#my yandere guys

[vyllain]

"My love... you came back.."

i am not good making some stuff like this but oh well, so short recap. Since i fried my hard drive from my laptop and it got hacked, my hardwork of my SDV farm, saved mods and my entire ARTS in it. Let's say this is a new life and a new story for my farmer who had glitches and amnesia from her old life haunting her. So imma play that part for her.

Since Elliott is not the only yandere in my game there are eight of them: Alex, Sebastian, Sam, Harvey, Shane, Elliott, Genderswap Hale (Haley) and Pete (Penny).

Fitted for the game theme of Lovesick Au for them and needed to fit them on my cottagecore vibe. Stay tune or not happy farming.

[acid-ixx]

ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.

"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"

please stop.

"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"

no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.

and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.

"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"

you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.

"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"

he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.

"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"

lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.

yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.

you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.

five minutes pass.

your phone rings.

it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.

it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.

there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.

so you wait, you wait until it stops.

and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.

you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?

fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.

it will remain empty.

so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.

that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.

it's all over, you tell yourself.

'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.

not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.

— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?

what the fuck.

seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.

why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.

shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.

your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.

why is it so hard to believe her now?

just, why are you so weak?

when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.

"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.

"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.

"i love you too..."

you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?

... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.

yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.

and you?

you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.

but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!

... just look at yourself now.

your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.

breathing.

oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.

your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.

five things you can see.

your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.

you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.

fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.

four things you can feel.

the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.

that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.

three things you can hear.

does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?

focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.

shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.

two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.

it reminds you of yourself.

before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.

thump, beat, thump.

every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?

... yet nothing works.

why doesn't anything work out in your favor?

please don't do this to me.

your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.

just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.

it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.

moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.

but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.

you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any

even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...

would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.

you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.

and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.

alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.

and all you can ever do is, well...

you cry.

the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.

you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.

you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.

you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.

not when you're so, so lonely in this world.

and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.

your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.

at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.

alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.

it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.

you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.

and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.

it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.

the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.

yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...

if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.

if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...

gotham.

he's in gotham right now.

shit.

shit, shit, shit.

dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.

he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.

you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.

oh, fuck.

you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.

you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.

with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.

you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.

so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.

your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.

follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.

distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...

it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.

you know nothing about him...

and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.

what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?

it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?

your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.

— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.

so what do you need exactly?

distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—

you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.

cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.

drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.

... then what?

you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.

'despite everything, it's still you, no?'

if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.

there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.

but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.

anything.

and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.

once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.

it'll hurt you so deeply.

but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—

you need a drink right now.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.

he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.

he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.

—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.

he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.

bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.

which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.

in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.

living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.

the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.

he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.

but he really tried.

he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.

he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.

... but he had never tried to be there for you.

his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.

(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.

it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.

it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.

(name) wayne.

not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.

he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.

he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.

bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.

if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?

until your untimely demise perhaps?

he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.

not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.

you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.

then who had to walk you up the stage?

"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.

"yes, master?"

"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"

he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—

"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.

alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to

fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?

oh... he really hopes there wasn't.

his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.

the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.

how many birthdays had he missed?

when even is your birthday?

you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...

he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.

bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.

he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—

but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.

which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.

back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.

... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.

would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?

he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.

but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.

it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?

he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.

the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.

he needs to see you.

as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.

cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.

it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.

just like you.

alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.

it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.

it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.

he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.

... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?

counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.

yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.

that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.

a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.

he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.

as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.

even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.

bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.

... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.

his heart clenches at the implication.

"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.

bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.

everything is clean, too clean and orderly.

his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.

no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.

is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?

how do you live like this?

just how much has he neglected you?

"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.

he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.

he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.

"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.

and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.

he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?

does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.

you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.

"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.

they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.

"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.

the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.

at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.

you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.

as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.

he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?

bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."

even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.

would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.

he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.

unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.

journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.

he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.

he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.

art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.

this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.

though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.

he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.

and truly, you are his child.

bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.

fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.

"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.

but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.

dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.

"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.

bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.

"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."

looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.

oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.

he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.

oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.

"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.

he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.

it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.

his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?

scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.

he was the favorite.

yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.

is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?

even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?

does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?

it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.

whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.

which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.

it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.

his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.

his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.

the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.

it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.

if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.

but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.

you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.

he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.

he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.

needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.

damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.

he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his

he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)

yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.

with hurt.

with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.

damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.

after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.

he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.

and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.

he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.

you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.

you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.

... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?

for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.

for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.

for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.

time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.

it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.

alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.

it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.

after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.

—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.

he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."

his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.

"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?

the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.

alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.

yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.

"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."

the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.

it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.

"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"

"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."

it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.

... what?

it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.

"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"

a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.

"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."

"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"

"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."

"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"

"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.

"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.

dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.

bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"

"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"

"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."

"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"

defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."

"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.

not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.

"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."

bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.

although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.

find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.

his child, (name) wayne.

you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.

maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.

after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.

and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.

bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.

he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?

but could he help it if he does?

could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

[danijaci]

"do you even like me?" w/ scara

(based on a tiktok audio :DD)

thank you guys for 2k followers omggg ^^ <333

it ain't that serious fr

[meo-eiru]

Getting a bit more on the saucy side... I've been thinking about "drinking from the tap," and I'm assuming that his... seminal fluids still need him to feel pleasured in order to properly ejaculate for them, huhu. A darling whose hair is lovingly, gently gripped as the head of his cock is nudged against their lips after he just spent a while kissing them so they'd be a little more receptive to what he believes they need... Eventually, when he passes through into their small, warm, wet mouth, and he can barely hold back from trying to thrust a little... His darling tasting his precum and a little delirious from the aphrodisiac, the protests they had just held slipping away as they suck on him, swiping their tongue on the glans, and his own voice slips out, breathy and pitched. Hands that were balled up into fists loosening, then bracing themself with his hip. He bucks into their mouth a little harder and their eyes widen when they gag from the tip hitting the back of their throat. They're held there and forced to swallow... Ah, his little human feels soooooo good <3 They're being so good, letting him feed them <3 - 🍊

I think I’ve read this like 5 times since you sent this oh my god dude

You did a better job at writing Silas smut than I ever could I’m gonna hang this on our wall of fame

[hime-bee]

I wanted to draw somethin' nasty, I have no excuse 🫡

(Tumblr would get mad at me if I posted the NSFW version, so y'all can have the SFW instead 😩)

Yazuto belongs to @darkflames29 💖

[rennenaway]

I mean

I'm not wrong?

[a-mint-bear]

Make Me Yours

Male Yandere x Reader

Part 2: "Your One and Only"

"I just... really wanna put a collar on a cute guy."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud, but your best friend since middle school had always been super open with this sort of stuff. You've always been the first one she texts when a date goes really well, or really terribly. And a lot of your coffee meetups, like this one, devolve into her oversharing all the juicy details of her relationships.

"Oh wow." She nudged you with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Unable to meet her eyes, you try to defend your stray thought. You remind her of some of the jerks you've dated, how their assertive and self-assured personalities had all quickly turned into a bit too aggressive and controlling. In certain situations, in controlled doses... that could lead to a nice time. But it's all fun and games until you try to explain away some of their worse moments to your coworkers and swiftly realize you're in "that kind" of relationship. You wonder if you give off some kind of energy that attracts creeps...

The thought of finding a guy who would not only let you take the reins but maybe even prefer you taking charge? It gave you a little thrill you're almost embarrassed to admit.

"Well, it's nothing to get all twisted up over." she shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. "You'll find the right guy that's into that kind of thing."

You smiled, she really was trying to encourage you with this, and it was oddly sweet of her.

"Oh, look!" she scooted closer to you, showing you her phone screen. "There's tons of collars you can get. You thinkin' like leather, classic S&M style? Or somethin' more cutesy?"

Maybe a little too encouraging, sometimes.

~ Somewhere very close by...~

His hands were shaking. Your words were playing on repeat in his head, drowning everything else out.

As if you weren't already perfect. He'd been so jealous of you meeting up with your friend, but if it made this conversation happen so he couldn't be too upset about it. He'd been trying to think of some way to make you his for so long... But being yours? Wearing something like that? Something that said he belonged only to you?

He was already yours. But a little proof never hurt.

. . .

It was late, and you decided to cut through the park to get home quicker. It was a pretty safe area, but you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. A few lights lit up the main path and you didn't see anyone else around.

But that didn't mean you were alone.

"Hey..."

You spin around to see... some guy. You'd never met him before, but he was... making A LOT of eye contact.

He was cute though. Soft, fluffy hair and piercings in his ears, his bright eyes poking out from beneath his bangs. And he had at least six inches on you, but not really an intimidating frame, a bit skinny too. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was a "Oh, this is unexpected." kind of nervous or a "You're gonna end up in his basement." kind of nervous.

"You probably don't remember me but, uh...we had a few classes together last year and…"

He seemed really nervous himself, trailing off with some color in his cheeks. You tell him politely that you were sorry, but you didn't remember him.

"That's okay, uh..."

He was breathing kind of funny, his eyes still staring into yours. You asked him what he needed, hoping it would speed this along and you could leave.

He took a breath, and all you could do was stare, wondering if you should distract him and make a break for it.

"I... I've liked you. For a long time. It's like... like everything about you is just so... wonderful! Seeing you every day keeps me going! I was okay just watching but then... Sorry, sorry. I'm c-coming on too strong, I..."

He took a step towards you, moving like he was going to touch you, but you instinctively took a step back. He looked a little hurt.

"No, no please, don't be scared! I just... I thought it was the right time... I've been thinking about this for so long! I just wanted to..."

He dropped to his knees and the look in his eyes was almost...like he worshipped you. Like you were everything to him and nothing else mattered. It was a bit overwhelming...

"I heard you talking to your friend the other day. Not, uh, not in a weird way, I swear! I-it's just... It's all I can think about..."

He stared at you, a glimmer of something in his eyes. You could see a tremble in his hands, like he was debating reaching out for you again. But he was holding himself back.

Seeing him kneeling, looking up at you with a want that burned into you... It was doing something to you.

This was a weird, kinda scary, unbelievable situation. But it felt so...

Good.

You felt bold. Deciding to go for broke, you finally spoke again.

You asked him to tell you what he wanted.

You could see the tremble shoot through his frame, the smallest, quietest gasp when the your words finally registered.

"I want... I want you to look down at me, just like this! I want you to run your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm a good boy. Your good boy! I want to cuddle up to you and hear your heartbeat while you hold me, I... I want you to use me... I want you to yank my collar if I get too excited and tell me to behave."

He laughed softly at the thought, this guy was completely smitten.

"I want to be yours, if that'll make you happy..."

He reached into his back pocket, you heard the gentle clink of the collar before you saw it. It was like some kind of odd proposal, except he was down on both knees.

He held it up to you, his eyes clouded with a want that made your face feel hot.

So painfully slowly, you reached out for him, your fingers flinching back for a split second, rational thought desperately trying to break through. But despite all the reasons you could think this was completely crazy, you still wanted this.

You touched his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to lean into your hand with a contented, dreamy sigh.

The power he was giving you was... new, exciting, maybe a bit intoxicating. And he was offering it all so willingly, you wondered if this was all a dream.

"I wanna be your good boy..." His voice was soft but pleading, almost desperate. "Please..."

His smile was making your brain feel fuzzy, seeing him looking up at you like you were his whole world.

"Make me yours."

[just-null]

Plz… do you have any yandere clone crumbs (or headcanons even)? I love this trope lmao

YOUR CULT LEADER IS SO GLAD YOU ASKED

[LONG yandere ramblings under the cut!]

THESE ARE ALL RANDOM STREAMS OF THOUGHTS. THERE'S NO ORDER. ALSO I'M NOT A WRITER SO FORGIVE ANY ERRORS!!!

General

They're all interested in the same type of person for different reasons. So if you catch the interest of one, you'll soon catch the interest of the others.

The clones are also pathological liars like the main body.

They're scrappy unfair fighters.

They'd all have a common trait of imposing themselves into your life. Whether or not you want to see them, they'll always pop up uninvited.

That and being disgustingly clingy to the point you can barely breathe without one of them there to share your air.

Their violence varies, but rest (un)assured that it is always an option for them, yes, even Hantengu.

Even if different, sometimes it really shows that they're a single unit.. sooner or later, your hands will be full with a bunch of annoying, needy, lying, terrible, and problematic assholes. 

They're all more intense than the average human. To them, a human life is as insignificant as an ant. They'd kill someone for the hell of it, or if it's an order from Muzan. That view doesn't change much if you're in the picture.

Now it's just a matter of not scaring you too much, hence, Hantengu’s chronic lying problem. They want to be the ones you rely and lean on. to feel comfortable with! Don't mind the blood. It's not like you haven't seen it on them before!

Relax, they truly never want to hurt you!!

Hantengu

Starting off with our man of the hour, Hantengu. He's aligned with delusional and obsessive types of yanderes, one who's too afraid to approach you but watches you from afar nonetheless.

You'd have to make an effort to find him since he'd most likely be shrunk into his tiny form and hidden in some small crevice.

It started off as a simple fascination. You probably made contact with him in his human disguise (accidental or not.) As he cowered, you were pretty decent.

It was a surprising but welcoming change of pace from the usual villains who'd try to harm him, but he still fled from you. He was going to eat you no doubt, but he kept putting it off until he lost his appetite.

He's terrified you might do something to him, that you'll hurt him! but the attention you gave him makes him yearn for your company. He wants to watch you all the time and quite literally, will do just that.

Hantengu's there when you wake up and when you go to bed. He's living somewhere in your home. Always watching.

With the ability to shrink very small and run extremely fast, you'd think you might have rats in your home. Each time you think you hear a snap, the rat traps always end up broken to pieces.

He sends his clones in his stead to test the waters after getting far too worried once you leave his sight. If you don't hurt them, then he'll know you're not so bad! Still won't approach, but a bit more calm when he's "around." or when they invade your life. 

Assuming the clones never stray too far from the main body (if they're physically able to or not, doesn't really matter) they never want to leave Hantengu unprotected, which means your home is the main base.

You can move, try running away, get help, or whatever, but it's all futile because Hantengu will hide in your items meaning the others will always end up finding you with him.

it's a rule of thumb for the Hantengus not to mention him for safety reasons and because he's already terrified as is and any unwarranted attention is probably bad... He'd be horrified to be under your gaze for long, which is why he prefers you with your eyes closed.

Hantengu is like your sleep paralysis demon. At the dead of night, he peeks out from wherever he's hiding and watches you.

With demonic speed, any flinch or shuffle from you has him hiding again, but if you awaken and keep your eyes closed, you can hear faint crying and sniffling while you slumber.

If it makes you uncomfortable or ruins your sleep, Hantengu doesn't put two and two together, it can't possibly be him. What a travesty..!

It'd be difficult to try and make contact since he's always watching from the sidelines or cowering and hiding away, but it'll get easier eventually when it's drilled into him that you won't be like the people he's met.

He genuinely believes that the world is full of evil villains that may hurt you, so if he sees someone that worries him, the clones will zero in on them.

Hantengu has a dangerously powerful influence on them.. combine that with his victim complex? terrible.

Sometimes all Hantengu needs is a single seed of doubt to be implanted in his mind before he's lying to everyone and deluding himself that you're getting manipulated.

That's when his clones step in, scouting out the place for the possible source of the problem. That or pick off random people one by one before you're back in their arms!

But it's not his fault that you're surrounded by overprotective, suffocating freaks! Trust!!

The upside is if you meet him, he's extremely docile. He doesn't do much aside from cower and weep, begging you not to hurt him. Attempts to hide are futile if you tell him to stay... like a deer caught in headlights. ironic.

One of the others are probably always in the room, if not all of them, making your interactions even more awkward. 

Once Hantengu warms up to the idea of having you know about his existence, you'd mostly find him in the pockets of your clothes or in areas where your trinkets would be strewn about.

It’s highly unlikely that he’d be violent in front of you, but that doesn't mean that the others won't be, (for his and your safety they say) Hantengu just cries about things or trembles at most with every sound making him flinch, huddling behind you in some way.

Hantengu often forgets he can go to his full height, usually being the size of your foot or smaller. If he's tiny, you'll see how he's a really harmless and defenseless victim of the world!

Nevermind how you sometimes catch the scent of blood coming from your home, only to find him cowering at the scene of a crime.

Depending on your demeanor, you're either a victim like him so you MUST stick together, or you're his savior.

He feels that safety and contentment when around you, but would rather stay on the side lines than risk anything. It's as if watching you do your daily routine is his stress relief.

It's absolutely awful if you're in danger or out of his line of sight for long. No reports from one of his clones? No most recent update to your whereabouts? No one is with you to inform him!?

Full panic attacks and inconsolable babbling about how you must be dead!! The world is so cruel and awful to him!!!

These types of reactions agitate the others, making them more worried if they're also in the dark. It's possible Hantengu would use Urami to go and find you himself in these rare instances. It'd be a disaster, but at least he'd have peace of mind..

At least you don't have to worry about Hantengu being jealous though. He's pretty tame, too focused on being afraid of everything else. The others handle his jealousy for him so that he doesn't worry.

Sekido

A mixture of highly jealous and possessive type, secretly protective as well! A mean tsundere is what you usually see, if not his common form of verbal abuse if he's too worked up.

The subtle flush on his cheeks takes the edge off his words if it's directed at you even if he blames it on being red in the face with anger because of you or [x] reason.

First impressions were probably that you were extremely annoying and would suggest eating you to the others whenever a situation arose. Thankfully the others prevented that from happening.

Sekido is one out of the two who'd accidentally hurt you. He never means to, but he forgets his own strength. In the beginning, instead of trusting you to follow him, he'd grab your wrist and drag you around with him to wherever he needed to be.

You could run away when he's not looking and cause an unwanted commotion, so it's best to have you on a tight leash leading to bruising sometimes..

Out of all of them, Sekido needed the most time to warm up to you. When he'd realized he'd fallen for you, he'd already be cursing at himself for being so blind to it earlier.

It started off as moments where his irritation calmed then snowballed into a bliss he only knows if he's by your side.

You'd think he genuinely hates your guts at times. The way he gets so angry and harshly insults you can take a toll. If he senses he's cut you deep, he still won't apologize verbally.

Knowing himself, saying anything would only hurt you more, he's too rough with phrasing that it wouldn't sound genuine. How is it his fault that you're so fragile?

Sekido has too much pride, but a lot of it is in constant conflict with his love for you. It's what gets him so frustrated when thinking about it. You make him feel disgustingly mushy inside, and he wants to tear out his heart and tell it to get a grip.

He probably doesn't speak to you for a few days, instead choosing to act while you're not looking to regain favor. 

Making food you'd like, inviting you to spend time indoors, buying you small gifts, and even cleaning up around your place. Wordless actions that come off as apologies for his temper that he’ll make SURE won't go unnoticed.

If you confront him, he huffs with his back towards you as if it were nothing but takes credit for it regardless.

Sure, he's the oldest, but Sekido still has his moments of immaturity like the other three. If he had it his way, he'd refuse to let anyone speak to you, almost isolating you, so his acts of service really shine through.

What if someone tries getting your favor by taking advantage of his supposed mistakes? It's extremely insulting that anyone would even dare try! Infuriating even!

The only people he'd allow you to speak with are his clones and main body. But like everything, it depends on his mood or the situation.

Is it REALLY necessary to talk to someone else when Sekido is RIGHT THERE?? No. It's not. Now shut up and eat the sweets he got you.

Sekido doesn't do PDA, but violence will always be on the table, never hesitating if someone gets near you, or looks at you too long.

He says he's the best clone to take when going out, but he’s punched too many bystanders as a warning far too many times... You're lucky if he simply verbally abuses someone until they're crying or humiliated.

You can say the handsome man with the red eyes has grown a reputation in town.

You also gain a reputation as someone who’s EXTREMELY off limits, dangerous even. While Sekido isn't as affectionate or sweet as the others, the things he lets slide when it comes to you make it obvious that you're his favorite person.

“Are you trying to die? Even insects have more survival instincts than you.” and all you did was bump into him. Sekido dusts himself off and gives you a once over, subtly making sure you're okay before he continues with whatever he was doing.

Were it anyone else, he would’ve swung his staff at them for even getting near him.

You're given special treatment because, to Sekido, you ARE special. On rare occasions, he'll even verbalize his fondness for you, even if it's worded as if he were reprimanding.

Just don't be so blind to the hints he's throwing at you and he won't have to beat your face in.. specifically your lips with his lips, very roughly, until you're both bruised and breathless.

When Sekido needs to be away from you for whatever reason, he knows you're okay. He entrusts you to the others in his absence, but his mind starts wandering to how he misses your hands on his.. 

It's different remembering it and seeing it, if you were there, you could touch him and he could reciprocate. It'd be even better if you were both alone—and now, someone’s interrupting his thoughts.

Frustration bubbles up and he's ready to snap at someone. What could be so damn important!?

If Sekido comes back with blood on his person, just don't ask, he's already annoyed and he's seeking solace with you.

You flip a switch in him. Your warmth, your presence, your voice, it’s like serenity to his vexed soul. He sits comfortably beside you when he has to plan for something.

It helps him think clearly but, he doesn't let go of your wrist..

His grip is unnaturally tight too, so you're stuck there unless you want to risk Sekido getting frustrated again because his personified peace wants to get up and do something, at least, that's what he says.

Even if it holds some truth, when you whittle Sekido down enough, he confesses that, in a weird way, he's constantly worried for you.

You're not as strong as them and he knows this, but it's clear as day when he's calm enough.

Not that he needs to, but Sekido takes the responsibility for not only keeping himself alive, but Hantengu and more importantly you. 

If anything were to happen to you, he doesn't know what he'd do. So instead he acts as the most aggressive guard dog ever and keeps any unknown presence as far from you as possible.

Moments of peace with you don't happen often for him, so please stay a while longer? The others will barge in any minute now, so indulge him a little until then?

And don't speak a word about it to anybody or else he’ll destroy your home and everything inside it!

Karaku

Extremely self aware, obsessive type. He knows how to properly court someone, that everything they're doing crosses many lines, but this way is much more entertaining.

You were just another random face in the beginning that he just shrugs and tries to find enjoyment in by tormenting, but as he interacts more with you, he finds it more invigorating than anything else.

He starts going easier on you, opting for just teasing. Dragging you into spending time with him is surprisingly more fun than a battle lately..

Whether you like him back or not isn't even important. As long as you have SOME level of affection for him and don't forget to give him some attention, he's satisfied.

Everything is fun when it comes to you and while he'd IDEALLY like you to reciprocate his feelings and be obsessed with him, he just needs an inch for the mile he'll take!

It's not like he will actively make you hate him, but he'll definitely try coaxing you into things you might not be eager for.

I doubt there's much that can upset him in general, much less if it's you. You're so attractive and entertaining to him, all your reprimands and insults go in one ear and out the other.

He laughs and agrees to whatever you said, brushing it off, then tries nudging you into moving on and doing something that doesn't upset you! Like doing him!

O-or.. if you're not in the mood right now, that's fine. There's a bunch of other fun stuff that you two can do!

With all that, Karaku's still aware that you'd be uncomfortable with him shoving all his affection onto you, getting possessive, and even beating some people up for the hell of it.

But he also knows people can learn to get used to things they can't escape and get desensitized, so he attempts to do just that and ease you into your new life!

He's still affectionate, it's Karaku! He doesn't force you into anything too intimate. Physical touch may be his go-to, but holding you and hugging you is the most he'd do unless he gets hints that he may be allowed to do more.

Out of everyone, he's the most relaxed, which isn't saying much. If you say you're going somewhere he hears we’re going somewhere, but at least you can go near strangers without him hurting anyone.

When spending time with the others, he knows he can just butt in, or do something that'll force your attention on him. Even if people try talking to you, he's not upset, just amused.

Very confident Karaku is.. any attempt someone tries with you is hilarious to him since he knows you're likely to reject them. He only gets slightly miffed if YOU'RE the one coming onto others.

“Oi~ You're really greedy, you have all of me and yet you still want other's attention? ..How about you try convincing me a little and I won't make that much of a fuss, yeah?” as if he's not always trying to hold you in the most PDA way possible… 

Karaku loves to show off how he's taken even if it makes you embarrassed. You're cute when flustered anyway so that's just another plus!

When you're gone he's sooo~ bored. It reminds him of that itch he had before he met you where life was too dull and he needed that stimulation only chaos could provide.

Unfortunately, chaos is like a storm, and the clouds dissipate eventually. So what does he do? Create his own storms, of course!

Karaku is a renowned pleasure seeker, sexual or not. Since he met you, the sexual part is reserved, so he's usually seeking fun in terms of mischief, adrenaline rushes, or destruction. 

Starting problems on purpose by provoking others to the point of a fight is his favorite especially if he can blow down buildings.

Some dishonorable mentions that aren't fighting are planting gross items into bags, spreading rumors, giving false information, and turning people against one another.

Overall things that would make you regret letting him out of your sight.

Karaku likes to make himself more appealing to you by boasting about small things. It could be the bare minimum, but you wouldn't know if he's exaggerating any tiny details!

Hearing your tastes and interests will have him leaning into that, but he's not going to change himself completely.

He's confident he can worm his way into your heart by being himself.

You should give him praise sometime! He didn't tease Sekido and make him so upset he blew a fuse. And! He didn't toy with anyone’s life before killing them this time! He also only used his uchiwa twice. max. and no buildings collapsed completely..

See? He's not that bad of a guy! You should trust him more, you'll hurt his feelings..!

He's the one who will also flirt with you the most, leaving lingering touches and casually inviting you for some bedroom fun. You could be in the middle of dinner and he'd ask if you're up for it later as if it's a casual thing between you two.

This guy.. he really REALLY likes you touching him.. from his hair to his arms, to his chest, and down his legs, whatever you want is yours. But it also makes him more reserved in a way? 

Someone tapping his shoulder gets him a little miffed. It's like someone is touching something of yours. Whatever, getting your hands all over him should fix that right up.

Karaku is an interesting case.. He portrays himself as an open book, but there's so much more than he lets on.

He makes mental notes of things you like and strictly hate, secretly helps balance everyone’s jealousy so you don't get burnt out, always there when you need him most, and is second to tend to you if Aizetsu isn't around.

Serious situations aren't his style, he’ll always try to be playful to lighten the mood, but you can see his ear twitch when he notices something’s wrong.

He's the second oldest after all, so he has the capability to be mature if he wants to.

But being a stick in the mud is Sekido’s job, so he works around it in his own pleasurable way!

There’s times even when he likes to take things slow and enjoy the moment with you around. Pleasure can be relaxation. While he loves being out and about, a nice quiet evening with you can be fun too.. even if he has to push you around a little too make it happen.

He likes how you make him feel whole, like he's not chasing after the unattainable satisfaction that's so close but so far.

Urogi

Intoxicated delusional type... Urogi believes you wouldn't do anything to hurt him on purpose and finds joy in your “shyness.” If you were to reject him or push him away, he laughs very loudly, “reassuring” you.

First impressions were pretty tense. He'd eye you like he's waiting for you to step wrong before feasting. Like those fangs suggest, he's a humanity's predator first and foremost and he wanted to keep it that way.

At least, he thought so until he played with his food too much and got attached. 

You later begin to be like a drug to him. He NEEDS you. Whether it be within earshot, field of vision, or (preferably) within arm's reach. If not, he gets super fidgety, nervous, restless. Can't sit still.

Similar to Hantengu except he begins getting impulsive and violent with anything or anyone around the longer you're away.

Usually, he thinks twice about slicing anything with his talons when you're around, he's too happy with your attention and knows you're pretty squishy! But if you're gone, the blood splatters make him feel better!

He misses you! Come back!! There are scratches and tossed furniture everywhere because Urogi attempted to calm himself with things that smell like you. Everything's just a mess, but he at least greets you the second you get home.

Cuddly and excitable! He'd tackle you in a hug and swing you around, or cling to you with his full body until you both tip over. Urogi likes your scent and warmth.

It's comforting, so he's constantly near you and touching you, sometimes fighting with the others cause he wants his turn.

Similar to Sekido, you're like a switch that flips to excited when you make contact of any kind, so it's not uncommon to find him clamoring to sit on your lap or lay his head somewhere on you when he sees you.

Again, like Sekido, Urogi can get jealous to the same levels as him. However, whereas Sekido would be violent and aggressive, Urogi is whiny and clingy. 

It's almost funny how he’s the one whose mood shifts the quickest. Even compared to Aizetsu, he's more likely to cry, or compared to Sekido, he'd lash out about something small.

But as his main emotion states, he'll always revert back to his gleeful self.

One second, he's complaining because you've been “ignoring” him for too long [three minutes] but cheers up if you so much as graze his skin, “Hahaha!! Okay, I forgive you!! Can we go out now? Oh! Oh! How about a kiss?!”

Joy may be better than when Urogi's upset, but it's still... pretty shameless like Karaku, except Urogi doesn't WANT to embarrass you on purpose.

He's got a loud voice and a one-track mind with you. Begging and asking isn't out of the realm of possibility for him either.

Something you can count on with these four is that they're honest in their feelings for you.

Urogi, being the one who's extremely raw in showing it, talks from the heart with no brain. What you see is what you get. Most of the time...

Urogi, like the others, has his moments of dishonesty, but it’s not his fault! He wants your love constantly so bends the truth about needing you in some type of way or that he was bullied!!!

He has a headache, take care of him! Oh, his left wing hurts, pet it for him, please? His feathers have been really bothering him lately, preen him? Yes, you did so yesterday, but they're bothering him again!! Also, Sekido was really mean for no reason again, stay with him so he doesn't get yelled at again!!

With how much he thrives under your attention, you'd wonder how he reacts with people who aren't you. Well, it's simple, if its not a fight, he leads back to you!

If someone ever talks to Urogi long enough there's a 90% chance he'll mention “someone” and ignore whatever they say.

When you're not the subject of the convo, he brings you up, interrupting the other's train of thought. Annoyingly so.. 

It gets particularly messy if he's conversing with the other three because then they'd forget about the original topic and get swept up with missing you instead.

Even the hobbies he has that aren't you, remind him of you.. in albeit concerning ways..

He likes to eat fleshy meat, but he gets reminded of how your skin feels under his hands. It'd be more flattering if he wasn't literally ripping the flesh off of something with his fangs, but he means well.

Sharing things he likes is a sign of love, right? That's why he brings you gifts! ..Like a cat bringing its owner dead mice except this cat is five foot nine and way more dangerous..

and the dead mice are limbs that can get you arrested............

It's terrifying to wake up to a mysterious blob of red meat, especially when Urogi says “It's the only thing that kinda resembles what it used to be!” but laughs in your face instead of explaining further.

A tongue was probably the most concerning thing that still had its original shape, but not surprising.

Urogi is unfortunately way too damn strong. He's the second one to accidentally hurt you after Sekido, his talons are extremely sharp and sometimes dig into you when he gets too excited. He tries not to, but even passing by he can nick you. 

Bandages are difficult for him to grab with his talons, and he feels terrible afterward, so he licks your wounds clean if you let him. Sure, it won't do much, but at least your blood smells delicious, and it makes him happy tasting it! 

Right, this isn't about him, right! 

There's something almost innocent about how Urogi acts with you. Even if you hate his guts, he’d still treat you like treasure. He can't bring himself to hate you no matter what you do.

He’ll get annoyed at times when you're too “coy,” sure, but never more than that or for long. 

He can be a handful, but you can tell he tries to give you a good happy relationship. One that he hopes makes you feel the same unending joy he feels even if it's a bit traumatic.

Aizetsu

Manipulative and stalking type. Aizetsu wants to get tasks over with as fast as possible. he doesn't have any motivation for it. He's tired and sad and wants to curl up into a ball and lay down.

First time meeting, Aizetsu didn't even spare you a glance. If you weren't food or a threat, then you might as well have been a poor wall or weird tree.

Giving him a taste of pampering is probably what slowly melted his cold walls.

Now that he has you, it's strange. He WANTS to get up and do things with you. The weight on his shoulders isn't as heavy when you're around. He wants to keep you near him always and if he has to be pathetic to do that, then he'll do it.

Sending cute sad glances your way, sighing after each word as if its tiring to breathe, constantly leaning or holding onto your clothes, whatever makes him look like he'd die without you is what he'll do. 

Aizetsu is more than capable like the other three if not the most. it's just that he doesn't need to do it, so he doesn't want to.

He purposely makes himself out like he's the “good” one, but he's just quieter. Unlike Karaku's boasting, Aizetsu wants you to see the worst in others so it makes himself look better by comparison.

Making others or himself seem pathetic is his strong suit, sometimes making his counterparts the brunt of that pity.

That or he takes a page out of Karaku's handbook and stirs the pot so they do the job for him. Sometimes they involve Aizetsu if they find out which makes him sad...

He pouts, looking at his counterparts fighting, and tells you how it's such a pity you're stuck with a rowdy bunch like them while knowing full well that he muttered something under his breath about Karaku mocking Sekido to make Urogi laugh while passing by.

It didn't happen, but it could've... it's okay, just stay with Aizetsu on the sidelines while they tucker themselves out.

Speaking of that, Aizetsu seldom lets you go. Like the others, he loves touching you, but the others let go eventually from some form of hyperactivity.

Aizetsu.. doesn't. His hand is always firmly grasping some part of your clothes while you walk, but if you're not using your arm, he'll hold that for you too.

You can try shaking him off, but it really wouldn't do anything except make him frown and grip tighter. You could ditch your clothes, it'll stun him for a moment until he's pouting again, but he’ll let you go.

Unfortunately you probably won't get your discarded clothes back for a while even if you apologize.

That and he’ll cling on again in five minutes if he's near. It's a force of habit.

Aizetsu's the strongest physically of the four, but tries his best to seem weak around you so you can spoil and love him more.

The second you leave him to figure out his own issues, you usually hear a loud thump then crack followed by Aizetsu's soft footsteps rushing to follow behind you.

Even with his crazy strength, he's the second least likely to spill blood.

Not because he's guilty or anything, don't be silly, but because he doesn't want to put effort into cleaning himself up, so you'll embrace him again. If you didn't care, then he'd be a bit messier.

Then again, he doesn't like how the dried blood feels in his hair, and he doubts he can get away with making you wash it for him every time.

Aizetsu is constantly upset, but he's not openly emotional aside from his usual declarations of sorrow. He doesn't cry easily, being in a constant state of sadness makes everything numb at some point, so it's something he expresses privately..

or, to persuade you into feeling bad for him further.

“Pitying others is only natural, but don't forget you have someone waiting for you always. I'd wither away without you.” He says that, but the others never see him waiting for anything when you're out.. Why? Because he never leaves you.

Sometimes you think you see a blue reflection from the corner of your eyes, but you check and nothing. Feeling like you're watched has been a constant lately since meeting the clones. Hopefully, it's just nerves.

But it's not!

Behind wall corners, in the shadows, amongst crowds, in closets, Aizetsu's always there. Watching with that same sorrowful pout. As mentioned earlier, he doesn't feel demotivated when doing things for you.

He's making sure you're safe and gathering more information. He wants to be precise when around you. How are you when you think they're not around? He'll find out. He always does.

Not that you notice much... He doesn't throw tantrums when you need to part from him like the others, only simple, “Really? Where are you going..?” and that's all for protesting. He's the “good one,” remember? He won't stop you.

Aizetsu gets a little sloppy with hiding his hobby(?) when he doesn't react to the new things and stories you intended to tell him. As if listening to a story again.

He's lucky he doesn't speak much or he would've filled in the details of the story you forgot about.

The downside of following you is that Aizetsu gets approached sometimes. Annoying... He's so gloomy, that he's sometimes approached by kind bystanders to check up on him. 

He doesn't speak to anyone as much anymore, only responding with nods and head shakes unless he's pitying someone. He's only “chatty” with you and his clones, more so you.

A tired look crosses his face when someone's being particularly bothersome. Say, the authorities or an insistent stranger for example. 

If you were with him, he'd look at you to fix it, but since you're not, he'll handle it himself. i.e. a precise swift jab to the throat that'll get them to keel over long enough for him to scamper somewhere else.

Zohakuten

Conflicting love hating attention seeker.. He can't help but hate how your mere presence makes the others and himself worse versions of themselves, but he can see why. Having your attention is like basking in the warmth of the sun again.. 

He rarely shows up, only when the four are panicked and desperate, but the first time is probably extremely tense........ he'd reprimand you for screwing up the minds of his clones and scaring the main body constantly.

He doesn't separate, wanting to see what the big deal is. Having Zohakuten follow you around or dragging you places while getting insulted, you're mostly babysitting him at this point.

He may not be a child in the usual sense, but he definitely uses his appearance to benefit himself. Big eyes, grumpy frown with his chubby cheeks and that usually gets people to believe him if he's lucky.

It's whiplash inducing when Zohakuten's face and way of speaking don't match (it's easy to forget that all these freaks have the mentality of an over two hundred year old man.) He uses an older way of speaking and their inflections.

He's not free from the common ground that is wanting your attention even if he's almost always complaining that you're the source of their corruption. yet he still doesn't try getting rid of you aside from a couple insults. Though it can get annoying when he's constantly on your case.

Zohakuten is extremely defensive of the main body. Hesitating when it comes to him isn't a problem. He's like Sekido where he punches as a warning in that sense.

He's very kind with Hantengu, and surprisingly you who now falls under the category of needing protection.

Hatred is part of his nature so if you're alone with him, that hatred focuses on you, but it's mixed with affection. He only really huffs at you and occasionally tries swatting you when you get too affectionate.

He's critical of his older clone counterparts. 

If there were a setting where Zohakuten coexisted with his them , he'd be very antagonistic even if it's to a lesser degree than opponents. He's going against them then complaining to you about it so you can be careful of their misdeeds!

He sees their actions as the main reason Hantengu gets bullied and falsely persecuted. they fool around too much instead of doing their job properly that it grinds Zohakuten's gears..

He'd probably call Karaku and Urogi manwhores for showing off so much skin. Sekido and Aizetsu are on thin ice but they'd still get called harlots for wearing their collars so open.

You're probably not free from his berating either but he excludes the derogatory insults.

Similar to Tanjiro in that one scene with Mitsuri, Zohakuten would grab your clothes and adjust it to be more modest. He can't have animals like those pigs looking at you!!!

That being said, Zohakuten is much more manageable compared to dealing with four smothering men.

Still.. he's less likely to listen to you and has a short fuse that can cause problems out of nothing. Plus, he's much MUCH stronger than what you'd be used to.

Luckily, there's moments when he tuckers himself out and he's quietly following you like a cat. He doesn't speak much then but glares at anything and anyone who gets too close.

He might look pettable, but don't do it or he might both claw at you and get a second wind.

It's best to stay alone with Zohakuten for as long as he's around. If someone else makes him or Hantengu upset, he'd focus his hatred into them and make up some deluded reason as to why they have to die.

They'll harm Hantengu first if they're allowed to live!! It'll be swift, but he can't promise it'll be clean.

It's pretty easy to get Zohakuten to get violent. it only really takes someone getting close to you or Hantengu until he's acting faster than you noticed he moved.

He doesn't really care if you get scared, it's all for the greater good. you're just spooked because his methods were taboo, but it's fine. Now all of you are safe..

He really likes trees and forests, so taking walks around there might be the safest bet.

Zohakuten wouldn't be as cuddly, more so because of some pride of holding himself up as the strongest pillar for Hantengu, but there are moments where he sighs and leans his head against you.

Being alone with you, Hantengu, and the peace of nature puts his mind at ease in a way it's not built for. Even his wood dragons come along, bellowing quietly and making the whole environment uncommonly calm. like he's almost a normal kid.

Serenity isn't forever of course and you must part from him eventually. It's not like he'll make it easy by any means though. His brattiness shines through here where he hides some essentials of yours that make it impossible for you to leave.

Your shoes, outdoor clothes, utilities, anything that'll make your life more difficult so you'll stay home. Yes, he knows you have a life outside, but he doesn't like it when you come home smelling different. It's concerning!

If you somehow manage to escape, you'll only see his hateful eyes from his safe spot in the darkness. Throughout the day, the occasional concern chill creeps up, and coming home reveals why.

It's a disaster. Everything is trashed and turned over in what looks to be a tornado hit. Except the tornado was just a small tyrant sulking in your bedroom. The tantrum didn't comfort him at all and all he wants is you.

When you come back, he's berating you and calling you the worst person imaginable! He grabs your arms tightly then nearly crushes your ribs in a hug.

He doesn't apologize, but helps clean up after he's done, wanting to spend time with you. It wasn't the same without you and he loathes how the difference is so tangible now.

It's unfair how he's tasked to protect you too, but now that he's met you, there's specific conditions that need to be met to be allowed to see you again. He's not here for long and people around you get to meet you whenever they'd like. it's really not fair!

Maybe after a while, Zohakuten would learn not to act first if you PROMISED to keep your interactions with others to a minimum.

Even If you don't, he'll remind you by cutting your conversation or starting an argument that'll quickly get lethal if not stopped in time.

The way this guy swears like a sailor is incredible. Very foul mouthed. He talks bad about people, even sometimes to their face. It's also painfully accurate. Zohakuten can really cut deep with his words alone.. even be problematic

so fingers crossed he doesn't slight the wrong person.

While he doesn't really need to, he tries getting you small trinkets to keep so he's with you when he's separated.

All stolen of course, or so the woman from the market says, but it's not true! he made it himself, what kind of person would spread lies like that?!

Note: Zohakuten is a platonic yandere. Like the boyfriend's bratty younger brother who likes you so he cock blocks everyone to hang out with you trope

You can try asking for help, but people have seen what they're like without you.. they're like a blender without a cap. The contents will go everywhere, and it'll be chaos. UNLESS, the blender has its cap, you.

With a heavy heart, people usually give you sympathetic glances if you ever do interact briefly and quick words of comfort if they can. at least you're well taken care of by those freaks.

i love them all theyre awful.....

Tl;Dr

Hantengu is delusional and obsessed, where he thinks you'll harm him if he gets too close, but can't stay away from you for long or else he freaks himself out Sekido is the jealous possessive mother fucker who's very rude but surprisingly gives you extremely special treatment. Karaku is the obsessed self aware one, but that's wasted because he loves causing problems on purpose and embarrassing you with love. Urogi is the Intoxicated delusional one because you gotta be delusional to be as happy as this guy.. also animalistic. Too raw about his feelings........ Aizetsu is the manipulative stalker. He acts like he's the good boy when he's just as shit as the others who also somehow knows everything about you. Zohakuten is the love-hate attention seeker. it infuriates him how you "wont leave his main body alone," but he secretly thrives on your attention and will cock block at every point and time.

[ozzgin]

Ozz.. at this point I think you should just make fic of yourself… I call thee :

“Ozzgin, The groom of many, Poet of depravities, Maker of the Ancient House of whores (readers), and Hands of the illustrator.”

Faq, wait, now you sound like Zeus….

Yeaaaah, I do very much enjoy my consent, thank you :’) But mythological scoundrels aside, you did give me a very funny idea, anon. Like...

Yandere! Tumblr Writer x Literal Reader

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior

"Oh, a new post!" You roll over to the side and begin scrolling. Your favorite writer just shared a new story, and you can't wait to get your yandere fill.

You scan the paragraphs with a wide grin, yet as the story progresses, your features begin to twist in confusion. Are you imagining things? The author's notes mentioned something about a particular kind of Reader for this plot. But this...

It starts rather generic, then the details are fleshed out. Details eerily similar to your own life. "W-well, many people look like this, I suppose", you tell yourself reassuringly. That's right. A lovely, unexpected coincidence. At least you can insert yourself better into the story.

Oh, but it goes on. Isn't this your nickname? The place described sounds so much like your own home...and your family situation...and your street. You sit up and stare at the phone. What the hell?

Not only is everything an exact account of your life, but the plot dutifully replicates your last week, almost as if someone had followed closely behind. The times you left your place, what you wore, where you went. You just realize you've been holding your breath.

The story moves on to what would be tomorrow. The yandere finally decides to make a move, essentially trapping the Reader. You continue to gawk at the words, unable to look away.

It must be a misunderstanding. With trembling hands, you type in an anonymous ask. Funny coincidence, you explain, you nearly thought this story was about you.

Seconds later, you receive a notification. The writer just responded: "I have to get my inspiration from somewhere, (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow :)"

[rainba]

Yandere OC (Kairos) x Reader 💜

A/N / TWs: 18+, yandere content, Kairos being Kairos,, masturbation + pillow fucking + small mention of somnophilia and kidnapping

( ◡‿◡ *) MDNI 💜 

Reader is GN!!

Wordcount: 1106 💜 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Drool was dribbling down his chin, an absolute mess forming all over the bedsheets. His hips were twitching, bucking, grinding fervently against the silky black fabric of his pillow. His small hands gripped the edges as he held it as close as humanly possible. 

Kairos was utterly desperate.

“A-ah– Hah– Please– Please…”

He thrusts as fast as he possibly can, moaning your name ever-so-sweetly. He’s so unashamedly loud– he just can’t stop thinking about you: his perfect, amazing, sweet, soon-to-be-his darling. Kairos grits his teeth as he pushes his leaking cock even harder against the pillow, his entire body trembling as he whimpers.

“I-I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

Images of your face flash across his mind as he recklessly chases his high. The bed squeaks beneath him. God– he wishes it was you in his arms rather than just a dumb, stupid pillow. If you were with him at that moment instead, he’d undoubtedly believe that he’d died and gone to heaven.

Ah… If you were with him… He’d cum inside you over and over again– claim you– leave kisses and marks all over your body– whisper praises into your ear as he lovingly fucks you. His hands would be trembling with excitement as they explore every inch of you. 

Kairos shudders as he imagines you squeezing yourself around his length. He whimpers as he also imagines you praising him back, telling him that he’s making you feel so good, begging him to keep going until he physically collapses.

Ah– if he fucks you good enough, you’ll never want to leave him! Right?? He’ll fuck you so good that you can barely walk, and that way, you’ll never be able to escape him… Kairos bites down on his bottom lip as his cock throbs at the thought.

“I… I’ll be your good boy… I’ll… I’ll treat you good..!”

“Y-you only need me, only me…”

He shifts positions on the bed and tries to put the pillow on top of himself, pretending that you’re riding him. He pushes it firmly against his length and tries to grind into it, but it’s hardly enough to satisfy him. Having the pillow on top doesn’t feel nearly as good– the only way for this position to work would be to have you actually on top of him. He needs to be inside of you– needs to be inside of you so, so badly–

The stupid pillow just isn’t enough.

He can’t help but tear up and whine at the fact that you’re not really with him right now.

Overwhelmed with frustration, he flips over the pillow and slams it against the bed, taking his rage out on it. He squeezes it as if to choke it; erratically shaking the poor thing as salty tears fall down his cheeks. 

He holds down the pillow with one hand as he carelessly strokes his cock with the other.

Then he imagines he’s fucking your face instead... Pretending he’s punishing you for not begging to be by his side. Punishing you for not spending every waking moment either being with him or thinking about him.

Oh– But… Would having your throat be ravaged by him really be a punishment?

Kairos imagines your eyes watering and cheeks puffing out as he abuses your mouth, bruising it, but he also pretends that you’d secretly love it. In his fantasy, you’d be touching yourself as he keeps thrusting, and he’d be petting your hair all the while. Or perhaps your hands would be gripping his thighs, holding him close, refusing to let him go… You’d cum without him needing to even touch you– the mere act of sucking his cock being all that you need to climax.

Or maybe– just maybe– you’d fight back. Bite down on his dick, make him bleed, tear him apart… You’d get mad at him, yank him by his messy hair, force his face into the bed and take control…

“F-fuck,” he slips out a high-pitched whine.

He’s getting close, he knows it. The room is growing so, so hot… His head is spinning. He almost wants to stop himself from cumming just so he can relish in his little fantasy just a bit longer– but he lacks even an ounce of self control. Kairos leans down and sinks his teeth into the pillow, precum leaking all over it. Even more tears prick the corners of his eyes as he imagines himself cumming inside your mouth, envisioning you moaning as you choke it all down.

Then he fantasizes you kissing his cock and thanking him, licking and suckling on the tip as he comes down from his high. It’s such a wonderful thought… Such… A wonderful thought…

That’s all it takes for him to come undone.

“A-ah.. Aah..!~”

Kairos’ entire body trembles and jerks as he cums, sweat dripping down his pale cheeks as the intensity of it all washes over him. His breathing is erratic, his heart pounding against his chest.

He’s made a huge mess.

And he doesn’t care that it’s a little bit gross… He kisses the pillow over and over again, pretending that he’s actually just leaning down to kiss your forehead instead. He endlessly whispers the phrase “I love you” as he tenderly strokes it. When he slowly calms down and the fantasy fades away, all he has left are the dark walls of his dusty bedroom and the cum-soaked pillow between his legs. 

It’s pathetic.

Kairos chokes down a labored sob as he weakly throws the pillow across the room– his face red with embarrassment. It hits the wall and plops onto the floor, folding in on itself. His hands ball up into tight fists.

Kairos can’t take this anymore.

He wants you– no, he needs you so badly. He craves you like a hard drug, yearns for your unconditional love, dreams every night of owning you entirely.

Sneak into your bedroom, kidnap you, or make love to you while you’re sleeping– he needs to do something, anything, just to get even the smallest taste of you.

But right now… He’s too tired. His body collapses, his heart aching in his chest. He runs his fingers through his bangs, the sweat making his hair a mess. In some strange way, he feels at peace– at peace knowing that one day, you will be his, and his alone.. It’s just… A matter of time.

His fantasies will become a reality.

His eyes slowly flutter shut as he smiles weakly from ear-to-ear, the tears fading away as he dreams of the day where he can hold you close in the gentle cage of his loving arms. 

[tsuutarr]

You were worried that your move to the countryside would be difficult, but your new farmer neighbor is just so kind. He’s always helping you out around the house and knows exactly when you’re in trouble to the point that you’re pretty sure he has a sixth sense (or cameras around your house, but he’s too sweet to do that). In fact, he’s just so sweet that he gives you plenty of tasty things to eat every week – his homemade meals are delicious, filled with love and something else. 

Cream soup, cream pasta, cream puffs… not to mention the creamy milk from his farm – they’re all just so tasty! You’ve asked him for recipes before, but he only winked and said, “Family secret,” with a smile.

Still, you can’t be too disgruntled, not when he’s always treating you so well. “This is delicious!” you say one day, eating one of the éclairs he’s gifted you. “Seriously, how do you cook so well?”

“Experience,” he chuckles, using his thumb to brush some custard cream off of your face. Gently, he presses his thumb to your lips, a small smile on his face. “Now, it’s not nice to waste food, yeah?”

You instinctively lick the cream off of his thumb, making his eyes darken despite his lingering smile.

“Next time, Sugar, y’should come over to my house – I’ll make sure you leave all full and satiated.”

Eagerly, you nod. You can hardly resist his invitation – not when his food is so, so good.

And maybe, this time, you’ll finally get to see what makes him such a great cook.

[vyllain]

happy 60!! thats a break through woohoo! also taking break from making portrait art and sprite game and i love my AU Stardew Valley (with yandere vibes) so here’s a short where werewolf Shane and owl raven Elliott saying to stay away from whoever that person is *wink wink*

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[meo-eiru]

New profile picture! I might change it again later but I felt like I could try something different

[inkly-heart]

[suiana]

(yandere! rich guy x gn violinist! reader) (based on this yt comment i found)

you are a violinist, a very good one in fact. and you have been employed by a rich guy to play violin for him. honestly, you thought it would be a one time thing, for some rich person event. but who knew you'd still be working for him even after 3 months of the original employment.

all you do is follow him around all the time, holding your violin and bow as he talks about his life, mourning in sadness.

seriously, if it weren't for the fact that he paid you generously, you'd have up and left. it was humiliating! being reduced to a... pet?! a walking violin?! you could be in an orchestra but no! you were being held against your will (you're not, you just want money and he pays super well).

this guy barely even gets you to play the violin! all he does is talk and talk... like a broken record! it's fucking annoying! and when he does get you to play the violin it's some freakishly hard piece that you don't practice often!

and right now you were playing that freakishly hard piece.

"faster y/n, follow my beat."

he mumbles as he eats his broccoli, smirking at you as he waves his hands around.

"c'mon, I don't pay you 1000 an hour for you to mess up~"

he teases as his tempo increases. seriously what is his problem?! this piece was already fast enough as it is and he wanted to speed it up?! fucking weirdo.

you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the money you'd be making as he finally stops conducting. you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding as he beckons for you to walk over to his side.

which you do of course. he's your employer.

"good job~ man you're so talented, wish i could keep you by my side forever."

he sighs before shoving a stack of money into your hands that were still shaking from playing the piece. see, this is the reason why you couldn't leave. he's just too damn rich.

but maybe his next words are enough to convince you to leave for good?

"yeah, maybe I'll make you stay for good."

he hums before looking over at you.

"don't worry, i'll be sure to give you lots of money."

he grins at you as your brain computes his words.

ah.

well.

at least you're getting money.

and you'd do anything for money, won't you?