#Yandere bsd

[heliosunny]

hiii, your work is amazing and I love the way you portrait characters, could I maybe request yan!fyodor with a darling that struggles with self harm? how he would react to it if their darling hurt themselves as a coping mechanism or any other scenario but if it’s too dark you don’t have to write it of course i’ll understand! :)

There's nothing I wouldn't dare to try as long as I find it within reach darling.

Fyodor had always known you were fragile.

It was written in the way you carried yourself, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers twitching when you thought no one was watching. It was evident in the way your gaze would drift, lost in thoughts he could only assume were far darker than you let on.

But he never pried. Not immediately.

Why would he? A master strategist does not rip a secret from its hiding place. He waits, watching patiently, until it reveals itself.

And one evening, it did.

You had been careless. You thought you were alone. A moment of weakness, your sleeves rolled up just a little too far, and he saw.

A glimpse of red, raw skin.

His reaction was not dramatic. There was no sharp intake of breath, no widening of violet eyes in horror. Instead, he merely observed, head tilting ever so slightly, as if studying a fascinating piece of art.

"My love… what have you done?"

His voice was soft. Almost fond.

You flinched. Quickly, you yanked your sleeve down, but it was too late. His gaze had already captured you, held you prisoner in his quiet amusement.

You had seen many expressions from Fyodor, mockery, arrogance, that soft smirk when he was toying with someone before their inevitable downfall.

But this smile? This was different.

"You hurt yourself" he mused, stepping closer, hands still calmly tucked behind his back. "And yet, you try to hide it from me. How cruel, my dear."

"It’s not important."

His head tilted further, as if humoring you. "Not important?"

You didn’t answer. And that was fine. He already knew what came next. He never forbade you from doing it. No, that would be too simple, too obvious. Fyodor was far more patient than that.

Instead, he made you question it yourself.

"Tell me, my love…" he began one evening, seated comfortably in his chair as you stood across from him. His violet eyes flickered with quiet amusement. "Does it help?"

The way he spoke made you hesitate. He wasn’t mocking you. He wasn’t disgusted. If anything, he sounded… curious.

You swallowed. "Sometimes."

His lips curled in a thoughtful smile. "I see. You inflict pain upon yourself, yet the relief is fleeting. A temporary solution for a permanent suffering, no?"

You looked away.

"Then… why not something more effective?"

Your brows furrowed, confused. "What do you mean?"

Fyodor reached for your hand, gently, effortlessly. His fingers traced over your knuckles before flipping your palm upward.

"If pain is what soothes you" he murmured, "why not let me be the one to grant it?"

He did not hurt you, no. He merely suggested, the way a devil offers a deal—so tempting, so logical, that you could almost convince yourself it was your own idea.

"Wouldn’t it be easier, my dear? To leave such things in my hands?" His voice was velvet, wrapping around your ribs, coiling into your lungs.

"I could make it so much simpler for you."

You yanked your hand away.

"That’s— That’s not why I do it."

His laughter was soft. Patient.

"Oh? Then why?"

You hesitated.

Because you couldn’t answer. Not really.

-----

You hadn’t meant to meet him.

It was a brief moment, an accident born from circumstances neither of you controlled. You had merely been outside, alone for the first time in what felt like forever, when the infamous Dazai Osamu happened to cross your path.

His sharp brown eyes took you in too quickly, and you knew—he saw.

"Ah," he hummed, tilting his head. "I know that look."

Your breath caught. "What?"

"The look of someone trying very hard to pretend they’re fine."

It was… strange. He spoke so easily, as if he had known you for years.

For the first time, someone looked at you and didn’t try to control, didn’t try to manipulate. Dazai wasn’t kind, necessarily, but he was familiar. He understood in a way no one else had.

And for some reason, before you could stop yourself—you told him things you never told Fyodor.

You shouldn’t have.

Because Fyodor found out.

"You met Dazai."

His voice was calm.

You turned, heart hammering. He sat in his usual chair, fingers laced together, expression unreadable.

But you knew him well enough to recognize the shift in the air.

A quiet threat, veiled beneath his usual serenity.

"And?" you challenged, forcing yourself to stand your ground.

His lips curved. "And you spoke to him."

You didn’t respond.

"Why?"

A simple question. But one that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

"It was nothing important."

His gaze softened, and for some reason, that was worse.

"Ah… my love." He sighed, shaking his head. "You wound me."

He stood, approaching you with unhurried steps.

"I thought we had an understanding."

Your breath quickened.

"Do you not trust me?" he continued, voice gentle. "Do you believe I cannot soothe you in the way you need?"

You shook your head. "That’s not it—"

"Then why turn to him?" His fingers brushed against your cheek, a lover’s touch masking a noose tightening around your throat.

You clenched your fists. "It was a mistake."

"Yes," he agreed. "A mistake."

His gloved fingers trailed down your arm, slow, deliberate—until they reached your wrist. His grip remained featherlight, but you knew he could break you if he wished.

"You understand why I cannot allow that again, don’t you?"

You nodded.

"Good girl."

And somehow, in that moment, you felt guilt.

Not because you had spoken to Dazai.

But because Fyodor had endured it. Had been patient with you, despite your transgressions.

Your lips parted, and before you could stop yourself—the words slipped out.

"I’m sorry."

His smile widened.

And just like that, the web wrapped tighter around you.

Because now, you were the one apologizing to him.

At first, Fyodor’s patience seemed unchanging. He remained soft-spoken, ever indulgent, a shepherd gently guiding you back into his arms. But something felt different. A shadow in the way his fingers lingered when he touched you. A weight in his gaze, as if he were waiting for something inevitable.

You thought you were imagining it.

Until one night, when you woke to find yourself not alone.

A dim candle flickered on the bedside table.

And Fyodor sat at the edge of the bed, watching you with violet eyes that gleamed in the low light.

"Did you think I wouldn’t know?"

Your blood ran cold. "Know what?"

His smile was faint.

"You tried again."

No... You had been careful. You had waited until you were alone, ensured that no trace of your actions could be found. Yet now, beneath the thin fabric of your sleeve, you felt the sting of fresh wounds.

He knew.

Before you could react, his hand latched onto your wrist.

His grip was like iron.

"Shall I see it for myself, then?" His voice was still calm, but there was something new beneath it. Something dark.

"L-Let go."

His fingers didn’t loosen. If anything, they tightened, fingertips digging into your pulse. You felt it. His power.

"You are testing me, my dear" he murmured, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

"I have been patient. I have been kind. But tell me—must I truly remind you of what happens when my patience runs out?"

You opened your mouth—then froze as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from your ear.

"Shall I break something this time?"

"W-What?"

His grip on your wrist shifted, slowly, deliberately bending it just enough for you to feel the hint of tension.

"If you are so intent on hurting yourself," he whispered, "then allow me to do it for you."

The unspoken implication struck you like ice-cold water.

He wasn’t saying he would kill you.

But he would make you regret it.

"Perhaps a broken bone?" His fingers trailed up your arm, slow and deliberate. "Or maybe I should take something away instead. Hm?"

His free hand moved to your throat, thumb pressing lightly, just a whisper of pressure.

"Would you like to learn how fragile you truly are?"

Terror gripped you, drowning out everything else.

"Stop" you whispered, voice barely audible.

He sighed, as if disappointed. "Then stop making me remind you."

And just like that, his grip vanished. His hands fell away, and suddenly, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

The only evidence of his warning was the lingering ghost of his touch and the way your pulse thundered in your ears. Fyodor straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat.

"I do hope," he murmured, "that I won’t have to repeat this lesson."

And with that, he was gone, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls.

And you sat there, heart hammering, mind spinning, body frozen in place, realizing just how close you had come to something you could never undo.

You had seen patience. Now, you had seen the edge of it.

[lavandulawrites]

I was waiting for someone to request him🤭

Whenever you are out of his reach, his mood sours and the only things that fall from his mouth are either annoyed grunts, snarky remarks or biting comments. He becomes a pain to be around and the dark cloud that envelops him is quick to sour anyone’s mood.

When you come back to him, he is quick to pull you in to a tight embrace as it’s almost like he wants to cage you within his arms for eternity. His face burrows into your neck as he inhales your sweet scent.

If he were to get his will, you would never ever part from him. And who knows, maybe he will make that reality sooner or later…

Give me a character and I will give them a random headcanon

[n0cturnalcm]

The Two-faced Secretary.

[suiana]

(Any yandere x gn reader)

He knew what he was doing when he told you no. He knew what he was doing when he forbid you to meet your friends. He knew what he was doing when he locked you in his house. He knew it was wrong. He knew. He knew he shouldn't do it. He always knew.

But oh... Why did it feel so good to have you all to himself? Why did it feel good to lock you in his house, him providing everything for you? Why did it feel absolutely amazing when you finally gave in and loved him back?

It shouldn't have felt so good. It really shouldn't, not when it was so wrong.

But it doesn't matter anymore. After all, he really only did it because he loved you. And he still does! He adores every aspect of you! Plus you love him back! So he supposes it's not so bad. I mean, you love him back, don't you? He only did it for you. So you understand, right?

Of course you do! You're his after all. All his. And you know better than to break his heart.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Yandere Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

Permission to repost was granted by the artist.

[ghostsy]

Stay

YANDERE x READER

WARNINGS: yandere, implied imprisonment, a lil angsty

read at your own discretion.

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“Don’t leave me.”

The arm wrapped around her middle tightened, squeezing the remaining air from her lungs. But she stifled her discomfort; he would only ever reprimand the feeling. 

“I won’t.”

It had been like this for a while now; where he crawled into bed at night, oftentimes after he made sure to thoroughly bed her, and wrapped himself around her like a child–an overgrown child with strength that could snap her in half if he so chose. But a child nonetheless.

The whining was new, though. 

“I’m serious,” He rasped, breath tickling against her hair, “Don’t you ever leave me.” 

As if it were her choice. She was silent for a moment; what response could she give that would assuage his paranoia, or more pertinently, spare her the consequence of his rage? 

“I’d die,” He continued, lips brushing her ear, “I’d kill everyone, and then I’d die.”

“You won’t die,” She sighed out the words, trying and failing to stamp down her building annoyance, but self-preservation won out in the battle against her own emotions, “I’m here, so you won’t die.”

She felt his heartbeat speed where his chest pressed against her, “No,” He curled deeper into her if it were even possible, face pressed to the crook of her neck, “But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?”

Before she could respond, she felt wetness on her skin. Was he crying? “Bet you dream about it,” She’d never seen him cry before, never seen a chink in the armor, “Leaving me here to rot.” She didn’t like the uncomfortable burn in her chest as she listened to the shuddering breaths behind her. It had to be pity. Of course, it was pity.

“That’s okay, you can dream,” The rasp of his voice made even deeper with the cracks in his words, “You can dream all you want, so long as you’re here with me when you wake,” Before she could even consider her actions, she was turning in his arms. Or struggling to, only succeeding as he lessened his iron grip when he was sure she wasn’t trying to leave. 

His eyes were wide when she was face to face with him, no doubt surprised she’d chosen to be closer to him of her own free will. He was handsome, with a devastating kind of beauty to the lines of his face. She always thought it cruel, a handsome monster she was chained to forever. 

“I don’t,” She breathed, lips uncomfortably close to his own, “Want you to die, I mean. I don’t want it.” She wasn’t sure if she was lying, but the words had the opposite effect she’d intended.

His brows furrowed in the way they usually did before red hot anger took control, but the night was full of surprises, it seemed, because this heat was only directed at himself.

“You should,” He spat, the arm at her waist squeezing so harshly she couldn’t help but wince. He weakened his grip immediately upon notice, "You should hate me," And she saw what she could only call self-disgust swimming in his eyes.

“Yes, I should,” The words spilled out before she could stop them, but this moment between them felt it was owed honesty, promised safety. 

“I’d still love you if you did,” It was a breathless confession, and he pressed his forehead against her own, eyes closed, “No matter what, I would still love you,” He made it sound like an apology, like he knew his love was a torture he’d inflicted on her without reprieve. 

“That’s stupid.” She sighed out the words, but her hand came to rest at his cheek, nearly admiring. Admiring the unbelievability of his vulnerability. 

“Yeah,” He huffed out a low laugh between the unsteady breaths, and turned to press a kiss to her palm, “It is kind of stupid.”

There was a sort of finality to the words. Because in the end, his cruelty masked as love, stupid as it was, was not something either of them could escape. It was a painful realization that he hadn’t just trapped her in a cage, but locked her into his own.

Her fingers traced patterns along his jaw, and their eyes met in the low light of the early morning hours. Maybe when the sun rose he’d return to the monster she knew, and she would only have this moment as a memory with a man she thinks she could have loved. She’d take a moment.

Slowly she inched forward, and his breath hitched, fingers flexing where they rested against her skin. Before she could connect them she froze, considering, hesitating, rethinking. But he took the opportunity, and pressed forward, lips uncharacteristically soft against her own, before retreating nearly as quickly. A stolen kiss. Unbearably cruel in its deceptive innocence. 

“Just tell me,” He whispered it like a secret, “Tell me you’ll stay with me.”

“I will.”

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Couldn't pick just one character, but had a few in mind:

BNHA: Bakugou, Shinso, Todoroki Shoto

JJK: Yuta, Megumi

Blue Lock: Nagi, Rin

Haikyuu: Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo

BSD: Dazai, Chuuya

[theanimeoftheblackbunnymask]

Can we just take a moment and acknowledge how much of a mind fuck it would be to be Dazai's darling during his Port Mafia days, and continuing to be his darling after he joins the ADA.

After writing for ADA! Dazai, I came to the realization how similar but different those two versions of Dazai are.

PM! Dazai is a lot more unhinged, manipulative, and apathetic towards his darling.

ADA! Dazai gives you suprising amount of freedom, but not PM! Dazai! This man will drag you everywhere with him, and he's forced you to witness some pretty traumatizing shit.

You once saw him brat a man half to death because they fucked up on a mission. Afterwards, his eyes remained dead and lifeless. His words completely contradicted his eyes, he'd joke and comfort you, but his eyes told another story. The lack of care, the lack of concern, the lack of life.

If you start off as PM! Dazai's darling, when he joins the ADA, it's like a complete tone shift. Suddenly you have so much freedom. You can have friends again, and have a job? But, since you were with PM! Dazai for so long, it's a complete mind fuck. You assume it's a joke, another one of his test, but no. He will genuinely let you go to the mall by yourself.

The sudden change in behavior will most likely cause yiu to have a panic attack in public. There has to be a trick somewhere, there has to be. You were so used to PM! Dazai, the Dazai that would pull at you hair and yell at you until you cried just for making a simple mistake, and then apologize and beg for you forgiveness afterwards, the Dazai that wouldn't let you be alone at all, the Dazai that would snap at random and make you pay the price, the Dazai that knew exactly what to say and do to make you feel or act a certain way.

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Can you do a mute S/O with Jouno, Chrollo, Feitan, Inumaki and Gojo?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, isolation, abduction

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Mute s/o

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖​Words aren't the only way for a human to communicate. Over years of a harsh life Chrollo has learnt to read the language of one's body as fluently as he does with his books. This makes the situation for you a lot easier as he is always able to tell from one single glance at your body how you're currently feeling, one look from you enough to convey what you are unable to express in words. Always harboring an interest to learn about everything he doesn't know, Chrollo quickly learns how to use sign language for you so that you can communicate with him by using it. The Phantom Troupe actually makes an effort to learn the language as well since you're Chrollo's darling though with mixed results. Still, he gifts you a beautifully wrapped notebook in which the two of you often write in to talk to each other and once one is full he gifts you a new one but still keeps the old one as he likes skimming through the pages and reread the many dialogues the two of you had with each other, no matter how insignificant they may be. If you should have selective mutism and talk very rarely as a result of it Chrollo would be utterly captivated whenever you softly speak up, longing to keep your voice for himself.

Feitan Portor

☠️​Now, Feitan loves torturing people and for that can read it very well when people are anxious or in pain yet that doesn't mean that he always understands why. That proves to be troublesome as soon as he has you within his captivity as he is able to realise when something is wrong with you but he isn't always able to tell what it is you need and that gets on his nerves quickly. He relies on messages and texts typed on the phone to communicate with you as it is the easiest and fastest way for you to give him an answer. At the very least you aren't noisy though and annoy him in his daily life as you remain quiet, the silence between the two of you so thick that one would be able to cut it with a knife. Feitan's sadism is a huge burden for you though, especially when he finds himself longing to hear something from you. It doesn't have to be a word, just a sound from you. A sound of pain, coupled with those exciting squirms of your body as you're subdued to his torture. Whether you're actually incapable of forming words or are selectively mute ultimately doesn't matter to him, most of the time he appreciates things the way they are between you two.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​Able to pick up emotions due to his enhanced hearing, Jouno is able to understand what is going in within you quite well though perhaps he isn't what you hoped the person who would understand you wordlessly to be like. The worries you have aren't unjustified because Jouno doesn't emphasise with your feelings even though he is able to pick them up. Instead he uses them against you to mold you into the obedient person he would like you to be. Most frustrating of all is that he tortures you by not allowing you any paper or even a phone which you could use to communicate with someone else. He wouldn't be able to talk to you by using such methods after all as he is blind. Deep down, though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he is secretly angry that you are able to communicate with others all whilst he is only able to read you and it is one of the main reasons why he forbids others to talk to you by using other methods. If you are actually able to talk but are selectively mute Jouno is not someone you can expect patience from. Insensitive and cruel, he considers your problem stupid. He doesn't want you to talk to everybody but he expects you to talk to him.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​Gojo proves to be quite conflicting with his obsession due to your mutism. Communicating with others starts to become significantly harder as Gojo's possessive and clingy antics interfere with your daily life. This leaves you with no choice but to turn to him though to your surprise you notice quickly that he learns fast how to understand you wordlessly without you having to use your phone. He already has experience with Inumaki after all and quickly teaches himself how to use sign language as well to be able to communicate with you just in case the electronic devices shouldn't work. Your silence leads to him being more protective over you though since you aren't able to verbally express yourself which tends to lead people to misunderstand you. Whenever you two are in a crowd he has a tight grip on your hand to not lose you though his Six Eyes would be able to find you quickly even if you somehow should escape his hold. Whenever someone approaches you or talks to you he always takes over the conversation for you which only worsens your social skills over time. Even if you should still be able to speak he won't let anyone besides himself hear your voice.

Inumaki Toge

🗣️​His friends always joke that the two of you are really meant to be as both of you are unable to talk normally. Both of you still make the best out of it despite those obstacles though and Inumaki, normally on a more reserved side, starts being more expressive with his body language, hand gestures as well as his facial expressions so that you can understand him better as well. Even when he sends you a message on your phone he starts using more emojis to give everything more emotions. During your relationship the two of you actually come up with a new secret language between the two of you and it tightens the bond the two of you share as now you're able to communicate in front of others without them being able to decipher what the two of you are saying. It's not a new experience for him to be made fun of due to his inability to speak by others but if you should experience the same treatment he doesn't tolerate it as he would normally, standing up for you whilst you might be unable to do so for yourself. In case you are able to talk he'd be really happy the moment you grow comfortable enough to talk to him even if you should stutter or mumble your words.

[literatureloverx]

Mdni, ideal type! fem!reader x Dazai Osamu, VERY LONG AND DETAILED, platonic relationships such as: Odasaku, Atsushi, Kunikida, Chuuya and Sigma are briefly mentioned, Yandere behaviour, unhealthy behaviour, psychological disorders and suicide/double suicide mentioned.

DAZAI’S MASTERLIST => HERE

I really enjoyed writing for Dazai; he holds a special place in my heart. 🩵 I also received a request about PM!Dazai’s ideal type, and I’ll post it someday. 🩵

Dazai’s ideal type

Dazai is a complex and enigmatic figure, who can be described as a romantic—though not in the conventional sense of actively seeking love and connection.

Instead, he romanticizes the idea of meaningful connections. What does this mean?

Dazai is known to suffer from depression and harbors a deep desire to end his life.

However, he doesn’t wish to do so alone. He fantasizes about dying with a “beautiful woman” in a double suicide, which is inherently romantic.

This desire echoes tragic love stories like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony, where love and death are intertwined.

This suggests that Dazai may deeply fantasize about love and being loved—perhaps even yearning for someone who loves him so much that she would sacrifice her life for him.

But why would someone wish for a double suicide in the first place?

Dazai sees no purpose in life, a perspective not commonly shared by others.

This makes it likely that his ideal partner would be someone who not only values life but is also grateful for what she has—because Dazai is only truly comfortable when he is surrounded by such people as Atsushi, Kunikida, Chuuya (debatable), and even Sigma.

He needs to learn this perspective to find his own meaning in life.

She would possess a sweet, positive spirit but would still be able to fully grasp Dazai’s bleak outlook, his feelings, and his philosophy—or the lack thereof.

Dazai might be drawn to a partner who is calm, patient, and nurturing.

Given his often childish behavior, it’s possible that he never had the chance to experience love in a normal, healthy way during his childhood.

We know little about his upbringing, but it’s clear he lacks any emotional connection or attachment to his parents.

Dazai is deeply wounded, depressed, and feels empty—though the reasons remain unclear.

The only person Dazai has truly loved, and who loved him in return, seems to be Odasaku.

So what makes Odasaku so special? What traits does he possess that Dazai might seek in a partner?

Odasaku was always calm and patient with him, seeing through Dazai’s lifeless eyes and empty heart.

He recognized Dazai's pain, suggesting that “someone needs to rip that pain out of this child’s chest.”

What if Dazai's ideal partner is someone who embodies these comforting and meaningful qualities, loving him unconditionally?

I believe this to be the ultimate solution to many aspects that trouble Dazai.

Teenage Dazai, in particular, strikes me as more of a “puppy” than the “cat” he becomes as an adult—craving affection and warmth.

He needed someone who cared for him, and that someone was Odasaku. His partner should be able to do the same.

Dazai might love a calm partner who can handle his antics but also sees through them without violating his comfort zone or coping mechanisms.

She would understand his inner darkness but wouldn’t fear it—instead, she would embrace it with a loving demeanor.

She would be confident, but in a strangely shy and quiet way.

She would be someone who is at peace with herself, someone who is inspirational to others.

She would accept him as he is and believe in him, helping him to become the best version of himself.

This is why Dazai is so fond of Atsushi.

Atsushi is empathetic, having suffered himself, and he embraces Dazai with unconditional love.

If Dazai were to meet a woman who could offer the same understanding and compassion, it’s hard to see why he wouldn’t be saved.

Dazai feels responsible for Atsushi, and it gives his life a certain meaning he doesn’t truly grasp yet.

If he felt the same responsibility for someone much closer to his heart—his lover—it would have a profoundly positive effect on him.

Regarding physical traits, Dazai doesn’t seem overly concerned with them.

However, he has expressed a preference for “beautiful” women, as seen in his desire to commit double suicide with one.

While physical beauty might not be his top priority, he likely appreciates aesthetically pleasing women.

Dazai claims to like all women, but I can imagine him being drawn to a feminine, quiet, and insightful young woman.

This woman would possess an innate ability to sense others’ emotions and motivations, her sensitive and calm nature allowing her to do so effortlessly.

She would be observant, with her beauty often leading others, including Dazai, to underestimate her at first.

And yet, it would be as if she could read his mind and heart—something deeply uncomfortable for someone as guarded and inflexible with his own vulnerability as Dazai.

Interestingly, some of these traits might also make her an ideal partner for Fyodor.

However, while Dazai and Fyodor are alike in some aspects, they differ in others.

Fyodor’s ideal type might align with Dazai’s, but with less submissiveness and more approachability.

Does it ring? The drama that might approach?

Let me summarize: In terms of personality, Dazai has a soft spot for empathetic and loving people.

Therefore, he would undoubtedly adore a darling who is very empathetic, sensitive, and kind.

I don’t see him having a specific preference for body type—short, tall, curvy, or skinny; it doesn’t matter to him.

He will always find a way to appreciate your body in every sense, as this is simply part of who Dazai is. You shouldn’t be surprised by that.

I can see Dazai taking a liking to long hair (similar to Fyodor), as it emphasizes femininity.

He might particularly favor wavy or curly hair because it gives a more approachable, sweet, and innocent appearance compared to straight or short hair.

This style implies youth and an ethereal quality, which aligns perfectly with Dazai’s romanticism.

Skin color, as well as hair and eye color, wouldn’t matter to him at all.

In his mind, he would view you, his love, as aesthetically ethereal and one of a kind.

Your features would be etched into the canvas of his mind's eye, surrounded by fitting backgrounds and colors.

With you, he would find solace, love, and acceptance, as well as the meaning in life he has been desperately searching for.

You don’t need to match his intellect or mastermind abilities; he cherishes those around him who don’t possess these qualities, and he doesn’t look down on them.

What he needs is someone empathetic enough (like Oda [ in his case platonically]) to love him unconditionally and sincerely, without judging him—someone who would guide him to the light without expecting anything unnatural or selfish in return.

However, his darling would need to be mentally strong and willing to share his burdens.

This is difficult to do and would only work with true, pure love, which is why Dazai needs someone who loves him unconditionally.

I don’t see Dazai manipulating his darling because he doesn’t manipulate or control the people he cherishes. Instead, he trusts them.

This would be the case with his darling as well. He would trust her, and this trust would be a choice that greatly benefits his well-being.

You would need to bring brightness to his life—love, warmth, connection, and compassion—balancing out his dark inner world.

He would be astonished when he realizes how deeply you love him without being manipulated, how pure your feelings are, and how you seem to see his soul and accept him as he is (much like Fyodor).

Your dedication to helping him improve, because you see the light and potential in him, would touch him deeply.

To you, he is human, and you wish to help him see that too. He loves you for it, so, so much.

Once Dazai recognizes this, he would never, ever let you go.

He might fear losing you or worry that you deserve better, but he would be too selfish to let you be with anyone else.

This would make him fiercely protective of you, even as he tries to maintain his enigmatic self, playing it off with his usual clinginess.

But of course, you would see right through this and reassure him that you’ll always be there for him, protecting him from anyone and anything else, even from himself.

In return, he would protect you, love you, and obsess over you—affectionately.🩵

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[0asisbliss]

Thinking about a virus that’s spreading around making anyone who gets it fall deadly in love with anyone they had a crush on. Oh shit does it suck for you. Depending on who it might be. You might be locked up in a basement quicker than ever, you might witness murders dedicated to you, maybe your smothered and suffocating in their love for the rest of your life, or maybe they’re nice and watch you from a distance. The minute you catch their eye who knows what they might do to you.

L Lawliet, Light, Matsuda, (DN) Luffy, ACE, Law, Sanji, Shanks, (OP) Ranpo, DAZAI, Chuuya, (BSD) Aizawa, All might, Present Mic, (MHA) Shalnark, Uvogin, KURAPIKA, Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shizuku, Illumi, (HXH) Giyuu, Sanemi, Gyomei, MUZAN, (KNY) Gojo, SUKUNA, Geto, or your fav.

[after-witch]

To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Title: To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Synopsis: Over the past few months of your pregnancy, you’ve never been sweeter to Chuuya. Little does he know that for every smile you’ve given him, you’ve stashed away something for your escape. 

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader is pregnant, abusive behavior  (chains, restrictions, food control, etc)

Life in this shut-up penthouse was never exactly invigorating--but over the past few months it has become unbearable. And that unbearable, stifling heaviness weighing you down every single day has taken its toll in more ways than one. 

It’s made you feel like you’re going to lose it at any moment. It’s made you feel like you’d rather be anywhere than here.

You want to get out.

Chuuya had rules for you, of course, when he first started keeping you here. They came slow--a leash that tightened before you realized it--and sure. 

But now, with your belly swollen and growing bigger by the day, he’s completely taken control. 

You’re not allowed to go outside, even with Chuuya, even surrounded by bodyguards ready to take a bullet or unload them into any would-be assassins. Those brief bouts of fresh air were one of the few bright spots in your life, now blotted out from Chuuya’s paranoia of losing you. 

You’re not allowed to use your exercise bike or take a swim in the heated indoor pool tucked in the basement. It doesn’t matter how much you argue that you should be exercising for the sake of your health, because Chuuya says he does let you exercise. According to him, anyway.

He only lets you do the mildest--and you do mean mildest--of aerobic exercises in the pool. Only under supervision, and the moment you look like you want to start leaning into the water and getting in a nice backstroke, Chuuya orders you out and you’d best comply if you ever want to see the pool again for the next 2 years.

You’re not allowed to eat whatever you want, even when your cravings feel like they’re going to eat you from the inside out. He doesn’t starve you, no, no, no. But you can’t have a big juicy cheeseburger topped with bacon and a side of onion rings, a heavenly concoction that makes you drool just to think of it. 

If you must have a burger, and it’s a big if--Chuuya allows you to eat a made-from-scratch ground turkey burger with low fat cheese and a side of mashed sweet potato (no butter, no extra salt!) all courtesy of the well-trained personal chef Chuuya hired to live in the building. 

They’re the reason you are eating three square meals and two snacks a day, and the reason each and every meal is perfectly designed to eat every nutrition goal. Everything you eat is always nutritious and sure, the food isn’t disgusting… but it’s not fucking fair, is it, that you can’t just eat what you want when you want. 

Chuuya insists you eat only the best of foods. He makes sure every meal comes with a little cup of medicine--prenatal vitamins and anything else the doctor thinks will help keep you safe during your pregnancy. 

He doesn’t let you run around or fret or clean or do much of anything at all. He doesn’t want you to exert yourself, he says. You can’t eat what you want or do what you want or go where you want. 

It’s all too much.

You fought at first. You argued. You pleaded. But it didn’t do anything but make Chuuya tighten his hold on you.

And that’s why you accept his rules now with the utmost of patience and sweetness that you can muster. Oh, you haven’t given in. You aren’t meekly submitting to Chuuya and agreeing that he surely knows what’s best for you.

You’re just biding your time for the day when you can get the hell out of here.

Besides, you needed a little bit of freedom if you were going to escape. And a little bit of freedom was all you were going to get.

Early on in the pregnancy, Chuuya kept you locked in the bedroom when he was away because you fought him too much. A chain around your ankle kept you from even trying to get out the bedroom door.

Yes, you were given food by a stoic bodyguard throughout the day and it wasn’t like you were left to fend for yourself, but still. It would be impossible to leave if you were stuck in the bedroom all day.

Now, though, Chuuya lets you walk around the penthouse when he’s gone. He allows the chef to premake some of your meals so that you can microwave them if he’s not here to feed you; you can watch a movie in the living room or take a nap on your shared bed or whatever you’d like, as long as it’s quiet and calming. 

Because you’re good, and you’ve behaved, and you let him do what’s best for you. 

It’s not a lot of freedom. But it’s enough to give you the chance to start stashing away supplies for your escape; it’s enough to give you the perfect moment to pretend to fall asleep on the sofa before Chuuya leaves one day, so you can look just in time to see the passcode he enters on the electronic lock attached to the front door.

It’s enough to put you on the path towards freedom. 

--

Chuuya paces back and forth so rapidly that you’re starting to feel a bit dizzy. There’s a framed picture of flowers--your favorite--on the wall behind him, and you focus on that to keep yourself steady. Chuuya… flowers… Chuuya… flowers. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. I could send someone else for this.”

“Chuuya.” 

“Or I can send one of my guards to stay in the apartment while I’m gone. Just to be safe? Shit, I don’t know.” 

“Chuuya.”

“Fuck it, I’ll call it in, I’m not going--”

“Chuuya.”

He stops, and you take the opportunity to step forward and grasp both of his hands in yours. You pull them against your chest and watch as his expression goes from agitated and fretful to sweet, almost puppy-love. Every time you touch him without being told, it’s like you can see a sweet light spark in his eyes. Too bad you lost your spark a while ago. 

“Go,” you say, soft and sweet and so fake you wonder that he can’t see through it. “I’ll be fine. The building’s being guarded, and the door will be locked.” The tension begins to melt from his shoulders, and you continue. “Just come home safe, all right?”

His frown holds for only a moment more, then it splits into a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah… You’re right.” He lifts his hands, taking yours with them, so that he can press a short kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be back in the early morning--don’t wait up for me, you two need your sleep. Got it?”

We won’t be here when you get back, you think. “I know. We’ll go to bed early,” you say. 

And then you lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, your stomach brushing against him as you do. 

He expects a kiss whenever he leaves and you’re almost happy to give it, tonight, because you know it will be the last one he ever gets from you. 

--

You don’t act right away. You’re not stupid. It’s about 2 hours after he leaves that the plan is ready to set into motion. In the meantime, you’ve read and reread the same page of your book a thousand times; sweat has begun to cling to your back as your eyes dart from the page to the clock. 

The sensation of your stomach in knots is equaled only by the frenzy of activity inside your belly--you swear they can sense what’s going on. Can they feel how your heart has begun to race? Can they tell that your muscles are tense? That your ears are strained, listening for the sound of his footsteps, in case he changed his mind?

You’re thankful that you’re not alone when you finally retrieve your bag from its hiding spot. You’ve got supplies. Some cash, food, a few water bottles. Underwear, clothes--yours and the babies--and some of the baby things Chuuya has already picked up. A blanket, a package of bottles, in case he doesn’t take to the breast.

It’s not a lot. But it will be enough to get you through to safety and freedom, and that’s all that really matters.

The bag shifts on your shoulders as you stand at the door, heart pounding, breath coming in short puffs. The guards outside the door are doing their rounds--back and forth, stopping in front of the front door of the penthouse and again at the door of the elevator just a few steps away, then going round the corner to complete a circle. 

It takes them 15 seconds to walk down the hallway once they walk away from the elevator. And you have about 60 seconds to get from the front door into the elevator before they come back. Maybe 90 seconds, maybe 2 minutes, if they stop to chat. They don’t do that with any regularity, so it’s impossible to plan for it. So you don’t. 

Instead, you count, one hand on your belly, one hand poised above the numbers on the electronic lock. It makes a noise so you have to wait to just… the right… time…

Now.

Despite all of the careful planning that went into this, as soon as your fingers press the code in, all thinking seems to cease. You are running on pure instinct. The door opens and you don’t even look to make sure the guards aren’t there, instead you fly right to the elevator door and push down.

It could all go wrong here. If someone is in the elevator, if someone is coming up from the floors, if the elevator didn’t return to the top after Chuuya left.

But the door has mercy and opens right away, and you rush into it, almost tripping over the threshold. Your finger trembles onto the close door button and it shuts. You don’t hear shouts. You don’t hear panic.

They didn’t see you.

Timing, again, is everything. You press the fifth floor so that the elevator will stop there long enough for the guards at the bottom to--you hope, you hope, you hope, if you timed it right--be around the corner as well. But there’s no telling if your timing is correct here. Maybe they don’t leave the doors at all, on the bottom floor. Maybe there are more guards, maybe they take shifts. All these maybes ball up in your stomach and take the air out of you as the elevator reaches the ground floor and opens.

You rush out without looking, but no one is there. You’re at the private back entrance and you don’t waste time thinking about how lucky you are or what to do next; you simply push yourself out the door and begin to run down the street.

It doesn’t take long for your feet to hurt. The house slippers Chuuya gives you are not meant for concrete, not meant for uneven sidewalks where people occasionally drop glass bottles and cigarette butts. 

You don’t let the pain stop you. You never have before. 

As you run, solid thoughts finally begin to return to your mind, which feels less fuzzy and more aware of the danger that you might be in. You did it. You’re out. You’re gone. You’re free. 

But not just yet, right? You need to stay hidden. You need to be safe.  You need, above all, to get off the highly visible streets. 

A sign for a bus stop catches your eye. Yes--a bus. You could let it take you as far as it will, and then go from there. But the sign says the bus stops on the hour, and there’s still 30 minutes to go--you can’t stay out on the street that long.

Instead, you slip into an alley just a little bit away from the sign. It’s close enough that you could press yourself against a wall and still keep an eye out for when the bus arrives. Will it be comfortable? No. Will it be smelly? Probably. Will you be out of public view? Yes--so that’s what you do.

You slip into the alley and immediately every nerve on your body raises because there is someone here with you.

No. Scratch that.

Two someones.

There is a man standing that you can only see from behind. He is shrouded in the shadows of the alleyway’s end, which isn’t lit by anything but the hint of light from the street. 

And there is a man on the ground, pressed against the farthest end of the alley, begging for his life. You only catch some of the words that tumble out of his desperate lips: I didn’t betray you, I swear, I swear, I can tell you everything you need to know, it wasn’t me, oh please, fuck, I swear--

And then he doesn’t speak anymore because the first man shoots him in the head. He falls backward and something hits the wall and you can't help the noise of startled horror that slips out of your mouth.

The man turns around, gun drawn, and you have just enough time to think--this is it--before he steps forward. 

And… says your name?

The man is Chuuya.

The man is Chuuya, who holsters his gun and, mouth gaping, has his hands on you before you can even think about running. He’s checking you over--for bruises or cuts or who knows what else--and his grip on your forearm is relentlessly strong. 

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He says, not believing the sight of you, even as he touches you. “Babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Where’s--”

And then he sees the bag slung over your shoulder. Sees how full it looks. He glances down at your stomach. Then back  up at your face.

“You were trying to leave?”

The hurt on his face might induce pity, if you weren’t currently dealing with the most horrific adrenaline rush in the world. 

“No,” you sputter. “Yes. No. I--” 

And it’s then that your body and mind crash together, and the realization that you’ve been caught catches up with you. You should run. You will run. 

And you try, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t even have enough leverage to take a step back with how tightly he’s holding you. Your mind knows this, but your body doesn’t accept it quite yet, and you squirm fruitlessly against him.

He only needs one hand to keep you by his side as he takes out his phone and barks out an order at someone to come take care of the body of the poor dead man in the alley.

Then he looks back at you and hurt, fear, anger, play out on his face in a series of moments. 

“We’re going,” he tells you. He’s back on his phone, another order. A car to pick you up. 

His voice promises locked doors and lost privileges, yes, but there’s something else simmering in there that has you yanking back feebly as he drags you out of the alley and into an unmarked car.

--

Every guard Chuuya crosses stammers out apologies, swears they don’t know how this happened. Chuuya deals with them in clipped tones that make you wonder if they’ll survive the night. Reassigned, if they’re lucky.

The penthouse is just as you left it. Quiet. Clean. A now runny smoothie, fortified with vitamins and calculated with the perfect natal nutrients, sits on the counter; you didn’t drink it tonight.

Chuuya drags you through to the bedroom. All this time, he hasn’t let go of your hand. There will be finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.

You expect him to scream at you. Maybe even hurt you. A physical slap might hurt less than this all-consuming fear as he pulls you into the bedroom and gently guides you to sit down on the bed. What will he do? What will he say?

Your hand grasps your belly--please don’t hurt me.

Chuuya growls out bubbling anger, turns, and punches the wall so hard that his fist goes through the drywall. His knuckles have freckles of blood on them.

The sound, the sight of the blood, the anger pressing down on your shoulders--it’s all too much and hot tears spill over your lower eyelids and down your cheeks, salty, burning. 

He’s on his knees, immediately, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks.

“Babe, I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hushes your hiccuping sobs, wiping and kissing your tears in alternate measures. “I was just so fucking mad.” 

At me? You think. 

“Those guards,” he continues, frowning. “They weren’t watching you like they should.”

“But I…” You don’t finish: But I’m the one who ran away.

Your confusion must show on your face, because he presses a kiss to your cheek, to your lips. 

“Hush. I know you’re prone to fits like this. I don’t mind. It’s why I do so much to watch over you, y’know?” He rubs at your cheeks with this thumb and cracks a smile. From the corner of your eye,  you can see the blood on his knuckles. “It was either the wall or one of those guys’ heads, right?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he kisses you, more lingering this time.

“You make me crazy,” he whispers against your lips. “You know that?”

“Chuuya,” you whisper, breath mingling with this. “Please, I want to… I want to…” Leave. Be free. All words you could say, that never make their way past your lips.

He sits up taller on his knees and rests his head against your stomach. There’s a flurry of movement inside you--does the baby know he’s there? What does the baby, in all its primordial growth, think of any of today’s events?

“I know it’s scary,” Chuuya murmurs. “You don’t have to tell me. We’re about to be parents. Anyone would be worried.” 

That’s not what you wanted to say. It’s hard to say if Chuuya knows it and pretends otherwise or simply doesn’t acknowledge your resistance at all. 

He sighs through his nose and closes his eyes.

“I’ll have to bring the chain back out for a while. Maybe until the baby comes.” He opens his eyes just a little and glances up at you with a smile. “But I can make it long enough for you to walk around. Doctor said you needed to stretch your legs every day, babe.”

He closes his eyes again and you don’t know what else you can do but reach out and rest your palm against his head. He leans into your touch.

“I know,” you croak out. There’s a few beats--of your heart?--and your fingers curl against his hair. “I’m sorry I went outside.” What else can you do, but lean into Chuuya, but apologize for doing what he insists you never do. Leave him, be free, live your own life.

He sighs and nuzzles himself against your stomach. He presses a soft kiss to it before pulling himself off the floor, leaning down, and kissing you on the head.

“I know, babe. Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

You wonder what Chuuya might have done if he had gotten angry at you.

Perhaps it’s better not to know.

[heliosunny]

Hello! Would you write for fyodor with a reader that is a princess or just royal and they both start falling for each other yet it is forbidden but that doesn’t stop them from sneaking around. And of course fyodor has a plan to keep her all to himself.

Yandere!Fyodor x Princess!Reader

The first time you met Fyodor Dostoevsky, he was merely a poet, an enigmatic figure cloaked in shadow and silver-tongued words, whispering verses of longing and loss beneath the ancient arches of the palace gardens

You had been drawn to him as if he were a figure plucked from one of the tragic romances you so adored, his ink-stained fingers clutching crumpled parchment, his violet eyes gleaming with unspoken wisdom. He was not like the noblemen who sought your hand with empty flattery and golden promises. Fyodor's words were spun from something richer, something darker. And despite every warning, you found yourself sneaking away from the gilded halls of your royal lineage to meet him again and again.

He was no noble, merely a wandering poet, at least, that was what you had been led to believe. But love, reckless and blind, cares little for consequences.

You and Fyodor had dreamed of escape. On moonlit nights, he would hold your hands between his own, pressing urgent kisses to your knuckles as he whispered of lands beyond the palace walls, places where titles held no weight and love could be free.

"One day," he had promised, "we will leave all of this behind. Just you and me, my love."

But your family had learned of your secret affair before you could run. They locked you away, confining you to the highest tower, where no letters could reach you and no visitors were allowed. You had screamed, pleaded, cursed them for taking away the one thing that had ever felt real. Yet, no one came to your aid.

Days passed in solitude, and despair crept in like ivy, curling around your lungs, suffocating you. You had begun to believe that Fyodor would never reach you, that perhaps he had already abandoned your foolish dream of escape.

And then, one night, he found you.

A shadow at your window, a whisper against the silence. You had barely registered the sound before the locks to your door clicked open as if by magic. And there he was, standing in the dim candlelight, violet eyes alight with quiet triumph.

"How—?" your voice was hoarse from disuse, from grief.

He merely smiled, pressing a finger to your lips. "Did you think any wall, any door, any force in this world could keep me from you?"

He held out his hand, and you took it without hesitation.

The escape was seamless. No guards to stop you, no cries of alarm. It was as though the palace itself had conspired with him, bending to his will. When you finally stepped past the gates, you turned to Fyodor, breathless, your heart thundering with exhilaration.

"How did you do it?"

His hand tightened around yours. "A strategist never reveals all his secrets, my love."

Still, beneath the euphoria of freedom , something gnawed at you. The eerie ease of it all. The absence of pursuit. And the way Fyodor had smiled, knowing and patient, as if he had seen this moment long before it ever happened.

But love is blind, and you chose not to see.

Yet, beneath the poetry, beneath the gentle brush of his lips against yours, there lurked something else. Something unnerving.

The first time you sensed it was the night you asked him about his past.

"A poet does not dwell in the past, my love" he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist with delicate precision. "Only in the present, in the fleeting beauty of the now."

You frowned, searching his face for something, anything—that hinted at honesty. "But surely, Fyodor, everyone has a past. Where were you before you came to the capital?"

A slow smile curled his lips. "Do you not think it more romantic to imagine? Perhaps I was once a prince of a fallen kingdom, or a soldier who abandoned war for poetry. Would you love me more if I told you I was tragic?"

You laughed softly, but the unease remained. His answer was playful, but it was not an answer.

Over time, the unsettling moments grew.

One evening, you were discussing an upcoming royal engagement that had been arranged for you. "The Duke of Volkov is an honorable man," you said, more to convince yourself than anyone else. "Perhaps he will make a good husband..."

Fyodor leaned closer, his fingertips brushing your chin as he tilted your face toward his. "Do you truly believe that, my love?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge beneath the softness. "Or is that what they have told you to believe?"

You hesitated, and he seized the moment.

"A gilded cage is still a cage," he whispered. "And I would rather see you free."

The next morning, you awoke to hushed whispers and frantic servants. The Duke of Volkov had mysteriously vanished. His carriage had been found overturned near the river, but his body was never recovered. When you told Fyodor of the news, his only response was a knowing smile and a lingering touch to your wrist.

"Fortune favors the bold, my love. Perhaps fate has made its decision."

Another time, you arrived at your secret meeting place to find him waiting, despite the fact that you had told no one of your plans. "How did you know I would be here?" you asked, wary.

He chuckled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "A poet understands his muse better than she understands herself."

Still, you ignored the chill creeping into your spine. You ignored the way he knew things he shouldn't, the way he would disappear for days only to return with veiled reassurances. You ignored it because love is foolish, and in the depths of your naivety, you had convinced yourself that you were still in control.

Until the day you were locked away. Again. For attempting to escape with that very same poet.

Your family had confined you to your chambers, guards posted outside, ensuring you would not escape. Days passed in suffocating silence. Yet, even within your gilded prison, he found a way to reach you. Unlike before.

One evening, as you sat by the window, a small velvet pouch was slipped through the bars. Inside, nestled within folds of dark silk, was a single note written in his elegant script: Patience, my love. Even the strongest locks can be broken. Alongside it, a small silver key, a promise.

And then, just like the promise, he came for you.

You awoke to the sound of the lock clicking open, and there he stood, a shadow against the moonlight, violet eyes gleaming with triumph. "Come, my love" he whispered, extending his hand. "It is time."

You hesitated for only a moment before grasping it. Yes, you hesitated.

As he led you through the darkened corridors, his grip firm yet gentle, you realized that this, this was real. Not poetry, not illusion, but love made tangible by action, by the lengths he had gone to free you. And when he pulled you into a stolen embrace beneath the night sky, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, you felt your heart yield entirely.

"I told you," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with longing. "You were never meant to be theirs. You belong to me."

You clung to him, both in fear and in love, knowing that whatever lay ahead, there was no turning back.

Until the day you tried to leave him. He held too many secrets from you. You can't love such man.

You had made your decision in the dead of night, slipping past your guards and donning a commoner’s cloak. The plan was simple: flee the palace, seek sanctuary in a neighboring kingdom, and forget the man who had made your heart race with both love and fear.

But as you reached the gates, a familiar voice halted you in your tracks.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

Your breath caught. Fyodor stood there, his violet eyes dark with something unreadable, his frame shrouded in the moonlight.

"Fyodor... I-"

"Shh." He took a step forward, and despite your instincts screaming at you to run, you remained frozen. "Did you truly believe I would let you go so easily?"

He reached for you, and though you flinched, he only took your trembling hands in his own. His grip was firm, unyielding.

"You don't understand," you whispered. "This isn't right. I need to be free."

"Free?" His smile was indulgent, but there was no humor in it. "My dear, you were never free. The moment you chose me, you chose this."

You were always the prey. His prey.

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Vampire Men

Yandere vampire Boothill x reader, yandere Dino (he’s already a vampire haha) x reader, yandere vampire L, yandere vampire Pantalone x reader, yandere vampire Ranpo x reader, yandere vampire Vyn x reader (all separate)

Fandoms: Honkai Star Rail, Delico’s Nursery, Bungo Stray Dogs, Death Note, Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis

Just some random thoughts. First time I’ve written for Vyn (AAAAAA)

Masterlist

Warnings: possession, manipulation, blood, biting, stalking, abducting

Word count: 1204

Boothill

When you first met the cowboy, you were in awe of his razor sharp teeth. His many stories were flashy just like his teeth, if only more. He always managed to make you laugh and you quickly fell in love with the handsome cowboy.

When he had you pressed against the wall with his lips mere centimetres away from the pulsing vain in your neck, he finally revealed the truth. He was a vampire and he craved your blood.

However it didn’t take long before Boothill learned that his desire for your love was far greater than his blood thirst.

He visited your little bar every time he had the time. He was so friendly towards you, but so very intimidating towards everyone who gave you any type of attention. His jealousy quickly became clear.

When you walk in on him boring his teeth into the neck of a friendly regular, you screamed as loud as your lungs let you. Boothill quickly dropped the man before he licked his lips. With bloodstained teeth he tried to calm you down. As you cradled you in his arms it became clear to him; he needs to protect you. He is sure you will enjoy travelling with him. He can afford all comfortable hotel rooms from the bounties he claims. He can’t wait to travel with you for eternity. Whether you want to or not is irrelevant.

Dino

The nobleman was as stern as he was busy. He met you at a ball which he attended solely because of his noble duties.

You were intimidated by the tall gloomy vampire as he towered over you. He didn’t say much at first, seemingly content with just dancing in silence.

Said silence was however broken when he told you his former wife had just left him and that he was told he should find a new wife (his son needs a mother after all). You didn’t say much to his statement, as he didn’t seem pleased with the whole wife-situation.

When you both had retreated to the balcony for some fresh air he told you that you were the perfect candidate. You were taken aback by his words. He had then scoffed and said that you were remarkable in senses he couldn’t quite describe.

The wedding had been beautiful. You would have enjoyed it had it not been for the changes in Dino’s behaviour. His touched were lingering and his gaze harsh and intense. You knew very well that humans and vampires were different in a lot of ways, but his actions became more and more confusing.

It was sudden and almost unexpected when you found yourself waking up in a locked room. It didn’t take you long to realise that banging on the door had no effect. He later told you that you were the only woman he had ever lived and that he would never let you leave. You were to be his for all eternity.

L

The lazy detective licked some cream of his fingers as his eyes bored into yours. He smirked slightly at your nervousness.

He was working on a case when he met you. You were nothing special, only an assistant of the police chief, but on L’s eyes you were everything.

He found it humorous how a genius like him could fall in love with someone as ordinary as you. Even though your intelligence and skills were ordinary, your beauty was something else’s.

It didn’t help that the mere smell of your blood was enough to drive him insane. L had always prided himself on being a collected individual, but when faced with you, his composure ravelled before him.

With a pill slipped onto your sweet tea, it was no hassle with bringing you home to his penthouse. He spent his free time with you. Either sharing some sweet cakes, sipping on your blood, cuddling or all. He knows naivety is a dangerous trait, so he doesn’t feel bad for abducting you in the slightest.

Pantalone

The black haired vampire never seem to get enough riches. Throughout his many years he has collected the finest jewels and the soft silk, but something is missing.

No matter what he buys, nothing can fill the gaping hole within his soul.

When he hires you as an assistant he can feel his hole closing. You’re the one. He needs you like humans need air.

It won’t take long before you find yourself trapped inside the four walls of a lavish bedroom that is perfectly decorated to your tastes. How does he know what you like?

He dresses you in the finest gowns as he makes sure your every need it tended to (except your need for freedom). As he drinks your sweet blood, he swears that you will never be in any harms way. He will take care of you and love you till the end of time.

Ranpo

The playful vampire is extremely unpredictable, but given his laziness he often came off as rather non-hostile.

When he saw you for the first time in one of his favourite bakeries, he just knew he needed you. So he follows you.

Your sent us so very intoxicating he can’t help but follow you around. You’re extremely naive and never look over your shoulder. It’s pitiful.

He quickly managed to tangle himself into your everyday life. He always show up at the bakery you work at and entertain you with stories of the many cases he has solved. You are completely oblivious to the obsession that’s brewing within the black haired man.

A day after a tough case, he finally snaps. He knows he will never get caught so he lures you with sweet words with a certain playfulness. He locks the door behind you as you take in his flat. Before you know it he has his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Sharp fangs sink into your neck as he gently strokes your hair. He will take good care of you. He is the greatest after all.

Vyn

Vyn’s desire for human knowledge reaches far deeper than most can even phantom to comprehend. As a psychiatrist he is able to satisfy some of his thirst for knowledge.

When he gets you as a patient his entire world turns upside down. For the first time in his long life he is not in control of his emotions.

You’re so beautiful and so very human. He finds himself counting down to when your appointments are. His heart aches when you tell him about all your struggles and he swears to himself that he will do anything it takes to make you feel better.

When you tell him that a coworker of yours has made your days worse by snarky comments, he sees red. He quickly adverts your attention from the pencil that just snapped in his clutching hand.

It takes months for him to decide he can’t take it anymore. He needs to protect you, both from vampires and from humans. He keeps you in his lavish house and he spoils you. He bites you so carefully as if he’s afraid you will break like a porcelain doll. And who knows? Maybe you will.

[n0cturnalcm]

Found you ❣️

Yandere Nikolai??

[suiana]

your boyfriend has been acting weird lately (various yandere characters x gn reader) (ANGSTOBER DAY 2)

"babe are you-"

"can you quit talking? seriously, you're so damn annoying."

"...i only wanted to ask whether you were hungry..."

you stare at your boyfriend, lips pursed as he continues to type away on his phone. he's been like this for three weeks now. getting mad at you for no reason, cursing at you... did you do something wrong?

all you ever wanted was to be a good significant other and he's acting like he's on his period or something! jesus, can't he be a little bit more mature too?! picking fights with you for no reason, making a big fuss over nothing... and not even telling you why?!

...

you know what?

you had it with him.

"hey, what's your problem huh?! why are you so edgy nowadays huh? did i do something wrong?!"

your once loving boyfriend stares at you, eyes and mouth wide at your sudden outburst. he takes a moment to compose himself, eyebrows furrowing the second he thinks things through.

"god you're so damn stupid. I've been repeatedly telling you, haven't i? i hate you. what can't you understand?! this is why I'm always getting mad, damnit!"

you scoff at him, arms folded in front of your chest as you try to keep your cool... only for your anger to get the better of you, resulting in a screaming festival between you and your boyfriend.

"hate me? you can't expect me to believe that. not when you were literally obsessed with me up till three weeks ago?!"

"i-"

"you used to threaten people just for looking at me! you even tried to kill someone because they asked for my number! and now you want me to believe that you hate me? stop with your bullshit."

".. actually-"

"oh. are you seeing someone else? is that what this is? you're trying to make me break up with you, is that it?"

"n-... you know what? yeah, yeah it is. i want to break up with you. I've found someone else that i love more than you."

your boyfriend states, eyes dead as he stares straight at you. he breathes calmly, as if he weren't affected by this at all. meanwhile, your heart felt as though it had shattered into many tiny pieces. tears fell from your eyes, unable to be held back any longer as you broke down, falling to your knees as the male just stares at you stoicly.

"let's never see each other again."

he mumbles, turning on his heel, swiftly leaving you alone to wallow in your sadness in the once lively apartment. shit... you hadn't expected things to end like this.

"he's a fucking jerk..."

you think through your tears, vision blurry as you clutch your chest. you really loved him and he just?? left?? how could he be so heartless?

if he didn't love you he could've just said something about it. he didn't have to be so mean and hurt your feelings before finally bringing up another person! god damnit, why did you have to fall for such a person?!

you cried, wailing as you cursed your now ex-boyfriend.

"fuck! i hate you! i hate you so much! i hope i never see you again! just disappear from my life! you just left me to die here! stupid ex-boyfriend! i hate giving you my love!"

what you didn't know however, was that your 'heartless' boyfriend had stood outside your door, frowning at your every word, regretting everything he had done up until that moment. because he had loved you too. truly.

he loved you so damn much that he wanted to tear out his hair every single time he was mean to you. he wanted to tell you that he didn't mean any single one of those hurtful words. he wanted to cry and beg for your forgiveness every single time he did anything hurtful to you.

but it was for your own good. it was to keep you safe. and if he needed to hurt you to keep you safe, he'd do it. because he loved you too much to see someone else hurt you.

and being with him meant that there was always a risk of you getting hurt. so how could he allow that to happen when it could be prevented? how could he let his selfish feelings get in the way when you were such a precious little thing? sure, he loves you and he'll do anything in his power to ensure your safety but what if he can't protect you one day?

what if one day you just... get used against him? he's a dangerous man and has a lot of enemies. surely they'll find out that you're his weakness. of course he has gotten rid of anyone who might harm you now but who's to say that there won't be more in the future?

which is why he has to severe all ties with you now. he can't risk it. because he may be strong, but he may not be strong enough for whoever may come in the future. that's why he's been doing what he's been doing-making you hate him so that it hurts less when he decides that it's time to leave. he assumes that it's working wonderfully, after all you've never once noticed his puffy eyes in the morning.

"at least... they'll be safe now."

and disappear he will, for he has too many regrets welling up in the depths of his soul from what he did to you. he'll make sure to never come across you again, instead lurking in your shadow, observing you from afar.

a star like you need not be dirtied by his presence anymore.

dazai osamu, akutagawa ryunosuke, megumi fushiguro, blade, scaramouche/wanderer, your faves<3

[yandere-romanticaa]

For a man so high up his own ass, it was strange to see Fyodor act so... clingy.

It humanized him, even if just for a little bit. The man would always keep you at an arms reach but his private space was a top priority. The countless hours you'd spent on the ground by his feet were grueling and boring, but he loved to keep you there. His long and slender fingers would type away on the bright computer screen, perhaps maybe sometimes even grace the crown of your head with a gentle caress in order to prevent you from falling into too deep of a slumber.

Today however, his attention was focused solely on you.

Gogol had sent him many messages but Fyodor ignored them all. Right now all he wanted was to hold you, in bed, the outside world be damned.

Even demons needed to rest.

Fyodor pressed himself closely against your body, leaving no cracks in between you. There was no force alive, or perhaps even dead, which could pry him off you. He wore a neutral expression on his pale face, the white ushanka cast aside somewhere on the floor, forgotten and completely unnecessary.

He wanted your fingers in his hair, Fyodor thought to himself. Fyodor liked your fingers very much but he wouldn't tell you that.

It would give you too much power over him. He could not allow that.

He must let you think that he is the one who is in control, he is the one who pulls all of the strings. While that statement did ring true, it didn't change the fact that your doe eyes could bring this self proclaimed demon down to his knees.

Could you perhaps be an angel? Was that why you were so tough to tame? Were you brought down to Earth to punish him? Angels and demons were natural enemies after all...

Forbidden fruit always was the tastiest.

For now though, in this rare and fleeting moment, the man with an ink black heart would allow himself to be soft, weak. Perhaps even a little human.

He might kill you for this, one day.

But that day was not today.

Coffee shop blurbs really are the most fun to write.

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