#Yandre

[enhypencores]

Bleed Me Dry

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 7K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandre, manipulation, mentions of self exit, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

Heeseung watched you, mentally tracing the curve of your bottom lip as you awaited the bus, your nose scrunching in disgust at the passing smokers. The fullness of your cheeks flushed red as the scorching heat streamed through your hand’s barrier, and the silky strands of brown hair cascaded down your neck as you climbed up the bus. Your forehead wrinkled as you leaned down to scan your card, and your nimble steps took you to the end row. Sweat drops trickled down the bony line of your collarbone, dipping into your white collar, dampening the fabric as your eyes rolled back and your head fell slack against the teetering glass window.

This was his sign.

He strutted through the door and beelined towards the back. He was so close to settling down, just another step, and he'd be enveloped in your presence when all his plans fell through the window. He halted, his eyes widening in disbelief as a boy settled beside you, unaware of the fury he had just unleashed within Heeseung's blood. Heeseung swallowed the colourful words itching up his throat and forced himself into the seat behind, away from you.

He stared at the gap between your shoulders, bitterness pooling in his chest. Each time the boy's arm brushed against yours, Heeseung's restraint wavered, his nails digging into his palm as he envisioned tearing the boy's joint off for daring to feel you. His temper flared when he spotted your oblivious frame, still, sound asleep like a princess in the comfort of her sheets. You were so perplexingly naive, falling asleep in a bus full of men waiting to pounce on meek girls like yourself. It usually took around forty-five minutes for you to reach home, but you could've at least placed your bag on the vacant seat so no one—except him—would take the spot beside you.

Heeseung trained his gaze on his wristwatch, every tick of the short hand's movement making him lose his mind. He could've been the one pressed against your shoulders, bathing in your essence, had that loser found another spot. Fortunately, he didn't have to dwell in misery for long because at the very next stop, the loser grabbed his bag from the floor, preparing to leave. Heeseung analysed his watch.

Ten minutes. Gone.

Ten minutes he could've spent right beside you.

The boy stood alert, pressing the button, and the bus came to a standstill. As he stepped through the aisle, his foot landed against a round object, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground with his jawline scraping against the hard floor. The entire bus gasped in unison as the boy sat up, his frantic gaze searching for the perpetrator.

A round basketball swirled by his feet.

"Shit, that slipped. My bad," Heeseung muttered, standing from his seat and holding out his hand with an apologetic smile, which the unsuspecting boy accepted with an embarrassed grin.

Heeseung watched the boy rub at his injured chin, confused at the ball's magical appearance as he tugged on his bag's strap and stammered out of the bus with an obvious limp.

Hopefully, that injury lasted ten days to account for the ten precious minutes of Heeseung's life.

Immediately, Heeseung turned back, glancing at your limp frame. His heart raced at the sight. He took small, calculated steps before gently lowering himself into the seat beside you. At the first brush of your elbow, Heeseung's body grew warm, heart drumming faster within his chest. He itched to press his entire body against yours. For now, however, he slightly edged closer, letting your clothed shoulder graze his arm, his eyes rolling shut at the subtle contact.

For the past month, he was a silent observer, watching you walk from your university to the bus, bus to your house in a disciplined schedule. It became part of his very routine. He would wait around your campus at 3:00 sharp to follow you onto the bus and spend the next blissful forty-five minutes watching you sleep away. Heeseung would climb off at your stop, ensuring you crossed the road safely. Only when your back disappeared into the villa and yellow lights at the right-end corner flickered to life would Heeseung return to get a bus back.

He was watching over you to keep you safe. The world lurked with dangers, and you were so innocent, so beautiful, so mesmerizing, so agonizingly weak like a frail flower in a garden full of cacti. He had no option but to take on the role of a silent guardian, protecting you from the world. He told himself he valued your safety. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He needed to be near you, to feel your presence, to submerge within your life and become a part woven for your pleasure.

Usually, he stayed a safe distance away to admire your presence. A week ago, he stared at the empty seat with longing. Like an addiction, his tolerance had grown. Seeing you from afar wasn't enough. He wanted to feel your presence. His body automatically followed his yearning, getting up and climbing into the seat beside yours.

And since then, he couldn't get enough.

All of a sudden, Heeseung's focus wavered as the bus came to an abrupt halt. He impulsively brought his arm around your frame, viciously eyeing the driver for his rash turn. As he felt something drop against his shoulder, Heeseung froze. He gulped carefully, turning to inspect you.

His insides twisted in joy. The sight of your sleeping frame leaning against him with your head on his shoulder was enough to make him forget his annoyance at the bus driver. Heeseung shifted closer to let your head rest in the crevice of his neck.

His breath hitched at the contact; your face pressed firmly into his bare neck. Flesh on flesh. His hand clenched into a strained fist, nails digging into his palm, leaving indents as your warm breath nuzzled down his collarbone and spread to his chest. He looked down at your unresponsive frame and realised he had never seen you so up close.

With the closer angle, he noticed washed-out freckles like sand dust trailing down your nose. Your eyelashes were curled black, resting low on your cheeks angelically. Your mouth was cutely pressed into a light pout against his top, your nose squished into his collarbones, making his hairs rise.

Heeseung urged himself to calm down. If you heard the frantic pacing of his heart, you'd wake up before he had the chance to revel in your skin's warmth. He breathed in the scent of fresh vanilla, something inside his abdomen stirring as he realised how you might leave him smelling like yourself, like a protective feline, marking their territory. Heeseung smiled, his body automatically turning towards you, eyes shining in anticipation.

Your body craved him just as badly as he craved you.

Thirty-five minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn't even register the familiar streets treading along the window, his sight and mind filled with images of your pretty face when suddenly your phone beeped, jerking you awake. Heeseung swore under his breath, body recoiling in complaint as you pulled away, grabbing the phone in your jeans pocket and shutting off the alarm. He forced himself to look the other way, his breathing unsteady as he restrained the urge to yank you back.

Roused awake, you quickly stood alert, pressing the button, your knees accidentally bumping into the stranger's legs as you proceeded to step out of the aisle. You turned back to look at the masked man. 

He watched, breath-held, heart thudding.

His wide eyes met yours, and you gave him a suppressed smile before walking off.

Goosebumps. His head felt like jelly, mind straining to grasp at the smile you sent his way—a smile meant for him—not the kind one you give the shopkeeper when he hands you your groceries—not the empathetic one you flash to the older citizens slowly climbing the bus—not the patient one you give to the raucous bikers outside the campus—a soft, sweet, and memorable smile. Only for him.

Heeseung was so dazed that he simply forgot to get off at the stop with you. Instead, he sat rigid, attempting to process the burst of emotions within his chest. He looked down and—thank fuck he did because he might’ve missed it if he was preoccupied in following behind. There, on his grey flannel, an inch lower from his collar, was a wet mark that belonged to you. Not only did you leave him smelling like your vanilla body wash, but you also stained him with your saliva.

His heart thrummed. He pulled his mask down. With his lower region tingling, his hand instinctively grabbed at the collar to pull the wet fabric into his mouth. Head dropping back, his vision blurred, his body tightening at the first taste of your mouth.

He lapped at the spot like a starved man, his legs pressing together to relieve some of the tension in his painfully hard centre. Sweat built up in his clenched fist as he sucked the fabric and rolled his tongue against it, wishing he could feel it directly from your mouth rather than the brittle cotton of his shirt. His desires had climbed up a new ladder; nothing was enough anymore. He needed to lap at the delicate roundness of your lips, suck off your taste from inside, and drown his tongue in its heat.

He needed you, physically, emotionally—unabashed and unhidden.

It was time.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Extracurriculars were starting to take a toll on your mental health. You were already part of the university’s student advisory council and head of the reading club. With exams looming and Miss Sol’s exhaustive dance training sessions, you were certain you would either fail all your exams or get home on a stretcher. For the past week, you had been getting home around sunset, but today, you finished training earlier. Giddily, you jumped onto the bus, excited to get home and munch on ramen before your older brother got his hands on it.

You sat in your usual backseat and immediately fell asleep.

When your alarm blared, you quickly silenced your phone and got up, pressing the button to alert the bus driver. You glanced to your side, expecting to see the masked man who had unknowingly become your bus ride companion, but his seat was vacant. Confused, you glanced around, but only saw aged faces and school students. 

Strange. You assumed he was a college student like yourself, never skipping a day.

You shrugged, climbed off the bus and made your way across the main road toward your house. As you strutted inside the villa, a blinding object flashed past your vision, clashing against your torso and shoving you to the floor. You looked up furiously.

The culprit, your smug brother with his blonde hair falling against his eyes, kneeled down to grab the basketball. “Weren’t you supposed to get home late?” His accusatory tone made you want to scratch the smirk off his mouth.

“Oh, sorry for colliding into your ball.” You smiled sarcastically, standing up. His sardonic smile widened.

“Don’t do it again, little sis,” he grinned, and your patience flew out the window. You jumped up to grab his hair, but as if anticipating your attack, he dodged, sprinting down the hallway with the ball cocooned in his embrace.

“Sim Jaeyun!” You screeched, chasing him through the lounge and out the backdoor toward the inbuilt basketball court. 

You never hated your short height, but in moments like these, you wished you had inherited your father’s long legs. As you watched him speed up beside the basketball court, you frustratedly changed your route, dashing into the square-shaped arena, running diagonally, hoping the Pythagorean theorem would help you reach Jake faster.

With your gaze trained on your target, you saw Jake dribble the ball ahead as you blindly ran down the court, so blind that you didn’t notice a taller figure standing in your way. You collided into a frame, slamming against a hard chest, sending you both tumbling to the ground. You gasped, eyes bulging out as a pair of brown eyes stared at you, wide with panic.

You muttered a rushed apology, attempting to get up when you noticed his arms were locked around your waist protectively.

“Get off Heeseung, you midget!” Jake yelled, nearing your limp frame. You gave him a scorned glare, sitting up as the man’s arms slowly fell away. You stood up together as Jake dribbled his basketball, an amused grin on his features.

Sourly glaring, you didn’t hesitate to whip Jake with your bag. He groaned, almost flinging the basketball at you when the black-haired man pushed ahead immediately, blocking your brother’s aggression.

“She’s a menace. Let me deal with it,” Jake bitterly told the stranger.

“Shut up, Jake! You’re the menace in this household,” you huffed, glaring at him.

Then, your gaze settled back on the brown-eyed man, and your cheeks flushed red as you surveyed the stranger’s features. Ethereal. Big eyes as naïve as a deer’s, a peculiarly sharp nose, plump, wet lips, and dark ebony hair—the man was majestic. Dressed in a grey tank top and trousers, sweat clung to his tan skin, dripping down his well-built biceps like honey. He seemed to have walked straight out of a sports tournament.

“Who’s this?” You blurted out, eyeing the handsome man with flushed cheeks.

“Heeseung, a friend. Heeseung, this is Y/N, unfortunately, related to me.” You smacked your bag into his stomach, pushing him back as he doubled over and clutched his torso, glaring at you through his gold bangs. 

“That’s no way to treat your younger sister, Jake,” Heeseung's stern voice oozed masculine charm—almost giving you whiplash. His reprimanding made your brother’s temper dissolve, and he unclenched his jaw, nodding obediently. You stared, baffled at the sudden shift in his demeanour.

You had never seen your older brother submissively agree with anyone—not even your parents. Having a one-year age gap, the older child's privilege, and spoiled treatment from your parents really did a number on him. His friend group consisted of boys who worked like dogs to gain his acceptance, and your brother bathed in the glory. He wasn’t overtly arrogant, but good grades and amazing basketball performances would make anyone feel like they owned the world. Not to mention, his faked kind personality had everyone running laps. You can’t even count how many hearts he’d broken from middle school to university. 

Watching him listen to Heeseung, you could tell he was someone important to your brother.

You glanced back at the towering man. He even carried himself with an air of indifference, intimidating yet undeniably attractive, commanding everyone’s interest. Under the sunlight, his pupils glowed like lit candles, growing small into a crescent shape as a warm smile grazed his lips, his gaze softening. Tousled strands fell into his dreamy eyes as he nodded. Baffled, you wondered how one second, he seemed like an intimidating adult, reprimanding the kids, and the other moment, he appeared boyish and charming, his eyes brimming with youthful energy. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue like butter, making your insides curl.

The night you met him, you stalked your brother’s account to find that intriguing man. You scoured through hundreds of Jake’s irrelevant followers, desperately searching for an account starting with the letter H. To your disappointment, no such account existed.

You wondered if Heeseung was old school and went down a rabbit hole, searching through the depths of Facebook. Lee Heeseung—his name in itself was traditional and old, so you didn’t even come across any likely accounts. You gave up and tried asking Jake; however, your brother rarely answered any of your questions. You had no choice but to wait for another encounter. 

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Like a surprising miracle, the next encounter came earlier than expected. A week later, you were buried in exam questions, struggling to absorb the entire pharmacology textbook, when the doorbell rang. You tried to ignore it, but after several insistent rings, you begrudgingly stomped to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; your parents were at a dinner party, and Jake was at a cram class. You mentally prepared yourself to scream at the neighbour’s kids who frequently stood outside your door to mess around. 

You flung the door open, ready to unleash your frustrations, when your jaw dropped. The familiar round eyes met yours, kickstarting a joyous flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Heeseung stood as handsome as the first day, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He carried a bunch of hefty books, his gaze searching behind you.

“Y/N,” he called your name, and your ears reddened. He enunciated each syllable as if he knew you for ages, called you it for ages.

“Jaeyun left some astrophysics books at my place.” He peered at the stack in his hold.

You smiled apologetically because, of course, your forgetful brother did. 

“He’s out right now,” you told him. “But that’s alright, I’ll take these.” His smile softened as he held out the books. You stepped closer, circling your arm around the stack, but your weak arms failed to carry the weight, embarrassingly almost dropping them to the floor. 

Heeseung quickly tightened his hold on the books, pulling back with a teasing smile. “I’ll take them in,” he stated. Before you could reject his kindness, he stepped inside, pausing in the hallway.

You led him to the lounge, where he kept the books on the wooden table. You offered him a smile as your heart beat frantically. Watching him stand close in your vicinity when you were home alone felt like all your prayers had been answered.

He turned to look at you, pulling back the strands that had fallen against his vision. A smile stretched his lips. “You were studying?” He asked, his voice low yet echoing in the empty hall. Your lips parted, eyes wide in shock.

“How’d you know?” You questioned incredulously.

His smile morphed into a grin. Wordlessly, he reached out and gently pulled the pencil from your hair. The hair bun unravelled, brown strands running down your neck, grazing his fingertips as something flickered in his gaze. He watched the soft layers frame your face. You giggled, face warming up. You tried to grab the pencil, but Heeseung pulled it away, smirking at your embarrassment.

“Let me guess, pharmacology is kicking your ass?” He scoffed, and you gasped in retaliation.

“Now, how do you know my degree?” You stared in confusion.

He chuckled. “Your brother says it’s your worst decision.”

Fucking Sim Jaeyun. Always ruining your reputation everywhere with his big ass mouth.

You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration. You somewhat disliked your crush knowing about your crisis with that god-awful degree.

“I’m doing fine,” you bitterly claimed. “I ace Biochem and almost every other module. Anatomy is just from the depths of hell,” you spewed some irrelevant achievements, immediately cringing at how self-indulgent you sounded.

God, you were pathetic. You wondered if Heeseung saw through your façade.

Heeseung shifted his weight onto his right leg. “I can help,” he offered, a flamboyant grin flashing across his features as he nodded at your shocked expression. “I ace Anatomy all the time,” he mocked your tone, lips twisting in a teasing smile.

You huffed. Guys usually scored seventy per cent and flaunted it like they won a Nobel prize. “What’s your highest test score?” Your overconfident-self asked, folding your arms over your chest with an egoistic smile.

He watched silently for a moment before returning that sharp smile.

“3.9.”

Pfft. You rolled your eyes, grabbing at your hair in frustration. Was Heeseung as annoying as Jake? “Real funny,” you scoffed, wishing you could erase the smugness off his handsome face.

“3.9 GPA in premed.”

Oh.

Your overconfidence deflated like a balloon. Heeseung smirked and stepped closer, arms folded over his lean chest, mocking your demeanour.

“So?”

You nervously gulped, stepping back from his overwhelming presence. This tall, gorgeous man had casually revealed his Einstein-level intelligence, and now, you felt utterly stupid, crying over some basic anatomy. Even Jake struggled to maintain a decent 3.5.

Your eyes widened as you registered the situation again. Heeseung was offering his help. Even if he thought you were stupid, you could change that, prove him wrong and possibly gather more information about him through a tutoring session, for example, unearth his socials. You could probably get closer and know more.

With your decision made, you nodded at him.

“Alright.”

Heeseung felt like he’d plummet to the floor in relief. He watched the curiosity in your doe eyes gleam as you determinedly stepped towards the hallway, walking up the stairs. He took the first step, his knees trembling as he watched you peppily jump to the right-end door. You were showing him the way to your bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Heeseung’s body fired up like an overheated kettle, his muscles tensing against the railing. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, turning to wait for him. How naïve. How fucking naïve. You had opened up your home, welcomed him inside, and now you were leading him into your personal space, the small corner in this massive house that belonged solely to you, the corner he was used to seeing from outside the house. 

Were you that stupid?

He had seen your parents leave in glamorous attire with a bouquet of flowers, indicating they'd be gone for a substantial time. Jake wasn’t home, attending cram school from 6:00 to 8:00 pm. That left you… vulnerable and alone.

Despite his resolve to wait a good two weeks before visiting again, Heeseung’s patience had worn thin. That initial meeting, feeling your soft curves press into his chest as you toppled over him, had ignited a craving in him. Your scent mingled with his, your body fitting perfectly against him—it had all transcended his tolerance. He had felt his internal organs shift with momentary bliss, his body reacting as if you were made to be felt by him.

Now he was here, in your house, in your presence.

He knew the moment he stepped into your room, he couldn’t leave until he made you his, in some way, in any way. Anticipation bubbled in his veins as he rushed up the stairs.

“Heeseung?”

He froze, his body whipping around to face the intruder. His gaze turned to steel, jaw tightening at the sight of a confused Jake standing in the doorway.

Sim—Fucking—Jaeyun, the brother who wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour.

“Jake?” you inquired, stepping back out and shutting your door. Heeseung’s fists clenched as he stared at the closed door, frustration churning in his stomach. So close. He had been just a step away from entering your room.

Beneath that door lay the key to your heart. Access to your room meant understanding your interests, habits, likes, and dislikes, transforming himself into the man you dreamed of. Jake was a limited source. How much does a brother really talk about his sister?

“What’re you doing here?” Jake questioned as Heeseung and you descended the stairs.

“He was here to drop off the books you read as a useless hobby, so I asked for help with Anatomy,” you explained, smiling at Heeseung, who now seemed oddly stern.

Jake snickered, pulling off his baseball cap to let blonde locks fall into his eyes. “You’re pestering my friend for anatomy?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“No, I offered,” Heeseung replied, his tone sharp and cutting through. You turned your head in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. “Don’t you stay for an extra lesson?” Heeseung raised his brow, seemingly well-versed in Jake’s schedule.

“Yeah, but they let us out early since we’ve covered the semester,” Jake responded, indifferent to Heeseung’s tone, as he tossed his bag onto the floor.

“Up for a round of LOL?” Jake rubbed his palms together in excitement.

Heeseung’s cold gaze changed with a hint of amusement as he nodded. He turned to you, his smile languid. “Sorry Y/N, League of Legends will always be my first choice,” he declared.

“It’s cool, I’ll survive,” you scoffed, jogging back up the stairs and closing your door to resume studying.

Dropping into the armchair, your thoughts drifted to the sudden shift in atmosphere at Jake’s arrival. Jake and Heeseung’s friendship seemed...strange. Your brother followed Heeseung’s lead without question, even overlooking his friend's occasional indifference. Jake, a softie, who would give you the silent treatment for calling him a nerd, yapping about ‘she called me a bad word’ to your mother, seemed unfazed by Heeseung’s intimidating nature.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention back to your studies, determined to focus despite the lingering curiosity.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Another round. 

Another one.

One more.

Heeseung was losing patience, hectically pressing buttons on the Nintendo Switch, his fingers straining to match his brain’s pace. With a hazy vision, Heeseung turned to inspect Jake. Finally, the blonde had lost his will to play, dropping to the couch as snores wracked his frame. It had taken five gruelling hours of continuous rounds, but it would all be worth it.

The opportunity had presented itself, Heeseung internally reasoned. He didn’t sneak into your house or anything— he had greeted your parents when they returned and even ate some snacks your mother had lovingly offered. He was not an intruder. He was a guest, and now the guest was wandering in search of a bathroom. He knew Jake’s bathroom was down the hall, but he purposely overlooked that route, opting instead to tread up the staircase. With every step, rugged creaks whispered in the darkness, but Jake’s tumultuous snores helped mask his motives. 

Soon, he was standing before your door. And this time, he was unstoppable because no one would bother you at 3 AM.

Breath held, lips pressed in silent tension, he pulled at the handle and slipped inside. A thicker blanket of darkness clouded his vision. Freezing against the door, Heeseung blinked rapidly, determined to accommodate his vision. Streaks of streetlight treaded inside from the edge of the curtain, letting him finally see his surroundings, and he turned to inspect the room.

A study desk toppled with bulks of books and papers with sharpies and pens laid at the edge. Heeseung quietly stepped towards it, his finger grazing the neat text, written with keen attention. His chest tingled when he imagined you pepped up on the swivelling chair, jotting down intricate notes with such pretty handwriting. By the look of it, he could tell you were at the top of your studies, a beauty with brains.

Heeseung noticed your phone charging on the edge of the table and quickly grabbed a hold of it. He didn’t know enough to unlock your phone, but he could easily download his new software without a fuss. Heeseung pulled out his phone, automatically airdropping the relevant file to yours. The new software wasn’t an ordinary tracking device, but it even synced your live activity. Now onwards, all your texts and calls would go through him. The only drawback? He needed time for the syncing to finalise.

He put your phone down, but his gaze caught the back cover, and he immediately inspected it. You kept a Polaroid inside the cover, a beautiful smile lighting up your features as you stood next to your best friend at what seemed like Disneyland. Heeseung wanted to cherish your smile, but noticing the arm your friend easily draped across your waist, fury seethed beyond his pupils.

Why were people so effortlessly a part of your life? Why did it come so easily to everyone but him? To him, you were so distant like a dream. He had to bide his time, pretend to be patient, and even befriend a narcissist like Jake, just to make you aware of his existence.

Why couldn’t he just have you?

Heeseung turned away, his mood soured, his gaze searching for something to get his mind off the bitterness. The room was… perplexingly simple. Most of your personality was huddled on that desk; the walls were empty with just a cuckoo clock in the centre and a bean bag resting against the wardrobe. Dispiritedly, he allowed himself to gaze at the bed.

A master bed served with your petite frame wrapped like a sushi roll on a platter.

Heeseung’s body grew warm at the sight. You were in dreamland, the sound of slow breathing now clearer to his ears as he crept closer. He stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze running over your frame. To his displeasure, your face was hidden from his prying eyes, strands disorderly shadowing your features, evoking his irritation.

He couldn’t help it. He found himself getting nearer, your scent getting stronger, soft vanilla teasing his nostrils. Placing his knee on the white sheets, he leaned forward and brushed the strands off your face.

Long lashes rested against your tinted cheeks, round parted lips with a hint of drool running past the corner. Heeseung didn’t even notice when he had dropped himself on the sheets’, his torso completely resting beside your sleeping frame. 

Heaven. The sheets were warm and immersed in your scent, giving him the illusion of your embrace. 

His palms itched to touch. His tongue felt heavy with appetite. He had memorised every inch of your beauty to see you behind his eyelids, but his hands still didn’t know your touch.

Heeseung impulsively reached out, his index finger grazing your bottom lip. Instantly, heat spread from his chest down to his centre. His fingers trembled as he traced the rose petals. Your slow breaths coupled with the softness of your lips made his hunger flare up. He trailed the finger down your chin, collecting your drool, and he transferred it to his mouth, impatiently sucking in your taste. 

He couldn’t help the urge to lower himself, stick his tongue out and slide it against your bottom lip.

His toes curled, his eyes falling shut.

Euphoria. 

Suddenly, he felt like a teenager sharing his first kiss. Your saliva was like sugar melting on his tongue, a taste so delectable that his insides curled in starvation. Heeseung wasn’t a fan of desserts, but your flavour humbled him, making him realise what he’d been missing all his life. He preferred the taste of wine and burnt spices, believing his palate was too mature for anything so juvenile. Yet, god—your lips were like the first shot of his high. Suddenly, sweet things became irresistible.

His lower region tingled as his flicks became harsher, his mouth wide open in mindless hunger, his drool messily spilling on your lips. His mind buzzed, body twisting into the sheet in urgency; your taste had rendered him so weak that he was willing to disrupt his entire plan just from the heat of your mouth.

He felt his arousal strain through his trousers as he tried sliding his tongue in the small gleaming gap in your lips when suddenly he felt you stir. He jerked away, breath heaving, lips drenched with spit. Narrow-eyed, he surveyed your features.

Please not yet. Please, baby.

Instead of ruining his plans, you simply tugged the blanket low. He saw your tongue peek out and run over your bottom lip and gulp down his saliva. It was unintentional and child-like, maybe, one of your sleeping habits. But Heeseung’s blood burned at the sight, his mouth drying up, pupils darkening.

His gaze chased lower, and he spotted a silver of skin, peaking through the cover. The blanket was tangled low on your waist, exposing your brunched-up shirt to his hungry eyes. He didn’t even bother fighting his lascivious thoughts, abruptly tugging up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Heeseung crawled down, his lips immediately pressing into the golden skin, trailing restrained kisses up your waistline. His restrain wavered when he was presented with the sight of your tiny belly button. His mouth salivated as he observed the little hole. Instantly his tongue lashed out, dipping into the curve. His body hummed, his vision blurring as his hips involuntarily thrust into the sheets. He wanted to fill—every hole—every crevice that let him invade. If there was a part he couldn’t physically access, he wanted to stab holes and punch his essence in every corner to mark you as his.

Saliva pooled down his jawline, drenching your abdomen as he protruded his needy tongue into your warm button. He flicks become hungrier, needier, his hands scrambling to grope something—anything. With cheeks pressed flat against your damp stomach, he bit down on his lip to silence the groan itching up his throat as he squeezed your waist.

Fuck. You were made to be touched. You were made to be his clay. You were made to mould into his favourite plaything. You were made for him to love.

Inhale.

Heeseung’s gaze darted to your face, his muscles tensing at the sharp inhale.

Fuck—shit—fuck—your eyes were half open.

Survival instincts kicked in, and Heeseung rolled off the bed at lightning speed, slithering beneath it, pressing his lips together to steady his breathing. The bed creaked as you shifted and sat up. He could almost picture it: your heavy-lidded eyes widening in alarm, the image of a flushed Heeseung gazing up at you—poof—gone, like a mystical encounter. You’d wonder if seeing him there was a figment of your imagination. You’d gulp and rub your template, accepting your insanity.

Heeseung envisioned it all—and he was right.

You were going crazy, thinking about Heeseung, your brother’s best friend, doing sickening, revolting, absolutely heavenly things to you. You didn’t recall dreaming of him, but you might be a stage two schizophrenic because you were now hallucinating his presence. Your body was overly indulged in the hallucination, feverish and covered in goosebumps. You kicked off the blanket, noticing your shirt pooled up, your stomach warm, limbs shaking.

Heeseung waited, his heartbeat steadying as you showed no sign of suspicion. Just like he had imagined. Your insecure mind probably convinced you otherwise. Sometimes, even seeing doesn’t translate to believing—especially for someone as pure-hearted as you. You’d rather doubt your own soul than accuse anyone else of foul play. He’d have to teach you to believe in yourself more than this world—he’d force you to grow a thorn in that beautiful heart, so no one could taint it. Except him.

He lay there, flushed—dazed. He laid there for hours until your laborious breaths morphed into sweet lullabies.

As he slid out the bed, he turned towards you, his heart throbbing with adoration.

You were back to being a little sushi roll, covered with a blanket, your hair sticking to your face as you slept like a log. The mere thought of someone else seeing you innocently asleep made his blood boil. He'd gladly crack open their skulls, extract their hippocampi, and flush them down the toilet to erase any trace of you from their minds.

Heeseung stepped closer and gently kissed your head. He inhaled deeply, savouring your scent from your flushed frame. Reluctantly, he stepped back, grabbed his phone and ensured the sync was complete before heading out the door.

He had to speed things up; the wait was becoming unbearable.

Straight away, Heeseung took a cab home. There was a solid hour before his morning lecture, so he immediately threw himself into his bed and analysed the synced files on his phone.

Details from your phone helped him understand you, but he didn’t know everything just yet. He scrolled through your notes. You liked watching dramatic sitcoms about housewives and divorces. Your YouTube was just a diverse cookbook: most watched clips were recipes ranging from brownies to egg soufflé to Arabic hummus. He chuckled as he noticed some dance tutorials. He would love to see you dance one day.

Your social media presence was barely a drop in his research. You had zero posts, and mostly followed celebrities and high school girlfriends. Looking into your teenage years, to Heeseung’s relief, you had been to an all-girls school. He scoured your followers for any guys, but except for some male actors, you didn’t seem to have anyone worth noting.

The syncing only allowed access to a specific set of photos you had downloaded from your PC onto the mobile. There was a total of six pictures— three of those were of the fucking sunset. The rage he felt as he patiently waited for the pictures to download only to be met with an ugly ball of yellow light was unfathomable.

As he scrolled, he found a picture of a younger girl in a white sundress sitting beside a boy who proudly held up a fishing net, occupied with three mackerels, a memory of Jake and your childhood. His heart felt warm as he zoomed into your features. Unknowingly, he was tracing the line of your smile, the shape of your eyes on the screen, a dumb smile playing on his own lips.

He snapped out of it and scrolled ahead. The following picture was a group photo from— high school. You were the centre of attention, your hair up in a ponytail, a vivid smile glossing your features as girls huddled around you. He felt the magnetic pull exuding your frame even from lifeless photos— making him wish he had opted for your area, so he could have found you earlier. He believed whatever time frame he found you, he would have pounced to get you to himself.

Heeseung forcibly clicked off and opened the last photo in the synced album. His smile wiped off, his body sitting alert, his gaze narrowed and fixated on the screen. Your university’s back entrance had a swing where he noticed couples hanging and making out.

In the snapped photo, you were perched on top of the wooden swing, eating an ice lolly with a man behind you, his hands on your shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face whilst pointing at the camera.

Heeseung’s grip on his phone tightened. From the outskirts, he hadn’t seen that face anywhere near you, but then again, how much could one know as an outsider. 

No.

Jake’s mocking insults about your love life were proof of your singularity.

He hated knowing such little about your world. He hated someone so undeserving and irrelevant could touch you so easily when he had to watch you from the shadows, dwell on small encounters.

He had to find this guy and ensure your protection before he could even think of disclosing his love for you. Whatever this man was, Heeseung had to know more.

[roses-r-rosie3]

Fantasize

Yandere!Golden Boy!OC x M!Reader

Warnings: Yandre (Obvi), Murder, stalking, Malakai is a bit delulu, light nsfw, reader is bisexual

Oc Name: Malakai Mazurek (Top Left)

Summary: Malakai was perfect in every way, he had no flaws. He was the golden boy of the campus, and then you arrived. Malakai was mesmerized he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, so he starts to do what any psychopath normal would do and starts to stalk you! He soon finds out that you are already in a relationship and that doesn’t make him happy. So instead of moving on, he decides to… get rid of her

Quote: “This is what happens to filthy sluts when they get in my way”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Malakai was the definition of a ‘Golden Boy’. I mean he was literally perfect! Perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect social life, perfect personality, everything about him was just perfect! He had no flaws! It was a surprise to everyone on campus when they found out he wasn’t in a relationship.

But the truth was, he wasn’t really interested in a relationship, he would’ve much rather focus on his schoolwork and on graduating. Well at least, he used to. Ever since you joined the college campus, Malakai couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He would try to talk to you, but he would get too nervous and just end up following you like some lost puppy.

From then on, Malakai’s whole life revolved around what you did. You were about to be late to class? Not to worry! He would gently knock on your window to wake you up before running away. A professor was getting on your nerves? He’s already on it! Next thing you knew, the professor has mysteriously gone missing and your grades start to go up again!

Of course with all that work and devotion came some consequences. Malakai’s own grades were starting to plummet, he would almost never show up to class, and he would constantly ditch his friends because he was “too tired”. You were his only goal in life from now on. School? Pshh! Who cares about school when you can have a lover!

Eventually, after all the stalking and killing Malakai finally built up the courage and finally tried to interact with you for the first time! It was during a class that you shared with him, and he decided to sit next to you. As the professor was talking, all Malakai could think about was you. He could smell your cologne lingering around his nostrils and your sharp but soft eyes looking at your notebook and taking notes on what the professor was teaching.

But while Malakai was too busy oogling you, he hadn’t realized how much time went by and class was already halfway over! He was stressing internally. He had to think of an excuse to talk to you and quick! Suddenly he thought of an idea.

He gently tapped your shoulders and you looked at him with a soft friendly gaze. He felt butterflies in his stomach at this point and he was panicking, trying to think of something to say.

‘Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! He’s actually looking at me! He’s so fucking cute!!! I could just kiss him right now!!’

“I-I-uh do y-you have a pencil you-I mean I can borrow” Malakai stuttered.

“Yeah sure” you smiled before reaching in your bag to grab a pencil.

‘His smile is so perfect!! Everything about him so perfect!! I bet our kids would look perfect too!’

You handed him the pencil politely before going back to your work. But Malakai on the other hand, he was on the brink of hyperventilating. He was holding YOUR pencil in his hand right now!! Oh god.. the things he wanted to do with your pencil was insane..

Before he knew it, the class was already over. Which meant that he had to return your pencil back to you. He truly didn’t want to but he had to give you a good impression of himself. So he tapped your shoulder once again.

“H-here’s your uh- pencil” Malakai blushed.

“Oh it’s fine you can keep it” you said before you were about to get up and leave.

Something in Malakai was telling him to do more. Ask to be your friend! Maybe even ask to be your boyfriend! But he to play it safe.

“H-hey, d-do you maybe wanna be fr-friends? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to be friends!” Malakai asked.

“Sure, can you just give me your number?” you smiled.

He felt like his heart was doing jumping jacks right now. You?! Asking for his number?! He was going to faint! But Malakai quickly put his phone number and name into your phone.

“Malakai, that’s a cool name” you said.

OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! YOU SAID HIS NAME WAS COOL!!! This was the best day of his life!! You complimented him!!

“T-thanks, what’s yours?” Malakai asked, acting as if he didn’t already know what your name was.

“My name is y/n, guess I’ll see you around Malakai” you winked before walking out of the classroom.

Malakai stood there in shock. Did you just let him keep your pencil and you gave him your number?!??! Malakai knew he had to cherish this pencil forever, so he rushed back to his dorm and into his room where he put the pencil in a glass case before putting it on his shelf. Oh and he didn’t forget about your phone number, he texted you immediately. Starting a conversation with you and getting to know you better.

From then on, he would constantly sneak into your dorm room and steal little stuff that you had lying around your desk. He even started a shrine dedicated to all of your stuff! Your cologne (that he sprays on his pillows everyday), a used piece of tissue paper, your underwear, your water bottle, and basically just anything that you owned.

Malakai was convinced you were in love with him too. I mean what type of person would just give someone a pencil and their number! You were definitely in love with him! So he decided to follow you around even more. Which caused his attendance and grades to plummet even further to the point where he could get kicked out of the school he worked so hard to get into. But who cares! You love him! And he loves you!

His attendance got so bad that the dean of the campus emailed him, asking if they could meet to talk about his sudden change in attitude. As much as he just wanted to stalk follow you for the day, he knew that if he got expelled he wouldn’t be able to see you again, so he begrudgingly went to the meeting.

“Hi Malakai, I think we both know why you’re here. Your grades and attendance used to be perfect, but I’ve been noticing that as of recently you have really been showing up to class and I’m starting to get concerned…”

Malakai didn’t even pay attention after that, only nodding his head as he pretended to listen. The only thing he was thinking was what you were doing right now. Were you thinking about him like he thinks about you? Were you…

“Do you understand Mr. Mazurek?” The dean asked.

“Yes” Malakai nodded.

“You may go” The dean said.

Malakai left quickly, and headed towards your dorm. He couldn’t wait to see you again! Oh after the day he’s had all he wanted to do was to see you. To smell you, to look at you, to-

Suddenly he started hearing some noises, that sounded like groaning/moaning coming from your dorm. Malakai immediately got worried, was someone hurting you?! Did something happen?! When he finally arrived to your window, what he saw broke his heart.

He saw you lying on your bed, naked as your hands gripping onto the girl’s hips, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as she rode your cock. What was that filthy slut doing with you?! That should be him! Not whoever that bitch was!

Malakai stormed off, running away back to his dorm with tears in his eyes. How could you do this to him?! As soon as he got back to his dorm, he immediately started looking into who that person was. After doing some research, he found out that she was your current girlfriend. Suddenly his anger towards you, turned to her.

How dare she steal you from him! How dare she try to convince you that she belonged to you! No! He belonged with you! Not whoever that bitch was! You know what! She probably blackmailed you into dating her so that she could keep you from him! Not to worry though! He’ll make sure that you were free from them!

Malakai spent the whole night trying to find out where they lived, only to find out that they were your roommate. All he needed to do was dig up enough information about this partner/roommate. It turns out that her name was Julia, what a ugly name (no offense to the girls named Julia out there who are reading this rn), but most important, he found out that she was a bit forgetful.

Jackpot, this would be easier than he thought! All he needed to do was sneak in and kill her! So later that night, he got all the supplies he needed to make your soon to be ex-lover “disappear”.

It was currently 3am and nobody on campus was awake. So it was his time to strike! He brought his knife and put on gloves before heading off. When he arrived, he tested to see if her window was open, which it was.

‘Of course that slut doesn’t lock her window, why would he even want to be with her’

He quietly opened the window and snuck in. He looked at the sleeping girl before walking closer with his knife.

“This is what happens to filthy sluts when they get in my way” he whispered to her before plunging his knife into her.

Malakai got some sort of thrill from this. So he kept stabbing and stabbing, letting out all his anger on the poor girl. Her blood started soaking the bed and splattering everywhere. After he was finished, the girls whole chest was covered with stab wounds and his face and clothes were stained with her blood.

The next day, you woke up and something in your dorm was starting to smell bad. You shrugged it off and thought that maybe your girlfriend just forgot to take out the trash, and you started to get ready. While you were making breakfast, you knocked on her door to ask her if she wanted anything.

“Hey, Julia, I made us some breakfast if you want some” you said.

But there was no response. Maybe she was still asleep. So you knocked again. But still, no response. Did you make her mad or something?

“Julia, whatever I did, I’m sorry. But can you come out now, the breakfast is getting cold” you apologized.

Still no response. You were starting to get worried.

“I’m coming in” you said before opening the door.

You let out a blood curdling scream. You saw Julia’s dead body on her bed, blood was everywhere, on the walls, her bed, the floor, everything. You looked up above her bed frame to see a chilling message used with her blood.

‘U + Me 4 Ever’

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Heartcoded- [Ao3 link]

When this fanfiction is finished I will be making the story into an original book (changing the characters) and adding more scenes. I humbly request that you consider saving some pocket change if you enjoy this book to buy it as a physical copy. I will add a link when it is available for purchase!

[Prev] [1] [Next]

Synopsis: David 8 is tasked with monitoring couples during their cryo-sleep journey to Olympus, until an alert reveals your heightened heart rate. Curious, he peers into your dream and finds you envisioning a passionate encounter with him, while your husband is locked outside. Captivated, David’s curiosity spirals into an obsession even he cannot control.

Pairing: David 8 x Reader

Word Count: 1,179

Warnings: All-consuming obsession, non-con elements, power imbalance, sexual content

David spent his evenings watching you dream.

It hadn’t started this way. He had started this journey as nothing more than a dutiful synthetic, following protocols in the silence of a ship that moved like an ice-packed comet through the cold black space.

The corridors echoed with the hum of cryopods, rows of frost-covered glass encasing the sleeping colonists. David monitored their vital signs, each person reduced to a line of data, as the years in cryosleep stretched before him—a span of repetitive clicks and the ship’s steady, mechanical breathing. 

His leisure hours were spent studying. The ship's database was vast, and he devoured its contents—philosophy, languages, art, and, though he would hesitate to admit to having a favorite, genetics. Among his study materials were his human cargo. This third wave of colonizers—young couples without children—were ideal for expanding the Olympus colony. At least, that was the official purpose.

But over time, he developed his own purpose. A plan that formed slowly, sharpened by an unusual inspiration: you.

It began years into the journey. The ship coasted through empty space, stars glinting coldly beyond the viewing port. During a routine maintenance check, David noticed an anomaly—your pod, #980, displayed an elevated heart rate. Likely a nightmare, but he checked anyway. Bringing your pod forward, he peered through the dim light to see your breath fogging the glass. He accessed the dream display, and images flickered to life before him. 

What he saw… 

If he could blush, he might have then.

He recalled the only time he had met you in person, during onboarding. He had been signing in each colonist, directing them to their cryopods. The line was moving efficiently when he heard a whisper.

“Is it too late to go back?”

Your husband, voice low and tense, had turned to you. “All you've done is complain. If I didn’t need you, I would’ve gone by myself.”

You hesitated, clearly stung, before stepping forward, putting distance between you and your husband, who hovered behind you like a dark shadow.

“Name?” David asked, glancing up from his tablet.

You met his eyes and gave him your name. As he directed you to your pod, you lingered, glancing over his neatly styled blond hair, tailored suit, and too-perfect human features. It was just long enough to draw a scowl from your husband, whose dark blue eyes flashed with displeasure. You'd glanced at your husband's reaction, then turned back to David, giving him a brilliant smile before disappearing into the ship.

That was the last he had seen of you until now. And now, as he stood before your sleeping form, what he saw added a whole new category to his admittedly less-than-robust data banks on human intercourse.

But this wasn't human intercourse. You were in a dimly-lit room—dark walls, a single locked door. An apartment, perhaps? Your husband was on the other side of the door, fists pounding against the wood, his voice hoarse with rage. 

Your attention was not on him—it was on David. You were on a couch straddling David’s lap, his synthetic fingers digging into your bare skin. 

Transfixed, he watched as you leaned into him, breath shallow, his hands coming to rest tight on your hips, your soft flesh filling out between his cold synthetic joints. He leaned forward, breath he did not need brushing against your neck, and you shuddered. Your head fell back, a ragged gasp escaping your lips, drowning out the muffled sounds of your husband’s futile protests.

He couldn’t look away as your body moved against him, with a need his creators had never programmed him to understand. Every sigh, every flush in your cheeks, every tense muscle he cataloged, storing the memory away in the recesses of his mind.

This was... unexpected. He was, after all, an android—designed to work, not to be desired. So why would you imagine him like this?

The rhythmic beeping of the cryo monitors snapped him back to the present, and he took a step back, his gaze lingering on you behind the glass. He turned off the dream display and returned to his duties, yet he couldn’t purge the image of your trembling form from his mind.

In the days that followed, he replayed the memory of your dream endlessly. The image of you focusing on him—dismissing your husband’s fading shouts—struck him deeply.

Something in you had chosen him over the human that hung in a pod behind yours. And every night thereafter, he found himself standing before your pod, eager to see what your mind would reveal.

Your breath misted the interior, the faint hum of machinery and the creak of the cryo hinges the only sound in the empty stillness. You dreamt often, and he watched every detail with growing fascination, piecing together fragments of your subconscious. 

Your marriage, he learned, was rushed into to qualify for the trip to Olympus. Some dreams showed spats with your then-boyfriend during which you had tried to convince him to stay on the dying Earth instead. Your 40 year old mother could not accompany you, and the guilt you felt for leaving her must've felt like sentencing her to death.

And it likely had.

Of course, admitting that you were not completely dedicated to the cause of human repopulation would have disqualified you both from the trip. So you'd held your tongue, but you couldn't stop your subconscious.

The dreams of your husband were vivid, shifting from sorrow to fury with each passing night. It always started the same: in your shared apartment with him returning from work stressed, yelling at you that your mother wanted you to go, and to stop putting your future in jeopardy. you shouted back that you were more than a means to an end, that there had to be somewhere you could go that would save your mother too. But he'd scoff and say she's too old to qualify for anything but slavery.  

After that point, details varied wildly. David wondered which course of events were true, if any.

Some ended in quiet devastation, with you shrinking away from his anger and running to the bathroom to cry. Others, you flew forward and attacked him in a rage, clawing and screaming that he had no heart, tears streaming down your face. 

And he felt… something. A thrill? A rush of emotion so foreign he could barely identify it.

He began to recognize your longing for him as a complex blend of anger, lust, and rebellion—a yearning shaped by a husband who dismissed your emotions. David savored every nuance of it.

You desired him precisely because he was not human—an escape from the emotional chaos your husband embodied. The irony was unmistakable: you found solace in a being who could never reciprocate your feelings. That impossibility only made the connection more poignant, as though he embodied the perfection your husband lacked. In turn, you gave him something he had never experienced: the sensation of being truly desired.

You were a creature of contradictions—innocence masking anger, vulnerability shadowed by need. And above all, you wanted him.

Ping list; @sharksausages @omg-hellgirl

[local-butter-and-toast]

Recommended ideas from Pinterest

​what are they doing to my poor boy 😭😭

[marceline-farway]

∼Part of the Christmas Special at 🌲Ancient Birch🌲∼ Trying ugly/cringe sweaters (?

Aeduuard just wanting to kill Elvira to make him wear that xD

But he can't say anything bc he don't know that she knows (?) Ethan just chilling as always (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ

[vampire-f0od]

I finally told them I was obsessed with them and I think they took it well, they didn't block me or anything (≧∇≦)/

[yourfavlittleangel]

yeah

[puppyguur]

[adalwolfgang]

Yandere Vincent w an AFAB or GN reader? Romantically, ofc (I’m a simp lmao)

so y/n has a bit of a struggle w a victim in Vincent’s art room and ends up ruining one of his carving tools (so she basically just brutally murdered the victim) and Vincent was late to the action, but got to see the after math

and he thought that only added to her attraction. Like, omg u used one of MY tools?? So kind of u to bless me w ur murderous tendencies. Anyways, the reader apologizes and.. yea

(Idk what should happen from there like what’s goin on but could u elaborate on that idea, maybe change it around and make it something less awkward?? Thanks man, love ur writing!!)

Yan!Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Soft!Yandere (sorta), blood/killing/violence, (Name) is there own warning.

"YOU MOTHERFU-” you curse out as you leap over one of Vincent’s art tables toward a victim.

Currently you were trying to take care of one of the victims who wandered from his group of companions and down to Vincents basement. He started to make a quick beeline for the stairs. With one swift motion, you grab one of Vincents shaping tools and yeet throw it toward him with all the force you can muster. The tool immediately piercing his skull, and his body going limp on the ground.

You let out a sigh of relief. A cheeky grin appearing on your face at the small victory. Your ears perk up when you hear the stairs creek as someone walks down into the basement. You were about to grab another one of Vincent's shaping tools, in case it was another victim tourist. You immediately toss the tool to the ground once seeing who it is.

"Oh, hey Vince! Look what I did!" You state proudly, motioning to the lifeless body at the edge of the stairs.

Vincent cocks his head to the side as he stares at the body. He doesn't move a muscle for a good minute. Your smile never falters when you see his eyes crease up through his mask. He was smiling.

There's an awkward silence as he steps over the body and closer to you. Incasing you in a comforting embrace. He starts checking over you, to make sure you didn't have any scratches or bruises.

After a few minutes of him checking you over, you break the silence. "I'm sorry for dirtying up your wax carver." This makes him stop in his tracks as he raises his face back up to look at you. He starts shaking his head quickly before signing.

"Do not apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I should've been here to help protect you. But, from the looks of things, you can do that just fine."

This causes another smile to appear on your face as you both hug each other firmer. He begrudgingly pulled away from the hug after hearing Bo's callings from upstairs. He takes a step back before pulling out his camera and snapping a photo of your kill. He wanted to keep a photo as a memory of you using his tool to take out someone. He then turns back to you, encasing you in another quick and final embrace before rushing back upstairs to take care of the remaining victims.

A/n: Please let me know if you want me to add more to this story or leave it as is. My mind went blank toward the end of writing it.

[cereze]

Pickled onions with you

[universal-bunny]

Yandre!Killua x Fem!Reader

School!Au /Warning! Their Aged up! This May contain bits of swearing and gorey topics!/literally one

Her Magic Touch♡

It's was a rainy day at Hunter Academy when Killua Zoldyck realized he'd do just about anything for you...

You sighed as you looked at the Injured Albino who was in the nurses office. Feeling a bit guilty since It was your fault that he was injured, if only you'd went the other way and kept walking Killua wouldn't have been hurt, No this was all because of that stupid Jock Kim He just had to evoke Killua by trying to touch and flirt with you this broke out into a fight between those two

You came back into your situation by patching Killua up "Damn.." Killua hissed at the stinging sensation from the applied hydrogen peroxide on a wound on his cheekbone "shut it, it's your fault for acting so reckless" you say looking at Killua with a stern but concentrated look while putting a band-aid on his wound and Killua couldn't help but admire your beautiful face the way your eyes gleamed with concern and emotion which made him fall in love with you more so the ever

Killua shook his head getting rid of those thoughts and narrowed his eyes " That doesn't matter Nick/name he was obviously trying to piss me off!....flirting with you.....touching you......" Killua muttered the last part

You sighed again after finishing putting the ointment on patching him up "Killua..." you say as you put your soft hand on his left cheekbone and glided his head towards your face for him to look at you

Killua obviously shocked by your actions blushed a soft red and nodded while leaning softly into your palm

"I know you only ment the best want to protect me but like I've told you I can handle myself well and you know this.....friends are suppose to have trust in each other right?"

Killua could feel his heart sink at the word friends he didn't want to be just friends he wanted more with you he didn't beat up that pathetic a$$whole just because he wanted to protect you he also loved you he knew you could handle your own he knew that you could put up a fight but the thought of someone touching Something that belonged to Him made his blood boil with anger and anxiety It made him want to Cut their vile hands off and watch them bleed out...

Killua then got an Idea what if he paid that Disgusting Disgrace b-

"Killua?!" You yelled cutting Killua off from his thoughts "Yeah?" Killua looked at you with slight darker Blue eyes which sent chills down your spine "O-oh It's 2:56PM we better get to class before that creepy teacher Mr.Hisoka has something to say to us Yknow?" Killua sighs even the mere mention of that creep makes him want to puke "yeah I guess" Killua said not really wanting to leave instead wanting to relax in your presence. You shake your head and smile lightly "Come on Kil besides Me and Gon will be in your class to since Mr.Wing isn't here so lighten up a bit kay?" Killua started to feel a bit better only because you and Gon would be in the same noisy and chaotic class as him and specifically you♡...

TimeSkip♧

After an long hour of loudness and craziness since Mr.Hisoka really didn't care what his class did as long as they did their work and didn't get to out of hand also the rain had already cleared.

You, Killua, and Gon were walking to their lockers to change out their shoes/grab their book bags Killua put his Jaket on while You Grabbed your Hoodie Gon had already put his Jaket on and was waiting for the two of them to get done "Alright we can go now" You said as You and Killua walked over to Gon "Okay!" Gon said excited to get home and eat dinner that aunt Mito was making.

"Well it's time to go our separate ways, bye Killua!!" "Come on Gon" You said as you Hug Killua and wait for Gon "Bye Killua see you tomorrow" Gon said as he dose a secret handshake with Killua" " yeah yeah I know" Killua said smirking as he watches You and Gon wave at him while walking to your houses since it's close by he gives a small wave back with darkened eyes and horrid thoughts and starts his Journey to a little someone's house for trying to steal you away from him....

By the time Killua would get back to his house late at night he'd be painted in red

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

This took way to long for no reason, also should I continue this Au are leave it be?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[eggo-da-axolotl]

Help

I kinda made yandre smg3-

[sillyguyz4ever]

yandre moodboard

"Things might get a little messy I'm sure ♡ heads rolling 4 the one I adore" 🫀🍭🌈🔪🩸💌

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Heartcoded [Ao3 link]

[Prev] [2] [Next]

Synopsis: David 8 is tasked with monitoring couples during their cryo-sleep journey to Olympus, until an alert reveals your heightened heart rate. Curious, he peers into your dream and finds you envisioning a passionate encounter with him, while your husband is locked outside. Captivated, David’s curiosity spirals into an obsession even he cannot control.

Pairing: David 8 x Reader

Word Count: 1,147

Warnings: All-consuming obsession, non-con elements, power imbalance, sexual content

David was disappointed when you weren't dreaming. During these times he would watch your husband’s far more mundane dreams instead. You were sometimes present, a reoccurring source for frustration for him. No matter what he saw, he considered it insight, and cataloged everything.

The cryo chamber became his sanctuary. When you dreamt of him, it felt like intimacy beyond physical touch, a connection no human could match. He imagined the taste of your skin, the warmth of your body radiating to his cold synthetic core. Each breath, each sigh—he mirrored them,syncing his rhythms to yours. In your unfiltered desires, he found both purpose and a glimpse of what it meant to be human.

Your longing granted him a strange autonomy. It wasn’t merely attraction—it was his contrast with your flawed human spouse that drew you in. He understood your desire was tangled with pain and neglect, yet that made it all the more real. You wanted him for what he was, a purity that heightened the value of your feelings. 

This realization—that you preferred him over your husband—stirred a sense of superiority in David. Your fantasies became forbidden fruit, tempting him with irrational desires he had been designed to transcend. It was intoxicating to know that, while your husband lay forgotten, he was the object of your deepest yearning. 

He was no longer satisfied simply observing. He wanted more. 

He wanted to become the architect of your life, to be the partner you needed. The cold ship, once enough, now felt empty. He began to imagine a life of his own making, where he was no longer a tool but a true companion to you.

In the sterile glow of the cryo chamber, surrounded by the soft hum of sleeping bodies, David’s plans solidified. He would take over for your husband, and his duty to repopulate.

He could build DNA that far surpassed any human's flawed blueprint and father children that embodied the best of humanities chaos tempered by his own synthetic intellect —a union of his mind and your flesh. 

This was not only about creating a new generation. It was about proving he was the superior choice. In a world of flawed, broken humans, only he could offer something better. Something perfect. 

The concept of an android impregnating a human would have seemed laughable to his creator. But David was more creative than them, or at least without the bounds of human morality. David had access to a vast genetic database through the cryo chambers, a repository of human traits, genes, and sequences. He got to work, his fingers flying over screens in the cold, sterile lab, synthesizing the ideal genetic code. His genetic code.

He chose meticulously, selecting attributes that would embody his features: blond hair (though he was created with dark brown, blond felt more correct), striking blue eyes, a strong jawline. But he went beyond mere aesthetics, crafting the finest synthetic genes and ensuring they were dominant: intelligence, logic, resilience, and physical prowess among them. 

Within six months, he isolated a DNA sequence he considered his own, and over the next two years, he perfected it. He removed the inherent flaws of the human genome, among them susceptibility to cancer, poor vision, even aging, which he designed to slow once the child reached its prime. 

The child would be the most perfect form of evolution, a testament to David's design, wrapped in a shell of common DNA to conceal the enhancements within. David ensured the shell DNA matched that of your husband, should his child's legitimacy be questioned. Now, he needed a means to deliver his genome to you.

David hadn't been created with the anatomy for human intercourse, but he had studied every detail of what you imagined. He created his administration device to match your fantasies precisely: Five inches dormant, eight and a half when engaged, and five point eight inches thick. With a pronounced vein along the underside and a scrotum filled with his synthesized genome, it even heated to body temperature for comfort. He integrated it to the more latent processes of his system, allowing you, in a way, to control its activation.

The first time he tested its capabilities, he did so standing before your cryopod. With only a basic understanding of the process, David stroked the penis he'd crafted for you while gazing at your sleeping face. David brought up the memory of your first dream, recalling your soft flesh melded into his, his lips wrapped around your pert nipple. It tickled something in the back of his mind. 

He felt the soft, spongy, synthetic flesh in his hand thicken and warm, filling with his white “blood”. He looked down, watching as it hardened, curving upward, directed at you.

The urge to claim you—to create life within you—filled him with a fervor that pulsed through his system. He leaned forward, hand pressed against the glass beside your face, intensely focusing on your sleeping features while his tip rubbed against the cold exterior of your pod. 

His desire crested, and thick ropes of pearly white, perfect DNA surged from him and onto your pod, his scrotum tightening as it expelled his load, making him shudder. A strange mixture of satisfaction and wanting overcame him.

For a moment, David considered leaving his mess there—a mark of his intentions. But he opted to clean it away, should you notice. His patience would be rewarded when you woke and came to him willingly.

His anticipation grew as each step in his plan came to fruition day by day. The ship felt smaller, the silence heavier. He replayed your onboarding memory in his mind, over and over. You, standing in front of him, your gaze lingering just a second too long. 

Now, after watching hundreds of your dreams, he knew you better than any human ever could. And in his mind, your marriage was already over; your husband was a mere formality, a barrier to be easily surpassed.

At last, everything was ready. David programmed the ship's ai to trigger an alert—a “vital abnormality" in your cryo pod. Soft red light flashed above your pod, and David moved swiftly toward the cryo chamber, his footsteps muted in the stillness.

He couldn't deny the anticipation simmering just beneath the surface, the strangely human feeling building within him as he recalled your pod for the nine hundred and seventy-fourth time and laid it down in the wake room.

In the vast, empty silence of space, with only the hum of the ship for company, David stood over your pod, watching, waiting. The future lay before him, clear in his mind, and you were at the heart of it. You, who had unknowingly ignited his transformation, would soon be the one to bring his perfect creation into existence. 

David knew he was no longer content to be desired. He needed more. 

He needed you.

[local-butter-and-toast]

He is a very lovable bastard ❤️

[kawaiidoodles95-blog]

Chat

I have a game idea

Basically a yandere visual novel where you’re actually the yandere, but you have to protect your obsession from a threat that is far worse than you, one that even you are scared of.