#Yandere OC

[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you do Dom! Yan teacher and Yan Bully fighting over a himbo reader?

Yan teacher vs Yan bully x male reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @yyuinaa @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives

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Jus imaginin you bein a star football player- bein all handsome N’ fit but a total dummy— as oblivious to your surroundings as ever and boy if the captain of your team didn’t let you know jus how stupid he thinks you are!…oh he’s plain O’l cruel, makin you stay after practice slapping you for your mistakes grabbing your ass N’ groping you secretly on tha field like he owns you- he loves havin you to himself N’ making jokes bout you infront of everyone else but boy if he isn’t totally smitten by you…he’s full blown infatuated to the point where it’s insane? I mean he beats you bloody jus to see you look at him all pathetic

Jus imaginin bein a total pet for your college professor, I mean all tha extra tutorin has you close with him is all? That’s just it right!..? But oh no he’s dead set you’re his pretty boy- his pretty baby N’ all you can do is sit wide eyed like a pursed puppy before him, gosh he’d eat you alive if he could- he’d squish you N’ grab you like a lil boy toy but he can’t with that big O’l meanie who’s always by your side, but boy if your professor doesn’t like playin your hero, swoop in an Savin that pretty jaw from his blows.

Jus imaginin your bully givin up bein sweet on you, he starts bein all mean again, punching you N’ gripping you tight makin your big eyes swell up jus so he can angrily try N’ make out with you— poor you bein all confused not even protesting when his flushed cock is in your face, his tip all mushroomed and leakin all over the shaft N’ pressing into your inner cheek— he loves the way you pout, all sloppy with your drool on the ground sitting on your knees is a picture perfect sight to him. Of course your professor finds out, he won’t even look you N’ your eyes after that!

Jus imaginin your professor givin you the silent treatment- gaslighting and tearin your pretty boy status down til your needy and apologetic practically beggin for his forgiveness- these two men were ruinin you- a once happy go lucky man bein twisted into a toxic relationship between two big O’l meanies…N’ why was riding your professors cock the only way to get his forgiveness? “Mh, sirr- are you sure there isn’t a’nother wayy~” your voice is whiny gripping onto his desk with lewd plaps fillin up the room havin his hand on your hip with your lips pressing together forming an ‘O’ shape while his hands rest on your hips liftin and droppin you on his cock havin your insides squished to his size.

Jus imaginin your bully findin out about you and your professor— seein your flushed face and your limp when you show up for practice, it doesn’t take a genius to see you jus took the fuckin of a life time an’ he was full of rage that he wasn’t the man that gave it too ya. Oh how your poor body never catches a break- you’re bent over in the locker room grippin for dear life while he jus grunts and huffs angrily in your ear like a upset dog, your rim burns from bein stretched too long N’ your inner walls are all bruised N’ slick still from your professors cock- he can feel it and he knows you can too.

Jus imaginin the two men tryin to be at each others throats when you turn away N’ playing all nice when you’re around, your bully bein all ruthless T’ you jus so your professor can swoop in N’ be your savior, jus thinkin your bully tryin to be nice f’ once when he sees how close you are T’ the professor—maybe if he sweetens up he can have ya. Your bully bein mean to you until he sees you tuck tail and runin to Him..oh boy if that didn’t make his blood boil seeing you all clingy to that dumb old man—

[yougavememyopia]

YOU WRITE CRYING MEN SO WELL ITS CRAZY ☹️🙏🙏 CAN WE PLS PLS PLS GET SMUT FOR CRYBABY!YANDERE OMG

Of course :) Pt.1. Pt.2.

Tags: oral (reader receiving), pillow humping, mommy kink (a bit obvious lol), poor communication

Yandere crybaby, who, despite all of his perverted fantasies, would be shy to take things further with you. You'd have to coax it out of him with gentle reassurance. Petting the top of his head, kissing his pouty lips, nibbling on his neck. Slowly drawing lewd whimpers and whines from him. Slowly making him rock hard for you.

But then, at the last frustrating second, where you start to take off his shirt, he'd stop you. Embarrassment with a mix of insecurity in his eyes. Choked up tears and weak excuses muttered from his lips. Making your heart flutter at the sight of beet-redded face. Your fingers wiped his cheek, his lips planting kisses against your palm in return. Taking a few seconds to calm down his breathing, he bore his eyes into yours.

"We don't have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, honey."

Your kind words eased him. But he knew you were bound to get tired of him being a pathetic crying mess. Truth was, he was scared— afraid that you'll hate him if you saw what was underneath his clothes. Afraid that if he didn't satisfy you, you would surely get rid of him. Leave him all alone to rot. Be with someone who was far better than him.

He couldn't let that happen.

"No, hic... You need relief. I-I can do this! I don't want you to be unsatisfied... Hic! I don't want you to go to anyone else for this. I want you to only look at me. Love me. Only me."

He got down between your legs. Rubbing your knees as he gulped, swallowing the saliva that wanted to spill. He felt sweaty. His heart drummed against his ears as tears fell from his eyes.

"Are you sure?" You confirmed it with him one last time, unable to say no to his cute, innocent face. He sniffled as he nodded enthusiastically. He wanted to do this. Not only because he could finally taste you, but also to make himself useful. He wanted to be good for you. He craved your approval; he needed it to survive.

He felt nervous. He had no idea what to do when you hesitantly pulled down your underwear. Just staring at your private...

His pants already creamed just by the sight of your bare pussy. He bit his lip hard, hiding a whimper from the shock of pleasure traveling up his body. Blinking and blinking, the gears in his head turning.

Your brows furrowed in concern. "I don't think we should, um..."

You lost your train of thought when his shaky breaths fanned your mound. An unsure tongue licking the length of your sensitive front. His eyes closed in ecstasy. Already overwhelmed enough by all his other senses. Your familiar smell, your divine taste, your dripping flesh— all driving him crazier. The noise you made caused his stomach to churn.

He pulled away, rubbing his cheek to the soft plush of your thigh instead. "Mmgh, f-feels too good. I..." His hand covered a mewl. "I love you so much..."

"I love you too, baby. But it's not a big deal if you—"

You were cut off again, this time by a surge of good shock shooting through you. He delved in, started to eat you out like a starved man. Licking, sucking, nibbling. His hands grabbing your hips so he could push his tongue further into your hole. Sinful squelching noises filled the room. His nose pressing against your clit with each thrust of his tongue. He wasn't holding back any longer, hiding his face between your thighs.

He slowly began to move his hips. His poor overstimulated cock rubbing against the couch. Aroused again with a fever. His whole body burned. His eyes rolled to the back of his head while he kept going. Movements only getting rougher and faster while you placed your hand on top of his head. Holding his head and bucking into his mouth, chasing release.

You had no idea he could be like this. His docile attitude replaced with something feral. He was moaning like he was in pain. Feeding on your juices to quench his thirst. His hips bumped against the furniture as if he wasn't capable of controlling it. Tears ruining his pretty face even more.

It was only a matter of time before you finished. Your back arching and your toes curling with a loud groan. "Ahhh... Fuck, fuck! Where did all that come from?"

"I-I just want you to be happy... Did I make you happy? Was I good? Are you gonna stay with me? You won't abandon me... right?!"

You sighed, a small smile forming on your face. He clearly had some things to work out. Always needing constant comfort; begging for you to own him, capture him, claim him as yours. He wished he could say the words without tearing up. Ask you to tie him down to your bed and just play with his hair.

He got comfortable with your body. Learning to use his slender fingers and even started to make eye contact when he kitten-licked your sensitive nub. Sobbing happy tears when you slowly stroked his hair. He felt enveloped by your love. Surrounded by you.

The liquid streamed down to his chin. Cries of joy vibrating against your heat while he worked harder to drive you to the edge. Half-lidded eyes staring up at yours as his fingers slid in and out of you rhythmically.

"Such a good boy, aren't you, hon? Yes. Yes, you are. You're my good boy. Ah, fuck, I'm gonna—"

Sometimes, the best way to help him calm down was to let him cuddle up to your chest. Sitting on your lap, head under your shirt— engulfed by your sweet sweet smell— lips moving around your breasts. Licking hot stripes around your areola, sucking on your nipple like a pacifier.

He'd start to get more greedy for your approval. Asking if he did a good job for a basic task, like folding his clothes and putting them away. Or if he was a good boy for not crying when you went to the bathroom. He was adorable— looking at you like a lost child, wanting for you to take care of him.

He couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. Pleading and pleading for you to stay when you wanted to hang out with your friends. You pecked his lips, "Be good, baby. I'll be back in 2 hours. Promise."

He whimpered when you pulled away from him. Yet obeying your words as he should. Plopping down to your shared bed to sniff your scent from the sheets. 2 hours, he could do that.

He started weep pathetically. The droplets soaking your blanket. He cried over far more stupid things than this. A crybaby. That was really all he was. He took your pillow, hugging it tightly as if it would disappear at any moment. His eyes closed shut. Whispering, "Haah... I wish you were hugging me... I wish you were here..."

He tried to be a good boy. Tried to keep himself in check. Tried oh-so hard to stop thinking about it. But eventually, the problem in his pants started to hurt. One of his trembling legs dropped over your pillow, while he found the rewarding angle that gave him the most friction. His hand sneaked into his pocket to grab a pair of hidden underwear, there in case of... emergencies.

You came back to your room to retrieve a forgotten item. Just at the right time— catching him grinding against your pillow mindlessly. Your underwear pressed tightly against his nose as he inhaled and exhaled a wail. Moaning louder and more high-pitched than you've ever heard.

"Nghh... m-mommy... Why...? Why did you have to— hic— leave your poor babyboy....?"

You grinned. The newfound information was a treasure. You always wondered if he was into that title. Too timid to talk to you about things like that. He was just adorable. You could hear how close he was when his voice shook. When he chanted your name as if it would ease the pain. Brows crumpled, and sweat rolled down the skin of his forehead.

"Mommy..." His tongue darted out to lick the heavenly taste off the fabric of your panties. His hips rutted to the pillow until a sad, unsatisfying orgasm hit him. He cried miserably. Nose stuffed while he breathed out whimpers. Drool mixed with other liquids pooled down to splatter the pillow. An unusual angry huff coming from his lips. "Why aren't you here?!? Whywhywhywhy!"

Only if he opened his eyes.

[heartfullofleeches]

"N-no!.... Don't go in, p-please? No... please?..."

Hot mist sprays across your exposed flesh, coupling with the sweat accumulated from a particularly warm winter's eve. Baking in your nightly attire, your skin breathes for the first time in what feels like ages as you unzip your clothing - bathroom door flung open as the zipper's teeth part pass your collar. Through the vapor, you could already see the ears building in their eyes as they leapt at your patted legs.

"Carnis, sweetheart, I like wearing the cow onesie as much as you like seeing me in it, but this thing is burning me up!"

Like quicksand, attempting to squirm free of his iron clad grip on your waist strengthens their hold.

"B-but...but..." Whimpers replace the words the hybrid cannot find on their own. "Cute.... You always look nice... c-cute, but this...it's different."

Their large, sad eyes dart between the faux tail dangling from your backside to the nubby horns stitched into the spotted hood adorned atop your head.

"Cow Y/n.... I-I'll miss cow Y/n... already do..."

"Carnis, just because I'm taking off now doesn't mean I'll never wear it again." Resting your palm on Carnis' head, you search through his fluffy nest of hair for the base of his right horn - scratching gently. "Tell you what, I'll put it in the wash so then I can wear it again when it gets colder again. Is that okay with you?"

Sniffling, the cow dips their head in agreement. "Kay..."

"Would joining me in the shower cheer you up more?"

"Shower?... With you?"

The millisecond those magic words leave your mouth, Carnis's arms detach from your waist - hooking to the side of the bathtub as they kick their leg over, gearing up to climb in.

"Wait, wait- Take your clothes off before you get in! Carnis!"

[bunnygirllover45]

— CREATURES OF HABIT. ♱ TRIGGER WARNING(S): This one is about psychological training, pet play undertones (they're not undertones they're very on the nose but oh well.), slightly suggestive. dark content. Johann itself is a warning. WORD COUNT: 1k words. ADDITIONAL NOTES: First time writing something for this guy in a while, sorry if it sucks. I just enjoy writing psych yandere stuff.

The first months in Johann’s basement were grueling. The sudden change of pace, the claustrophobic sensation of always being surrounded by the same walls, you swore multiple times you were about to break, but each time you felt like that, Johann was always there to put you back in place like a beautiful —and fucked up— puzzle.

Then, one day, out of nowhere, Johann introduced some ‘mental exercises’ for you. He told you they were so your brain didn’t stagnate over time due to the confinement, but you couldn’t help but feel like there were some ulterior motives behind it.  Most of the exercises were simple, from just sitting at a table and drawing shapes on paper to following basic instructions, no matter what was going on, Johann never skipped the routine.

Today’s exercise was simple enough: sit down and obey. Johann was really patient with you, so despite your early nervousness, you always found yourself quickly getting accustomed to the session, trying your best not to overthink how utterly weird the whole setting was. Being mentally trained by your kidnapper—no. Scratch that; lover.

“You know about Pavlov’s experiments?” Johann asked softly, tilting his head to look at you. His brown hair fell over his stare, obscuring his expression under the dim light of the basement. His legs were stretched under the table, brushing against yours. “Pavlov discovered that dogs were prone to begin to salivate once they saw the trainers that often brought them food, it was an unconscious action they made.”

“They associate ‘this person’ with ‘food’. The same goes with sounds.” He explained carefully, playing with the chain of the collar attached to your neck, tugging it lightly in an almost mindless manner. “Notice how sometimes when you make sounds in the kitchen your pet always comes? It’s because they relate that sound with food.” 

A smile tugged on Johann’s features as he focused his dark eyes back on you, the intensity in his eyes made you shiver—you knew that look all too well, some wicked idea just sparked inside his twisted head. “I thought it would be interesting to try that with you.” 

The way he whispered those words with that tone of his that was equally aloof as it hid some of his excitement made you tremble, but a part of you felt curious about the idea too. Lately, you found yourself associating the sound of the chain of your collar with going outside, Johann always kept the collar inside the house but not the chain, which was saved for when you two went outside for short walks —for your legs sake, as he says—.

“What… did you have in mind?” You managed to ask softly, staring at him with expectating eyes. Johann almost shrugged nonchalantly at your question, his fingers caressing the length of the chain around your neck before settling on top of your hand, intertwining his long fingers with yours, his thumb now tracing circles on your knuckles.

“I don’t really know, why don’t we start with something simple?” his free hand reached to cup your cheek, tenderly caressing your skin, you almost leaned into it before he surprised you by suddenly snapping his fingers against your ear. The sound left you confused for a second not because of its loudness but because of how close it felt, you self-consciously reached to cup your ear, staring at him with a frown. “Why did you do that…?” 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, pulling your hand away from your ear to replace it with his own. “You know I don’t like screaming at you, so each time I want you to be quiet I’ll do that, okay?” 

“Each time I snap my fingers, you’ll be quiet.” 

A part of you wanted to protest, but at least you gave him the benefit that he hadn’t ever screamed to you before when you tried to escape or do something that slightly annoyed him, he was gentle, in his own twisted way, but Johann also had to establish some limits if he wanted to keep peace inside the little paradise he made only for you. “Snap equals quiet. Repeat that to yourself mentally until it becomes like second nature.”

As you got lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, you suddenly felt Johann’s hand tracing your thigh, up and down, his nails scratching your skin in a way that didn’t make it hurt but tingle, it was suddenly so overstimulating, the feeling of him tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin out of nowhere.

Your eyes snapped back to him, but Johann didn’t seem to have any expression at all, he only looked at you with those empty black voids of his eyes, completely still in his seat. Your legs began to tremble as he traced closer and closer to the skin of your thighs, scratching softly, caressing in his own, tenderly violent way. “What are you…?"

Snap.

You jolted suddenly, your mouth closing shut at the sudden sound. Johann’s chuckle followed your reaction, and as you slowly opened your eyes again you found him smiling at you, pupils swallowing his already dark irises. “I’m glad to see it’s already working.”

“But-” Snap. “Quiet.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden abuse of power, but Johann only smiled at you. “Don’t pout… I’m just having fun with you.” He tugged at your lower lip playfully. “You’re a quick learner, I’m proud of you.” 

A sudden rush of heat reached your cheeks at his words, and you found yourself looking away from him, but suddenly Johann caught your chin between his fingers, clicking his tongue. “C’mon… don’t look away. I need to know if the training is working or not.” 

“And don’t tense your jaw either, you’ll make your face hurt.” His big hand now cupped your face, pressing at the sides of your cheeks to unclench your jaw, you sighed in a defeated manner. 

Johann slowly stood up, walking around the table until he was leaning behind you, his brown hair making your neck tickle and your skin prickle with goosebumps at the feeling of his breathing against your ear. “I should test it in other settings, don’t you think?” 

His voice was heavy with suggestive undertones, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the idea, nodding slowly you looked at Johann, he gave you a small smile before pressing his lips against your temple. “That’s my darling.” 

Until each one of my actions seeps into your brain matter— until you cannot breathe without copying the movements of my own chest. Until your very existence intertwines with mine.

[ozzgin]

I feel like I haven't given Murasaki enough attention despite the fact he's your literal second encounter once you end up in feudal Japan.

You honestly believed he was going to strangle you in your sleep; he's made his disdain for humans very clear, and he despises that you're the reincarnation of his captor. As you get to know him, however, you realize he's just deeply hurt and rightfully vengeful. He spent most of his life with a collar around his neck, humiliated. Him - one of the strongest demons to walk this land! - degraded to a mere servant.

You quickly learned that he puts duty above everything else, including his hatred. Murasaki is fiercely loyal to a fault. He agreed to help you find Abe no Nakamaro, thus he will always protect you without hesitation.

Keeping you safe is one thing, but you noticed the yokai goes above and beyond when it comes to looking after you. He will frequently remind you that he couldn't care less about a pathetic human like you, while simultaneously ensuring your well-being: training you, dressing your wounds, guarding your sleep.

Oh, he's just as surprised as you are. He could've searched for the onmyōji himself and killed you on the spot. Maybe it was the way you looked him, without fear or disgust, that softened his heart.

You thought being stuck in ancient times together with beasts and demons would've worn you out, yet you have not worried for your life once. No matter what happens, you know Murasaki will be there. You couldn't have asked for a better guardian.

[tsuutarr]

Your guardian angel is a bit clingy, but still a sweetheart.

...So why does he suddenly scare you?

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

────────────

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking about a yandere neighbor turned boyfriend

(male yandere x gn reader)

part 1 / part 2

tw: references to murder and yandere adjacent themes but its not too bad, reader also has poor eating habits and doesnt take care of themselves

it had been a month since you started dating elliott. after you had found out about the death of your boss, he comforted you and cooked you a nice meal in his apartment next door. in fact, it was the only real meal you had eaten in a couple days. by pure coincidence, he had also made your favorite meal.

the look on his face when you ate his cooking was so sweet and soft, and when you looked up and met his eyes he just smiled at you so kindly.

his pale blue hair framing his face as he tilted his head to the side, resting on his right hand with his elbow on the table. he did seem to be staring at you a lot, but he was probably just worried. right?

after that, your meetings became more frequent. then eventually you exchanged phone numbers and started hanging out in each other's apartments.

it was one of these hangouts where you realized you had begun to like him romantically. he was always sweet with you, he would cook for you, he would fret over your health and wellbeing, and he was just there for you. which is more than you could say compared to most of the people you were close with.

then you noticed just how pretty he was. his hair was very well taken care of, and he had a whole routine to keep it looking healthy. one day you had asked to touch it, and it was so soft. during that entire interaction, he just smiled and looked at you with those big blue eyes. his eyes were almond shaped and almost black. yet, they only looked at you with kindness. you had also asked, and it turns out he had 17 piercings, most of them on the ears. but when you got up close, you could only count 14 on his ears and face.

you were surprised when you found out he didn't have a lover. he seem like he would be the perfect boyfriend, or even house husband, but when you joked about this with him it always made his face go red. he would look away, all flustered and stammering while you giggled.

the two of you were having just a regular day together, where you would simply spend time with each other. it was one of those days where he noticed you hadn't eaten, even at seven in the evening. he scolded you while starting up the stove, and casually cooked you one of your favorite meals. you both were sitting at your poor excuse of a dining table, you were eating and he was talking. then he just stopped.

you looked up from your meal, and before you could ask him why he stopped talking, he confessed.

"i will love you for the rest of my life, if you would allow me to," he said.

ever since, the two of you have been in a happy relationship.

the first month was full of bliss, almost like you two were a married couple. he would come over to your apartment or you would go over to his almost every day, you would spend time together, and to you, it was perfect.

to him, it was heaven.

that is... until your ex showed up.

then all hell broke loose.

a/n: he's just a little guy in love <3

at least... that's what he wants you to think. he's still a sweetie pie, just a little bit of an unhinged sweetie pie.

i kinda wanna do a part from his perspective before continuing the story... thoughts?

[black-honeyy]

Lowkey heals my inner child

platonic yandere father x fem reader A/n: this is a prequel drabble

“I said don’t touch her.” While uttering those words the first prince smiled amicably, corners of his lips quirking up into a good-natured expression. Concurrently his little girl wiggled out of the stranger’s arms, tugging at her father’s silken robes and gesturing into the courtyard. Ye Heqing turned his gaze down to you, looking as tender as always. “Yes, you may play in the garden. Be careful.” Only when you had scurried off does his gaze turn piercing, honey-brown eyes squinting crudely at the offending man. The faux kindness peeled away to reveal a scathing detestation for the man who had dared carry his daughter, pet her hair and pick her up in a nauseating show of affection. The imperial scholar quickly realised his mistake, scrambling to apologise and make a show of his regret. “Please, I beg diànxià for his forgiveness-! This foolish subject was out of line-” “I gave you a warning.” “!” “I already said once before the cohort, that she is not to be approached by anyone other than me, or her handmaidens.”

The scholar daren’t raise his head, nails digging into his already sweaty palms but he could taste the bloodlust regardless, emanating like dense fog around him. Before he could react or notice, Ye Heqing was stood immediately before him, eyes widened manically. “I was going to stop at simply removing a few fingers, perhaps an eye. But this is not your first offense, is it?” The father continued speaking, forefinger brushing over the scholar’s neck and digging into his pulse point. “Slinking around the palace, strutting about like you have a right to be in her presence… You must know that once I am emperor, she will succeed as our nation’s first empress. Are you trying to endear yourself to my daughter?”

The fingers around his neck began to curl, eliciting a sputter and gurgle from the other man.

“Or worse,” Ye Heqing appeared wholly enraged, face twisted into a caricature of insanity. In this moment, the scholar understood a statement he had never taken seriously before.

The first prince was a complete, utter madman.

“Or worse,” he said again, “trying to harm her? Use her as leverage against me? Did my brother set you up to this?” That word in particular was spat out, bitter and crammed with malice. The scholar was barely able to choke out a negative, his pathetic denial. Just as quickly as the aggression had come it faded, and he fell to the floor, desperately wheezing air in and out of his trachea. Instantly the reason for the kindness became clear.

“Papa!” you demanded, voice ringing loud and unmistakeable from a distance.

“Yes, princess?” Ye Heqing called back. “Papa will be right there.” Your father kneeled before the victim.

“If I have the misfortune of laying my eyes on you again, just your limbs are not enough. Everywhere you’ve touched her I will slash and cut. The skin that has touched her, I will slice off your chest.” And he stood back up, waving to the one he treasures the most in the world. The sole important thing in his life that was worth cherishing and loving.

“[Name]-er~ Wait for papa!”

[cursedfallingmoon]

Bring Honor to Us All || Yan GB Mulan x GN Reader

Characters: Ping

Summary: An awkward boy who goes to war for and with you

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness

A/n: I finally finished it oml!!!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Yan GB Mulan who so badly wants to be seen as a man. He dresses like one, and he tries his best to act like one. His family doesn't seem to notice it. Well, anyone other than his grandmother. She seems to understand. And then there's you. His best friend. Who he's known since you two were infants. You make him feel like the man he truly he is.

Yan GB Mulan who is upset that he has to go through the match making process. Not only does he have to dress so feminine, he has to act like the perfect bride. Ping couldn’t bring himself to even think of that. He had a plan to marry you, no matter what. He dreaded the days leading up to it. However, he still worked hard to remember “The Final Admonition”. Ping's fear of disappointing his family drove him. He tries so hard to keep it together as he’s dressed. His only solace was you being there. In moments where he’s alone, Ping clings to you and begs for comfort. All your words are of reassurance. You constantly remind him that even if he looks like this, like a woman, you see him no different. That even in such attire, he isn’t any less of a man. He has to leave you reluctantly with his mother. Before he leaves, his grandmother gives him a lucky cricket.

Yan GB Mulan who messes up majorly with the scary matchmaker because the lucky cricket got free from the cage. He ran out of the building in tears. He didn’t mean to mess up. He tried so hard. He was panicked that his father would think less of him. That you would think less of him. Once Ping had made it back home, he broke down in tears. He wandered around his family’s estate as he rummaged around his thoughts. He ended up in the ancestral temple. In the reflection of one of the plaques, Ping wiped off the makeup. He finally saw himself. He sat under a cherry blossom tree, where his father had joined him. His father tried his best to bring some comfort to him.

Yan GB Mulan who is ripped from his sadness from the sounds of horses. A declaration was being made that seemed to rouse all the villagers. The emperor’s advisor was giving a call to war. Ping was watching from behind the large stone wall. He witnessed his father being handed a scroll. His stomach dropped. He wasn’t going to let this happen. Ping jumped off the wall and ran into the crowd. He gave his piece of mind to the advisor and shared his concerns to his father. They weren’t received well. The royal advisor simply sneered at Ping. The royal advisor couldn’t understand the audacity of Ping. After the advisor had left, Ping’s mind wandered to you. His only solace. Like always. He ran his way to you and shared his worries. You were always there to listen. It was then that he learned that some of your family got the same message.

Yan GB Mulan who decided that night to take his father’s place in the war. He uses this as a chance to cut his hair and bind his chest. In the reflection of his father’s sword, he finally saw himself. At least who he was meant to be. He feels like himself. In the rain, he rides off to the camps with his father’s sword in his hands and with his horse. What he didn’t realize was that you were watching him ride through the night. It didn’t take much mental work to figure out what Ping was up to. You followed him through the night on foot and with the help of kind cart riders.

Yan GB Mulan who tried to hype himself up to join the other soldiers. He was also working on asking his voice. He was startled out of his skin when a booming voice took over the secluded area. The area seemed to be lit up with a torch. Ping was thusly introduced to Mushu, his family guardian. Or so Mushu claimed. Ping thought Mushu was a lizard at first. Mushu offered Ping help which he took. Once Mushu helped hype Ping up, he was ready. As he was walking through the campsite, and Mushu offered some not so sound advice, Ping caused a huge mess in the campground. Not only that, but the other soldiers were pissed at him.

Yan GB Mulan who’s anxiety flared up even more as the general confronts him. The question he wasn’t prepared for. The general had asked his name. He was fumbling. Mushu starts to rapid fire names. Each one he mumbled made the General even more upset. Ping. He’ll go with Ping. Ping is shocked when the General points someone out to him. The General was gesturing to you. You were sitting so perfectly in the chaos. You weren’t meant to be here. Not only that but you were being used as a god example. Why did he feel so betrayed?

Yan GB Mulan who was incredibly embarrassed that he causes the rest of the soldiers to clean up. He kept his head down, but bumped into you. You tumbled down, which triggered his quick reaction. He brought his hand down and quickly helped you up. Ping was cautious about the amount of time he was holding your hand. Or how long he was staring at you. You gave hm your name, and he tried to act like he didn’t know you. He wanted to ask you a million questions. But he bit his tongue.

Yan GB Mulan who got a late start the next day. He was awoken by Mushu with a hearty warrior breakfast. Atleast, that's what Mushu called it. When Ping was told the troops already left, he bolted out of the tent. He scrambled to put his shoes on. As he ran, the first thought in his head is you. His pace quickened. Once he made it, he lined up next to you. Two other men were next to him. Ling and Yao.

Yan GB Mulan who stood at attention next to you as the General greets all of you. Ping became anxious. His hands itched to hold yours. He was pulled out of his thoughts when everyone took a step back, other than Yao. You and Ping watched as the General shot an arrow to the top of a wooden pillar. The General instructed Yao to climb the pillar to retrieve the arrow. The catch was, everyone needed to wear golden weights.

Yan GB Mulan who watched all the other soldiers fail to retrieve the arrow. He fails too, but his focus was on you. He felt so much wrry when you had to climb the poll. Ping bit his knuckles while you made it more than half way up. The moment you start falling, he ran to catch you. He doesn’t care about the stareson him. He only cares about the stares on you. He wants to shield you from them. He also hates that you’re the best soldier. Ping doesn’t understand it. He resents you for it. He wants you back home. He wants to be the one protecting you.

Yan GB Mulan who tried his best to perfect all the training practices but with no success. Ping fell everytime and caused the other soldiers to slow down. He felt like a burden. This was not what he wanted. Luckily, he had you to help him up everytime. Mushu watches from afar with Cri-kee. The dragon can’t help but joke about the heart eyes the boy had whenever he looked at you. His failures, however, make it to the General.

Yan GB Mulan who is met with the General one night. The General had Ping's horse. This wasn't a good sign. He was told to leave. Ping couldn't leave. He needed to prove himself. Not as a man, but to show that he's capable of being independent. Mot importantly, he doesn't want to leave you. So he found the weights, and climbed up the wooden pillar. He made it as the sun rose. He was greeted with cheers. Your cheering was the clearest to his ears.

Yan GB Mulan who snuck awat one night to bathe. Mushu was talking over him, which he grew used to. Ping had a towel wrapped around him to hide what he was. More specifically, what he didn’t want to be. It was stupid, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Once in the lake, he had Mushu stand watch. Three men, Chien Po, Yao, and Ling, came running by and jumped into the lake. Mushu followed, and before any got to close to Ping, Mushu bit one of them. You made it into the lake last. It was just you and Ping alone. He kept his distance. His face was a bright red. How could he handle being naked in a lake with you? It was torture.

Yan GB Mulan who was now marching into battle with all the other soldiers. And you. He became anxious when Ling started to talk about women. More specifically, women that the soldiers were into. He gets asked about his type. What was he supposed to say? You? No! That would give him away! And it wasn’t something he was ready to confess to you. When he was going to confess to you, it would be beautiful. Not marching into death. Ping took to long to answer to you’re asked about your ideal partner. He wanted to push everyone away from you. He can’t handle your answer. What if you say something that he isn’t?

Yan GB Mulan who is relieved you don't get a chance to answer the question. The interruption, however, was saddening. The troops walked into a burned down village. There were no remnants of life left. Ping’s face fell. He reached out to grab your hand. He didn’t want you to see such a thing. As the troup walked treacherously through, Ping found a child’s doll. He touched it gently. The doll seemed well loved. He noticed your hand wasn’t holding his anymore, so he looked over at you. You were in tears. You didn’t make a sound, but the tears flowed down your face. Ping wanted to protect you from the sight. It hurt him even more to see you like this. Before the troops had to continue up the snowy mountain, Ping had placed the child’s doll onto the floor. He propped it up on the sword the General had placed for his dead father.

Yan GB Mulan who was attacked by the huns. Everyone scrambled to run away in the deep snow. They weren’t prepared for the ambush. In his quick thinking, Ping grabbed Mushu and shoved the General away from the firework. He aimed it at the top of the snow mountain, not at the Huns. Ping used Mushu as a lighter and the firework fizzled before it shot up into the sky. There was a silent anxious pause. A rumble then took over. An avalanche! Ping shot up and started to run before the snow had toppled him over. In his escape, Ping searches for you frantically. He catches a glimpse of you about to fall off the cliff. He was not going to let that happen. Chien Po, Yao, and Ling quickly follow to help you both up.

Yan GB Mulan who lifted you in his arms. He’s so grateful to the gods and his ancestors that you were okay. That you were alive. He nearly forgot the pain in his abdomen. When you brought it up, he panicked. The General had called for a doctor as the rest waited anxiously. You couldn’t handle the suspense. You wanted to make sure Ping was okay. That he was going to survive. Once the doctor was finished, they informed the General of who Ping really was. What he really was. It broke Ping’s heart as he heard all his friends leave him behind. All because of something he couldn’t control being. Of what body parts he had. All for a body that wasn’t his. Mushu, Cri-Kee, and his horse were all that was left. The only ones who didn’t abandon him. At least, that’s what he thought.

Yan GB Mulan who left the tent to go back home. He wasn’t watching where he was walking. His foot had ended up hitting something. He looked down and saw that you had stayed. You stayed. He nudged you gently to awake you. When you were conscious, you jumped up and tackled Ping into a hug. You told him that you knew of his true identity the whole time. In fact, you had followed him here to make sure he would be okay. He teared up at the sentiment. You really were his. Ping took this chance to introduce you to Mushu too.

Yan GB Mulan who rushes after the troop that had left him. You were riding with him on the back of his horse. You held onto Mushu and Cri-Kee. You four managed to make it. The parade going on made it difficult to gain the attention of the surrounding people. It was so frustrating when everyone ignored Ping. They even ignored you. Ping quickly hopped off his horse. He tried to prevent you from following, but you practically threw yourself off his horse. He sighed, however, he grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd. He made sure no one touched you as you two rushed to try and find the General. The two of you tried to get someone to listen.

Yan GB Mulan who ends up getting help from you, Chien Po, Yao, and Ling. He dresses the four of you up in women’s clothing and traditional makeup as disguises. He paused when he saw you. You looked so beautiful. Granted, you looked amazing in anything you wore. The love sick gaze he held was short-lived. Yao had punched his arm to get his attention back to the task at hand. The five of you set out, and succeeded to get inside the castle. The General had joined in too. Ping, you, and the other three men had fought off the hun soldiers, allowing the General to go after the emperor. Once all the huns were knocked out, you five ran down the hall to where the emperor had been taken. Ping distracted Shan Yu so Chien Po could take the emperor away.

Yan GB Mulan who is urged to cut the rope to prevent Shan Yu to follow after the emperor. He also pulls you away to keep you safe. You were not going to be one of Shan Yu’s victims. Not when you’ve gotten this far. While he has you against his chest, Ping shows Shan Yu who he really is. Or, well, who Shan Yu thinks he is. When Shan Yu became violent, you were quick to react. You pulled Ping behind you as you started to run. As you run, you tell Mushu and Cri-Kee to go to the fireworks. As they rush off, you and Ping end up on the roof. When the dragon gives you the signal, you have Ping duck. Mushu had the fireworks aimed at Shan Yu. Ping took the commotion as a distraction. He grabbed you once more to pull you off the roof. He uses himself to cushion your landing. It was finally over. Ping had saved China.

Yan GB Mulan who was awarded with the sword, the jian, for his honor. He had also been titled an honorary prince. He was truly recognized as a man. A man with true honor. As even more recognition from the emperor, Ping was also given a medallion with a dragon carved on it. He couldn't help the tight hug that followed. The both of you cried in so much joy as you held onto each other. He was finally able to go home. And he had gained the confidence to face his father.

Yan GB Mulan who brings his father the medallion that resembled his honor. Ping presented the jian to his father as well. He took this chance to finally explain to his father who he truly was. What he was. Ping was appalled that his father's response was to hug him. He embraced it. Ping wanted to cry. When he felt you hugging him from behind, the dam broke. He was so happy. Ping was finally home. He was finally him.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Property of @secretcoralgarden! Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[dunzella]

Yandere! Serial Killer

♢ Yandere! Serial Killer whose on the run from the police, "she" had been careless with one of "her" victims, a rare slip-up for someone who prided "herself" on precision. Evidence left behind, a single, damning thread now had the authorities breathing down "her" neck.

Yandere! Serial Killer who isn’t new to the game. "She" had been turning victims into works of art for years, taking people who were in horrible accidents barely clinging onto life before "she" takes them and turns them into dolls.

Now "she's" forced to lay low, with a disguise. A wig cascaded down "her" back, pastel highlights blending effortlessly.

Dainty hands adjusted the straps of a tight pink corset while "she" checked "herself" in the mirror. Thick thighs hugged by stockings, soft pink lips curling into a knowing smirk.

The police would never suspect "her." No one ever did.

Yandere! Serial Killer wandered into a coffee shop one day, and spotted you. Instantly remembering you as "her" high school crush, never really spoken a few shy 'hi's' here and there. "She" mainly just observed from afar since you was always surrounded by people.

You was a senior and "she" was a sophmore, so when you graduated and left the school it broke "her" heart. Never able to confess to you about "her" feelings or even managing to court you.

Yandere! Serial Killer who thinks this was fate, a second chance and was about to walk over to you until "she" froze. All of a sudden remembering "her" current situation, you wouldn't even recongnize "her" because of the disguise.

It's not like "she" could walk right up to you without it either "she's" a wanted criminal. And "she" highly doubts you haven't seen "her" actual face on the news.

Yandere! Serial Killer who scans your face with the same precision "she" uses to memorize her victims’ features. But you’re different. You’re not a victim. You’re special. There’s a maturity to you now, a depth that makes "her" want you even more.

Yandere! Serial Killer who bit "her" lips, and decided to take this chance, "she" can’t let you slip away again. Not this time.

Yandere! Serial Killer approaching you and striking up a conversation, "she" felt a familiar shiver down "her" spine when you had stated "she" looked familiar to someone you remembered in high school. Asking if "she" had a brother.

Yandere! Serial Killer who dreamt of this moment over and over finally able to have a real conversation with you, instead of shying away. Feeling very giddy unable to hide "her" excitement.

Yandere! Serial Killer who suddenly felt hot beneath the tight corset, feeling how "her" body betrayed "her". "Her" plush thighs pressed together as "her" mind wandered to places it shouldn’t, not here, not now. The pink lace of her stockings suddenly felt too tight, feeling a familiar pressure between "her" legs.

Pretty manicured fingers gripped the coffee cup a little too tightly as "she" forced "herself" to focus. "She" couldn’t scare you away, not yet.

Yandere! Serial Killer who nearly combusts when you exchange numbers. You think "she’s" just a bubbly, harmless old acquaintance from high school. How could you have known the truth?

Yandere! Serial Killer who as soon as "she" got back home "she" needed to take care of "her" growing problem. "She" couldn’t stop thinking about you. Replay after replay of your conversation danced in "her" mind as "she" stroked herself, soft moans of your name muffled by "her" pillow.

Yandere! Serial Killer who after coming down from "her" high decided on that day "she" won’t lose you again. This time, "she’ll" do it right. "She’ll" worm "her" way back into your life, just like "she" always dreamed of in high school.

Yandere! Serial Killer who becomes your best friend. "She’s" bubbly and sweet, always making you laugh. "She" agrees with everything you say, knows just what you’re thinking before you say it. You’re amazed by how connected you feel to "her"—like "she" knows you better than you know yourself.

You didn’t know it yet, but your other friends were disappearing. They were vanishing. And "she" was collecting their pieces—literally and figuratively.

Yandere! Serial Killer who was thinking about courting you and make "her" feelings known to you, but remembered "she" was playing a character and not as "herself" due to unfortunate circumstances which never fails to piss "her" off.

Yandere! Serial Killer often wondered if you would still like "her" if "she" came clean, wondering if you’d call "her" insane if you found out the truth. Would you turn "her" in? Would you scream? "She" dreams about it sometimes, imagined your tears, your pleas.

Yandere! Serial Killer who finishes stitching up "her" latest "doll" a person who dared flirt with you and sighs. Blood smearing on the cigarette "she" lit, taking a long drag. "Her" mind drifts back to you. The thought of losing you again terrifies "her" more than the police ever could.

Yandere! Serial Killer who finally snaps when "she" stalked caught you going on a date with someone else. The sight of you all dolled up for them. Smiling, and laughing, made "her" heart shatter into a million jagged pieces.

Yandere! Serial Killer's face twists into something hideous, a snarl that looks entirely out of place on the delicate, doll-like face "she’s" crafted. This wasn’t just jealousy—it was betrayal. An ultimate, unforgivable sin.

"You’ll regret this," "she" whispers under "her" breath, "her" voice dripping with venom. "I’ll make sure you never even think about leaving me again."

Yandere! Serial Killer who dragged your mangled unconscious body out of your destroyed car after the brakes mysteriously failed.

Yandere! Serial Killer who immediately got to work, "her" fingers expertly weaving through "her" collection of needles and threads. The crazed grin on "her" lips only widened as "she" stitched up the injuries, "her" blood-streaked hands steady.

Yandere! Serial Killer who smiled when "she" saw your eyes flutter open, the haze of confusion clouding your gaze as you took in your surroundings. Noticing you was sitting on "her" oddly broad lap.

Yandere! Serial Killer who laughed as "she" cooed at you, as you tried to sit up, only to realize how weak you were.

"Aw, don’t overexert yourself, dear," she cooed, "her" voice now much deeper and malicious. "You’ve been through so much already."

Yandere! Serial Killer who cradled you on "her" lap, ignoring your weak protests as you squirmed against "her". You froze when you felt it. A hard, unmistakable pressure pressing against your ass.

Yandere! Serial Killer who’s playful facade cracked as "her" hands reached for "her" pastel wig. "She" tugged it off in one swift motion, revealing short, messy blonde hair. "Her" expression darkened, "her" once-cheerful smile now replaced by something dead.

Yandere! Serial Killer who wordlessly reached into his bra, pulling out the fake silicone breasts with a quick flick of his wrist and tossing them aside like trash. His movements were stiff, irritated, his patience thinning. He stared at you with a mix of boredom and contempt.

Processing how his face was bare, but he was still sadly pretty his androgynous features seemed to have helped him go unnoticed. All the pieces finally clicking together.

"Recognize me now?" he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. "You should. They’ve been plastering my face all over the news."

Yandere! Serial Killer who motioned toward the table in front of you, a silver platter gleaming under the warm, pink light of the room. Your stomach churned as he lifted the lid with a dramatic flourish, revealing the severed head of the person you’d been seeing.

Yandere! Serial Killer who grinned as your eyes widened in horror, tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you like a freight train. Their severed body parts were arranged grotesquely around it, the intestines draped like an awful decoration. The sight sent a wave of nausea rushing up your throat.

"Thought we’d have dinner together," he said mockingly, "I couldn’t let them come between us, after all."

Yandere! Serial Killer who sweetly kissed your cheek seeing the look of dawning horror on your face. This was pure madness. Your heart hammered in your chest as tears welled up in your eyes.

Now noticing the overwhelming stench of death, sweat, and something sweeter like rot; clung to the air...coming from the dolls around his room. Some were disfigured, their faces distorted, stitched up where the skin had been torn or burned.

The worse part is how stiff you felt gazing at your hand you see your wrists stitched up, lifting you shirt you see large lines long, jagged stitches, crude and uneven.

You realized with sickening clarity...you were another one of his creations.

"You’re mine now," he purred, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over your skin. "And nothing, no one, is going to take you away from me."

[yanoverload]

Sensitive Beau

"At least we close early today..."

(Bunny gave me the idea and I had to do it)

[marsian-tango]

Yandere God

Oh, bless the almighty being that used his power to put you on this world!

The life of a follower is simple and peaceful, and the company of the other followers fills your life with joy and a sense of fraternity. The people of the temple are your family. They are the ones who have been by your side your entire life, the ones that taught you your purpose, the ones that showed you how to be a devout sheep.

You live to serve your God. You were instructed to dedicate your life to him the same way the rest do. You’ve never needed any proof that he’s real, you know he’s taking care of all his followers, including you. You don’t need anything other than him in your life…right?

But what happens when you start to yearn for more? When you dream of leaving your monotonous days behind, exploring the world, getting to know yourself? Are you really willing to look past such blasphemy against your God in return for some…freedom?

Yandere! God who is the deity of family, wind, and fire. He is the least narcissistic out of all the Gods in the pantheon, but he’s still a God, so of course he has an ego that matches his divine self. He tends to keep to himself, he doesn’t visit his siblings in The Land of the Gods very often, instead enjoying the quiet of his home in The Great Beyond. He loves his siblings, sure. But he doesn’t feel like they have much in common apart from being immortal beings, so he prefers to support them from a distance, only appearing before them when he’s specifically called to do so.

Yandere! God who despite staying in his home most of the time, he also likes to visit his devout followers from time to time, just to see what they’re up to. He may not be as present or doting as the other Gods, but he still cares…a little. He doesn’t feel the need to parade himself to his acolytes, he’s a God after all. His followers should worship his existence regardless if he shows himself or not.

Yandere! God who relishes in the praise and the tributes dedicated to him. Ah, yes, bathed in flattery, as he should. But for his sake, it’s tough to be a God! Even when he's taking one of his long self-awarded naps, he can still hear the prayers that his followers make echoing inside his head.

Yandere! God who, as the God of family, rewards all followers that carry their lineage and start one themselves. He keeps the fire inside their homes glowing, pushing the darkness away, and covering them in a tender warmth. He may be a bit disconnected from those who worship him, but even he has to recognise their devotion and reward them sometimes. A grateful acolyte is a dutiful acolyte.

Yandere! God who one day decides to postpone his usual nap of the day, feeling the sudden need to watch over his temple instead, having a strange hunch that something is about to happen. His eyes never leave the temple throughout the whole day until nighttime comes, his gaze filled with an expectant gleam.

Yandere! God who, amongst the flickering light from the torches that adorn the outside of his temple, sees a couple. They are completely covered from head to toe, dark cloaks hiding their faces, but even then he can tell that they’re not a part of his worshipers. He watches them as they reach for the enormous doors of his temple, leaving a basket right at the doorstep, and leaving in a rush without looking back. His eyes follow them as they fade into the darkness of the night. He wonders what that was all about.

Yandere! God who materializes himself in front of his temple, gazing in curiosity at the basket before picking it up and inspecting it. He doesn’t think it’s an offering, it’d be weird to leave it right at the doorstep in the middle of the night. The content inside is covered with a thin blanket, but the blanket seems to be…breathing? Wait—what?

He takes off the blanket and finds…a baby. You.

Yandere! God who flees the scene with a confused look painting his sharp features after knocking on the golden doors of his temple, waking up the sleeping disciples. He hides amongst the clouds in the sky, watching how his followers carry the baby inside.

He’s confused. There’s this familiarity lingering inside of him, a knowing feeling that appeared once he saw you, a certain pang that clutched at his…soul? He didn’t even know that he had one.

Yandere! God who, from that day forward, started keeping an eye on you. As the years passed by, his careful gaze never left you. What? He was just curious about what was up with the strange child that was left at his doorstep.

Yandere! God who watched you grow into an innocent and sweetly dedicated acolyte. With the teachings of the older followers and your natural curiosity, you turned into a dutiful woman, becoming another one of his followers. Oh, boy, was he ecstatic! He was so entranced by you that even when his siblings invited him to parties and celebrations, his mind would still be consumed by thoughts of you. They even started questioning the reason for his sudden lovestruck look.

Yandere! God who loves when it’s your turn to conduct the daily prayers. He adores seeing you kneeling in front of his altar, leaving him offerings, whispering your hopes and dreams only for him to hear. Oh, look at you, gathering all those pretty flowers for his shrine, aren’t you sweet? You’re so cute and devout. The other followers are fine, but you shine brightly with your sheep-like obedience and hunger to please. An incandescent flame that warms his celestial soul. He’s never felt such a thing before. You’re just a human and he’s a God! So why does he find you so fascinating?! You’re driving him insane! You, and your saccharine smiles, your mellow voice, your velvety skin that’s begging to be caressed—! alright, he’s getting a bit carried away.

Yandere! God who, unbeknownst to you, assists you constantly. But doesn't quite show himself to you, not directly at least. He’s the summer breeze that ruffles your hair, the candle that remains light throughout your whole night of slumber, he’s the shadow in the clouds that looks after you during your afternoon strolls.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his other followers, but they can take care of themselves just fine! Oh, that family’s bonfire is not lighting up? Okay…? Then try harder? Don’t look at him, he’s a God, he's got stuff to do.

Yandere! God who starts noticing a change in your behavior. You’re reading, that’s normal, but why are you reading about other parts of the world? Very far away parts of the world?

You’re performing your daily rituals and offerings, as usual, but you seem…distant. 

Yandere! God who has been your priority and reason to live since you got to this temple. It’s always been the other followers, your God, and you. You love your life, but it starts feeling empty, you want more than just what you’ve been taught and what you’ve seen so far. This temple and these people are all you’ve known, but is this really all what life is about? Will your devotion to your God keep you satisfied forever? You want to learn, you want adventure, you want the dangers and the risks that your temple has protected you from.

Yandere! God who feels like he got stabbed in the heart when he finds out that you plan to leave. He doesn’t know what to do! Why would you leave?! Your life is perfect the way it is, he makes sure of that! Please don’t leave, it’s way easier to keep tabs on you if you’re in his temple!

Yandere! God who’s in panic, he’s not sure if he should show himself to you and force you to stay or try to approach you in a more indirect way. Maybe if he lets you know that he’s aware and attentive of your existence, you won’t be so adamant to leave, right? That’ll work…right?

Maybe not.

Why is this so difficult?! He’s trying! He swears he’s trying, but you don't cooperate! Even if he sends subtle miracles your way to make his presence known, you’re so entranced in your dreams and ambitions that you don’t notice. Torches light up the second you enter a room, and you don’t notice…?

Yandere! God who’s getting absurdly frustrated by his failed attempts. Why is this happening to him?! Why are the fates punishing him so mercilessly?!

You’re special, he has never felt this way towards anyone, you make him feel. You’re not just one of his followers, you’re more, he felt it the moment he saw you!

Yandere! God who, despite being the God of family, has never felt as connected to his family as he is to you.

He has spent eons wishing for a real family. The other Gods are so self centered, selfish, they want to show off themselves constantly, and they may be around each other, but they’re not present. They are his family, but he yearns for real companionship. He wants a family that won’t just call him when they want to see him, he wants a family that will stay with him, one that will go out of their way just to see him, one that will stand by his side.

Yandere! God who ever since he met you, he started having thoughts of…creating a family, having one completely of his own, from his flesh and celestial blood. You make him think that, so it’s only logical to create said family with you, right?

The gods were never enough to alleviate his familiar ache, but you are, and he’ll be damned if he lets you get away from him.

Yandere! God who watches you with a dark gleam in his eyes as you sneak out of his temple, marking the beginning of your journey. You make your way through the dark forest with a bag filled with your belongings, you may not know where you’re going, but you seem to relish the uncertainty of your odyssey.

Yandere! God who lies calmly on the clouds, and with a lazy flicker of his hand, shifts the wind, making your frightened body raise in the air.

He maneuvers the wind, raising you higher and higher into the air, until the forest you were in moments ago starts looking like a mere speck of dirt.

Yandere! God who smirks at your terrified expression, cooing at the tears glistening down your soft cheeks. He sets you down on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady. He rejoices in the closeness between you two, letting out a content sigh.

There’s no way you’re leaving him now.

He’ll stay here a little longer, the height you both are at makes you cling desperately to him, he likes that. But after this, he’ll bring you back to his home. The Great Beyond is a wonderful place. He’s sure you’ll love it, and even if you don’t, don’t worry, he’ll customize it right to your liking! Plus, you guys can always fill the space with a few kids too. Oh, You’ll be such a good mother!

Yandere! God who can already tell you’re gonna give him the perfect family.

Hello, everyone! I've been absent for a few days, I'm sorry. I procrastinated this for a while now, but everytime I tried writing my creativity would just turn off. This is a bit different from my other posts, or at least I feel like it is, so as always, I'd appreaciate some feedback. Tell me what you think, if you'd like a specific yandere next, if you see any mistakes. Also, if you want me to start writing stories instead of just "Yandere! who" let me know. Kisses <3

[yan-est]

I love love love love loveee your househusband hcs :o UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER LIKE REALLY GOOD! BUT ANYWAYS (UR AMAZING) HOW DID HE GREW UP? WAS HE WEALTHY GROWING UP?

stop im giggling like THANK YOU ANON!! 🤍 UR SO SWEET and bc of that i'm making this a teensy bit longer than it should be

neways, pretty sure he was a loner growing up buuuut at least he had you :) based on the warnings below idk if that should be a good thing or

cw: creep behavior, mentions of stalking and homicide

yan!househusband was filthy rich; total trust fund baby, spoiled kid, deep pockets. he might've looked like he had what he wanted and needed in life, but god, he would kill for a second out of his parents' agonizing, suffocating hold.

to distract himself while growing up in his mother's private estates, he tried everything. doesn't mean he was good at it though, if anything, he was on the mediocre side, but hey, he was a fast learner. that skill comes in handy when he finally met you.

and to be honest, he didn't expect falling this hard. sure, you were nice, and smart, and you had what he didn't have in his childhood— freedom. he could've chosen anyone else, he could've fallen for anyone else, but when he unconsciously drew you on the margins of his textbook one day, oh, that sealed your fate.

you were stuck on his mind, and he preferred to keep you in there.

the doodles started small. first, he drew you looking at the board. then he started drawing your side profile, your hair, then your portrait. then your pencil case, your favorite snack, your shoes, your uniform, your thighs, your house, your bed, and… everything down there.

he had to buy a new textbook. the old one was stained and it reeked of him.

he was obsessed.

you, the epitome of his wishes, his lifelong dream to be free, was within his grasp. after being caged by his mother and ignored by his father for so long, you were the breath of fresh air that he yearned to inhale.

you were everything he ever wanted. and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you get away.

it began with a dinner conversation. high school graduation was in a week, and on the rare occasion where they all gathered together, he and his parents sat around the candle-lit dining table. they were discussing his future, told him to pursue the path they did, and everything was fine!

it's just that… you weren't mentioned in his parents' plans, and that put him off. and as delusional as he may be, he knew the reality of what they'd think of you.

so when they mentioned setting up a good marriage partner for him, he was glad he laced their meals with cyanide beforehand.

the whole dinner blurred by into moments. he doesn't remember much of it, and he has already buried his past along with his parents. what matters is that he pulled some strings, inherited millions, bought you a promise ring, and planned to provide for you.

he has a whole plan in motion, from his career to finances, and one word from you will forever—

oh, um… you want a stay at home partner after college?

good thing yan!househusband looks fuckable in an apron!

[strzxrin]

bae i need wei zhong with a cuddly lover. like… just someone who drops into his arms the second they are in private and remain smashed against his chest while dozing off. and like in public they hold his hand, and also give him some small kisses here and there, their favorite kisses to give him being kisses under his jawline. (i need to cuddle this man you don’t understand how much i need to do that and to also suck his—)

. . . just wanna touch you for a minute !

in which . . . you hold him in your arms and he can’t help but latch onto you even more. even as you make a mess out of him.

cw. it was cute until it wasn’t, dom!reader, bottom!character, overstimulation, bondage, dacryphilia, teasing, edging

pairings . wei zhong x gn!reader

bunny hybrid x reader , nerd x reader , bottom!character x reader , pathetic!character x reader

notes . i kinda went a little overboard on him… (can you tell who’s my favourite to write?) i did make it a little sweet at the start though but i hope that you devoured this

masterlist . character list

he completely melts into it. he’s very physically affectionate himself but when you reciprocate? he believes that he transcended into the heavens because by the gods you’re so soft to him.

the feel of your skin and the way how you drape yourself over him? he’s almost whimpering from it. your fingers intertwining with his? he finds his heart exploding, and he can’t help himself to just pepper your face with kisses.

he thinks that you’re so so cute, but you? you think that he’s the cuter one here.

especially when he stops functioning entirely when you start to kiss his jawline, your hands on his chest as you lay on top of him in his bed. he doesn’t remember how it got to this — no. he does. you were coming over for a movie night.

yet here you were, kissing his jaw and trailing it further down as he lets out little mewls and whimpers “waitwaitwait—! mngh!” his back arched as he felt your teeth gently grazing his nipples. he was a mess, a puddle in your hands, quite literally too. his cock was leaking as you circled your thumb on his tip, softly chuckling on his cute sounds.

you moved back up again as you smiled “awwh.. you’re so cute, baby..” you cooed softly into his ears, and he swears his bunny ears twitched and flopped by the sheer closeness of it all. he was tied on the bed due to your little sneaky act and frankly the bondage was making him even more sensitive.

“( name )—! anh!” he stuttered out your name, almost babbling as he can’t remember the amount of times you denied him from cumming. he has tears in his eyes as he sobs a bit but you kissed away the tears, shushing him gently as you continued to tease his aching cock.

“what’s wrong, baby? wanna cum?”

“oh pleasepleaseplease!! please wanna cum! please i’ll be such a good boy just lemme cum!” his words were beginning to slur as you hummed. your fingers went further and now you were fully stroking him. it made his back arch even further as he struggled from the restraints. he was whining and shaking as you chuckled before going to his ears and nibbling it gently.

“go ahead, pretty boy.. cum” and he did. he was a whimpering and sobbing mess, shaking as he shoots his load all over your hand. his eyes rolled back from the sheer pleasure relief of it all and when he gained his consciousness again, he sees you putting your hand up to your lips and licking off his cum.

ah.. he’s not going to be walking tomorrow it seems.