#Yandere cop

[yanderedrabbles]

Two Faced -Yandere Stalker/Cop

Yandere! Cop who pulls you over for a DUI. You're barely under the legal limit and it's clear you can't hold your liquor in the slightest.

Yandere! Cop who feels his cock twitch when you blow into the breathalyser, your eyes flickering up at him all half lidded like he's just fucked you raw, teasing him that most fellas don't say please as nice as you do officer.

Yandere! Cop who says he'll follow you home, just to make sure you're safe. You don't see anything strange about it, he's a cop after all. But now he knows where you live, he knows what car you drive, he knows that your roommates always leave for school at the same time you do.

Yandere! Cop who looks so damn good in his uniform, who has the muscles to fill it out just right.

Yandere! Cop figures out early on that you're a hard-core party girl. Different guys coming home with you every weekend. He doesn't like it, but he understands. You're probably just lonely - filling your bed with strangers to chase away the cold.

Yandere! Cop aims to fix that.

Yandere! Cop who makes sure he gets the weekend off and who makes sure to run into you at the club. You're totally wasted this time, hanging onto his arm and running your fingers up his biceps, giggling about what big muscles you have officer.

Yandere! Cop who takes you home and just let's you sleep it off in his bed. His cock is raging and he wants to fuck you more than anything, but he's a gentleman and you're hammered.

Yandere! Cop who makes you breakfast and a good ol' fashioned hangover cure all the cops swear by. He drives you home and tilts your chin up to kiss you. "How about a proper date, babydoll?"

You giggle and blush and slip away before he can get an answer.

Yandere! Cop who can never get with you in the daylight. You'll kiss him and grind up against him on the dance floor and warm his bed later that night, but you're almost always gone by morning.

Yandere! Cop who doesn't want you as just a fuck buddy. He wants you as his girlfriend, maybe his wife someday.

Yandere! Cop who'll take what you give him. He'll fuck you screaming and when you leave the next morning, he'll bury his head in your pillow and try to catch the remnants of your scent.

It goes on for months. He's becoming a neglected dog, fed on the scraps of attention you give him. He's starving, he's ravenous, he's slowly going rabbid.

Yandere! Cop who does something he didn't think himself capable of - he starts following you. Just a little at first, just so he can learn more about you. He's curious and you don't talk about yourself so it makes perfect sense, right? It's harmless.

Yandere! Cop who breaks into your apartment when you're in class. Just to make sure everything is safe. And if he jacks off into your used panties, it's just a kind of payment. He's going above and beyond for you, doesn't he deserve a little reward?

Yandere! Cop who sees you kissing another man on the walk back from school. You've got your hands on his chest and you're standing on your tip toes under the magnolia trees, like the poster of a sappy fucking romcom.

Yandere! Cop who's never been more angry in his life. And so he sends you a bloody bullet in the mail, your name carved into the steel.

And it works. You call him, terrified that you pissed off the wrong person somehow.

Yandere! Cop who loves being there to comfort you, who feels so masculine and strong when you cling onto his arm and sob about your big, scary stalker.

Yandere! Cop who takes endless pictures of you going about your day and leaves them on your doorstep.

Yandere! Cop who slowly becomes your boyfriend. Who's there the second your stalker gets too close or frightens you too badly. Who makes you feel so safe in his arms.

Yandere! Cop who carefully suggests you move in with him. He's a cop afterall, and no one would be stupid enough to break into his apartment.

Yandere! Cop who'll do something vicious everytime he feels you straying away from him.

Yandere! Stalker who leaves your pet's head in a box on your porch when you refuse to cut off your male friends.

Yandere! Cop who coos over you when you sob, as though he isn't the one scaring you.

Yandere! Cop who is extra careful with everything he does, so that you never suspect that he and your stalker are one and the same.

He's a cop afterall, and he's just keeping you safe. Even if you don't always see it that way.

[reareaotaku]

Yandere! Olivia Benson Headcanons

[Have yall seen her replies to the Trump Supporters to her newest post? She's hilarious]

She knew these feelings were wrong better than anyone else, but she couldn't help it

She didn't know when they started, but once they did, they just kept growing until she wasn't able to control it

She tried to avoid you, to maybe lower the feelings, but it's like you're everywhere, even when you're not

How do people deal with such intense emotions? She feels like she's wound like a spring

She tried so hard to fight the feelings off, but how could she when you were so perfect in her eyes?

She's very protective over you. She worries about your safety constantly and worries if you don't answer her texts

Her paranoia is really high, especially with everything that's happened to her. She just wants to protect you and keep you in her life

Would do anything for you. You are literally her world

She can get away with any crime. Do not test her. She's been in the force long enough to know how to bet the system

She's quite literally unbeatable. No one will believe you if you say she's been stalking you or harassing you. Olivia is the best on the force, she dedicates her life to this, so why would she commit a crime?

You might as well get comfortable with her, because you're not going anywhere for a very long time

[mint-8]

Yandere Police Officer x GN! Reader

- Yandere Police Officer who works hard everyday to keep the peace in their little hometown everyday. They take daily patrols, give talks in the schools and are seen as a core member of the community.

- Yandere Police Officer who is a tad bit xenophobic and distrustful to any newcomers, tourists and foreigners that arrive to their hometown, including you. But do not fret, for they aren’t completely cold hearted. If you prove to them that you are an upstanding and decent citizen, they’ll treat you like they treat any other townsfolk. If you wish to take it up a notch and get closer to them, maybe volunteering at any public event in the town or perhaps at the older folk’s home, and Yandere Police Officer will humor any small talk or wave at you during their patrols.

- Oh? You wish to get closer to them? Well, lucky you, for the old saying “the fastest way to a man’s heart is through their stomach” applies to them almost perfectly. They will enjoy any sweet treat you might gift them! Cookies, cake, pies, muffins, macarons, you name it, if it’s got enough sugar, they’ll happily eat it! They would also appreciate it if you would accompany them to eat the treats. They aren’t trying to take advantage of you or anything! Why, they could never! You two could eat outside though, like a nice picnic! Just like when they were younger!

- Yandere Police Officer who enjoys the idea of domesticity and having a big family (or small, if that’s what you wish). Why haven’t they adopted already, you ask? They don’t think they would be good as a single parent, even with the entire townsfolk aiding them, they aren’t fully ready to take on such a journey. Now if they had a partner, that would be different. They don’t enjoy being lonely, thus why they make such an effort to be an active player in their community. Having a partner wouldn’t make them feel as alone as they sometimes do, at least that’s what they believe.

- Yandere Police Officer who really wants to be the main breadwinner in the relationship, and with you being their adorable stay at home spouse. They’ll provide you with everything! The freshest of ingredients, the highest quality cleaning and cooking supplies, and tons of gifts! Flowers, clothes, jewelry, anything you ask!

- Yandere Police Officer who would also really love it if you would greet them everyday with a delicious breakfast, their uniform perfectly ironed and a happy smile with a kiss on the cheek and their lunch as a goodbye! For the afternoon, they wish for an equally delicious dinner, a squeaky clean house and perhaps some action in the bedroom for later!

- As you might have noticed, the relationship with Yandere Police Officer seems somewhat subservient in nature. I mean, they would love you regardless, but they are more than willing to “train” you. Unless you keep up a good fight, in which case they might (or not) stop, they’ll do everything in their power to turn you into a meek, submissive and obedient partner! And it would be so easy, as well! The entire townsfolk trusts them with their lives! They’ve known Yandere Police Officer since they were a baby, so of course they’ll take their word over yours.

[hunterssm00n]

Sleepwalking

Yandere! Sheriff OC / part 3 /

Try to lock you out / I feel you in my dreams / You're everywhere, you won't go easily...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

It’s just past ten when she hears the crunching of tires on the ice and gravel coming up her driveway.

She’s laying in her bed, lights off, looking at her phone, when she feels the hair on the back of her neck raise. He’s earlier tonight than usual; normally it’s after eleven or even after midnight before she hears those familiar noises. She’s also in bed earlier than normal tonight, but that’s because she’s super exhausted after a long, grueling week. Tomorrow is Friday, and by the time that fifth day of work rolls around she’s lucky to get up to the sound of her alarm the next morning.

It makes her wonder if he came here earlier than normal tonight with the hopes of catching her while she was awake.

That thought gives her shivers.

And what would happen if he did? If he saw the lights on in her home, would he take that as an invitation to come and knock on the door? Would he try to call her, like he has been? Leave her another very loving sounding, emotionally charged voicemail?

Kelli has played the last few over and over again. She has them all saved in her phone- for multiple reasons. One being that if this situation ever turned deadly, she would have plenty of evidence to build a case against him. The other reason being that she enjoys listening to his voice as he says such soft, loving things to her, and about her.

So what does that make her? As crazy as him? Surely not.

Ray is a handsome man. Maybe not handsome in the traditional sense, but in the way that he’s exactly her type. Well over six feet tall, big and burly, rugged and intimidating looking, a scar on his cheek; physically he’s very appealing to her. And behind the rough exterior, he’s got sky blue eyes that just seem so deep; so knowing.

Am I attracted to my stalker? Maybe. Hard maybe. But does that make what he’s doing in any way right? No. Absolutely not.

He’s abusing his authority as sheriff to look up Kelli’s address (as she definitely did not give it to him), come to her house, and stake out every night. When he calls, he’s begged her to call him back; he wants to hear her voice, he says. He wants to reassure her that he means no harm.

But can she trust him?

He hasn't done anything to make Kelli think that he intends to do her any harm... yet. In fact, it's been quite the opposite; he's done everything possible to make sure she’s safe. Or... to make sure she’s not going to run. He parks outside of her house every night- god only knows if he ever even sleeps. And every hour on the hour he gets out of his suburban, and walks the perimeter of the house, shining his flashlight and, seemingly, looking for any signs of trouble.

And here she thought she was paranoid. Her paranoia apparently doesn't hold a candle to this man's.

But in a way, this overprotectiveness makes her feel... something. She can't quite put her finger on the thought, or the emotion exactly. But it's surprising. And, of course, he doesn't need to know this.

And despite the fact that what he’s doing is wrong, it doesn’t make him any less appealing to her twisted brain. Quite the opposite. She should be scared; she should want to move states, go into WitSec, something that would get her away from him. But there’s no denying (to herself, at least) that she purposefully is not doing any of that for a reason. Plus, he would find her wherever she went. He’d track her down, just like he’d tracked her to her house.

Kelli can’t help but think about what he would do if he were inside right now- she imagined the scenario; how he would look standing in her doorway, how his big body would take up so much space it would make her house look tiny. The thought makes her shiver unintentionally, but not for bad reasons.

He would stare straight into her soul as she sat up in bed, surprised at his entry into her bedroom, and into her house in general. Wondering how he got inside, but also wondering what was going to happen now that he was.

“Ray?” she would ask, her voice coming out breathless and nervous- as she wouldn’t be expecting him to actually be inside the house, here, with her. At night, in her bedroom.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He would sound breathless, like he’d been running. Or, doing something else. “I couldn’t- I had to come see you. I had to make sure…”

Her other questions would be forgotten momentarily as he would advance towards the bed, and she wouldn’t even realize she’d shrank backwards until she hit the headboard, and it thumped against the wall.

“It’s okay,” He’d pause in his movements, hands outstretched to show that he’s okay, she’s okay, everything is okay. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m so sorry for scaring you, and- and for breaking in here.” He would look down at the floor after he says this, and she would be able to practically sense the shame coming from him. Practically be able to feel it. “I know it’s not right, what I'm doing- I know I shouldn't be here... But I can’t help it. I want you- I need you.”

The thought of this scenario makes her pussy pulse between her thighs, and it’s then that she realizes how wet she is. And not for the first time when thinking about him, either.

She hears his footsteps outside, gentle in the freshly fallen snow, and before she can think better of it Kelli slides her right hand down her stomach, and into the waistband of her pajama pants. Her fingers slide down the front of her underwear, down, down, until they get to the soft, warm area right above her clit. They pause there for the barest moment before continuing their journey, passing over her clit and to her wet panties, soaked by her pussy lips. A choked moan catches in her throat- surprised by how wet she already is and by how good that simple touch feels.

Working her hand back and forth slowly, she listens to the sound of him walking around her house, his footsteps almost adding to her steadily increasing heartbeat. It feels good- too good. It should not feel this good touching herself to the thought of her stalker breaking into her house; to the sound of him walking around outside. Knowing he’s there, feeling his presence, it’s too much.

Before long she's cumming by merely touching herself through her panties, her other hand covering her mouth so she doesn't make any discernable sounds as the pleasure crashes through her. All the while thinking This is wrong, this is so wrong.

Coming down from her high, she relaxes back against the bed, breathing hard against the comfort of her soft mattress. Still hearing him outside of the house, she decides to chalk this one up to having not been in a relationship for a while; being untouched for so long. Because the fact that she just touched herself to the thought of her stalker is a little too much to come to terms with, at the moment.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song 'Sleepwalking' by Diamante. The above picture is from pinterest, and there's a link attached to the original post.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I decided to rewrite the deleted fanfic from the depths of my memory of it. I doubt I will get into trouble. I will change a few stuff. I am working on it. But tell me your opinion.

You were a wanted criminal. You never murdered or did anything harmful to the community. You came from the poorest and corrupted city in the US and had to steal to survive.

You weren't really a bad person. You used your brain to hack into the system to make the stock market give you money. Like the movie dumb money with Paul dano.

Sadly, someone betrayed you and told the police. You were too smart to get caught and make a mistake.

You were America's most wanted. And on the hide. Sadly, your recent picture got the attention of head of police Seth Green.

He was a normal thinking man but after seeing your beautiful face, he couldn't stop thinking of you.

He began to search for you despite not being assigned to you.

He found you by bribery. And decided to not hand you in as long as you live with him.

Will you trust him? You already got betrayed when your ex friend snitched you to the police.

[m1d-45]

room 11-13

summary: albedo is weird. no, not just weird- disgustingly strange.

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: implied stalking [him -> you] ; he is a weird creep!! brief + non described mentioned nudity (of reader, within a drawing)

-> gn reader (you/yours) in a modern au !

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

your roommate was… interesting, to say the least. not that you really had many expectations—unlike apparently everyone else, you didn’t come to university with a plethora of friends packed in your bag. you had no names to list on your housing contract, no familiar faces to look forward to when you came home, just you, a handful of cardboard boxes and a lingering sense that you’d forgotten something.

there was nothing you could pin about him. nothing in specific, no one catalyst you could point to. sure, you don’t see him often, but that isn’t inherently a bad thing. there’s nothing wrong with not going out much, there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet person when you’re living with a stranger. the common room is clean, the sink is (relatively) empty, and none of your things in the fridge have been eaten. he really, by all standards, should be a perfectly fine roommate, but…

albedo was a quiet man. you first met him when you moved in, delicately pouring exact amounts of water into a small tins over the sink without a single sound or stray droplet. he looked up, you exchanged names, and that was that. the rest of your day was spent unpacking in your room, barely hearing the click of his door closing.

you never quite asked what he was doing that first day, but you could put two and two together. he had a habit of leaving pencils or erasers or other supplies on the coffee table, and you often ran into him when he came out of his room to fetch them. you’re not quite sure how you never see him in the living room when you never told him your schedule, but… well, whatever. it didn’t take a genius to know that the guy with charcoal smears across his hands was an artist. and, if you’d somehow missed those, you sometimes ran into half-used palette in the fridge, beads of paint in a myriad of colors sealed neatly in plastic containers, changing every time you checked.

you weren’t sure why they were always there, as you’d definitely seen one when he was in the dorm, but… well, it’s not really your business, is it? maybe he’s busy, maybe he doesn’t want to paint, maybe he’s taking a nap, who cares. you grab what you need and go back to your room; there’s more important things to worry about than a stranger’s hobbies. honestly, you shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about him. you could hardly claim to know someone you never saw.

well, except when you did see him.

you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as you came back from your chemistry lab, not minding the usual palette of paint beside it. also as usual, you heard his door open as he remembered some random item, not minding the sound of his footsteps as you receded into your own room-

“wait! ah- please…”

you forgotten what his voice sounded like. it’s mostly out of shock, not recognition, that you turn around, seeing him lingering in the entrance to his half of the dorm. his hair is loose around his shoulders, catching the light from the window and glowing gold. his apron is stained with a rainbow of paint, matching the perpetual lines across his hands, and he seems a bit too nervous to be talking with someone he’s been living with for a few months now.

“…i couldn’t make it to the lab today,” he starts, words measured and not at all like his original call, practiced instead of panicked. “could i borrow your notes?”

…you’re in the same chemistry class? you’d never noticed. then again, you’re not sure you could pick him out of a crowd—it’s not like you two were exactly close… but giving him your data was honestly a non-issue. normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, except if he was in your lab section then he should know the rules about missing them.

“you’re going to have to retake the lab anyway, aren’t you? my report won’t help you at all.”

he blinks, like he’d forgotten that fact, and you half hope that’ll be the end of it. you still have your own work to get to, after all.

“still… it would give me something to reference, so when i do it i’ll know if my results are reasonable.” his brows are drawn, genuinely worried, crystal blue carrying a surprising amount of emotion despite the careful cadence of his words. “i’d greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter… i don’t have a reliable way to contact anyone else in the class.”

it only takes you a few moments to weigh the pros and cons. at worst, your partner can back you up if he tries to steal your work. at best, nothing happens and you’ve earned a bit of goodwill.

you shrug, taking off your bag and setting it on the counter, unzipping the main pocket and digging for your lab manual. you find it and flip to today’s lab, mentally wondering what an artist would think of the irritated scribbles down the side of the page. whatever the case, you hold it out toward the hallway he was before, only to find him barely a foot away. he’s stood over your shoulder, letting your manual bump into his chest without a flinch, without an ounce of the worry from before.

without an ounce of anything at all, really. his face is flat, empty, just staring down at the words in front of him without seeming to read them at all.

“…sorry,” you start, “i didn’t hear you-”

“don’t be sorry.” with a blink, he’s back, taking the manual with a gentle smile. “thank you for your help. i’ll return it by tonight.”

“…yeah, take your time.”

you’re not going to question what or why whatever happened did. it’s.. just easier if you don’t. you grab your bag and go to your room, focused on anything else.

you don’t find it in the common area, on the coffee table or by the sink or in any reasonable area. he doesn’t knock on your door to return it. no, instead, you trip over it the next day as you leave your room, squinting in the dark to see it laying on the carpet, a note taped to the front.

yeah, you’re not reading that. not now, at least. you’re certain albedo is a nice guy, if socially awkward, but… you can give him the benefit of the doubt later. you shove the note in a drawer and forget about it, going to class. if you just ignore it, you won’t have to deal with it.

it must not have been anything important, because he doesn’t ever bring it up again. it’s almost as if nothing happened. there’s a new pencil on the common room whenever you walk by, he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly when grabbing it, and nothing is new. you try to look for him in the lab, if only to be courteous, but never find him. it’s not a big class… but whatever, you’re not too familiar with his face anyway. after a week or two, you stop trying.

it’s wishful thinking, really.

you have to do a double take when opening the fridge one day, the paint on the palette looking, from the corner of your eye, like a human hand. it’s just skin-toned paints, delicately mixed into a color that somewhat looks like yours.. by the looks of it, he must have fussed with the tint for a while. normally there’s only small bubbles of paint, but this is excessively fine refinement.. he must just be a perfectionist.

you can’t leave your room without running into him. not just like before, with brief intersections as he grabs what he’s forgotten, but actual interactions. he sits on the couch, drawing in a small notebook, asking you about your classes like he’s not supposed to be in his own classes. sure, he could be taking some online, but it’s like he never leaves the dorm.

he asks as usual, one day, what class you’re going to. when you finally gather your courage and ask why he himself isn’t going to the lab, he startles, like he’d forgotten he was attending. there were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t going—maybe he was in a different section of the class, or he had a car and had reduced travel time, or quite literally anything other than silence. but he sat there, staring at you like you were the one who had mixed up your schedule, with the same painfully empty look as before.

you left soon after that.

if asked to describe albedo in three words or less, you’d fumble for a few moments before landing on “fine, but weird.” if asked to do so with any other level of detail, you’d probably end up saying the exact same thing.

and that’s fine. you didn’t really expect to become best friends with your roommate. but for archons’ sake, he’s just so… uncanny.

you’ve never seen any other food in the fridge but yours. you cannot remember ever seeing or hearing him leave or enter the dorm, or ever remember not seeing some sign of him being there. his door was perpetually closed, the faint sound of scratching coming from behind it, and he’d just… freeze at random. like he recedes into himself, leaving a hollow husk until he returns, eyes left as flat disks set into an unfeeling face. there’s nothing inherently wrong with not showing many expressions, but whatever he’s got going on is far more concerning than that.

so really, who could blame you for being curious? his sketchbook is just there, laying open on the table, only partially masked by the small bag of supplies next to it. the door to the bathroom is closed, you really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this, but it’s not like he even bothered to close it.

still, it’s wrong.

still, having something solid to point to could really help if you ever need to make a complaint to an RA.

oh archons, this is such a bad idea.

before you can convince yourself not to, you walk over and sit in his usual place on the couch, picking up his sketchbook and gritting your teeth through the fact that there’s no way this is morally justified.

the current spread is plain. it’s entirely in pencil, repeated iterations of different kinds of jewelry. rings, with ornate spirals and diamonds along the sides, leading into a gem of many different cuts. some simple stud earrings, some hoops, a necklace draped around a half-drawn bust, the chain sketched to look like blooming flowers strung together. there’s some notes in another script, but other than that, it’s entirely normal. there’s nothing weird about a guy that draws bracelets in his spare time. but your mind itches to find a justification, searching for proof, and you’re already in too deep. despite your better judgement, you turn the page, doing your best not to drop it when you do.

it’s you.

you, at least six times on two pages alone. smiling, waving, fixing your hair, by the seven you feel faintly sick, fingers digging into the pages as you try to rationalize what you’re seeing.

it could just be a one off. maybe you have a particularly interesting face to draw? except the next page is the same, and so is the next, and you flip through them all with the edge of your thumb and it’s all you.

all of it. every single page that has ink on it has your face. from the very front to the very back, with only a page or two of white left, and it’s clear that the jewelry was an intentional decoy. there’s a spread dedicated to just your hands, one to various outfits he’s seen you in, one- archons, one in various stages of undress, barely granting you the dignity of keeping them from the waist up. the worst part, really, is how accurate they are, clear proof of just how much time he’s spent staring at you.

you recognize his voice now, quiet and measured as he calls your name. that could just be your heart in your ears, though.

he has that same blank expression again, standing in the doorway, looking between you and the book. you’re certain he can see the paled fingertips of your grip on the cover. “do… do you not like them?”

“…what?”

he settles back into himself, sad, shoulders slumping and eyes downturned. “they’re just practices, i promise. the actual painting looks much better…”

bile threatens the back of your throat. “the painting?”

“yes, the painting. the one i mentioned in my note…”

…the note. his note. the one you didn’t read. the one he gave you after a grand total of one significant interactions, before which you all but considered him a ghost. and he decided that making a painting of you was a normal thing to do?

“…it makes sense you forgot it. i can’t imagine i’ve ever come close to properly capturing your beauty… it doesn't matter the medium, i never seem to get it right...”

he crosses his arms, picking idly at his lips with one hand, like he’s discussing a particularly annoying problem on his homework and not the fact that he has drawings of you topless. after a few moments of mumbling, he shakes his head. “i’ll do better. i promise i will. one day i'll draw something that finds even a fraction of your perfection.”

you don’t care. all you want is to get out of here, to lock your doors and try not to call the cops while he’s in earshot. “it’s fine, albedo”

the lie is a poison that seems to sting him upon arrival, a ripple of shock crossing his impassive expression. “it's not fine, not at all. how can i call myself an artist if i fail to impress my muse? please, give me time, i promise i can do better-”

“it’s fine,” you repeat, setting the sketchbook down and realizing with another stab of disgust that he’s written your name on the front cover. you stand, hands buzzing with the echo of what you’ve witnessed, not caring for the crestfallen look on his face. “…you’re a talented artist,” you grit out.

and you’re going to be sick.

[threepandas]

Beautiful Monsters: Yandere AfO

(Absolute GOLD STANDARD AfO art by -> blackberreh-art <- )

He had never stopped to consider his whore of a mother. Not for even an instance. Not to wonder who she had been. Not how she had come to be that way. And CERTAINLY not to wonder if she had, at some point, had siblings of her own. He had fed upon her. Consumed. Then survived where she had not.

Superior.

But now... now he wonders is perhaps he SHOULD have looked into it. Pondered, perhaps, WHERE his Quirk's genetics came from. Maternal or Paternal line? And did they have siblings? Other offspring?

It was certainly possible with the sperm donor. A man of no doubt loose morals, likely to have sired many. Though... how many SURVIVED the coming purges, is another thing entirely. Especially if they were Quirked.

He ponders this? Because he is staring down at his own distorted, yet magnificent, reflection. Through the surveillance screens, a SUPPOSEDLY unassuming public relations manager is shaking the hand of a low ranking hero. It is the seventh hand shake he's observed.

And that's just this sitting.

Just this meeting.

It is... MAGNIFICENT. Underhanded and brilliant. Predicated on the intense social pressures to maintain decorum, he knew if HE greeted in an Western manner, his victims would be forced to play along. What could they do? REFUSE to take his hand? Look RUDE and unreasonable? Even those few who THINK they know his Quirk, can't act.

It would appear bigoted. Quirkist. They have no PROOF.

All For One can only laugh. He is delighted. What a fumbling, audacious, greedy little scheme! How UTTERLY covetous. A "mute and mimic" quirk, was it? The "ability to 'briefly' copy quirks by 'temporarily muting' someone else's Quirk"? Oh, of COURSE! How completely non-threatening! It's TEMPORARY. Not GONE, just MUTED.

No need to VERIFY any of these facts. Why would a child LIE?

To get MORE? To avoid the hostile eyes of the power fearing SHEEP?

And to go into to PUBLIC RELATIONS! The gall! A brazen little monster in the making. He has to wonder... would HE have done the same? Had the world been as settled as it is now, when he was born? Were there no Quirk riots? No wars? Would HE have been content to "play the system"?

It's like looking through time at his younger self. So cocky. Self assured. A pretty, powerful, little thing that thinks it's the biggest fish in the pond. Hair like his brother, smooth to his curls, yet just as bleached bone white. Smug eyes, that dance with the secrets they keep. A vague smile, that gives away nothing.

Promises nothing.

He wants to RUIN him.

Grab him by that pretty little throat and SLAM him to the ground. Crater it. Hard enough to shatter the bones of lesser men. Wants to feel that pretty little thing CHOKE as he looks up at him with such magnificent disdain. As though HE is the insect that does not know it's place. That DARES touch it's better. Oh~

The poor little thing would have NO IDEA.

The sort of MONSTERS that have been lurking in the dark, ready to eat him ALIVE.

He has good taste, for the resources he has on hand. The budget he has to work with. The boy cleans up well, in his pretty little suits and quaint colognes. Decent cuts. Flattering. But All for One could do BETTER.

He keeps his hair long. A vanity and a means to soften their imposing jawline. Kept so neat and tidy. All of him, so very neat. So immaculately dressed. Clean.

He would RUIN IT.

As he holds him down by the throat. Under that furious gaze. He'd make him WATCH as he ruins the appearance he's oh so proud off. Shows him EXACTLY how different they are in strength. No knives, he thinks. Not even Quirks. At least, not directly, no...

Just his HANDS.

Ripping cloth. Shredding it beneath his fingers. Letting him kick and struggle in the DIRT. Insulted and wrathful. As All for One's hands wander. He wonders~ how FAR would the little monster let him get before he snapped?

He's been chained down for so long. So used to HIDING, can he even bring himself to do it? How far would All for One need to PUSH to get him to abandon his little plans, and FIGHT BACK?

Watching him struggle, FIGHT, throw EVERYTHING he has at him. Seeing the realization spark in his eyes that it's not ENOUGH. That it's hopeless. That beautiful despair. That he's pinned down like a butterfly for All for One to devour. A ruined beauty in his trashed remains of a suit.

The little monster would HATE it. Would RAGE. His lovely little mask of civility would come crumbling apart as he WRITHED beneath him. Trying to rip his throat out with his TEETH. Trying to claw out his EYES with that carefully maintained manicure. And All for One would DELIGHT.

Reveal in it.

Drink it all in, like the fine wine it was.

Because, OH~ What a magnificent MONSTER you've held back, little one~ Hateful and ugly. Just like ME~

All for One could out match him. Strength, experience, Quirks. His empire is sprawling while the boy has none. He COULD be a threat, in time. COULD grow to be an equal. But All for One could never allow THAT! The avaricious little thing would kill him!

No.

He's going to eat the boy ALIVE.

And his little monster will HATE it. DISPISE him. Because he his going to love it. And that? That CAN NOT be forgiven. Not by monsters like them. The defeat, the humiliation, the helplessness. It's unforgivable. But the PLEASURE? For THAT All for One will have to BURN. It can end no other way.

Not after he's held him down. Made him WEAK and filthy. Then found every spot that makes him twitch. Dragged open his mouth so he can not escape the NOISES he makes, as AfO swallows him whole. As quirks are combined to squirm, painlessly, easily, at JUST the right angle too...

He'd make him HOWL. Choke on his begging. Thrash and beg and curse.

Like he was DYING. Like he's begging for death.

You can torture a man with more then just pain, after all.

And he'd wants his little his monster OBSESSED. Wants the memory of his cock to HAUNT him. The feeling of being split open. Filled so gloriously, so PERFECTLY. Over and over again. Endlessly. With stamina beyond human limitations. With strength most humans could never dream off.

Combining sensory quirks and attraction quirks, body modification and lust quirks, into something NO ONE else could possibly hope to give him. Everything so sensitive, so pleasurable, it dances the line of pain. He could fry the pleasure center in your brain again and again, then FIX them, little monster. Could make you see GOD.

No one else would ever be able to give him that. The touch of his own hands would forever be ruined for him. Not enough. Never enough. Not after HIM.

And that's why his little monster would have to try and kill him. Would try and hunt him. Obsess. Chase. Rage. But oh, he'd fall in line, in the end. Because he'd LOSE. His cravings crippling him. His NEED to submit.

All for One watchs the security monitors. Lazily palming himself. He wonders... should he keep his little pet by his side? Or tucked away, chained safely to his bed? He supposes it would depend on his mood.

Leaning back, he let's a solid shadow quirk slide over his skin, servicing him. His eyes never stray from the screen. It's twenty-eight handshakes now. Quite the collection he must have. His little monster glances up at the camera and for a moment... it is as though their eyes have met.

Such MAGNIFICENT crimson.

He spills into the greedy, sucking, vice of the shadow he created. Then vanishes the mess. Decadent and relaxed, he orders his spies to gather more information. It's been entirely too long since he's last left the base. Not since killing Shimura. And with her idiot successor off doing... SOMETHING, in America? He has time.

Or at least, time ENOUGH, for a bit of monster hunting~

[lipglossanon]

Hey You, Would You Help Me To Carry The Stone?

꧁ ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•꧁꧂•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ ꧂

Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

This is part ii for Mr. Sinister ☽☪︎⋆ Remix

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, dark!leon, yandere!leon, threats of bodily harm, vomiting, obsessive!leon, stalker!leon, just Leon being absolutely bonkers insane 👌

Kinda looked over but not really proofread 😅

Title from Hey You by Pink Floyd (really fits Leon in this part)

꧁ ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•꧁꧂•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ ꧂

It feels like you’re swimming in molasses; your consciousness is fighting to the surface in fits and starts. The first thing you notice is a slight ringing in your ears followed by the realization that you passed out. You open your eyes and squint at the low light saturating the room.

Trying to move your body leads to nowhere. You’re sitting in a chair with your legs tied together at the ankles and thighs; you can feel the constriction of rope wrapped around your middle, pinning your upper arms in place. You look down at your wrists and see them tied together in front of you with what looks like cloth, almost like a handkerchief.

“Oh good! You’re awake.”

Your attention snaps to the cheery voice on the other side of the room; you didn’t see the door before when looking around, but to be fair you’re still slowly coming to grips with where you are and what has happened to you.

The officer walks into the room until his boots are inches away from your own flats. Crouching down to be at a more even level with you, his lips tick up into that charming grin that tricked you in the first place.

“Sweetheart, don’t look so down. You don’t know how lucky you are,” he chastises, nudging your chin up with the knuckles on his thumb and forefinger.

“If you hadn’t have run, why we wouldn’t be here right now,” his full mouth turns down with faux sympathy, “such a shame you got caught so easily though.”

“Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone—“

He laughs, “I know you’re not. And I’m not letting you go just yet. Want to make sure we’re clear about some things first.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stave off the tears threatening to spill.

“Please, officer. I just want to go home.”

“Aww,” he coos, running a thumb underneath your eye to catch what tears fall. He sucks the thumb into his mouth and hums at the salty taste, eyes hungry and dark.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek before giving it a soft kiss. “Gonna take care of my sweet girl, give her all the love she deserves.”

At that admission more tears fall from your eyes. You can feel a panic attack hovering, ready to sweep over your senses. Your fingers feel numb and your chest’s tight.

“Baby,” his voice low and soothing, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I just want to go home,” you tiredly whisper, voice clogged with tears.

“For now you are home,” he kisses your cheek again, tongue darting out to lick the tears dripping from your eyes.

Your vision goes woozy, bile rising in your throat so fast it makes your nose run. 

“‘m gonna be sick,” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth, “really, I-I’m—“

You gag and thankfully Leon pulls away from you with soft words of sympathy. He pulls a knife from the holster on his side and quickly slices through the rope binding your chest and arms then the one circling your thighs. 

“I’m going to pick you up and bring you to the toilet,” he slips the knife back to his side, and eases you from the chair. 

He picks you up bridal style and carries you out of the room; stepping into a short hallway, he takes you into the door directly across from you. 

He eases you down onto the floor next to the toilet, ankles and wrists still tied limiting your movement. Quickly, you flip the toilet lid up and retch into the bowl. 

“There, there,” he rubs your back, making you flinch and gag harder, “you’ll feel better once it’s all out.”

Tears splash into the dirty water, snot running freely down your face as you retch again, stomach acid coating the back of your throat leaving a sour and bitter tang on your tongue. 

He continues touching you, petting your hair or rubbing your back while you puke up what little dinner is in your stomach. After you dry heave a few times, your body slumps back in exhaustion. 

“I hate that my pretty girl isn’t feeling good,” he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss on your head. 

You’re so wrung out that you can only feel despair at the situation, no tears left to shed. Leon leans past you to flush the contents down the toilet. 

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he stands then bends down to scoop you up in his arms bridal style again. 

He takes a few steps to set you down on the sink countertop. You watch in numb dissonance as he wets a cloth under the tap. 

“Close your eyes for me, sweet girl,” his lips curl up in a facsimile of warmth.

Not really having a choice, your eyes shut bathing your thoughts in darkness. You feel as Leon gently wipes your eyelids with the warm damp cloth. He diligently cleans up your face, making sure to clean off any traces of snot and vomit. 

You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his crazed eyes anymore.. not wanting to deal with the reality of this situation. A few small tears drip from your closed eyelids making Leon tsk at you. 

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his low voice humming in your ears. 

Eyelashes fluttering open, you watch as that crooked smile slides over his face. 

“There she is,” he coos, “just one last thing, okay?”

You flinch at the sound of plastic cracking open and look down at his hands. He pulls out a new toothbrush from its package. Reaching around you, he runs it under the hot tap again. He pulls it back and after squeezing toothpaste across the damp bristles does he offer it to you. 

You stare at it, mind blissfully empty for a moment before Leon’s sigh jerks your attention back up to him. 

“Well I guess it would be awkward for you,” he pushes closer, titling your head up and holding your jaw, “open up for me, sweetheart.”

Keeping your mouth shut, you press your lips together more firmly. His eyes narrow down at you, a mean pinched expression coming into his face. 

“Don’t be a brat,” his thumb presses on the pressure point in your jaw making you open your mouth to stop the pain.

He slips the toothbrush past your parted lips, “See? Behave for me and everything will be just fine.”

As the minty flavor hits your tongue, humiliation bubbles up in your chest paired with white hot indignation; in this moment, you hate Leon with every atom of your body. You’ve never felt like this about anything or anyone, but you hope you convey how you feel with your eyes as you watch Leon focus on brushing your teeth. 

He lets go of your jaw to grab your chin and open your mouth wider. 

“Gotta make sure we don’t miss any spots. Don’t want my pretty girl getting cavities now, do we?” 

Before you can even think about it, you’re spitting in Leon’s face. You watch with slow dawning horror as toothpaste and spittle slide down the straight line of his nose. His pouty mouth thins, eyes darkening instantly. 

He sets the toothbrush on the counter and takes the cloth from earlier to quickly wipe down his face. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” his deep baritone makes you draw in on yourself, “apologize. Now.”

“S-s-sorry,” you finally stumble out, lips clumsy, “I-I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”

His demeanor softens, but his face stays unreadable, “If you keep up the attitude, I’ll be forced to fix it. Do you understand?”

Fear seizes you by the throat so you nod jerkily, tears pricking at your waterline again. 

“Good girl,” he pets your hair back, “I’m going to finish what I started, but if you act up again I’ll backhand that pretty mouth, okay?”

Hands shaking in your lap, you wilt under his intense gaze, “I understand,” whisper sounding loud in the small bathroom. 

“Good,” he picks up the toothbrush and rinses it off before reapplying toothpaste. 

He holds it in front of your lips and you open your mouth without any prompting. 

His lips tick up into a mean smile, “Good girl.”

You stare at the wall just past his shoulder and let him brush your teeth. He tilts your jaw as needed, the silence so loud you can hear your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. 

You start when you feel cool plastic touch your bottom lip. Your eyes jump to his face, his own darkened gaze watching you. 

“Need you to rinse, pretty girl,” he raises an eyebrow, “not going to have any repeats, right?”

You softly shake your head no, mouth too full of foamy toothpaste to answer. He angles the cup up, water trickling slowly into your mouth. You swirl it in your mouth and angle your head to the sink and spit it out. 

“Good girl,” he praises, hand stroking your side.

You stiffen as he picks you up again, quickly carrying you back into the bedroom where you woke up. This time he sets you down gently on the bed, bypassing the chair he had you tied in earlier. He kneels in front of you, similar to earlier, and checks the bindings on your wrists and ankles. 

“Why are you doing this?” hands twisting in your lap, you bring your gaze up from them to look in his face. 

He frowns at you, “Do you really not know?”

Anxiety spiking in your chest, you frown back at him, “No, I don’t. I just want to go home. Please.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that. You really don’t know why? Or recognize me?”

That draws you up short. Your lips part to ask, but you pause, trying to think past the horror of what’s happening to you, to think back on any time you may have run into this crazed man. 

He watches the emotions flit over your face with rapt attention. 

“I-I don’t rem—“

“Sure you do,” he gently massages your calves, “there’s that one time at the grocery store.”

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Unbeknownst to you, Leon’s been stalking you around town for a long time.

His shifts at work fluctuate, but he’s always clocking out in time to tail you. This past week, in particular, you haven’t really gone out much after getting home from class. Once to the grocery store, where he discreetly followed you inside.

However, this isn’t the incident he’s referring to; the first time he ever caught a glimpse of you was after a grueling sixteen hour shift. He was burnt out. Completely dead on his feet, he’s just standing in the canned food aisle blankly staring at rows of green beans. 

Laughter snaps him out of it. It feels like his soul slams back down in his body. Blinking rapidly, he turns his attention to the end of the aisle and sees... 

You.

God, he sees you. 

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

You’re not really paying attention to him, on the phone with someone as you laugh and smile at whatever they say, but it’s enough.

It’s. 

Enough. 

He feels lighter than he has in months, in years. Just seeing your face soothes that horrible nothingness that has started to blanket his life. Everyday the same gray monotony. And now?

You’re beautiful and sweet.. perfect, you’re perfect.

He watches you now, as you shuffle along pulling cans off the shelf to drop in your basket. He stands in the same spot, hoping you’ll look at him, notice him. 

Please. 

He knows he looks like death warmed over; he’s been in the shit all day today, helping this backwater town tread water a little while longer. But he has hope. 

The little thing with wings. 

His breath catches in his chest when you walk past him. You glance over at him as you’re passing and smile. At him. 

You smile at him. 

You keep walking, attention going back to your phone call and he watches you the entire time until you’re out of sight, leaving the aisle to finish your own shopping. 

From there, it’s simple to memorize your tag and get your information. It’s simple to figure out your schedule and follow you home (for you own safety of course). 

It’s simple to see that you need someone to take care of you; you’re far too trusting— too nice to people who don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you. But Leon’s got it. He’s got you even though you don’t know it yet, but one day, you will. 

He’s saving you from those plebeians. Like that annoying library aide who didn’t get the hint you weren’t interested, who suddenly resigned and moved away; kinda odd how he favored that left side pretty severely as he avoided you on his last day. 

Or the guy at the coffee shop who slipped you his number and later found himself severely beaten by an unknown assailant; funny how the cops never found any suspects for that case. The guy stopped showing up at the coffee shop and last you heard he moved back home to be with his parents. 

This last guy who invited you out to Lovers Lane is in for a fun surprise once Leon is comfortable in leaving you here alone for a long period of time. He has lots of plans for him that he’s excited to test out. 

There’s a hungry, dark part of Leon that he doesn’t let out very often; oh it helps with his job, being around the vilest scum of the earth always brings out that nasty part of his psyche, but it helps keep the trash in check. 

It’s always boiling under the surface, lurking and waiting, but now that he’s seen you—has you— it’s like a shark scenting blood. All of his senses amplify, wanting to protect you, keep you safe from the awful reality that is the everyday in this shithole town. 

He’s prepared to do everything and anything to keep you here, to himself, and show you that only he truly knows what’s best for you. 

That stupid boy you went out with doesn’t stand a chance once Leon gets his hands on him. He touched you, had the audacity to toss you to the side— Leon pushes that from his mind before he spirals.

The chase you gave him earlier in the night ignited his blood, brought him alive like nothing has in quite some time. He felt disappointment when you were so easily caught, but you at least tried to get away, tried to fight him off; that alone sent elation and arousal buzzing through his body to the point he was afraid you would slip from his grasp in his excitement.

The fear in your eyes made his heart race, although there’s no real reason to be scared of him. Leon will never hurt you in a way that matters. Correcting your behavior isn’t hurting you, it’s only teaching you how to treat yourself better. 

Leon feels like Lady Luck is finally shining a light on his life. You’re so perfect for him. He wants to sink his teeth in your body again and again— mark you where everyone can see you’re off limits. That you belong to him. 

Your quiet voice pulls his attention back to you—back to the present. 

“I think I saw you once,” your eyes are so earnest, so lovely, “I was on the phone with my mom. I remember seeing a cop at some point while shopping.”

He smiles at you all sugar sweet, “There we go. See? You do remember me.”

“B-but I know we’ve never even talked to each other. I don’t really even know you,” tears fill your eyes, making Leon ache to take you apart with his mouth but he refrains from doing so—even though it’s so hard not to. 

“Well, now you’ll have plenty of time,” he takes your bound wrists in hand and kisses your fingertips, “you’ll get to know me and see how much you belong here.” 

His chest feels full while he watches your eyes widen, anxiousness pinching your features as you fold in on yourself. Sorrow and fear enhances your beauty to the point Leon almost feels suffocated. 

Almost. 

He smiles tenderly at you, kissing your fingertips again, “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’m here to take care of you.”

Your shoulders hitch as you sob quietly in front of him, face turned down but he can still see those glittering trails of saline caress your cheeks. That hungry want rises in him again, but he keeps it in check. 

He ticks your chin up with his knuckles and coos at your distress. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs, indulging himself again by lapping up your tears, “my sweet, pretty girl.”

Your eyes cut to his once he pulls back and it makes his cock throb and kick in his boxers. So hateful. He can see how much you want to rip into him, how you’d love to take him apart with your bare hands. He tamps down the urge to let you go, to really see what you would do to him. 

He smiles widely, gleefully, at you, but your eyes are still smoldering with hate and anguish. 

“There she is,” he purrs, voice smoky, “the perfect girl for me.”

He drags a thumb from the apple of your cheek down to your bottom lip. He sees the instant you think about lashing out, biting his thumb, but you reel it in. 

He’s dizzy at your restraint. The utter lack of action makes him want to push you further, see how far he can go, but he also reigns it in; he wants you to be on the same page. He needs you to see things his way—the right way, the only way. He’s so hard now that it hurts. 

Leon glances at his watch and frowns in distaste. 

“I hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go.”

He stands to his full height making you crane your head up to keep looking at him. Looking down at you, he wants you so much he’s sick with it. 

“Won’t be gone too long, sweetheart,” he slips his hands under your arms and places you back in the chair. 

“No, no, please,” you tremble, “I’ll be good, officer. Please don’t tie me up again, please.”

He watches you, sea dark eyes roving over your lovely features. 

“Promise to behave until I get back? I won’t be gone long,” he narrows his eyes at you, “and if you try anything. Anything. It’s going to be bad for you.”

You nod your head quickly, “Promise. Thank you.”

That makes him pause. He smiles at you again, brushing wisps of your hair away from your face. 

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Such a good girl I have. Let’s keep it that way, hmm?”

You nod again, eyes wide in your face. 

He caresses your cheek with the palm of his hand and then steps completely away. 

“Like I said, I’ll be back soon. Don’t try anything silly while I’m gone,” he laughs, a spark of excitement warming his chest, “or do. I guess I wouldn’t mind either way.”

He gives you one last lingering look as he closes the bedroom door. He locks the door lock along with the padlock he has bolted on the outside. Always better safe than sorry he thinks. 

He listens at the door for a moment and after not hearing anything except your soft crying, he steps away. Following the short hallway that opens out into the living space, he easily makes his way to the front door. 

Leon steps outside and takes his time securing the front door with a padlock on the outside as well. This place is isolated, but he’s not wanting to take any chances. Even if you did make it out of the bedroom, all of the windows have bars on them. There is no back door and the front door is made of heavy oak so there’s no way you’re kicking it down easily. 

He’s truly only worried that if you do make your way out his little hunting shack that you’re going to be set upon by a wild animal. He’s seen things like it before; careless hunters or drunk idiots coming into the precinct spouting off about the wild coyotes they stumbled across or a lone wolf, even the occasional badger or snack attack. 

You’re much too precious for him to lose in such an awful, and preventive, way. Leon tugs on the door harshly and is satisfied to see that it doesn’t budge. He pockets his keys and turns away. He whistles a jaunty little tune to himself as he takes the barely visible trail away from the shack. 

The tree trunks eventually narrow as he leaves the small clearing surrounding the place, pushing past brush and thorn bushes. Leon grins to himself as he makes his way out to the hidden area he parked his car. He’s so excited to get back to you, but first he has to make sure you’re not missed elsewhere. After all, you’re perfectly safe and content where you’re at now, he guarantees it. 

[cinnamonest]

No no, because yandere Adachi has so much potential. Like imagine him getting attached to just some convenience store worker he sees daily on his way home. He’d be friendly, kind, and even warn her of being safe on her way home because of the killer loose. Oh? You’re near the end of your shift? Why not just let him take you home? He’s a cop, after all. He’s trustworthy. darling would never see it coming whenever he knocks her out and drags her into his apartment. He’d be so very cruel, too. Never taking her gag off, threatening her for one wrong move. He’d expect her to play right into his fantasies (be too frightened of him to fight back and then act just like a perfect wife/girlfriend, no misbehaving needed) while acting completely insufferable.

I have like an endless amount of ideas/scenarios for this.

(Crazy that I did not even remember what day it is/notice the perfect timing until just now as I was copying this to post, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOHRU ADACHI)

YOU get it anon. Also PLEASE share those ideas, same goes to all 2 of my fellow Adachi appreciators here, because I have so much to say about this awful man. I'm just gonna ramble a bit here

//nasty stuff here, the usual but extra dark/intense because this is Adachi we’re talking about so how could it not be

-----

Tohru absolutely utilizes his status as a cop to his advantage. He knows it adds an element of social trust, that you won't be as on-guard with him as you would any other guy. He’s there to protect the general public, to apprehend bad guys — of course he’s a good guy!

He loves that you appreciate it — that adorable little voice, before you got to know him well enough to go by a name-basis, where you'd say ‘thank you officer! Have a great day!’ whenever he stops by the store.

So cute, so pure, so innocent, he thinks.

He wants to ruin you.

The man has some violent, violent thoughts. He doesn't even try to keep things pure and wholesome when he thinks about you, nor even limited to normal perversions. The very day he meets you, he goes home and spends the rest of the day jerking off to imagining your squeals and cries and tears with his hands around your throat. Oh, how he wants to feel you struggle, afraid and confused and the way you'd feel so betrayed when the policeman you trusted to keep you safe is balls deep in every hole you have, holding you down with ease. You look like you'd be weak. God, it would be so easy—

No, it will. It will be so easy, because he will do it.

You're probably not aware of it either. Most girls aren't, he thinks, they have no idea how weak and easily overpowered they are. He of all people would know — even when they're fighting for their lives, they’re so weak.

But you should be weak. It’s cute. Just like how you should be scared, innocent, sweet, obedient… the man definitely is the type to construct an unrealistic idea of darling in his head as perfect, someone who has no flaws in his mind, and he would absolutely have a “purity” fixation… so if that illusion is shattered in any way, he becomes very spiteful.

Canonically, he develops a crush over a woman he doesn’t even know and feels entitled to women on sheer principle of liking them, going to the extent of a woman having her own life as a “betrayal”… you’re not exempt from the exact same thing.

So God forbid he find out you’ve ever had a boyfriend or lover of any kind in the past… or worse… he’s going home one day, expecting to see his adorable beloved and wave to her from the street, only to spot her hugging and holding hands with some other guy? To realize that she's had a boyfriend this whole time?

Oh, he loses it. No outwardly — not yet — but he goes home, punches a wall, seethes and paces around for a while before moping in bed for some time.

It’s like a switch flipped in his head. Ugh. It’s like a betrayal. How could you… and as he mopes, it becomes so very obvious that this was intentional. You led him on on purpose. What were you thinking, being nice to him? You obviously wanted him to like you. It feels malicious, it’s painful.

You’re so stupid, so naive. Dumb little whore. Don’t you realize you’re playing with fire? Didn’t you think about the consequences your actions would have?

Because oh, will they have consequences. No way is he letting you get away with doing this to him. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.

He entertains that idea at the peak of his bitter wallowing — it would be just as easy as before. You probably have a TV set in your home. He could break in and just…

No. Dammit, he’s already too attached to you. He’s known you personally for a while now. He can’t do that. He wants to keep you.

It’s okay… well, no, it’s not okay, but he’s a very generous guy, you know. If you apologize and beg good enough, he’ll even consider forgiving you.

And you do. You squirm and cry and claw at his hands when he holds you up by your throat. It’s not good enough the first time, but when he squeezes down hard and tells you to try harder, asks you if that’s the best you can do, you finally get it right, finally say how sorry you are and properly beg for him to not kill you.

It’s enough to adequately make amends and begin the atonement process, at least. You’ll have the rest of your lives together to complete that process.

He makes good use of you, after bringing you home. Darling is the perfect little squeeze toy to him. He deals with a lot of stress, you know? He spends all day getting yelled at and pushed around by Dojima, and underneath the bumbling airhead act, it makes him seethe. He used to go home and break things, punch walls, throw things… but now he doesn't have to do that. He can just take all that stress out on you and your poor holes.

Holding your head down with a painful grip in your hair with one hand, holding your hips up and jerking your body back against his, nails digging into your flesh with the other, ramming into you over and over until your insides are sore and raw. Or holding your head firmly in place as you gag and cough and try to pull your head away, fucking your throat with not even an ounce of mercy, jerking your head down all the way and holding it there when he cums down your throat.

The stress relief is verbal, too. Oh, he's so, so mean, calls you every degrading term you can think of when he's rutting into you.. but it also comes out outside of those times too. He vents to you, whether you care to really listen or not. Just goes on and on about everything that upsets him, how much he hates this and that, how he wishes this or that person would just die so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore… you never really know how to respond, but thankfully he doesn't actually seem to be looking for much of a response, more just someone to listen to him. In truth, it almost makes you feel a little bad for him... but you try to stave off such thoughts.

But that's just his default. That's when he's having a decent day, just the natural amount of stress he has. When he's had a bad day, it's much worse.

You learn to tell when he's had a bad day the moment he walks through the door — you hear how harsh each motion is, how he opens and closes the door, his footsteps, even his breathing as he makes his way over to you. The gruff ‘come here’ as he storms over to you, the harshness with which you're dragged over to bed and thrown down.

Those days are more violent — you end up with scratches and bites and bruises all over your body, strands of hair coming out where he pulled so hard, holes twitching and spasming and cum pouring out of you as you lay there exhausted and sore (as for him, though, he's out like a light as soon as it's over, and the grip he keeps on you means you're not getting up again either).

Being a cop also gives him a lot of tools most people wouldn't have access to. He has easy access to handcuffs and weapons. The handcuffs keep you however he wants you positioned, and he'll use some on your ankles too if need be.

He’s used the stun gun on his belt as a threat plenty of times — you used to think he was bluffing, but one day you go too far and it turns out it's not a bluff at all. It's a horrible, horrible sensation… but even worse is the way he laughs while he shocks you, exhilarated by — and probably, honestly, getting off to — the way you squeal and spasm.

Unfortunately, it awakens something — maybe he could use it on you more often, put it right up to your most sensitive places and see how you react… although not without building up dread and anticipation first, pressing it to your skin so that you beg and cry and he taunts you so mercilessly, with that awful awful smile on his face, before pushing the button and hearing you cry.

...But he's not always so awful. He still includes you in his normal life, at least. You almost wish he didn't. It's this oddly domestic vibe, once all the brutality of the day is out and he's tired and bored.

You talk — at first you kept being annoying and pesting him about letting you go, to which — much to your dread, a pit in your stomach every time he says it — he tells you you're never leaving, so shut up about it. But eventually, with no one else to interact with, you talk about all sorts of things, sometimes almost feeling like a normal conversation with a friend. He brings home food for you, and admittedly, you're almost surprised by the fact that he actually does ask what you want and gets you something different from what he gets based on your tastes. You didn't expect that sort of consideration.

You watch TV (he keeps you chained out of actual reach of the TV itself, just in case you get any ideas), the news (only for him to awkwardly change the channel when your disappearance was being discussed on local news), he even takes your request once or twice to pick up a movie to watch (although he's very critical, particularly if it's too ‘girly’ for his tastes).

But he's still so, so mean, such a bully. You have a lot of time to reflect on it all, and one day you confront him with it — tell him that you know that the reason he does all of this to you, the reason he can't just be normal is because he's bitter and spiteful and afraid of rejection. At first, you sound angry — and as you speak, the way his face contorts with disgust and fury makes you think you may just push him over the edge to actually kill you, and frankly, at this point, it's something you're willing to accept.

But then, tears in your eyes, voice growing quieter, you add—

I really liked you… I thought you were a good guy…

That makes him pause. He gets quiet. You see his face fall to an expression you can't quite name, eyes half-lidded and mouth pulled into a taut line.

Finally, he shrugs, giving you a cruel, snide grin.

Not my fault you were so stupid.

That's all the response you get, and remarkably, that last comment seems to make him let go of being infuriated over everything else you said. For a moment, though, you swear you catch him looking down at the ground with a miserable expression, as if those words actually had a profound effect on him… but it lasts only a second — as soon as he catches you looking at him, his eyes fixate on you again, that smile you hate so much comes creeping back, and your heart sinks as he takes agonizingly slow footsteps over to your helpless, shivering little form….

[incorrect-joseimuke]

Yuu: I'm gonna be around you a lot. Days, nights, weekends, holidays.

Malleus: No... No, you can't.

Yuu, getting closer to Malleus: Yes, I can. I'm gonna hang out with you...until the end of time.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere!Cop - NonCon

Yandere! State Trooper who's not much older than you but so so drunk on power.

Yandere! State Trooper who pulls you over for the first time and spends the whole stop looking down your shirt. Thank God for his shades so you don't notice where his eyes have wandered.

Yandere! State Trooper who makes sure to remember your car and your plates. You're such a little thing really, and he just wants to keep an eye on you.

Yandere! State Trooper who grabs any excuse to pull you over, just so he can lean on your roof and savour the power he has over you. The way you fiddle with your skirt and look up at him all pleading, practically begging him not to write you up. Who gets so hard after talking to you that he needs to sit and cool off before he can get back to his job.

Yandere! State Trooper who's been noting down even the smallest infractions and writing you tickets. Tickets he conveniently forgets to tell you about. Tickets that pile up and run overdue.

Yandere! State Trooper who knows every route you drive and sits waiting for you. Who can't believe his luck when you have the midnight shift and decide to drive home on such a lonely stretch of road.

Yandere! State Trooper who doesn't hesitate to pull you over, his cock getting hard before he even gets out of the cruiser.

Yandere! State Trooper who pulls up your stack of tickets and shows you a court summons you have no idea you were served. Who says you're sure to lose your license, maybe even earn yourself a criminal record. Would your boss keep a felon on her payroll?

Yandere! State Trooper who opens your car door when you start to cry and kneels down to comfort you. Who rests his gloved hand on your thigh and draws slow circles with his thumb. Who says he can take care of you. You're clearly not as organised as you thought, if you let your tickets get this out of hand.

Yandere! State Trooper who says he can make it all dissappear. Who says all he wants in exchange is a little favour.

Yandere! State Trooper who turns very nasty very fast when you reject his offer. Who pulls you out of your car and slams you down on the hood of his cruiser.

Yandere! State Trooper who says he needs to search you and kicks your legs far wider apart than they need to go.

Yandere! State Trooper who says he's detaining you for his safety even as he tightens the cuffs so much they dig into your wrists.

Yandere! State Trooper who leans down and growls that a borderline felon like you needs to be thoroughly searched.

Yandere! State Trooper who takes his sweet time searching you. Who drags his fingertips up your legs even though all you're wearing is sheer panty hose and anyone can see you're not hiding anything. Who let's his hands brush against your bra more than once. Who stands so close behind you, you can smell his aftershave.

Yandere! State Trooper who growls like an animal when you try and pull away from him.

Yandere! State Trooper who says you only have yourself to blame. Who lifts your cute little pencil skirt above your ass and is crass enough to wolf whistle when he gets a good look at you.

Yandere! State Trooper who is so impatient to play that he grabs your pantyhose and rips it open. Who smirks at the tiny little thong you're wearing and hooks his finger in it, just to stretch it back and let it snap against your clit. Who chuckles just a little at the way you jump.

Yandere! State Trooper who keeps his leather gloves on as he rubs his fingers up and down your slit. Who slowly eases a finger into you and watches you squirm at the foreign feeling. A trooper must always be thorough when doing a search he claims.

Yandere! State Trooper who leans forward so his crotch rubs against your almost bare ass and his lips brush against your ear.

Yandere! State Trooper who rubs his tip up and down your pussy lips, listening to your breath hitch and reveling in it. Who pushes into you oh so slowly, inch by inch. Who can't help but moan at the way you quiver both around and underneath him.

Yandere! State Trooper who gets rougher the closer he gets to coming. Who grabs your handcuffs and pulls you back on his dick with every thrust.

Yandere! State Trooper who bites your neck when he comes just so he can mark you all at once.

Yandere! State Trooper who calls you baby doll as he fucks you and ma'am when he's done.

Yandere! State Trooper who walks you back to your car because your can barely stand properly after the pounding he gave you.

Yandere! State Trooper who closes your car door like a gentleman and leans over you with his arm on the roof. Who's grinning like a wolf with you panties hanging out his front pocket. And you try to ignore him but no matter what, you can't get his cologne off your skin.

Yandere! State Trooper who winks at you and says these backwood roads are real dangerous for pretty little things driving alone. That he'll personally escort you home from now on.

Yandere! State Trooper who tilts your chin up to face him and looks into your terrified eyes and says it's his duty to protect and serve.

[reareaotaku]

Detective Chester Lake Headcanons

I can't believe this man was written off because people didn't like him. He's so charming

Sweetest man in the world. Would never lay a hand on you

You met at a bookstore, wanting the same book

He invites you to coffee to talk about all your books [Almost like a bookclub]

The more niche the books, the more excited he gets

He can't sleep, so if you ever are up late at night for whatever reason, you can always depend on him to be up

He's more than willing to talk to you. He'll even come to your home and keep you company if you're lonely. Hell, he knows a great place to get food. Anything you need, he's willing to give/do for you

He worships you and can't believe he lived his life without you

He likes his job, but he's willing to give it up for you

Hell, you want him to be a household husband? Sure!

You want to be a Household wife? Whatever you want dear

He really wants kids

He won't beg like an animal, but he will drop hints

"You know this room would look so good in baby blue walls with a crib."

"Aww, isn't that baby cute?"

"You know, when I was a baby, I was always really good"

"If we had a kid, you wouldn't have to worry about being up all night. I'd do it for you"

He watches you sleep

It brings him ease. Like all his just disappear. There is no crime, there is no evil, there is only you and him

The only time he can sleep is when you're in his arms. He loves cuddling with you, holding you close. He can finally rest his eyes

The thought of losing you or someone hurting you drives him insane. He can't imagine his life without you. It scares him and forces him to work harder at his job

He wants to put all the bad guys away to make the world safer for you

He has the personality of a golden retriever

Always happy and never seems to feel any form of sadness

He wants you to be happy and wants to do anything to make it happen

You met his co-workers/colleagues when he was in the hospital for a concussion

They were probably surprised that the man had a girlfriend

[digenerate-trash]

Okay, I wanna write yan fics, but I got no ideas. so I made it a game for y'all.

names

prompts

send an ask wit your result!!!

[hunterssm00n]

Paranoia

Yandere! Sheriff OC

A little bit older / A black leather jacket / A bad reputation / Insatiable habits / He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

It’s below twenty this morning; cold, but beautiful. The sun rising over the hills reflects off of the ice that covers nearly every surface outside. The light makes everything look like it’s sparkling- like the inside of a winter wonderland snow globe. Kelli, unlike most people who live around here, loves the winter, so this weather doesn’t bother her. Quite the opposite; she looks forward to this season every year. She thinks the snow is magical.

The snow is also all-telling.

Footprints are easily visible in the white flakes on the ground. You can see where someone has been, where they’ve stepped, if they’ve walked around your house, around your car, to your bedroom window to peer inside.

Maybe most people don’t think about it that way. Maybe most people aren’t paranoid like her. But then again, maybe most people don’t have a reason to be, like she does.

She notices the second set of tire tracks immediately, upon walking out her front door. She knows he’s been here; he’s here every night. During the night she thought she’d heard his vehicle outside; the low idle of the engine almost like comforting white noise in the background. She’d been too exhausted to really react- her new job quickly taking its toll on her daily life. Working in a warehouse makes her ready for bed by eight thirty every night like an old lady, and once she’s asleep she sleeps like a rock. But the thought had been in the back of her mind nonetheless: He’s here. He’s watching.

Kelli checks, and the double check the lock on her front door, turning the door handle about ten times before she’s comfortable walking down the steps towards her car. The second thing she notices is the footprints. She sees them leading from the tire tracks to her front steps, pausing there, and then walking sharply to the left. She knows if she looks at them more closely, and follows their trail, that they’ll lead to every window, pausing there as well. And the back door. And the basement window. If she looks extra closely, she may even see gloved handprints on the window sills, gently having rested there the night before, mere hours ago. The thought gives her shivers, and it isn’t from the cold. She walks quickly towards her car, paying close attention to her surroundings all the while. The thought that he may still be here somewhere, watching, always watching, makes her spine tingle and the hair on the back of her neck raise.

She doesn’t know exactly how this started; what she did to capture his attention. And, evidently, his obsession. She goes to work, the store, the coffee shop, and barely anywhere else. Most of the time she hides away in her little house, the only place she feels like she can truly breathe a sigh of relief. But somehow she's piqued his interest, and he’s been following her ever since.

This has been going on for a few weeks now- enough for it to become part of her routine. She’ll be in her home at night, winding down from the day, and she’ll see lights appear at the end of her driveway. Sometimes they don’t come all the way down; they sit for a few minutes before reversing and driving away. But Kelli always knows that they’ll be back, at some point. While she's lying in bed, sometimes before she falls asleep, she’ll hear the crunching of snow and gravel under tires as the car approaches. If she's already asleep, sometimes she'll wake up briefly, by some sort of sixth sense maybe, letting her know that she is not alone here; that there’s someone outside. The beams of light sweeping over her curtains before going out look like that of a passing vehicle on the road, but her driveway is long, so the house is not right next to the road itself. Instead it's tucked a little ways back into the trees; perfect for her to hide. And, evidently, perfect for someone else to hide, too.

He hasn’t gone any further than parking in the driveway and walking around her small house, peering in the windows. But she wonders how long it will stay that way. How long before he gets a hold of her house key, and makes a copy? How long before he decides to see if one of the windows will open, so he can slide in? The answer to that, is that even after two weeks, things have been steadily escalating. And it's not like she can call the police. They'd laugh her right off the phone if she told them that it's their sheriff who is stalking her.

His name is Sheriff Ray Donnovan; mid forties, law enforcer of this small town, and her stalker.

Even when she tries to tell someone, they’ve all just chalked it up to him being ‘a good cop’; ‘looking out for his town’. Plus, your house is on the main road anyways; he’s probably just parking in your driveway to watch for late night speeders. They overlook the fact that the sheriff doesn’t normally work nights; being of a higher rank, wouldn’t he pick a better shift than the graveyard one? And why, if he’s been working all day, is he parking in Kelli's driveway like a traffic cop trying to meet his monthly quota? Doesn’t the sheriff have better things to do? Also, wouldn’t he first ask to use her driveway if he was going to be hiding there to catch unsuspecting drivers in the wee hours of the morning?

She knows better. A good cop doesn’t come to someone’s house at night while they’re asleep (or while he thinks they’re asleep), and park outside in their driveway all night. A good cop doesn’t memorize someone’s schedule so that he happens to run into them in random places, multiple times a week. A good cop doesn’t walk the perimeter of someone’s house every night, without being asked, to look in their windows and try to find weak points of entry.

You’re just being paranoid, they tell her. He’s a good guy; he’s an upstanding citizen. He’s the sheriff, for chrissake.

She shakes her head to clear the swirling thoughts, and open her car door. Being late to work won’t fix anything.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song ‘My Oh My’ by Camilla Cabello. The above picture is from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Corrupted Love

Prologue

Seth Green was sent to his boss' office...again. Seth was yelled at for not capturing the computer hacker. That annoyed him. For almost 8 years, he has been trying to capture the genius stealing money from the US government.

The Wretched Egg.

A black market Robin Hood.

Stealing stocks.

As a last approach. Seth knew there will always be snitches. It was agreed. A wanted sign. For One Billion Dollars.

Dead or Alive.

Seth hated The Wretched Egg. He would always be frustrated with himself and feel stupid for all the time he was outsmarted and made a fool.

Seth couldn't wait to get his hands on that low life criminal.

As expected, a snitch came not only that the former employee under The Wretched Egg.

The Wanted photo was printed all over America as Most Wanted.

Holy shit.

The Wretched Egg was not only a young 19 year old lady but a hot one.

"Oh, shit." Seth stared at the news on his television. There was a video of you last seen in an underground fortress.

You were now on the run and hiding.

This will make things complicated.

Fuck. Why a criminal of all people has to be the woman of his dreams?

Especially the one he was assigned to arrest?

Yandere! FBI Detective x Criminal! Female Reader.

Seth Green. Age: 35. 6'2"

Name Last Name. Age 19. 5'5".

Is it justified to steal money from an unjust world?

Should Seth risk his life and freedom for this thug?

Your dependent employee you paid betrayed you for a luxurious amount of money.

Can you trust this handsome stranger or go to prison for the rest of your young and already miserable life?

[grnherbs]

snippet of idwtstwof pt two <3 ilysm please bare with me, I'm just getting back into the swing of writing.