#male yandere oc x reader

[tsuutarr]

Yandere Otome Isekai Lawyer x Reader

Elliot Armstrong is the youngest child of the Armstrong Estate, which means that he’s often given scraps in favor of his older brothers. It also doesn’t help that Elliot has never been too fond of the physicality of combat despite being part of a family of military might.

Instead, the battle of wits is what enthralls Elliot. Chess, riddles, puzzles – all of it captivates him. Perhaps that is why it is no surprise that Elliot has found himself fascinated by the human psyche, too. Humans are interesting specimens – they’re simple but also quite complex.

Elliot’s interest in humans is what draws him to pursue law. The variety of cases that fall in his lap – some more intriguing than others – always make his daily life that much more interesting. He can observe a great variety of people, which excites him to no end. Besides that, due to his awareness of his own intellect, he likes winning against other humans, too.

After all, brain is better than brawn. He’s much better than his brothers, his parents, his ancestors. He is the most superior Armstrong – the superior human.

Others just cannot compare. They’re too easy to manipulate, too simple once you understand their inner workings.

Well, all humans except you, somehow. 

The Heir to the Arrington Estate – you hadn’t really caught his eye before, being the quiet but rather dry child of the infamous Duke Arrington. Yet somehow, one day, out of the blue, you began to stand out.

Elliot remembers the exact moment you had become a centerpiece of his thoughts, someone he spins and spins inside the crevices of his brain just so he can make sure he never forgets anything about you. 

It was a few moons ago, when his family had been tried for their involvement in embezzling the Royal Family’s fortune. With his silver tongue, Elliot had managed to come out unscathed, unlike his idiotic family who had all been put to jail – it was all karmic justice, really.

The family that had ostracized him now begged at his feet, imploring him to save them. Hilarious.

It was quite difficult holding back his laugh, but he managed just fine. Perhaps he managed too well, however, since so many nobles began to pity him. They pitied him – him!

He’s much greater than they are, to the point that he knows all their secrets and yet they had the gall to pity him. Disgusting worms, the lot of them. 

And yet you, the Heir to the Arrington Estate… you were the only one who showed him genuine compassion. It surprised him – most nobles are self serving (him included) and care very little for others. Yet you care. Perhaps a little too much, really. But it’s nice, he won’t deny that. Being acknowledged, praised, for his intellect. Being shown compassion for his “plight.” Being shown the kindness in those lovely eyes of yours. 

Oh, Elliot just adores it all. Your attention, your kindness, your praise – he desires it all.

So, of course Elliot offers to be your personal lawyer. You’re kind, but perhaps a little too kind for your own good when, really, you only need to show kindness to him. Besides, your… Father, is a piece of work. You’d be much better as the Head of the Arrington Estate, so of course Elliot needs to be there so that he can ensure your position and safeguard it from your greedy relatives.

Oh, yes, you need him. You definitely, most certainly do.

Just like he needs you.

[allurilove]

Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, Smiski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

[zombii-hoe]

What Friends Don't Do

cw: smut, 18+ MDNI

//unedited, I'm not the best at writing smut so please have mercy on this poor soul

Pathetic moans and whimpering echoed into the room, your nails dragging against skin. The bed creaks, slamming the bed frame against the wall.

You and Tobias recently finished your college finals and decided to celebrate by drinking together, nothing out of the ordinary, right? This is what friends do.

But what friends don't do, is make sweet love to each other.

Surely, it must be the alcohol that's making you moan like a porn star and definitely not the way Tobias's hips slams into yours, his cock hitting your spongey sweet spot in a demanding pace. It's also not the way your pussy clenches at the sight of the way Tobias is sobbing above you from the pleasure, overstimulating himself from countless orgasms. Obviously, he didn't forget about your pleasure, you already lost count, and the night is still young. It was 9:38 PM last time you checked.

Feeling your approaching orgasm, you flutter your eyes open to take a peek at the pathetic whimpering man. And was that a sight...

His hair spilled from his shoulders, shutting you out from the outside world, his bruised-kissed lips were slightly parted to try and calm himself from not busting in you again. His neck was covered in bite marks and red splotches, which you thought suited him nicely. Around his neck, was a necklace Tobias never took off. You've given it to him for his 16th birthday and he's haven't taken it off since then.

It was the perfect thing to pull him in a hard kiss. And that's what exactly what you did; tugging his bruised lips to your own, Tobias's eyes widen at the action, slowly melting into it. It only lasted for a moment until you locked your legs around hips and pulled him closer as you came, hard.

A few 'mm, mm, mm's left Tobias's lips, he pulls you even closer as he came, hips sputtering from its bruising pace. His cock paints your fleshy walls white, some of it spilling out and sliding down your ass and eventually staining your sheets.

Shuddering at the sight, Tobias pulls out and flops on top of you, causing you to let out a groan at the sudden weight.

Yeah, You thought, not noticing the lovesick smile that's on Tobias's face as he held you in his arms, It definitely is the alcohol.

Want more of this? Buy me a ko-fi! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[suiana]

✎ yandere! dilf headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, possessiveness, manipulation(?), mentions of violence, implicated stalking and stealing, legal age gap, breeding kink 💀, etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! dilf who hired you as his son's tutor. he's just so worried that his darling son won't be able to keep up with school :( as a result you were hired to tutor him :D he actually doesn't know how you look like yet, but guessing from your profile picture you're a granny..?

✎ yandere! dilf who couldn't help but be enamoured with you the second you stepped inside his house. wait why were you so cute? didn't he hire an old- huh?! oh that was a picture of your grandma... oh well, he shouldn't have guessed. how else is he supposed to calm his boner now?

✎ yandere! dilf who's watering at your innocence. oh you're such a sweet thing! bright eyes sparkling with the desire to teach his son! your future son! he's so glad he's divorced... he's dead set on making you his beloved little thing. and you can't do anything to change it~!

✎ yandere! dilf who falls for you more and more with each tuition session. oh you just look so adorable! and that outfit you wore last session! it was so cute! he really had a hard time holding himself back you know? he's imagining tearing apart your outfit while marking you up now-!

✎ yandere! dilf who is older than you. I mean, he literally has a 15 year old son so it would be expected that he's old. but... he's still handsome! so you can consider him... right? oh please give him a chance! he'd hate to have to break you down completely :( yes he's that in love with you to the point where he won't mind breaking you down and rebuilding you to how he wants you to be ♡

✎ yandere! dilf who's extremely flirty and embraces his dilf-ness. rolling up his sleeves to expose his veiny forearms, unbuttoning his top two buttons to expose his defined chest, subtly flirting with you every time he sees you... just two tuition sessions ago he stood so close to you to the point where you could smell his cologne and see his man boobs?! you had to spend that entire tuition session clenching your fists just to focus. oh those sexy man boobs! his cleavage ! why is his body so sexy?! don't worry, if you wanted to touch he'll be more than happy to let you feel him up :)

✎ yandere! dilf who can't stop thinking about bashing in the heads of anyone who's glanced in you. no one should be taking in your divine self except for him and his son. those trash can't worship and love you like he does. hm... maybe he should just kidnap you? keep you all to himself. yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

✎ yandere! dilf who has a little shrine dedicated to you in his study. aw, how cute! it's just a small picture of you and a flower- wait is that your missing underwear? and is that your lost diary?! why's your entire schedule noted down with lots of hearts scribbled on it?! how'd he- there's no way he stalked you... right?

✎ yandere! dilf who gets his son to talk to you about how he's so lonely and wants another parent desperately... you're smart so you'll get what he means, won't you? after all, can you resist those watery eyes and the slight sniffling his son is doing? and he's sure you don't have any other tutees due to how much he's paying you already... so it's alright to be his, no?

✎ yandere! dilf who wants to breed you. it doesn't matter whether or not you can actually have children, he'll still want to breed you. imagining you round and full with his children... it just turns him on oh so much.

✎ yandere! dilf who really wouldn't mind a new addition to his family. I mean, for the past... 11 years it's only been him and his son :( and he finds it so lonely in his big mansion without anyone to accompany him... you understand what he's saying right? don't worry, you'll never have to lift a finger again should you accept his offer. he's rich after all :)

✎ "hn? oh my son did good, huh? should I reward you for being an amazing tutor? I know just how to thank you after all..."

[yanderespetdarling]

Yandere best friend x reader

tw: yandere, dubcon, yandere themes, male yandere and gn reader

You and your best friend had walked this path countless times before, the shortcut through the alley between the gym and the storage shed. But today, something was different. The tension between you was unbearable, an echo of what had happened in the hallway earlier. His arm had lingered too long around your shoulders, long enough to make the classmate you were talking to visibly uncomfortable. You’d laughed it off then, but now, under the heavy weight of his silence, it was impossible to ignore.

"Hey," you said, forcing a casual tone. "You really need to stop doing stuff like that."

"Like what?" he replied, his voice cool and distant, though his eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating.

"The arm around me... It’s just kind of…" You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It’s coupley, you know? I think people are starting to get the wrong idea."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you, his gaze locking onto yours. 

"And what idea is that?" he asked, stepping closer.

You instinctively stepped back, your shoulders brushing against the cool surface of the brick wall behind you. 

"That we’re a couple," you said, trying to laugh it off, the sound coming out shaky. "And a really clingy one at that!"

His expression hardened, the faint smile on his lips twisting into something unrecognizable. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist, pulling it above your head and pinning you against the wall with a force that left you breathless. You gasped, staring up at him in shock.

"Why aren’t we a couple?" he demanded, his voice low and rough, each word laced with something unhinged.

"What?" You blinked, your mind racing to process what was happening.

"You like me," he pressed, leaning in closer until his hot breath brushed against your skin. "I know you. I know you do, I know everything about you. Inside and out. You have to have noticed the way I feel, so why aren’t we together? Is it me? Do you not find me attractive? Tell me, I’ll change for you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, the intensity of his gaze leaving you flustered and overwhelmed. It was true you’d always found him attractive. His unruly hair, those piercing eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline. But this wasn’t how you’d imagined confronting those feelings. Not like this.

"I..." You stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to change. I didn't know you… felt like this… I-"

For a brief moment, his expression softened, his grip on your wrist loosening. Relief washed over you, fleeting and fragile. But before you could take a breath, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was rough, demanding, a collision of desperation and possession that left you reeling. Your free hand pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding. His body pressed you harder against the wall, trapping you in place.

You squirmed, panic rising as his hands began to wander, trailing down your sides with an unnerving sense of ownership. Your protests were muffled against his lips, your attempts to push him off futile against his strength.

He pulled back for a moment, his eyes blazing with satisfaction as he took in your flushed face, your wide, fearful eyes. "See?" he murmured, his voice dripping with triumph. "We’re perfect together."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and confusion clouding your thoughts as he leaned in again, his grip tightening like a vice.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

A short fic about online studying during quarantine with Yves

You yawned, watching your lecturer drone on about a subject that you couldn't care less about, but have to take to pass your course. You stretched your arms and leaned back onto your comfortable office chair... well, Yves's.

While those poor suckers in the online meeting had to attend the class using their own subpar laptops and be in their inferior bedrooms they most likely have to share with other members of the family, you're enjoying the pandemic in Yves's lavish home. No worries about food, entertainment, hygiene, technology or comfort, Yves has it all covered.

You propped your cheek up on an elbow, struggling not to doze off to the monotonousness of it all. Your ears slightly perked up when you heard the door open, but you didn't make a move.

Yves gave your shoulder an affectionate massage as he placed a bowl of succulent fruits, packed with Vitamin C and flavour, onto the table next to the RGB mechanical keyboard you requested him to buy for you.

He kissed you on the cheek as a greeting, and reached out to press a key. You had forgotten to mute yourself this entire time, luckily he had caught it now.

"Studying well?" He asked, voice quiet and smooth. Yves draped his arms around your neck from the back. He rested the side of his cheek on the crown of your head, letting his luscious locks cascade down and tickle your face.

You complained that your lecturer sucked at retaining students' attention while stuffing your face with the sliced fruits, Yves merely nodded along and stroked your hair.

You asked if he could stay in the room with you while you go about your day, entering video calls to video calls. It gets lonely and very tiresome.

"Of course, my love. I am more than happy to." He smiled. Yves lets go of you.

"Stand up, please." You did, and moved aside, knowing what he's going to do.

Yves took a seat on the swivel chair, pushing it backwards to allow some space between the desk and himself. He has his arms open, inviting you to come sit on his lap.

You crawled into his hold and snuggled deeply into him. Yves pressed numerous kisses onto your neck and ears as you shifted yourself to get comfortable. Once you're settled, he closed the embrace and pulled the chair nearer to the desktop.

You craned your neck to give him a sweet little peck on the lips, to which, he appreciates very much. A chuckle left him as he cuddled you closer to him.

"I love you." Despite being a whisper, it drowned out the painful robotic voice of your lecturer and made the class much more bearable. You returned the sentiment only to be met with another appreciative kiss on the top of your head.

His loving caresses and his inky tresses that you would play with absentmindedly, allowed you to focus on your lesson. It's oddly crystal clear now and not as agonizing.

Yves would occasionally check your knowledge by verbally quizzing you. His praises and tenderness were to die for, it made you strive to be the smartest so you could please him. But there weren't any repercussions if you didn't understand anything, he would simply explain it to you in a way you would easily grasp.

Whenever you're about to fall asleep, Yves would sensually stroke under your chin to wake you up. It was always pleasantly ticklish and such an attention booster. Yves would then proceed to massage your hands, caring for each joint and muscle.

You would sigh and melt into him as he ends the massage by intertwining his slender fingers with yours. Quarantine may be torture to some, but never to you, as Yves would make it seem like paradise.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Just read your Riley Sanderson x reader and OMG !! Could you give some more detail on what he looks like. Is his hair wavy, curly, straight, etc. How long is it? Does he wear eyeliner or any eye makeup? If so, what's it look like? Does he have any piercings?

Maybe you could write something about him inviting reader over to his house so they can try out some emo/goth makeup they've seen before? Maybe even letting reader style his hair differently, too? :) Then reader takes tons of pictures of their work after!

C'mon fuck me emo boy!

teehee, here you go anon 💋🥰

🥀grabbing the poorly dyed blonde hair of your beloved boyfriend, you held him still by the roots since he kept squirming. He didn't even try fighting back, simply accepting his fate as you carefully added his eyeliner. The dark shade contrasting against his pale skin, sometimes you thought you were secretly dating Slenderman or something with how tall and lanky he was

🥀you both looked like clowns at the moment but it's the memories that matter right? You would say that under normal circumstances, if he wasn't busy fondling you. You let out a sigh as you finished

🥀 counting to three you both slowly turned to look in the mirror, the room was silent for a good second before hysterical laughter came from it. You doubled over and fell on the ground as you saw what he had done to your gorgeous face

🥀 slowly getting up, you watched him stare at the mirror deep in thought before pulling out his phone. His lock screen having a picture of you on it. He opened the camera app and quickly grabbed your cheeks, turning you to kiss him as the camera clicked multiple times.

🥀when he finally pulled away you could taste his lipstick on your tongue and his mascara smearing your face. Watching him go through the pictures and sending them to Mimi

"to show her how much fun we're having without her."

🥀 heading straight for the bathroom you washed off the mess on your face, Riley staring at you lovingly and helping clean any spots you missed. Blue eyes crinkling in delight

"aren't you going to wash your face too babe?"

"nah..i like the masterpiece you put on me"

[yanhoe]

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄… 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙄 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩?

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩; 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙮𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙘 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮/𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙢𝙖, 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙨𝙠𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙩𝙩𝙢; 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩)

He was more than a man; a creature ripped from the smothering hell he vacationed in. Agony and anguish reeked through his pores, blending into the crimson ichor that he doused himself in. Like a person madly driven off the edge, he’s done something that would put his name down in history for all to remember.

They made him do it. It wasn’t his fault. He repeats this inside his head, over and over—clinging to it with desperation. What he’s done is justifying. There was no other way. He was right… and they were wrong. All of them were wrong for him. All of them but… one.

Like a statue that will one day be built in his honor, Julius stands immobile in a one man blood bath. The smell of copper lingers in the air, the iron sword in his hand never felt so light since the day he learned to wield it.

If they had just stopped mettleing with his life for once, then maybe they would still be here and he didn’t have to kill them. But within the royal walls, everyone was cold and guarded, lacking warmth and affection.

His parents ruled with an iron fist, their words were absolute. Money and power were the primary aim. Why were they so surprised when their own son gave them exactly what he was taught? They should..would be proud.

It was their strictness and high expectations that kept him away from society if not business related—he didn’t even have a single friend. He can’t complain for the most part. His upbringing brought him to you, albeit a little too late.

His angel, the only light to his hellish world, was betrothed to another. Imagine his devastation when he came to find out it was his cousin, the son of a Duke. That could have been him. It should have been him. It will be him.

The injustice of it all ignited a simmering resentment within him. Blame fell squarely on his parents for shaping a life that kept you apart from him. They were asking for death the second they denied his request to break off the engagement. A viscount child has no business with a future king, they said. Who are they to tell him who he can and cannot want?

They’re just lucky their deaths were quick. He can’t say the same for all the other women they pushed on him over the years. He didn't mean to do it the first time. It was entirely an accident. She just wouldn’t shut up. Everything that came out her mouth was horse shit. One fork in the neck, blood spat in his face and on the tea table, there she laid lifeless.

How many people did he have to kill to get it through their thick skulls that he only wanted you? Too many, he’s lost count and they still didn’t care. They brushed all of them off as collateral damage… oh how pathetic they must have felt in their last moments realizing that’s exactly how Julius saw them.

Unnecessary baggage in the way of something greater. Something he’s spent many nights awake, contemplating how to get to you and finally make you officially his. Don’t be confused; you were already his the second he laid eyes on you, but it felt like forever you’ve been out of reach.

Footsteps thud against the marble flooring before coming to a stop behind him. He doesn’t need to turn around to know reinforcements have come, but they weren't fast enough. “Do you think it wise to make an enemy of me?” Julius mocks them, waiting for them to rush him. But they never do. He humors them by peeking over his shoulder, smirking at finding them all kneeling before him.

That’s more like it.

He turns back forward, stepping over the remains of his deceased parents, may they rest in hell where they belong and ascend the many steps to his rightful place: the throne. It sits atop in pure gold, decorated with patterns that go back centuries.

Now for first order of business… he sits on the throne, glaring down at the solders who shake in their armor up at him. Perhaps it was the slow drying blood on his face that got them spooked? His lips twitch, finding this way more amusing than he anticipated.

“Bring them to me.”

That was all the information needed. They knew exactly who he was referring to. Over the last few years, the ex prince has been very foolhardy about his attraction to an already spoken for woman. It’s almost like his mannerisms flew out a window in a blink of an eye.

One man hesitates to leave with the others to receive the person of interest, causing Julius lips to twist into a scowl at the disobedience. “…?” he silently question the man with his steely purple eyes, tilting his head and resting it on his hand in a sense of boredom.

The man swallows thickly, raising a shaking finger to his parent’s corpses, “The bodies, sir?” Well good on him for managing not to stutter at least.

Julius waves him off, “Leave it. A gift for my beloved.” The man flinch at his curt dismissal of his parents, whom he doesn’t refer to as actual beings at this point. He opens his mouth to reply, but Julius cuts him off, now sitting forward on the throne, “Perhaps you’d like to join them since you seem so concerned?”

That’s shut him right up. He bows in respect for the throne before shuffling out of the gigantic room with his tail between his legs. Julius hums in contentment, sitting back against the throne. Now alls that left to do is wait for you and start a life together, as it should’ve been.

He taps and taps and taps his fingers on the gold arm rest of the throne as seconds turn into merely minutes. But it was minutes far too long for him as he grows impatient waiting. It was quiet, he was alone; that was never a good thing. His mind starts to question your hold up.

Did you get hurt? He will murder all of them if even a single hair on you was harmed. What if they decided to use you as a bargaining chip for him to step down from the throne? It’s be a cold day in hell before he allows either two to play out. From where he’s sitting, he figures he has to go find you himself before he drives himself mad with what ifs.

When he finds you because he will find you—he always does somehow. Sometimes you’re not even aware he has…. You’re in the middle of being tugged by the forearm back in the direction of the palace entrance by none other than your fiancé.

The guards are trying to stop him, which is ridiculous to Julius. The man was half his size. A puny little punk. All he would need to do is—one little push—and he’ll fall like a domino overtaking. But this kind of scene needs a different set of actions.

“Have you all lost it? They’re my fiancée!” he shouts repeatedly, face pink in anger as his chest heaves up and down when he pushes a soldier back enough to continue dragging you.

A tantrum that falls on death ears because all Julius can focus on and care about was you. His sight goes fuzzy, black dots dancing behind his vision as his skin grows impossibly hot. How dare… How dare he continue to touch you like you were his? How fucking dare he continue to challenge him, even now?

“Brandon, Let me g—“ your cut off by some liquid splashing specs on your face. The scream came immediately but you were still registering what just had happened with rapid blinking. Everything from there was moving at a speed of a snail.

The soldiers who once tried to stop Brandon before, step back in fear. This is exactly what they were trying to avoid, but he persisted in taking you back home where you belong. The King made it abundantly clear you belonged to him.

Brandon kneels on the ground, wailing uncomfortably in agony as he holds his gushing arm. The bleeding flowed with urgency, the liquid was everywhere! The pink in his skin was losing color quick, you’d think he saw his worst nightmare if you didn’t know any better. It was just Julius, but then again it’s not too far off.

He raises his sword just as Brandon looks up in terror, swinging it down so vigorously, it matches the same fire found within Julius eyes. It strikes Brandon across the chest, deep enough for him to cough up blood but still be conscious…if you can call him that after he falls to the floor, shaking like a newborn cub first time in snow.

“You’re being a bit dramatic, cousin.” he taunts, pointing the end of his sword on his cheek, pressing into it to draw beads of blood, “Truly pathetic considering you bold attempts to go against me.”

Brandon’s lip tremble like he wanted to say something in protest but it couldn’t open wide enough to say even a syllable. Igor stains the corner of his lips and chin as his mind struggles to decide on which wound to aid to first with a single good hand left.

His current state…it pleases Julius so much. Slowly a twisted grin surfaces on his face, making him look even more demented than his actions already have. He’s grown to like crushing those that didn’t understand their place. It’s unfortunate that it’s been mainly family who never heed to warnings.

It finally registers what you’re witnessing, an ear bleeding scream rips from your throat as you fly your hands to your mouth to muffle it. It only aid to hyperventilate you when Julius turns to you, face devoid of the blood thirst from earlier, now evidence of concern.

“What? What’s happening?!” he asks, dropping his sword in favor of seeing about your wellbeing. He was standing in front of you with three long strides. He reaches for your hands, pulling them from your face, gripping them tightly to still your trembling.

When that didn’t work, he places them on your face, forcing you to look at his, which is still soiled in the blood of his opponents. “Tell me what troubles you, my love?” You claw at his hands in a desperate attempt to separate, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Words can’t even describe the fear rattling your very being. He wasn’t even human—a monster—that’s the only explanation for the lack of empathy and ability to harm others without a second thought. Were you next? The thought made you sob harder.

He didn’t like that. Not even a little… Maybe it’s because he’s foolishly in love with you but your scared expression wasn’t one that sit well with him. It both worried and irritated him the longer it went on. “Stop it now.” he demands, holding your face tighter, eyebrows furrowed as he focused solely on you, “I didn’t give you a reason to cry.”

He meant that in a reassuring way—that’s how he tried to come across but you interpreted it differently. With his appearance and actions, it was terrifying to say the least. You’re shaking your head in protest, “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry,” you apologize for no reason.

Hurting YOU was the farthest thing from his mind now that you’re within arms reach. He wants nothing more than to keep you close, where you can suffocate him with your unconditional love that he craved since laying eyes on you. So don’t you look at him like that and don’t you speak to him like he didn’t jump through hoops to get this far.

Before Julius can try to soothe your woes, a tug on his trousers leg caught his attention. He tsk looking down, seeing Brandon, who somehow pulled himself together and crawled over to him. From where Julius was standing, he really did look like a pest—he just keeps pestering and meddling in his affairs.

It really pissed him off that he didn’t just die already. Can’t he see he’s in the middle of something? Well… since he wants to be a pest so badly, he might as well be treated as one. The corner of his lips twitch, rising into an unsettling grin as he still holds your face firmly.

He doesn’t even consider how he might look in your eyes as he lifts his leg up, slamming his foot down on Brandon’s face, barely making a dent in his skull. To your horror, he repeats it over and over again, each stomp more aggressive and purposeful than the next until his brains were peeking outside his head and his eyes popped out of its sockets.

“Hey—“ Julius calls out to you after a while. He noticed your lack of attention on him. You were too busy gawking at what remains of your ex-fiancé. “Look only at me. Are you trying to upset me?…”

He wasn’t already???

“As my lover, you’re not allowed to look at any other man… unless you want me to gift you their head as consequences.”

𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

[ambrosialdesire]

the lone minotaur

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

𓆩♡𓆪 ACHELOUS "LOUIS" BELLOCK   ↳ nickname: louis (pronouced lewis)

𓆩♡𓆪 AGE   ↳ ~2040 years old (relatively young for minotaurs); 41 years old in human years

𓆩♡𓆪 BIRTHDAY   ↳ april 30th

𓆩♡𓆪 HEIGHT   ↳ 6'10'' (human), 8' (minotaur)

𓆩♡𓆪 SPECIES   ↳ minotaur; currently disguised as a human

𓆩♡𓆪 CAREER   ↳ rancher/farmer: specializes in juice and animal based products (such as cheeses, milk, wool, etc.)

𓆩♡𓆪 AREA OF RESIDENCE   ↳ wicklow ranch on the outerskirts of the neighboring town winterborough (~250 miles away from the city Lunaris)

𓆩♡𓆪 APPEARANCE (i'm bad at describing since i rely on memory + drawings)   ↳ human             — a heavy set, tan male with fluffy dark brown hair             — dark olive green eyes, very tired looking/relaxed             — long scar going down his right eye             — low maintenance: retains a short beard, chest/body hair, arm hair, leg hair, etc. he's just a very hairy dude.             — calloused hands, very work-worn             — back scars from past; mostly healed over but still prominent in sight and touch             — ear piercings on his right ear             — nipple piercings, usually horseshoe shaped (got them when he still was under human ownership and still keeps them on as a reminder)   ↳ partial transformation             — relatively the same, height becomes slightly taller by a few inches             — horns grow in; pale ivory in color and smooth to the touch             — lower canines grow out; left canine is slightly chipped             — tail grows back, still able to be hidden in his pants             — slight more hairier             — nails on hands start turning black (hoof color)   ↳ minotaur             — head turns into a complete bull/cow head; brown fur, floppy ears, horns + canines grow all out to max size             — legs turn into bull/cow legs, feet turn into hooves             — torso + arms stay relatively human in appearance             — height is at full standing length             — long tail is fully grown out             — has to wear a loincloth due to having no clothes at this size             — considered to be an "abnormal" minotaur due to his underbite/outgrown canines and his tail (he's seen depictions of his species and he believes he's abnormal)

𓆩♡𓆪 PERSONALITY (i'm also really bad at explaining this lmfao)   ↳ achelous considers himself a rather isolated man. once scorned and feared by mankind, and used for his immense strength prior to the creation/reliance to machinery, achelous shares no fondness for them at all. most of these feelings hasn't changed even a little as the years went on, and he continues to try and keep contact with the townspeople at a minimum. he's not unnecessarily or outright violent towards the ~30k town population in particular as they're rather peaceful, but when it comes to city folk or outside tourists, his somewhat calm demeanor changes drastically towards them.

  ↳ achelous believes that he is a cruel monster, but the townspeople do not think the same. they genuinely believe that he's rather a sweet gentleman, seeing that he's a big softie towards the children and the elderly. he's actually more indifferent and hostile to adult men and women, having the belief that they are the cruelest when humans are in their 20s-60s.

  ↳ achelous is a particular rule follower, especially on his ranch. break his rules, he'll break you until you follow them correctly.

  ↳ he's stoic and straight to the point, there will never be a day where he sugarcoats his words. lying to him is similar to breaking the rules, so he's not fond of not being honest.

  ↳ achelous has a pretty even temperament unless there's a rule breaker, annoying human from the city/outside, or brats. his punishments are down right cruel, and that's coming from someone that had personally experienced the worst from humanity.

  ↳ achelous can have his flirty moments, but only if he's wasted from the alcohol he makes since normal alcohol isn't strong enough. his attempts are rather poor due to his lack of socializing and picking up cues, so he normally comes off as sleazy with an ego, but he's really trying his best.

  ↳ though it may not seem like it most of the time, achelous is rather possessive and protective over the one he loves. he has pretty conservative views when it comes to having a family, believing that the man must provide for the woman while the woman takes care of the kids and the home. his cruel words and actions make it so his love stays (as that's the only form of affection he learned how to portray), and his last resort is usually harming/threatening/killing the one closest to his love.

  ↳ achelous is a good convincer, it's why his products are usually sought after in the farmer's market every sunday. it's technically not lying when what he says and believes is true.

  ↳ of course, achelous prefers not to socialize unless it's absolutely necessary, but he's so good at fixing things and helping others out accidentally that he's constantly requested around for his assistance. he doesn't really want to do it, but if it gets them off his back and property, he will.

  ↳ achelous is hard-working, he hates bad/lazy workers and prefers to do things his own way. that's why there's no other farmhands/workers besides him, not including his obvious distaste for humans. from 5:30 am to 7:30 pm, he follows his routine to a tee every day. sundays are his breaks, even if he technically doesn't really need it.

  ↳ he's the most fatherly out of all my posted ocs, probably due to the face that he's the one that's completely determined and decently stable enough to start a family. achelous has also been waiting for the same species as him, but since he never seen another minotaur for most of his life, his patience is growing thin and he may have to take to a human mate the longer he waits.

  ↳ achelous has extreme guilt/shame over his true form, it's why he managed to find a witch to help him appear more human (ironic isn't it). to him, it's a protectant from being even more outcasted, despite his consistent insistence to be left alone. his partial/full transformation only comes out when his emotions become extremely high (mostly out of anger, but can come out in states of high arousal). he has quite the steady composure, and is very in-tune with his emotions, giving him that needed control.

𓆩♡𓆪 ABILITIES   ↳ extreme strength             — can lift up multiple logs or hay bales without struggle             — occasionally lifts up his animals to make sure they're right where they need to be   ↳ intelligence/experience             — due to his long-lived life and the experiences he's gone through, he's rather quickly decisive on what to do/say             — this unfortunately makes him the "i-told-you-so"/"this-is-what-you-get" type   ↳ heightened senses             — minotaurs have near perfect vision and heightened senses (taste and scent especially)             — due to this, achelous has quick reflexes and reacts to situations accordingly. this can also make him vulnerable to extremely strong smells or sudden bright lights.   ↳ endurance/speed             — achelous rarely or doesn't even get tired, sometimes his daily routine gets finished earlier if he's at the top of his game. he merely fakes exhaustion to look less suspicious to the townspeople, that's the only time he lies to them since it's for his protection.             — due to his species type, he's rather quick on his feet. not as much as normal minotaurs (if there are) due to his heftier build.

𓆩♡𓆪 BACKGROUND   ↳ around the start of the roman empire years, achelous was born to a lower class family. to their horror, he was born with a calf's head and legs, believing that their gods have spited them even more. rather than killing him to be done with it, they chose to sell their newborn to a higher status family, seeing that he'd be used for their entertainment. there was never such a creature as him, only passing legends and stories, no one truly thought that a minotaur could possibly exist. they were paid a good sum, and achelous' fate was finally sealed. as he grew up, he was tormented with their mockery, forced to work in the fields from day to night with no breaks. achelous was the face of jokes and laughs during their lavish parties, food constantly thrown at his face and being tossed about for their amusement. this so-called family of his abused the poor minotaur, making sure that he knew his place and how disgusting he was to everyone around. even as they dragged him around publicly, he was forced to wear a hood and cloak, but his size was impossible to hide and the people around would tear at his disguise to taunt jeers at him, constantly leaving him filthy and bloody at the end of the day. it's strange though. no matter how much he was hit, how many wounds they left on his back, achelous never fought back. he himself never knew why, even to this day.

  ↳ as the empire finally fell apart, achelous managed to finally escape, not without burning the house down and making sure he saw his abusers' faces contort as they burned alive while he ran off. hiding in a boat traveling to where england is now, he stayed there for years underneath the docks, surviving on whatever he was able to find, until he heard word of travel to "india" and managed to sneak onto the next boat going there. once he reached the americas, he traveled further into the south, around where mississippi, tennessee, alabama, and georgia is currently located. achelous finally found the freedom is wanted for so long, finally building his own home and farm, ensuring that no other human may make their way on his land.

  ↳ this peace didn't last long, well, to him at least it didn't. at this time, he had previously sought out a witch that was able to alter his appearance semi-permanently, so long as he didn't lose control of himself. achelous now is roughly 2000 years old, and a town had begun to be built nearby his ranch. winterborough, from what he's heard from others as he sold his products at the market, a new town for new beginnings. he didn't care, so long as they didn't bother him or figure out he lived there. they figured it out. the first group of townspeople decided to greet him, since they're the ones sorta causing a disturbance as the homes and buildings were still being constructed. to achelous' surprise, they were kind, offering him gifts and words of praise about the work he's done for himself. he's... he's never experience this before, he could tell that they were being genuine from their smiles and expressions. hm... maybe these humans weren't so bad. as the years went on, they never quite questioned his origins or why it seems that he never quite ages the same as them, achelous brought them a good amount of financial stability in their small town and he was overall just a great guy, even if he was a little antisocial.

  ↳ achelous is still not openly fond of humankind in general, but he is rather protective over winterborough and its residents. it had grown into a place where he thought of as a warm home, minus his ranch. he actually knows everyone by name, who's family member belongs to which; achelous cares deeply, even if he doesn't show it. the townspeople all know him as well, they like to say that he's their guardian (which is mostly right since there's barely any crime in their town). they all adore and deeply trust achelous for what he has done for them, but they still don't know his true nature, his true form. all in all, the townspeople and achelous' relationship towards one another is symbiotic.

𓆩♡𓆪 OTHER INFO   ↳ achelous shows up to every town event, to everyone's surprise. they know he's not really fond of interacting with everyone, but his intentions are to ensure that the tourists/city folk isn't causing any trouble for them. he hates crowds, but he hates newcomers even more.

  ↳ the town only knows him as louis bellock, achelous thinks they don't have the ability to pronounce his actual name, so he lets them call him louis. bellock was made up on the spot when he was asked.

  ↳ when the first townspeople met achelous, he was a complete rugged mess. all his hair was completely outgrown, his clothes were mostly in rags, and he kinda smelled like dirt and grass. he was pretty frightening as a first appearance, and they also kinda assumed he was a squatter before he clarified that he was the owner of the ranch. it was then achelous decided he had to keep a decent appearance.

  ↳ his voice is on the lower octave, very gruff and rough. achelous almost has a complete southern accent, but still has hints of a greek/roman one that occasionally slips out. he's also very blunt sounding, almost as if he's bored or very uninterested with a conversation, and he'll usually only talk in a few words or less if possible. sometimes it'll come out scratchy or crackly if he hasn't spoke in a while.

  ↳ achelous owns 2 kangal shepherd dogs and 2 bernese mountain dogs, they're all male.             — agre (kangal)             — hyrcanus (kangal)             — nebrophonos (bernese)             — ichnobates (bernese)

  ↳ achelous had to teach himself how to read and write, and thanks to the library and this new-fangle internet, he managed to learn much quicker. his penmanship isn't the best, but it's still legible.

  ↳ achelous's sexual orientation can be considered to be aroace since he never met anyone like him and most humans disgust him anyways. however, due to his conservative values, he's more interested with the female gender. he's also kinda still a virgin, due to the fact that he literally has no experience with romance/sex in general.

  ↳ achelous is skilled at the guitar (he had years to learn and perfect it), and he'll often play it deep into the night in front of the fireplace.

  ↳ achelous can somewhat understand animals, but it's not like voices he hears from people, it's more like a basic understanding of what they want, so he sometimes gives them what they ask of him. he is sometimes called the soother in the town due to his ability to calm down even the most rowdiest of animals.

(will continue to update this whenever i get ideas)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[blu-wi]

- an old fanfic i wrote after getting inspired by an idea by 2smolbeans—also rly centered on reader's pov. some parts are rushed, idk how to pace, and barely proofread‼️‼️

disclaimers > yandere themes, obsessiveness + possessiveness, stalking, attempts of kidnapping and murder inflicted on the reader, mild gore (mentions of blood, stabbing, wounds inflicted on the stalker)

summary > a certain stalker is obsessed with your best friend and sees you as a threat to their relationship, and so he attempts to get rid of you to no avail. but when things don’t go too well with his darling, he seeks you instead.

-

⠀⠀You sink into the couch with popcorn in one hand and the remote in your other. “What should we watch?” You ask your friend as you browse the many movies on Netflix. You grab some popcorn and shove the pieces in your mouth casually, ignoring the side glances they give you at your action. You bought it anyway, so who are they to judge?

⠀⠀“A horror movie.” They reply with a smirk plastered on their face. You glare at them playfully and choose some random horror movie in the designated category. Once the movie starts, you put the remote on the coffee table in front and lean back on the couch, letting out a content sigh.

⠀⠀The movie wasn’t too bad. You had some scares here and there which caused you to flinch or jump on your friend depending on the intensity. You were mostly critiquing the scenes and writing, I mean, who in their right mind would willingly go into an abandoned house where literal murders happened? Your friend only rolled their eyes at your nick-pickiness, saying it was just a typical horror movie and that’s how it works.

⠀⠀When you weren’t unnecessarily pointing out small details that didn’t make sense, you felt eyes burning the back of your head for some reason. You had initially assumed it was your friend trying to scare you more, but when you looked at them, their eyes were fixated on the TV screen the whole time. It didn’t help that you two were alone, either.

⠀⠀Despite your nervousness, you shook it off and continued to hang out with your companion. You eventually forgot about the weird feeling of being watched, but it kept popping up in your mind ever since then, making you even more paranoid than you were after watching the horror movie. Every time you walk down the streets, you occasionally peer over your shoulder. Maybe the feeling of a pair of eyes staring at you or the footsteps you keep hearing are just figments of your imagination. Maybe.

⠀⠀You scroll through your phone as you pace down the sidewalk leisurely, heading to your house after another hang-out with your friend. Your paranoia mostly disappeared after some time, so you’re more comfortable walking alone now. Your steps echo throughout the empty street, sometimes interrupted by cars passing by or the motorcycles zooming through the road. You hum a tune to fill out the silence of your lonely walk and bob your head to the familiar melody.

⠀⠀You tear your eyes from your phone to look up, noticing your house a few meters away. Your pace quickens a bit so you can go home faster and take a nap. You tuck a hair strand behind your ear and put your phone in your pocket as you walk so you wouldn’t forget about the phone you were holding and accidentally drop it while you unlock your door.

⠀⠀As you stroll down in the direction toward your house, you hear another pair of distant footsteps matching yours. You stop walking and look over your shoulder only to find nobody there, but your eyes don’t miss the waving blade of grass that definitely isn’t being swayed by the still wind. A cold shiver runs down your spine at the thought of somebody following you, but you try to push it in the back of your mind and take another step cautiously. When you don’t hear anything after taking a few more steps, you return to your earlier pace, albeit a bit faster.

⠀⠀The sound of your footsteps suddenly doubles again, and you immediately halt your movements. It stops the moment you do. Your body tenses, and you can feel your heart beating faster, screaming at you to run. You comply with your body’s demands and immediately transition into a full-blown sprint, trying to outrun the sound of rushing feet catching up with you. Sweat drips down your forehead as you continue running for your life, cursing under your breath for not being more aware of your surroundings.

⠀⠀You don’t dare to look back for fear of slowing down, but your efforts are in vain as the perpetrator tackles you to the ground. Your body is met with hard concrete, causing you to groan in pain at the force. Brushing off the pain as the least of your worries right now, you scramble to get your feet up, but you’re quickly pushed back down by a hand, pinning you onto the ground with no way of escaping, no matter how much you flail and thrash around. They grip both of your wrists harshly, not allowing you to do anything except squirm helplessly.

⠀⠀Although you’re determined to break free and get away before they could lay a finger on you, exhaustion takes over your body, and your movements become sluggish before you go limp under their hold. You look up at your would-be killer and examine their features for the sliver of a chance to escape and report them to the police. Their face is obscured by a mask with their hood over their head, but you can tell it’s a man.

⠀⠀Narrowing your eyes, you engrain every detail in your memory. You memorize every strand of hair that peeks out from under his hood and every imperfection on the exposed skin. You glare into the dark brown eyes that show no remorse or hesitation for whatever he’s about to do to you. Your eyes dart to the rag held tightly in his hand, and your breath hitches in your throat. You pale, knowing he’s planning to kidnap you for who knows what.

⠀⠀You get caught off guard when you hear his voice speaking something to you, barely above a whisper. “Don’t touch them. They’re mine.” He says, his grip on your wrists tightening significantly. What does that even mean? What is he talking about? Who is he talking about?

⠀⠀It doesn’t matter, not now, at least. Whatever the case, you aren’t going to make this easy for him. You stay still and save up all your remaining energy for what’s about to come, knowing you have one chance to get away and one chance only.

⠀⠀In the split second he gets distracted by a sound similar to a person’s footsteps approaching, you bring your free leg up and kick him off you with all your strength. It earns a grunt from the man, but he regains his composure and immediately rushes toward you to close the small distance you managed to make between you two. You take no time to roll to the side and dodge him, jumping up to your feet the second he runs past you. Keeping your eyes on him and the knife he produced from his pocket, you back away and wait for him to attack first.

⠀⠀He unknowingly falls into your trap and raises the knife in the air as he runs toward you with inhuman speed. You suck in a sharp breath and sprint past him, lifting your arm in the air and smacking his wrist to knock the knife out of his hand. The blade flies out of his grip, and before you can process that, your body moves ahead of you and takes the knife from the ground. You turn around before he can realize what’s happening and throw your body onto him.

⠀⠀The second he’s on the ground, you elevate the knife and plunge it deep into his body, stabbing his shoulder. You hear him let out a surprised grunt at his own weapon forced into his body. The blade stays in his shoulder for a quick moment before you pull it out, blood gushing out of the wound and dripping off the knife. His words of venom fall on deaf ears as all you can hear are your thoughts swirling in your mind. You want to stab him until he stops breathing so he can’t hurt anyone else, but that would no longer be self-defense. After the ringing in your ears ceases, you get up and step away from his bleeding body. You turn your heel and drop the knife on the ground.

⠀⠀Ever since that incident, you’ve been paranoid ever since. You often sit in your room with the blinds closed and the window locked, contemplating whether you should report it to the police. It’s been consuming your mind, but you’re too afraid of the consequences if you tell law enforcement about it. What if he somehow figure out and tries to kidnap and kill you again? What if they don’t believe you or don’t do anything about it? What if they arrest you for stabbing someone even when it was in self-defense?

⠀⠀You sit at your desk in the classroom, fidgeting with your hands and tapping your foot nervously as you get lost in thought again. He plagued your mind during the day and haunted your dreams in your sleep at night, not allowing you to relax and let your guard down for even a moment. Not even when your friend places their hand on your shoulder to snap you back into reality with a comforting smile on their face. You can’t trust anybody except yourself, and especially not that one guy in your class who keeps staring at you with contempt and hatred.

⠀⠀Everything is too confusing to handle, and you distance yourself from everyone. Strangely enough, the feeling of being watched disappears once you do. You no longer feel like anyone’s staring at you from a distance or following behind you. You don’t feel like the man’s there everywhere you go, waiting for a chance to strike. It feels like he moved on. It's the safest you’ve felt since that movie night you spent with your friend. It seems like that one guy (who you found out’s name is Elijah after checking the class attendance chart) has stopped glaring at you in class, too—though he looks like he’s now watching your friend, albeit his gaze is far from an intense glare. It’s more like he’s… lovestruck or something.

⠀⠀It’s hard to explain. Everything’s too hard to explain.

⠀⠀It was just another restless day of school. You closed your locker and let out a tired sigh, your body on power-saving mode. When your friend suddenly hugged you from behind, you jumped so hard you accidentally elbowed them. You mumbled apologies, but they hardly cared about you elbowing them and gushed about how they received a letter from a “secret admirer”. The note detailed their love for them and how they were so sweet and caring, like a typical love letter. You didn’t think much of it when they told you about it, but when they were suddenly getting countless letters every day with the contents being more disturbing and borderline obsessive than the last, you came upon a terrifying realization.

⠀⠀Your head hurts, and you rub your temples as you sit on your bed. You try to make sense of everything in your mind, but it’s all too overwhelming. You’re connecting dots one after the other, but each time you do, the last one disappears, and it’s replaced with this and that. You hastily get a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down every piece of information you know. You outline a box on the bottom of the paper and write down a summary.

⠀⠀Your friend has a stalker, and that stalker seemed to think that you were spending a bit too much time with the one they love, so they opted to kidnap and then murder you so you would be out of the picture. You have your suspicions that the stalker might be that Elijah guy who glared at you so intensely it felt like he was trying to pierce through your head. After all, when you distanced yourself from your friend, the stalker stopped following you, and Elijah also stopped staring at you. It’s possible, maybe even likely.

⠀⠀You click your tongue in satisfaction, and your eyes scan the paper thoroughly one more time before you fold it and put it inside a small pocket in your bag, just in case you need to refresh your memory. The next day, you head to school with your hood over your head and your hands in your pockets. You take a deep breath and pace down the hallways, looking for your friend. The sound of footsteps and lockers slamming shut echo throughout the hall as students push each other around to get to class. You walk in the shadows with your eyes darting across each person's face until you land on your friend… and that Elijah guy.

⠀⠀You lean against somebody’s locker, a fair distance away from the two conversing with each other. Your friend looks a bit uncomfortable, and even from a distance, you can tell Elijah’s irises are practically shaped like hearts as he talks to your friend. You don’t bother to listen to whatever they’re talking about, instead focused on trying to find anything that resembles your assaulter from months ago. He takes his jacket off to show off his physique to your friend in an attempt to woo them, and it’s then that you spot a healed wound on his shoulder. For a second, you could feel the knife still in your hand, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, fading into nothing but a memory. You found him.

...

⠀⠀How long has it been? Weeks or months? You can’t tell. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen your friend. The last time you remember seeing them in front of you was the time you found out who he was: the man behind all the love letters sent to them, the man who tried to kill you. It’s like both of them have disappeared from society and erased themselves from every one of their classmates’ memories except yours. You know everything, and it’s about time you put some use to it. You’ve been conjuring up a plan since the beginning: a plan to find out where they went and what Elijah did to your friend. Who knows, maybe you’ll never see your friend again.

⠀⠀You look out the window, watching the raindrops drip down the glass as you sip your cup of coffee. This café always calms your nerves and brings your mind to peace, even when you’re writing down a plan that could risk your life right on the table. You peel your eyes away from the scenery outside the window and fixate your gaze on the bullet point steps of your plan that you’ve been tweaking for a while, unsure and nervous. You aren’t sure if you can pull this off, but it’s worth a try.

⠀⠀Before you can realize it, you get pulled into a vortex of your thoughts and doubts, spacing out. Your hands tremble as your worries eat your mind until the only thing you can think of is the result of your inevitable failure. You can’t do this, you’ll end up failing and risking your and your friend’s life, you’re just gonna-

⠀⠀“Hello?”

⠀⠀You blink and look up at the source of the voice, a feeling of dread and fear warped into anger washing over you when your eyes meet with dark brown ones. The same ones that you glared at when your life was in danger. The same ones that looked at your friend with twisted love and obsession. He’s here, and he’s coming for you.

⠀⠀You choke out a nervous laugh and rush to crumple the paper containing your plan, shoving it in your bag. He looks at you with confusion, but you know it’s only a facade hiding the layer of deceit and bloodlust beneath. “May I sit here?” He asks with a smile, pointing to the seat across from you. Oh, how you want to rip that smile off his face and crush his fake decency under your shoe. “Of course.”

⠀⠀“You look familiar to me. We’re in the same class, correct?” He grinned while looking at you with… fondness? It almost catches you off guard, considering how it’s such a stark contrast from the glare he used to give you in the very same class. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, raising the coffee to your lips to block your vision temporarily so you don't have to see him staring at you. It’s a shame how you can’t just sip it forever.

⠀⠀“Yeah. You’re…?” You smiled only to the point of politeness. Your gaze hardens into a subtle glare. You can’t stand to look at him any longer, or you might just stab him again right here and now, but you push on. “I’m Elijah. You must be-” You cut him off with a slightly annoyed tone, “Yes, I am. I’ve heard of you before, Elijah. I knew you looked familiar.” You sneer, reveling in the way his confidence falters for just a moment.

⠀⠀“Oh?” His lips curl into a smirk, something you were not expecting from the way he was so ‘polite’ before. “Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I suppose we can get straight to the point now, shall we?” He chuckles darkly. Your body tenses, and your eyes narrow in suspicion at his intentions.

⠀⠀Not a moment passes after his weird chuckle before he suddenly grabs your wrist firmly, the look in his eyes morphing from friendliness to the same look you saw him give your friend. One of obsession. A yelp leaves your lips at the action, and you stare at him with unease. Your eyes analyze him for hidden weapons or a tuft of fabric from a rag, but you come out empty-handed.

⠀⠀“Your little friend is… or should I say was?” He laughs at your paleness, giving you a second to process his words and what they mean. “Your little friend I was in love with was giving me such a difficult time. Things didn’t go very well. They didn’t quite feel like… the one. I used to think they were, but now that I look at it,” he grips your wrist a bit tighter, “Now that I look at you… Oh, you’re so much more interesting.”

⠀⠀You try to pull your captured wrist away from him, but he only pulls you closer over the table. You can only look at him with horror as you realize what’s happening and what’s going to happen to you. “They were just a mistake, darling. You’re the one who’s truly meant for me. You’re the one who marked my body with your touch and watched me the same way I watched you.” He adds, his tone only growing more and more possessive. “Oh, did you think I didn’t notice you staring at me, trying to see if I was the same person that tried to kill you? Of course I did, and I desperately wish you could look at me like that again.”

⠀⠀When you tried to look away from him, he held your chin with his other hand and turned your head to face him. He smirks at how you stare at him with such hatred and mistrust. He continues ranting about why you’re perfect for him and why he wants to make things right and love you, but his sweet nothings go through one ear and out the other as a ringing sound distracts you from the horrid words coming from his lips. You can only think of what your life will become once he gets his full grasp on you, how you’ll be trapped in his embrace forever and be forced to endure his sick love. You can’t let that happen.

⠀⠀If you escaped him once, you can do it again.

[tsuutarr]

Howd Mason get those scars? :(

After getting close enough to him to be intimate I would 100% kiss his scars

Most of his scars are from farm work! Mason is pretty put together now, but he was kind of clumsy when he was starting out~

Also, in Mason's story, there's a pretty bad underground Hybrid Slave Trade going on :( He was a well-behaved so he didn't get physically punished like the more rowdy hybrids, but he has a few back scars from the lashings he got.

Thankfully, the police did end up finding the slave ring Mason was in, which is why he's free now with monetary compensation. He used most of the money he got and bought the farm so he could be away from people lol

But yeah, most of his scars are from farm work! He'd find it cute if you kissed them, but he might be a little more jumpy if you touch some of his back scars.

[2soft4yandere]

❤️

Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, mitski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

[bunnygirllover45]

something something he wants a dog.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker

Tw: violence, afab reader, A Lot Of Words

masterlists part 2

This is a pretty slow burn fic, enjoy yall

Minors and ageless blogs DNI please i will block u <3

You only ever talked to him once or twice, barely even remembering his name. You always mistook him as 'Citrus'. But he would correct you and say his name is Cyprus.

He doesn't speak to anyone, always working away at his cubicle. You would have to pass by his seat a few times to hand some reports, it was always barren. Nothing that showcases his personality outside work, no framed pictures, no trinkets, no keychains, and definitely no bowl filled with candies.

Yet, everyone gossips about him. He is undoubtedly attractive, you could see a faint outline of his toned muscles through his white, dress shirt. He wears a pair of titanium, rectangular glasses on the bridge of his nose. Always clean-shaven with a short, smart haircut. His skin has a healthy glow and gorgeous tan to it with barely any blemishes except the scar that cuts through his thick eyebrows and full lips. That adds to his rugged charm.

Everyone thought that his ears were weird, but refrained from talking about it, fearing that HR would pay them a visit for workplace bullying.

Your coworkers tried to buddy up with him before, either for office politics or genuine interest in him for being tall, dark, and handsome. But in the end, they failed and gave up. Because he would only talk to them about work, or not speak at all, just stare at them deadpan before telling them he has something to do.

You knew his good looks earned him your manager's favor. You have been observing him just like everyone in the room, he comes in at 9AM on the dot, and leaves at 5PM on the dot. Once his shift is over, nothing can stop him. No matter how high up there in the office hierarchy, no one can convince him to stay even as little as 5 minutes. It is especially egregious during meetings, despite being obviously nowhere near its conclusion, once the clock hits five, Cyprus would get up, politely yet albeit gruffly excuse himself, and leave the room.

You tried following his example once. You were called into HR the next day for not being a "team player". It isn't only you, even your other colleagues received a scolding for setting such boundaries while Cyprus left the building without having any sass thrown at him. It's either he gets preferential treatment or he does not give a damn if he gets fired from this job.

He disappears during lunch. Absolutely no one can find him, not in the break room, not the bathroom, and not even the parking lot. It was like a sighting of a cryptid when he would occasionally enter the communal kitchen to make himself a cup of black coffee, no sugar nor milk.

Of course, each time people would try to entertain him with small talk. Cyprus would simply reply with one-word answers or nothing at all.

Obviously, he isn't interested in letting his professionalism slip. Why bother trying to gain his approval? Whenever you had the pleasure of being alone in the coffee room with him, you would nod at him as a greeting, and he would do the same. After either one of you finished your business there, no goodbyes would be said.

There was a day when you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, it's always occupied and you would have to wait ages. By the time it reaches your floor, it will have already taken up half of your lunch break. Might as well get some exercise in.

You frowned at how dingy it was, but you started your journey downwards.

After reaching the next floor, you were surprised to catch none other than Cyprus sitting on the steps. He turned his head to you, seemingly annoyed at something. He has his phone in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other one.

You happen to be holding a lighter for your friend. You offered it to him, and Cyprus would gladly accept it. He grumbled out a 'thanks' before handing it back to you. Not liking the smell of cigarette fumes, you gave him an acknowledging look and left him alone.

He gazed at you pensively as you descended the stairs while blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth. The cigarette was held between his index and middle fingers.

It's been three months since you first joined this company. The only thing you knew about Cyprus is that he worked here longer than you, has a cig for lunch, and isn't a pushover. From what you learned from your colleagues, he only worked here for a year before your arrival. Right off the bat, he's already acting like this. Never sucking up to the higher-ups or going above and beyond like other newbies would.

Though, it isn't like he's a horrible worker. Cyprus wasn't the best either. He just does just enough not to get dismissed. He reaches his deadlines, has everything in writing, and would professionally call anyone out for giving him too much to do.

Since the day where you used the stairs, you would always bump into Cyprus without fail. Looks like you found his hiding spot and he is always filling up his lungs with grey poison. But you had no desire to share it with anyone, he probably would prefer to keep his safe haven unoccupied. The only constant daily interaction that the two of you had was a mutual nod.

There was a particular day when you decided to put on a new pair of work shoes. It was also the same day when you had to rush out of the building for an important appointment. You didn't realize how slippery the soles were, it took one misstep and you found yourself tumbling down the stairs.

Luckily though, your collision course was stopped by a pair of strong arms catching you before you could hit the wall.

Cyprus helped you up. But you had no time to waste, you muttered a quick thanks before rushing to flee the scene again.

His sharp eyes must have picked up what the problem is. Well, it didn't take a genius. You were already barely keeping your balance while scrambling to get back onto your two feet. So, Cyprus would apprehend you by the wrist, preventing you from going down.

"Stop rushing, you're going to slip again." He said, his voice was deep enough to feel it vibrating in your bones.

You end up taking off your shoes and assuring him you're going to be fine. He lets you go and you take off running, regardless of his command.

You came back the next day with a bruise on your forehead and another pair of shoes on your feet. Your nosy coworkers flocked around your table to ask what happened. You said your stupid shoes were too slippery, you slipped and hit your head. Leaving out the part where Cyprus helped you out at the stairs.

Just like usual, you took the stairs again during your lunch break.

You expected a nod and nothing else.

"You okay?" He asked. Which surprised you. Switching the focus from the steps to Cyprus, who is standing tall on the platform with a cigarette between his lips.

You muttered yes, and a "thanks for asking". You had somewhere to be, so you moved past him and left him there. Cyprus didn't make a move or say anything else.

The week goes by like usual. Though, Cyprus is oddly "chattier".

"How's your head?" He would ask this on random days. You would always reply with a "fine" and a "thanks for asking", not wanting to waste his precious smoking time, you left him alone almost immediately.

You had a bad day at one point, you got yelled at by five different bosses, someone took credit for your contribution, you weren't invited to lunch and you were told to work overtime. Dragging yourself down the stairs with your head hung down low. You didn't look up to nod at the male leaning against the wall.

He cocked an eyebrow as he saw you sitting on one of the steps with a somber expression.

You asked him if you could have a stick too. Cyprus handed you one without a complaint. He fired his lighter and lit your cigarette between your fingers up.

It was obvious to him that it was your first time smoking. You immediately started hacking wildly as soon as the sharp, unkind fumes hit the back of your throat. This did not calm you down at all, what a scam. You thought it would lift the weight off your shoulders like how it was advertised in movies, it gave you more stress instead.

"Bad day?" He asked, with a new amused expression on his hunky face. You confirmed it, but not giving him any details.

You said that smoking sucks and it didn't help you, looking visibly upset and at the brink of tears. Asking if he could dispose of it for you. He gladly took it from your hands.

You walked away, grumbling incoherently as you tried thinking of other ways to relieve your stress for the day.

Cyprus snuffs his older cigarette out using the heel of his leather shoes. He brought yours to his lips and closed his eyes as he inhaled the newer smoke.

Days turned into weeks, into months. It just repeats every day, you would encounter him at the stairs, and sometimes he would say something more, or nothing at all. The only notable event that happened to both of you, is that you brought back a takeaway that you didn't like and bumped into him at the stairs. You were clear as to why you're giving him a box of food, you personally hated it but you couldn't let it go to waste. None of your 'friends' wanted them either.

Luckily, he is alright with it. He ate something other than his cancer stick that day for lunch. Cyprus thanked you for it and you went back up to your cubicle.

Come Valentine's Day, you're baffled as to who left you a bouquet of roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates on your desk. It couldn't have been Cyprus, that's for sure. Because you come in earlier than he does.

You looked over to his cubicle to see that it's piled with Valentine's day gifts. But no Cyprus nor his belongings since it's still 8:45AM. You're more likely to catch him dead than acting enthusiastic to come to work.

Scratching your head, your admirer left a cryptic note that said:

"I like you and I want to get to know you more.

Meet me in parking lot 1-A at 5:30pm. I'll take you out for dinner.

-R."

Cyprus definitely doesn't start with an R. You tried thinking about the times where you interacted with coworkers with R as part of their initials. You may be amicable, yes, but you don't think you come off as flirty. It was all an act to not get eaten up by office politics.

God, you hope none of them had the wrong idea. You hope whoever this is, doesn't have a big influence over your boss. You're cooked if you do. Because you are not meeting them at all.

You shoved the gifts under the desk, removing all evidence of it before you attract the attention of your noisy colleagues. You were so distracted clearing your desk that you didn't realize Cyprus walked past your cubicle a bit closer than usual.

You're a bit frazzled over this. Worrying about the consequences of rejecting this mystery person, but fearing that you will be a victim of violence when you meet them at a secluded parking lot.

So you head to the break room to make yourself a drink. The room was empty, everyone was too busy fawning over their own gifts instead.

Except Cyprus, it seems.

He entered a moment later as you're filling up your cup with hot water.

"You got anything?" He asked. You whipped your head to him and saw that he was focused on fixing his own cup of coffee.

"For valentines. I mean." He leaned against the counter as he waited for the coffee machine to drip liquid caffeine into his mug.

You said yes. Roses and chocolates. You are trying to figure out who it is.

He looked taken aback. You don't know if he's surprised that you have admirers, or the fact that you look like you're being hunted.

You excused yourself with a stammer and scurried away, having your mind occupied with anxiety.

You barely paid attention to your work, dreading as the clock ticks by and inching closer and closer to 5:30PM.

When it reaches lunchtime, you climb down the stairs as usual.

"Bad day?" He asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

You said no. But before you could leave, he blocked your path.

"What's going on with you?" He asked, with a mild concern written on his face.

You said there is nothing wrong. You have to leave now for a galentines day lunch with your female coworkers. So you squeezed past him.

In the end, you decided not to go to the parking lot. Once you saw Cyprus leave the floor at 5pm sharp, you began packing up. Bringing your roses and chocolates with you.

However, you didn't go to the parking lot. You went straight home instead, wondering if you made the right choice.

The next morning, your coworkers were gathered in a crowd to discuss their new gossip material. You joined in, wanting to appear as a "team player" just like how the HR department wanted you to be.

"Yeah! That's so weird, do you think he was waiting for someone?"

"Must be, why else would Cyprus stay here till ten?"

You asked where they saw Cyprus.

One of them showed you a picture of him leaning against his deep blue sedan. A lit cigarette in his mouth while his hands were in his pockets. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. The photo was taken from a distance, they probably wouldn't want Cyprus to catch them in the act.

You examined the picture for any clues as to where he was located.

Your face pales as soon as you see the sign "1-A". So that was him.

He didn't come in today. Your manager said he had to take an emergency leave, so you're tasked with covering his workload.

You were gnawing on your fingernails. Feeling extremely guilty and afraid, you are not using the stairs anytime soon. You do not want to face the awkwardness.

It was his fault anyways. How the hell would you know there is an R in his name? He had multiple chances to tell you about it yesterday, yet he didn't.

But you're scared. You have no idea what this man is capable of and you value this job too much.

You refrained from going into the break room and the stairs. You would rather waste your time waiting for the elevator than to face Cyprus alone.

Only to find that he started smoking outside.

You stayed at your desk during lunch.

Only to find Cyprus doing the same now.

In the end, you found refuge in the women's bathroom. Camping there for the entire duration of your break.

He is actively trying to talk to you. But you always act like you have a bladder infection when he approaches you, urgently needed to use the toilet now.

You avoided eye contact with him and whenever you have to hand him a stack of papers, you would just drop them on his desk and rush back to your own.

That was embarrassing. Although you weren't the one being rejected, you felt crappy.

Even if he was upfront with his feelings for you, it was unlikely you would have agreed. Cyprus is too enigmatic, who knows what lies under his cool exterior? Plus, you don't like the smell of cigarette smoke.

This is crazy, you're constantly under pressure everyday. From Cyprus's silence on the matter and the fear of having your coworkers finding out about your 'relationship' with him over that one year.

You decided to head to a bar one night to drink your worries away.

It was nearly empty, save for a few patrons scattered around. You swore you saw a lot more people walk in when you got off the bus. Where did they all go?

Someone sat next to you, a stranger. A charming one too, bought you a drink. You smiled as you warily decided to chat with him.

The alcohol certainly helped to ease the jumpiness, you're calm and enjoying the time you're sharing with this man who you never met. He cracked jokes which you would laugh at and you would talk about your office woes to him in a drunken stupor.

The drinks kept coming, you were heavily intoxicated whereas he is completely sober. The man barely drank while you finished around seven glasses. The bartender didn't seem to care that you're too giggly and swaying side to side. Your speech is slurred as you let yourself relax.

The man paid his tab and rose up from the stool. He wrapped his arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders. You told him that you wanted to stay here, but he didn't listen. You asked him multiple times where he was taking you, but the man didn't respond to it.

You're about to be lifted off your seat, until a fist travelling at lightning speed collides with the stranger's jaw. The impact made a sickening crack, followed by the clattering of loose teeth onto the wooden floors.

Some droplets of red got onto your cheeks and your office wear.

You sobered up a bit from the sudden attack, you were left unharmed but you couldn't say the same to your new friend.

A hulking figure was giving him the beatdown of his life, throwing powerful punches after powerful punches. The bar was thrown into chaos at the sudden act of violence, the screams, shouts and hollers were hurting your ears and head.

You threw yourself at his assailant, trying to get whoever is pummeling the man senseless to stop. He's not moving anymore! His blood pooled around his body and the two pairs of feet, including yours.

The bartender tried to break it up, this man was so full of rage, that nothing would stop him from taking out his anger on this stranger.

You cried, sobbing and begging him to stop. But he never listened, only after he was satisfied did he turn around to face you. His knuckles dripping with blood that isn't his, pecs that rose up and down as he breathed heavily. Adrenaline was still coursing through his bloodstreams, that is why his pupils were dilated within his steely grey eyes.

You were harshly tugged away by someone else. You looked behind you and it's the bartender, he brought you to safety as more people joined in the fight.

Maybe they wanted to avenge their friend, or they just wanted to beat him for bragging rights, or they could simply be drunk. Regardless, they were armed with chairs and broken bottles.

Cyprus dodged the first few blows and blocked the next ones. He grabbed an attacker by the arm and painfully twisted it, leaving him to scream and writhe on the ground. He blocked the strike from the wooden chair with an arm and punched another person square in the face, disfiguring their nose.

He delivered a devastating uppercut to one of the more erratic and violent patrons, swiping them off their feet using his leg before kicking them with enough force to push them far away.

One of them had the misfortune of tasting his deadly hook to the side of the face, knocking them out cold. Their limp body hits the floor with a deadening thud.

After that, no one dared to take him on. They're either keeping their distance or unconscious on the floor. He turned around and glowered at the bartender, who shrugged coolly and guided you to him.

Through your tears, you make out that familiar face of your quiet coworker. You were stunned with a million questions running through your head.

His massive hand grabbed you by the face, turning it left to right, examining if you endured any injury from the creep.

You were still under the influence, so you broke down crying and apologizing that you stood him up on Valentine's. You pleaded with him not to hurt you.

Cyprus supported an arm behind your back and under your knees, carrying you close to his chest as he fled the scene before he could get in trouble.

Your legs dangle as he carried you bridal style. The world is spinning and you could barely stay awake. This felt like a nightmare that you would have after pulling an all-nighter to finish a report.

But one thing that you kept your eyes on are his ears. You realized that you remembered seeing it somewhere online:

Seasoned boxers have cauliflower ears like Cyprus's