks. You were paid handsomely for it. He’ll pay you beyond handsomely if you agree to what’s next. And, really, when you’re in between a predator’s jaws do you really have much of a choice?

Scaramouche needs a human match, and the scientists need to study more than just the social biology of an alien. They promise you he won’t hurt you, and if he does it’s all right. They’re kind enough to respect the wishes of the dead. You must let Dottore know if you’d prefer a burial or a cremation. There’s nothing special in this distinction; it’s just a precautionary measure. You’ll agree to participate in this experiment whether or not you want to.

Your new home is the white room that faces Scaramouche, and after some more time and observations to ensure you won’t be killed the moment you step foot in his space the glass barrier will be lifted. Dottore wonders how Scaramouche’s kind mates and reproduces.

There’s only one way to find out.

[koukouture]

I didn't know you were also a ffxiv fan!! If you have any thoughts on yandere ffxiv characters, I would LOVE to hear them.

Like, zenos is obvious, but I totally have some thoughts on others 👀👀

YES YANDERES YESYESYESYESSSSSSS

Yandere Haurchefant is hopelessly devoted to you. Sure it's not super different from regular Haurchefant who is Down Bad™ for WOL but I think here it becomes more of an obsession. Is he capable of holding you down? No, you're the Warrior of Light for twelve's sake. He couldn't lock you away if he tried. His resolve? Be around you 24/7. And I MEAN 24/7 365 12 months a year. Bro worships the ground you walk on and I really do think he would have joined the Scions if you know... the Vault didn't happen. Having his devotion might be a blessing or a curse, bc he is NOT letting you out of his sight. Attachment issues fr fr. Honestly I don't think he'd do anything super insane. Like yeah he'd kill for you, but he'd do that normally. And he's not doing it just bc he wants to or whatever. If you're ever threatened or god forbid, hurt- someone is going to taste the steel of his blade. Yandere Haurchefant is just regular Haurchefant with a little added insanity and unhinged-ness. Maybe he's extra horny too, bit of a pervert that one.

Now, Yandere Aymeric is giving me many thoughts thanks to this fic called Captivate so though I am a firm subscriber to the idea that literally only Zenos might be able to lock up WOL, I can also make an exception to Aymeric because of this fic. Please read it this changed my feelings for Aymeric. Though, Aymeric locking you up would also require him to have a sadistic streak, which he doesn't really have and this fic itself also feels like an AU where Aymeric actually caved in and became a piece of shit due to his upbringing. However, my personal idea for Yandere Aymeric is that via his political power, he pushes you to be with him. Of course, he only does this if you reject his advances at first. He would 100% find a way to force you in a semi-political marriage with him. Like I said before, no one can hold WOL down, but, he can keep you on a leash. No matter how long, he can always reel you back in if he wants to. I think he would harbor a bit of guilt personally. Like, he knows it's unhealthy, he knows it's hurting you- but he just wants you so damn bad. And he tries to make it up to you with gifts and whatnot, but at the end of the day, your collar, no matter how gilded and comfortable, is still a collar. And the Lord Commander had the leash.