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ddarker-dreams · 3 months

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What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun.

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes.

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way.

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat.

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore.

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread.

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do.

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation.

“Bored?” Feitan asks.

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation.

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—”

He flicks your forehead, silencing you.

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.”

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression.

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail.

You’ve felt this before.

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape.

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute.

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last.

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey.

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of—

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?”

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small.

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?”

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of.

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak.

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy.

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long.

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you.

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.”

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets.

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss.

Especially those regarding you.

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck.

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

Almost.

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders.

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer.

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.”

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.”

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.”

“There’s more to take care of?”

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.”

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.”

“Explains what, dear?”

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?”

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process.

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand.

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle.

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him.

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.”

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you.

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely.

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.”

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence.

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic.

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without.

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.”

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.”

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.”

The aforementioned man grunts.

Chrollo spares you a long, final look.

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile.

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

#feitan x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere feitan x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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heartfullofleeches · 4 months

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Rival Knight Yan: Wicked as the witch may be, I could never strike down a woman!

"Didn't you try to stab the capitan earlier this afternoon?"

Rival Knight Yan: Your point being? My rivalry with that man has nothing to do with anything!

[Fem Knight Reader, wearing none of her armor but her helmet, weaves through the growing crowd. She takes the other knight's hand, places it to her chest, before walking away without a single world]

Rival Knight Yan - face red as blood: how.....HOW MANY OF YOU KNEW HE....SHE! HER LEGS WERE AROUND MY THROAT THIS MORNING! .....do you think it is possible to get her to do it again?

#yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere oc #female reader

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namjooningera · 3 months

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Hii can I request any yandere JJK men with a reader whose on a hunger strike or refuses to be handfed by them? Ty ^.^

Yandere JJK react to y/n refusing them/not eating

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, (NEW) Sukuna (king ver of Sukuna)

AN: just reader being a lil bratty (real) also I just added Sukuna as a new character tehe. Tell me how it is 👀 however since he’s a yan I am making him softer towards y/n (but insaner towards other ppl yk?) also he’s a king in this one so

TW: starving, SLIGHT physical violence, threats, force feeding, tiniest bit of infantilization (gojo & Nanami)

Gojo:

No he won’t allow it.

He won’t allow you to act like a child and refuse to eat or drink. At this point he’s worried because you won’t do anything. Like a dead doll standing as still as possible to not be caught moving.

Nothing scares him. But you do.

So he took matters into his own hands and tied you up in a chair, hands to the armrests, legs to the feet of the chair, chest binded and rope littered all around the rest of your body tied to the helpless chair.

You screamed since you couldn’t kick, bit since you couldn’t hit, tried to refuse and refuse and he just didn’t know what to do. Seeing you hurt yourself, not eating as a protest to your involuntary stay, god it was torture to him. Like his own punishment.

At first he let it go. Tried to hand feed you your favorite snacks and placed a cup of cold water at your lips. And everytime you smacked it away from you. He watched your favorite snacks hit the floor and soil the carpet. The water spill and create a wet mess on the floor boards.

Why couldn’t you just be good and eat? Drink? Please stop refusing. At one point he almost started begging you. Hands at his chest, put together, eyes wide and sad, his mouth profusely spitting out begs and whines of how he just wanted you safe and healthy.

You didn’t listen.

You probably should’ve, or at least acknowledged his damn presence, because what he did next what’s unpredictable.

Tying you up in that chair and force feeding you. He made you your comfort food in hopes you’d actually want to eat it on your own. You didn’t. Which is fine. It just means he had to take extra precautions. His hand swirled the spoon of food around in the air, blowing raspberries as he said,

“Here comes the airplane!” As if you were some stupid child not wanting to eat your greens.

The spoon flew to your mouth but you moved your head to the side the only thing you could move, avoiding the spoon and it’s food.

His smile dropped just the tiniest bit but he continued his ministrations.

“Babe! Here comes the airplane Kay? Say ahh!” He announced once again in that awfully positive attitude, nudging the spoon at your lips, which you kept sewn shut.

“Come on babe, just open up~” but you didn’t, and he was getting impatient. “Babe?”

You didn’t look at him, didn’t dare open your mouth or even glance his way.

He snaps, grabbing your jaw and pinching your nose. You gasped, not being able to breathe, and without a second thought, that spoon of food was shoved into your mouth. He let go of your nose, and scooted his chair closer to yours.

“It’s good right? I added extra flavoring just for my girl. I know you like it that way.” He giggled, as if he didnt force the food down your damn throat.

“Here comes the choo choo train!” He whistled, and you realized that he enjoys babying you the way he does, even if it meant going against your will.

Geto:

This man does not play around either.

Coming home to you after a long day with what he calls “monkeys” just to see the untouched food still sitting on the table from when he made breakfast. He had brought take out- just to find out that you haven’t been eating in the first place.

He made that for you, took time out of his day to cook, make breakfast for you, the time where he’s normally busy. But alas, he cleans the dishes and runs up to your room and knocks on your door. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him in he’ll come in anyway.

“I noticed you didn’t touch your plate. From this morning. It’s night now.”

Your stuffed into the sheets, messy covers over your body and head in your pillows. You don’t answer. You don’t think he deserves one.

“You haven’t eaten all week.”

He shuts the door behind him and storms towards you. It’s obvious that your silence is making him angry. Normally, you ignoring him doesn’t make him upset, he understands how you might feel…uneasy in this kind of situation. But hurting yourself? That’s not something he’ll allow or even tolerate.

He grabs the sheets and tugs them off of you, revealing your drained form. You groan and cover try to tug the sheets back to cover your body but he throws them to the floor and glared at you.

“You know why you’re so drained? It’s cause’ you won’t fucking eat.”

You don’t answer, you don’t want to answer. You just want the bed to swallow you whole, and the ground to open up so that you may fall into the abyss and disappear.

“I don’t want your fucking food.” You say, instead.

“Why not? Is it not to your liking?”

You grumble and glare up at him, finally lifting your face from the pillows.

“You’re not to my liking- Suguru I wanna go home-“ “enough!”

He cuts you off quickly, shutting you down almost immediately, which causes you to stuff your head back into the pillows.

He groans seeing this and slowly shuffled onto the bed with you. His mouth came down to your ear where he whispered

“If you don’t at least try to eat, I’ll make you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, you knew he wasn’t fibbing. You slowly got out of bed but he was quicker then you, pulling you out by your arm and sitting you up against the bed post.

He brought the takeout food and opened the bags of food on the bed, handing you a plate and utensil. You took it hesitantly and kept it on your lap. Not opening the food.

“Well?”

You shook your head. This was your way of protest, against him holding you captive, running a cult, being a damn curse user-

“You’re going to eat.” He demands, and you just shake your head and look to the side of you, away from him. You know he’ll force you- but you can’t help but refuse him anyway.

And without a second thought, he grabs the food then you, hoisting you into his lap without a single chance for you to fight back. One arm caging you in by your chest and arms, stopping any movement from you, the other bringing a spoon to your mouth.

“Eat, darling, or it’ll get worse from here.” A smile adoring his lips and licking the tips of your ear.

You finally take a bite of the food, his arm that basically were bruising your ribs to stop your movement finally unclenched around you and gave you a second to breathe.

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Now open up.”

Toji-

“Yer’ not eating your food.”

You’ve slumped down on the chair in front of him in the dining room, swirling around the water in your glass cup, the food in front of you untouched.

“I’m talking to you, doll.”

But you ignore him, watching the whirlpool or water in your cup, ignoring his very obvious angry presence.

“You haven’t eaten in days. You know what’s’ that gonna do to you? You’re gonna faint.”

You again ignore him and sigh, head resting on your hand that rested against the table.

“I’m talking to you.”

You don’t look up. You know it’s a lousy way to protest this invuluntary stay but you can’t think of anything else. He’s basically taken away any other form of protest you could ever possibly have, he’s controlling and fuck is he actually smart. His protectiveness on the kind of level where he made sure you could never fight back or hurt yourself in the process.

As your dazed, zoned out in your own thoughts, you don’t see him get out of his seat and grab you by your arm, forcing you up and off the seat and the floor.

“Didn’t yeah hear me?”

You wince at the fact your arm is being held above your head and you’re practically hanging from it.

“I heard you okay.. I’m not hungry.”

He huffs and puts you down. “Not hungry? It’s been days, doll. Days.”

You just shrug, rubbing your sore arm from being hanged up by it.

“If you don’t eat, I don’t mind feeding you like a baby bird. I’ll eat it up then force into your mouth with mine.”

“Y-you’re so crude, Toji..” You almost whine, disgusted by the thought.

“I’m not kidding.”

You sit back down at your seat, his eyes watching you pick up the fork and start to stab at your food.

“What did I say?”

“Okay okay.” You whine, finally sticking the fork in your mouth, making eye contact with him as you do, glaring at him.

“Tastes bad.” You whine.

“You little-“

Nanami-

Nanami is quite the patient man. You don’t want to get out of bed? Fine. You don’t want to shower? Fine. You don’t want to touch him? Fine. But you don’t want to eat or drink? That’s fucking pushing it.

When he first took you, he made sure you got all the proper nutrients you need, took care of your hygiene and made sure you were perfectly physically healthy.

He’s been putting down food at your nightstand for every meal, sometimes snacks in the middle of meals as well. He feeds you such a good amount that’s supposed to keep you full for every second of the day. Keep you satisfied. And pantries filled with your favorite snacks (the healthier versions, however), and a mini fridge with your favorite zero-sugar healthy drinks. With water, of course.

But you haven’t touched any.

He notices that every meal he puts down at your nightstand is untouched. You lay still in bed, so still he thinks you might be dead. Well you might be, with the absence of food eating at you.

And the pantry is untouched so is the mini fridge, and all the snacks he left for you in the middle of the days start to pile up.

At first he didn’t mind it. He got it, you might be nauseated or feel sick at the fact your away from home. That’s fine. He’ll give you time.

But then days go by.

And he just gets so worried about your health.

He encouraged you as much as he could but wouldn’t push it, he didn’t wanna scare you away. But at this point, it was just ridiculous. He watched from work, on his phone with the app that connected all his security cameras, watching as you hovered around the kitchen. He knew you were hungry. So why torture yourself?

At this point it was torturing him, not you. Well maybe that was the point to it. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like a terrible caregiver. He was supposed to take care of you and protect you as your lover- that’s the damn reason he took you in, in the first place. So why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn’t he help you?

But Nanami is a good man, with zero bad intentions. So he decides first he can try bribing you. He makes your favorite dishes, the smell wafting in your room and up your nose. He places it at your nightstand, with your favorite cold drink next to it. The perfect combo. He does this for a while. No matter how hard the food is to make, whatever bullshit combination he needed to construct, however simple or complicated, he made it.

And yet you didn’t eat it.

He tried buying you material things, giving you extra little privileges like time in the garden or extra TV time, but you don’t even use them. You don’t even care.

And he can tell that you would, if you had the strength to. But you don’t, you’re weak. Probably because you’ve gotten so weak. But your hoping, your begging, that maybe he’ll see your weak body and finally get you some help. Maybe he’ll realize this is hurting not helping you, and he’ll let you go. You know the Nanami you’ve always known is deep down beneath the insecurity of his yandere self. You just need to find it right?

He got home that night. Late. His mind buzzed with work, eyes tired and body sore from constantly staying in his office chair, clicking the keyboard and staring at a screen. He’s been looking into a job for jujutsu sorcerers- but he thinks that’ll take too much time away from you.

He dragged his body into the house, closing the door behind him and quietly yelling out, “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

He hoped you’d flock to the door and he’d feel your warmth- but obviously that was just a dream to him and you never did so. Staying hidden away in the your room or wherever you were.

He decided to prepare a late dinner for the both of you, hoping some time together could encourage you to eat.

He dragged his body to your room. He just needed you, needed your warmth, your kindness, your loving presence and any kind of physical and emotional attention you could give him.

But as he opens the door to your room, he sees the breakfast he left on your. NIght stand, still left untouched.

“Sweetheart. This has gone too long. I respect all your decisions, and that you might be upset with me, but I need you to eat.”

Your wrapped up in the sheets, ignoring him, face stuffed in your white pillows.

“Honey, dear. Please, look at me.”

You can hear the desperation in his voice, the almost begging in his timid voice that almost makes you choke.

You look up at him, soft dead eyes staring up at his concerned ones.

“I made your favorite meal again. I know you don’t want to eat, but can you at least come sit at the table with me?”

You know this is his soft way of trying to convince you. And you also know that he wants you to sit at the table so he can feel like you two are an actual couple not one from hell.

You get up, which makes him sigh of relief. Thinking that you’re giving him a chance. Obviously, that’s not your idea, but you’ll let him think so.

He gently takes your hand, leading you downstairs to the dining table. You see he decorated, putting candles on the table, brought out the fancy silverware and china, the wine glasses and table cloths that matched the fabric of the silk pillows on the cushioned chairs.

“Sit, my love.” He pulls your chair for you, with a gentle smile. You can see the relief in his eyes when you sit, and he pushes you in.

You’d be flustered by such a gentlemanly move if it wasn’t for the situation you were currently in.

He sits in front of you and pops open the white wine, the insanely expansive white wine, pouring some in both of your glasses, he raised his up to yours, in which you ignored, and he clinked his glass with yours.

“Ready to try? I simply perfected the recipe-“

You place a spoonful of food in your mouth, before spitting it out right at him, shocking him and making yourself laugh for the first time in so long.

You soiled his expensive blouse, the shock of your behavior making him spill his wine, his eyes wide and looking down at his ruined blouse, then to you, then to the spilled wine, then to you.

You just giggle, smirking in victory at his dazed response and how you won’t let yourself be pushed around by him.

But what you don’t expect, is for this extremely caring gentlemanly man to slam down the cloth from on his thighs down at the table, getting up as he unloosed his tie.

“I’m done.”

And your smile drops in a way that makes you realize you won. He’ll let you go, he’s finally done with you he’s gonna let you go-

“If you want to act like a child I will simply treat you like one, until you can behave like an adult.”

Your eyebrow raises at that. What? Wait what?

He throws his tie off his neck, grabbing your hands and tying them up. You try to fight him off you but he’s strong, he didn’t even try.

He leaves, and your relieved, a little scared that he left you tied but at least the mad man is gone. But then he comes back with a toddlers seat. A fucking child booster seat.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he meant. “N-no no way! I’m not sitting in that- I won’t even fit-“

“You know I bought this.. I bought this hoping our first child could use it..” he sighs. “But I guess you can be the test drive..”

“N-no! Your crazy! Your insane! I won’t even fit in it I won’t!”

“You don’t have a choice.” He cuts you off. “I’m tired of watching my love kill themselves off just because you’re upset. You can be upset just don’t hurt yourself.”

He places the child’s booster seat next to you, at the table.

“You either eat, or fucking sit here and I’ll feed you. Well? Do you want a baby bottle too?”

Sukuna:

Catching the eye of someone so murderous and evil is just the most hell filled unfortunate thing that can happen to you.

And it did.

You found yourself being coddled and “loved” by a monster. He’s pure evil, and you’re his. There’s no denying it. You’re the chosen one.

As his maids touch up your hair, give you a manicure, clean your face of the tears and blood from biting your lips, you stare at them with desperation in your eyes.

Save me.

You think, but they won’t. They’re loyal.

Sure, Sukuna hasn’t done anything actually bad to you, but he’s locked you up, like a princess in a tower. You hope that your prince in shining armor will save you, that he’ll come running with his horse and sword, armor and shield in hand.

But he never does. And if he did, you’d never know because Sukuna probably killed him before he even got a chance to get a glimpse of your pearly eyes.

A maid brushes your hair. You think. He’s taken away all your forms of protest.

When you stopped taking care of yourself, that was fine, he ordered his maids to wash your hair and clean your body, do your skincare and paint your nails. Even go as far as to brush your damn teeth.

They’d use expensive amounts of creams and moisturizers, the kind even the bourgeoisie couldn’t afford. Perfumes from across the land and hair oils from different kingdoms.

All these things, just for you.

When you didn’t want to get out of bed, see the sun, he made sure you were made to get that vitamin D every morning, a small stroll before and after breakfast in the garden, with of course, the guards watching you.

He pampered you, without even being there. Made sure you were healthily entertained with your favorite books and games, all your devices you humans use to take up time. He even brought a festival worth of people to greet you when he took- when you came. Circuses, fire crackers, acrobats, all those to welcome you into his palace.

And you took it all with a grain of rice.

You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t mean to pique his interest. But you did. And now your stuck. You even heard the townspeople whisper of how the man who forced everyone on their knees to worship him is now worshiping you. A mere boring human.

So you decided to find your own way to protest, something he can’t force you to do or make other people do for you.

Eat.

You sat at the large dining table, him on the long other side, watching as he ate, watching him with no love or adoration in your eyes. While he would hold the stars for you. He’d bring them down for you if you asked.

“Well? Is it not to your liking?” You hear him slur from his side of the table.

“No.” You know this is dangerous. The cruel king, he could have your head.

“What’s not to your liking? I’ll have it changed.”

You shove the plate away from you. “It’s all bad, I don’t wanna eat.”

Maybe you should’ve used different words, different wording to your protest because Sukuna simply didn’t understand it was a form of protest.

“It’s that terrible? Very well. Servants, carry the chef who decided to cook my woman this rechid food and have him publicly executed.”

Your eyes widen with dismay and shock and you look at him. “What? Executed?”

“What? What did you expect, woman? Anyone who feeds my soon to be queen something not up to par, they shall be ridden with shame. With, or without their head.”

He says it with such a nonchalant attitude, as if he isn’t talking about death.

“I-I no. It’s not bad, actyally. Hah. I just meant.. I wasn’t hungry.” You try to solve this mess you accidentally dragged others into.

“Your dramatic show of disgust was simply because you aren’t… hungry?”

He looks at you almost confused, the big plates of foods surrounding him. He had a surplus of hunger, the kind of hunger only you can satisfy.

“I… I apologize.” You think about giving up on your plan, you don’t want to drag people into this, have them hurt because of you. “I just.. actually prefer your food.” You lie.

“My food?” He smirks. The maids and servants look around in fear, some even annoyance, expecting your head to fly off and blood to soil the floors after you basically asked to share food-his food, with you.

“Very well then. You may sit close and satisfy your belly with my food.”

He pats the seat close to him, different from the seat your sitting at now, far from Sukuna. Everyone stares at you with bewildered shock, that the cruel Sukuna is willingly sharing his meal with you, that he hasn’t offed you or anyone else in his vicinity for your request.

You waddle over to him, sitting next to him, and he watches you try a piece of meat, lamb, off one of his large family plates, as if asking for your approval, to see if you like it.

You hum, the food is actually prepared amazingly well, a lot better then the streets of the poor sides of town you had to buy your meat from.

He nods at you, and continues to finish his meal as well, practically clawing and savagely ripping apart the food at his hands, like some animal.

Everyone’s always been afraid of the way he eats, as if he’s ripping apart someone’s flesh and bones, but to you it’s kind of pathetic. Like a little puppy and its chew toy, slobbering over its bone. Instead of saying this however (which he’d have your head for), you go for taking a small folded table cloth napkin and wipe the blood from the flesh of his food off his cheek, cleaning off the smeared gore that he doesn’t seem to notice.

He looks down at you, huffing as a sign of appreciation at your small sign of affection, and you look back up at him with the same look.

You hate this cruel man, the man who’s killed hundreds and hurt people and hurt you. Who stole you.

But as you look up at him, the folded napkin in your hand still poking at his dirtied cheek, you can’t help but think that perhaps the cruel king and the prince in shining armor are the same person.

And that’s Sukuna for y’all 😈😈🔥 guys why did I accidentally make his fluffy what

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hyewka · 9 months

Note

imagine dominating a yandere soobin

warnings. dubcon/NC, sub soobin

yan!soobin who has you pinned down to his bed his hold unrelenting against your wrists, no doubt creating red marks around them, the intensity of his ramblings increasing and increasing by the second that it scares you shitless, frozen under his looming figure. “you know im doing all of this because i love you right? i love you for fucksakes. i love you.”

you shake your head timidly because this wasnt love, any sane person knows that—no, everyone knows that, even soobin. he knows it isnt love.

when he leans down closer to your face, trying to kiss you, you kick him again, still attempting to struggle out of his hold but that only serves to press against the tent in his pants, soobins breathing hitching—suddenly getting heavier to your horror. “soobin. let…me…go.” you try to keep your breathing in control, not letting your voice break, pleading.

he shakes his head, eyes crazed and desperate. “no, no i wont. i wont. i love you. i cant. ive—ive done… everything for you, i-”

the moment you feel his hold weakening, you yank your hand, immediately going to strike his face—out of pure outrage, the fact that he has even an ounce of audacity to convince you that hes somehow doing you good, that he’s owed anything for his insanity. but then you regret it. so deeply. seeing his bangs fall over his eyes with his head turn to the side and his cheek flushed red, your hand shakes, your whole body trembles at what he might do to you now. he looks even more deranged.

but when he turns to face you again, his expression is totally different from what you expected to be met with. his brows pointed up, eyes clouded, and lips apart, panting.

lust. its lust.

“do anything, do everything. i don’t care.” he picks up your hand up to his cheek again, smiling—smiling. “use me, be angry, slap me, bite me, its okay baby i can take it.”

#ok now imagine riding him out of anger #pinning him down knowing that this is the only way you could feel like you have control #and hed just take it all very obediently #even when you torture edge him for hours #✶ ━━ rana ; answered #🌷. rana thoughts

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teabutmakeitazure · 2 months

Text

yan chrollo's eyes are mysterious.

you always feel them on you, yet you have not seen them on you even once. the feeling always strikes when you exist in the comfort of your own little bubble, either lounging on the bed or sofa or when you entertain yourself with a chore or book. sometimes it strikes even when chrollo is not there, his physical absence seemingly not sufficient to keep that feeling of watchful eyes at bay.

perhaps he is there. perhaps he has a way to watch you from all sides since you are never able to locate the source of the watchful gaze. it would be daft of you to think for even a second that he is not watching. whether he is home or not is irrelevant.

yet when he sits with you in front of the fireplace of the home you currently live in, you grow bold. the repercussions fail to squander your growing attitude at the lack of privacy, and upon the feeling the audacious intrusion of his hand up your ridiculously short skirt, you think of yourself as foolish.

you think of yourself as foolish but you think of yourself as carrying out a necessary duty, something that has lives at stake and carries the potential to change the world. your world.

thus, you strike.

you heave out a gentle sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, all familiar actions that alert chrollo of your inevitable misbehaviour. your eyes look up at him through your lashes and a finger teasingly runs over the forearm holding a book in hand. it's a dangerous game, to tease the beast currently sitting cuddled up next to you in front of a fire who holds the power to switch the comfort in your life for discomfort.

despite that, he smiles. he smiles and he peeks at you. he sees the look on your face, takes in the impatience and boldness and thinks God knows what of it and continues smiling only to flat out ignore you and simply turn a page (how infuriating).

the fingertip traces his forearm again, yet even upon receiving no response or reaction you remain indefatigable in your petty pursuit. ironically, he snaps when your finger lands on his thigh instead. the book is closed shut without a bookmark to save the page and a deep breath is taken in.

you think yourself to be in trouble, but chrollo simply pulls you even closer.

"you're being oddly touchy," he comments. his eyes are fixed onto the fire, yet you still feel his gaze when you look away.

unlike your own expectations, you voice your question without making small talk. it felt gruesome to push those words out of your mouth, but it happened, and you successfully asked him. chrollo, however, does not give you an answer.

the arm on your thigh travels up to your hip, the palm cupping the dip in your body while the thumb gently draws circles. the book that he placed onto his lap is picked up and gently placed onto the side table, yet you are not graced with an answer yet.

this is a test of some sort. you know it.

"do you really want to know?"

you nod immediately. he is not looking at you.

"the answer might not be something you would appreciate." suddenly, he shifts, and you are met with the grey eyes that have captivated you and held your attention for months. even though your heart skips a beat at the action, you cannot help but try your best to push away the hint of fear that creeps up your spine.

chrollo inquires about your decision again, and you resist the urge to look at his chest instead. gazing on his toned chest teasingly peeking out through an unbuttoned shirt is preferable to his eyes, yet you don't.

your nod is enough to allow chrollo to continue and give you the answer you've been pursuing for months, and when his lips part, your eyes widen at the same speed only to narrow in disappointment when he gives his answer.

"if i tell you, you'll get bored of me." with that, the book is picked up again, your head once again pushed to rest on his shoulder, and the page he left it on opened up once again.

your arguing ends in a loss as per usual. no matter. at least you have something to do until you get your answers.

#he wants to keep you on your toes so bad *twirling hair*#he thinks if he tells you whatever you want to know you'll get bored of him and stop giving him attention #chrollo sees you peeking at him once and he's suddenly all :>#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo brainrot #i wrote this in one sitting (i am stronk)

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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months

Note

Can I get some poly yan TF-141 x male werewolf hybrid reader please?

Where he’s almost like their pet? And he’s like their scary dog privilege.

Or gn if you don’t write for male

— Yandere Poly TF-141 x male darling whose a werewolf hybrid

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about werewolf stuff, and name calling.

A/N: i’m always willing to write a male reader! It’s quite sad how underrated yandere x male reader fanfics are. Please enjoy <3!

Edit: I forgot to add the scary dog privilege part. So sorry!

Honestly, it’s been a while since they’ve been excited — your characteristics of strength and incredible features of a werewolf make their ego strike higher than it should be. They absolutely love your hybrid features, the tails & ears, the enhanced senses, and the obvious need for constant attention is what they love you more.

Price and the others enjoy it when you listen to their commands, which at times they love to joke around with.

If and when you decide to transform into your ‘full form’, even in the field, all of them coo over you, especially Johnny. You can never be left alone, even at night. Price and Soap really enjoy it when they get to play with your fur and ears. It feels like literal heaven between their fingers.

And let’s not forget about how all of them call you dog-based names. A lot of good boys, even pups, or puppy if they’re in a teasing mood. Bad boy is for certain occasions.

All of them have their own ways of showing affection, which, most of them, are fairly touchy, especially if the timetables are closer to a full-moon, or you’ve recently turned.

Soap literally treats you like a dog. Every chance he has, he’s rubbing your stomach, ears getting smooched on, jokingly pulling your tail, and praising you like no other. Chin scratches, and his thick accent turns into a scratchy baby voice when talking to you.

As for Ghost, he loves playing fetch with you — easily throwing it long, watching you jump at it, before returning it. His voice commands you to sit and calls you a good boy when you listen. The type of guy also aggressively rubs your snout as a way of affection.

As for Price, he enjoys having you rest in his office, either on the dog bed he specifically bought for you or under his desk, looking at you every now and again with loving eyes.

Gaz finds it cute, but also suffocating as you sit on his lap; not realizing you’re too large for him. He’s gently laughing, patting your back at your large weight, it’s comforting. But also he can’t breathe.

To be honest, they fucking love it on how protective you are of them. Seeing you grunt, eyes narrowing in annoyance, makes them chuckle.

Chin scratches galore. No matter what, if you’re in your full form or not, they love to scratch your chin.

They always get surprised on seeing how close you are to other dogs, especially to larger breeds. Price chuckles whenever a dog randomly runs up as the two of you are jogging, immediately latching itself to you and not leaving your side.

It’s not something you see every day that you find dead animals as a gift, and most would see it as disgusting, but to them, it’s a gift. Even though Gaz has gagged on multiple occasions when he sees the dead birds, he knows it's your way of affection.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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mellowwillowy · 1 year

Text

Yan! Emperor x GN Empress! Reader

CW: General Yandere warnings. Another warning on the second cut.

"𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒓."

Yan! Emperor who schemed against the Empress to have her resigned from her position or even better, executed. He wouldn't want this wench to take the position of his love after all.

Yan! Emperor who secured your position as the next Empress. Hm? It didn't matter what your gender was. Whether you were a woman or a man or neither, for as long as you kept up with the facade, no one would ever notice it.

Yan! Emperor who secured a place for you in the palace, he would never allow anyone to drive you out of it even if it was the Empress or his puppeteers.

Yan! Emperor whose love was only reserved for you and you. The image of you on his bed embracing his tired body would always live in his head rent-free.

Yan! Emperor who felt the need to protect you despite your capabilities of protecting yourself. The two of you may be strong but he knew well the two of you were the exact contrasity of each other. He was the Sin while you were the Virtue itself.

Yan! Emperor who would not hesitate to drag the people who insulted or even caused the slightest inconvenience toward you by their broken and twisted limbs.

Yan! Emperor who secretly worshipped you as though you were his God all along. He couldn't care less about the God his puppeteer worshipped.

Yan! Emperor who knew you hated how both of your lives were controlled like a puppet. But even so, he knew you hated how he had to use force to break free from the strings they used to tug on the two of you.

Yan! Emperor who devised a plan to break free of himself first before saving you. Killing every one of the higher-ups who were using him as a puppet figuratively and literally.

"Then do pray forgive but my dear, what would be left of me, of us, if I didn't kill them all?"

Yan! Emperor who knew you had always been trying to break free from their grasp in a virtuous way, you had always been so naive... no matter how red your armories were painted, that little head of yours had always been so naive.

Yan! Emperor who started to cut the strings that were controlling you one by one so that it wasn't that noticeable that he was involved in this. He knew you'd be devastated if you knew they were all killed just to free you.

Yan! Emperor who started to frame the Empress, forging pieces of evidence and crimes that were all pointed to her neck. It took a lot of time and preparation but he was a patient man. A price to pay to have you sitting next to him on the throne.

Yan! Emperor who stole your journal that detailed all the wrongdoings of everyone in the imperial palace. This way, you wouldn't question the credibility of the accusations thrown at them. Ah, where did you put your diary again?

Yan! Emperor who couldn't wait to fit all the missing puzzles into place, executing all his plans into motion while watching everyone fall from their haven. When the Empress had finally lost all her backing and support, he decided to strike her down with a final hit.

Yan! Emperor who made you watch everything unravel from the front row, how rain fell as the Empress cursed him and you while the guards held her in place.

"YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME FATE AS I DO, UWAAAAAAAAAAHHH"

Yan! Emperor who watched how your grip on the umbrella tightened, tears wetting your cheek along with the raindrops.

"It's finally over, my dearest."

Yan! Emperor who held no remorse for the deceased as he viewed them as nothing but hindrances to the both of you.

"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."

Yan! Emperor who immediately discharged you from your position as the Grand General and made you his Empress shortly after the mourning phase had passed. The mourning phase was nothing but a joke to him as his body collided with yours, spending his nights with you.

Yan! Emperor who courted you with a show of him displaying his archery skills, piercing all pearls that were thrown at him down. It somehow reminded him how he annihilated everyone that came in his and your way.

Yan! Emperor who was really mad in love with you, someone who suffered the same fate as he did and yet remained true to self, pristine virtue and beaming in radiance. You were the light of his life despite how your white garment slowly reddened into prosperous red adorning your body. You were the Empress and you had to behave like one, strong-willed and swiftly adapt to all the scheming people in the Imperial Palace.

Yan! Emperor who was your first backing and support, right?

Yan! Emperor who loved you and only you. Forever. For eternity.

CW: Yan! Emperor against Reader (because he wanted Reader to be his lover), Reader's death. Angst no comfort (comfort came in the next lives lmfao), Yan! Emperor avenged your death though (mass slaughter of nation)...

Yan! Emperor who was not pleased with how strong-willed you were as an Empress. As much as he respected you as a former Grand General and an Empress, he did not wish for you to not express any kind of romance sparks anymore.

Yan! Emperor who hated how virtuous you were to the point it slowed down the supposed plan. From then on, the Imperial Palace was divided into two sides, your side and his side. Did he finally stop supporting you, you wondered.

Yan! Emperor who knew what you two had gone through and that you were only being considerate to those who were suffering as well. Nonetheless, he also knew what you suggested was also filled in loopholes.

Yan! Emperor who saw you took in someone under your wing, a girl who was brimming with innocence and curiosity, a reminder to him of how you used to be before you were slowly corrupted.

"It seems like they took her in because it reminded them of themselves as well."

Yan! Emperor who watched how you cared for the girl and protected her from anything that would trouble her. As much as he knew how platonic it was, it was undeniable that he was jealous of the attention that girl received.

Yan! Emperor who noticed how things started to crumble down between you and that girl sooner than you did. He noticed how her eyes were now purely brimming in Envy, green matching her eye colors.

Yan! Emperor who knew she wanted what you had. Honor, strength, intelligence, willpower, and spouse. He knew it and he used that against you.

"If only they are no longer the Empress..." He whispered into the girl's ear, "You would be the next Empress..."

Yan! Emperor who despised the idea of people thinking he really loved his current concubine, she was nothing but a pawn to him. Holding her hand alone made him frown in disgust. He wanted to hold you again and not some make-believe of you.

Yan! Emperor who watched everything by the sideline, how that girl started to consume everything you had, honor, support, intelligence but never his heart.

Yan! Emperor who witnessed everything going well just like his plans until it didn't. His heart was sunken.

"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."

Yan! Emperor who was only away for a month was informed about your death. The overthrow did not go as he expected. It was supposed to only have you exiled but not killed!

Yan! Emperor who went furious immediately, leaving the province he was in to ensure everything was false news. His horse galloped as though it was burnt alive by him, he did not stop despite the hunger and cold he had to face. YOU were his priority.

Yan! Emperor who saw the whole imperial palace was adorned in red instead of white. So it was only false news, right?

"Hao Yuchen, the traitor had finally been overthrown."

Yan! Emperor whose body failed to stand, his mind racing in horror of what he had done. Instead of surrendering to her mercy, you remained persistent as you had always been, charging toward her men instead of her despite your wounded body. The ending was clear, you died due to your wounds and lack of blood.

Yan! Emperor whose golden eyes finally lost its reflection of light, what swirled in it was only grudge and guilt.

Yan! Emperor who wished he could somehow just strangle the girl and himself to death now. That way, he might be able to meet you in Heaven right?

Yan! Emperor who knew he was bound to be sent to hell. He had committed sins in his whole life and was ready to repent for it to meet you in Heaven up there.

"But what if I ascended as a God instead?"

Yan! Emperor who had no choice but to make her the next Empress, rumors circulating around the Imperial Palace as two Empress had been overthrown. Will this girl be overthrown as well?

Yan! Emperor who wondered to himself, would you be angry if he drove this girl who you protected in your last stand to death? If so, he was ready to feel your fury, in fact, he wished he could feel anything from you.

Yan! Emperor who despised the girl that copied everything you did, he loathed the red that was once adorned your body worn by her now.

Yan! Emperor who was a patient man. A price to pay to have her body floating lifeless on a river. Yes, she would be disposed of the moment he deemed her useless to the nation.

Yan! Emperor who tricked her into drinking the poison instead of the elixir of immortality, letting her body fall into the river as her eyes never left the moon.

"... The moon looks beautiful just like them..."

Yan! Emperor who had always been jealous of the girl. He knew she adored you and yet her way of viewing things was distorted into something disturbing.

But who was he to speak like that when he himself was also at fault?

Yan! Emperor who sat by the porch, gazing into the moon while reminiscing the memories he shared with you before drinking the elixir of immortality.

Yan! Emperor who knew there were only 2 people left in the Imperial Palace, him and a nameless young man.

Yan! Emperor who let the young general cut him open with his sword, feeling a little of the pain of what you felt back then. The general pulled out a bottle of concoction from his sleeve,

"This is the real elixir of immortality." He spat as he drank the elixir.

Yan! Emperor who did not shut his eyes close, his eyes never left the moon above him. Were you residing on the moon as a rabbit? Or were you flying freely like a crane?

In the Imperial Palace, the Emperor lay lifeless on the porch, his golden eyes were dead but they never left the moon above him.

"I will... forever... hold you dearly... in my heart..."

To find you again, to see you again, to hold you again.

Even if it took millenniums... even if it meant I had to destroy your life again...

In the river, the girl's body floated lifeless as her eyes never left the moon.

In the forest, the boy's body lay lifeless as butterflies and flowers surrounded him, his eyes never left the moon.

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

The second cut wasn't really necessary to be read but here's a summary. (The fic up there was packed into summary as well but it left lots of confusion and details out so it sounds OFF)

Hao Yuchen - Emperor

Ying Zili - Girl

Ying Qingyuan - Nameless Young Man

Reader's whereabouts remained unknown. (Nb: reader will appear as a crane next time.)

After the reader's death, the Emperor starts to plan the Empress' downfall, tricking her into making the wrong moves and framing her. The Empress was depicted as committing suicide out of the pressure of mistakes she had committed while the truth is that she was tricked into drinking the poison she thought as an elixir of immortality.

The Nameless Young Man was suspected to be either Reader or Empress' underling.

The whole nation was slaughtered by the Emperor which indirectly made him ascend as a God instead.

Empress and Nameless Young Man also ascended as Gods as well. Ps: in the original lore, the Emperor's ego was hurt so he tried to strike down the Empress and turned them into his lover.

Bonus ; Crack

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader #XL suffering from PTSD in the corner

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moonsaver · 2 months

Note

Good day moon! Okay I normally don't do asks when it comes to yandere cause it's not my usual thing but seeing the last post you made of Yan!Sunday and his darling, that one where he just desperately wants to have that normalcy in their relationship but couldn't ever have it because of what he's done, made me think of something rather angsty; like how the darling's backlashes against his affections would probably go turn for the worst as time passes on, they don't hate him in a sense because he's really trying hard to not make them hate him and they can see that his love is real (just really fucked up) but that deep urge to hurt the person who took their freedom away is still there, it wouldn't just go away just because he loves them so much that he wouldn't dare to break them. Oh that satisfaction on seeing Sunday looking so hurt after yelling at him, they know it doesn't make them any better than him but at that point, what else is there for them to lose? Maybe in hurting him so subtly, they may find some pity in themselves for him to actually give him some semblance of love but until then, all Sunday ever receives from them are either silent treatment or backlash

Such relationship could only thrive in the worst way possible and maybe Sunday knows that but even then, he still holds out that little (delusional) hope that maybe his darling will still love him someday

Sorry for the rant, it's just that I feel for Sunday but his method will never work and it'll just deeply hurt him and his darling in the end asgfjgsfg also if it's alright, I'd request this but I'll leave it to you with how you write it, be it an imagine or anything else since I'm fine with it!

- Elys

Hello Elys! Im so sorry it took a long time for me to get to your request lol, tons of things got in the way but I remembered this request for a while.

In any case, I feel you've summed it up quite well!

Sunday isn't harsh or as brutal as I imagine him. Unlike my [i have to self advertise here, sorry HAHA] soft yan!blade, Sunday most likely wouldn't even need a bit of working around to be a softer yandere.

He's so loving, it's painful. His love is like despaired poetry for a lover who is still alive, just further than their reach. I imagine his love to be very tender, even as a yandere, if he doesn't become even softer.

And it's hard to convince him he's wrong – mainly because he already knows. But rather that's a bit distorted in his view; instead he thinks it's a wrongdoing against your nature as someone who wants to be free, but correct in the context of the situation rather than actually understanding it is absolutely wrong in general. And he doesn't budge. He's stubborn, almost infuriatingly. And instead of getting angry, I imagine he rather looks disappointed or disgruntled, which somehow does more damage/strikes more fear than anger.

And it's still heartbreaking; frustratingly for both of you, not just yourself.

You lash out, you scream, cry, wail, argue, relentlessly push and resist against him. it's your only way of getting back at him, you're sure as hell you're going to strike the hardest that way. And you relish the hurt you see in the eyes of your captor, but something more sympathetic tugs at you when you see his lovingly sad eyes. It's this cacophony of guilt, frustration, anger, and utter despair at the loss of your freedom. Sunday feels all of it, aswell, and you want to be relieved that he does – if it weren't for the fact he still wasn't letting you go.

He continually withholds your freedom from you. That single injustice to you is enough to weather your patience over time – your anger only burns hotter and hotter, pushing away any semblance of sympathy or reasoning, and it only hurts Sunday more, until you realise what you're doing, and quietly give in to sooth him for the time being. Just a little. Until that little injustice starts bothering you again. It's a toxic cycle.

And it hurts even more when Sunday tries to find normalcy in your relationship; he's trying so hard to be your lover, to hold you gently and bathe you with care, to dry you off and still love you after seeing you bare. He wants to come home and see you smile, be happy, elated that he's there, just as he feels when he sees you. But that's not what happens. His delusions and flimsy expectations are shattered the moment he steps into the dimly lit room, your form refusing to even look at him. The silence is strangely stronger than his hopes.

Anyways, that's all i can think of at the moment. I love angst yandere sunday time.

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snail-migraine · 5 months

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hello !! please delete / ignore if this validates your rules !! ^ __ ^

Platonic Yandere Malleus & child [name] . .

and [name] may or may not be a brat . . and probably failing school ( it’s college so no wonder !!)

preferably he / him prns but you can do whatever :] thank you !! there’s just not enough platonic yanderes in twstfandom . .

Of course! I'd be more than happy to this. The platonic yandere is a trope thats very unexplored, so I'd love to do one! Thanks for the Ask!

Anon-Yan💌.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

So since there were no specifics on who reader might be [Just that reader is Malleus's Child] let's just say that reader is Malleus's adopted child, but is still Fae. Just not a draconic fae.

Malleus as Yandere father is super-overprotective. The phrase "Helicopter Parent" Doesn't even begin to describe this man.

Maybe it was due all of the neglect he suffered through as a child, but this man absolutely refuse to give you any sort of privacy or space. Even as a teenager.

He just hates the idea of you feeling lonely so he spends practically every second he can with you, even at you're own expense.

Malleus is also petrified of losing you, Lillia is closing in on his own death, Silver never had very long compared to Malleus, and Sebek is half human, meaning he will never live as long as Malleus.

You're the only other family he has aside from his grandmother, he's not letting you go easily.

Malleus is one of those people who can't help but spoil their children, he'd hate to start yelling at his precious baby.

Maybe all that spoiling is how you got the way you are. Entitled and bratty.

When you first started going to school Malleus would get complaints from teachers on just how terrible you would be to the other kids.

But he refused to believe his precious baby was so awful. Especially when you started [fake] crying, saying that the teachers and other students here were mean to you.

"How dare you accuse my child of such terrible acts! My child would never do such a thing. They are nothing but a sweetheart. If I ever hear such a blatant lie fall from your lips ever again, the consequences will result in your immediate execution. Understand?"

Those poor teachers man.

Malleus babies you so much it isn't until Lillia, Silver, Sebek, and his grandmother hold an intervention that he'll start being a little hard on you.

But even then, if you start crying he'll back down.

It's ironic that somebody so strong breaks so easily at the slightest little swell of your tear-ducts.

Life goes on like this for a long time, with you causing trouble and Malleus brushing it off like it's nothing.

It isn't until you're a teenager and enrolled in Night Raven College that you finally cross the line.

"Mr. Draconia, I don't what it is but your child seems hellbent on becoming one of the worst students this school has ever seen!", Crowley exclaims, "Just last week they destroyed on of Diasomnia's numerous gargoyles! Even with my genius expertise, I can't keep them under control."

You keep your arms crossed and blow a peice of hair out of your face. 'That crow is still yapping.' You think to yourself, annoyed about having to listen to some lousy headmaster blab on and on about how you were sooooo terrible. As if the guy really thought that the Malleus Draconia would ever listen to his bullshit.

Dad always took your side, any second now that crow would finally shut his mouth and your dad would finally get you out of this dump.

Crowley jumps in his seat when a strike of thunder hits outside. 'There it is.' Dad always hated it when people accused you. The frown on your face lightens to a devious smirk.

"Ehem.", Crowley tries to regain his composure, "I believe if they're behavior doesn't change I'll have to expel them."

Thats when Malleus finally snaps, but he doesn't make it clear to you, or Crowley. But God is he pissed. He's spent all this time babying and treating you like the little royal he knows you should be, but look at you! Nothing but a troublemaker with no respect for anyone or anything around you. Has he really failed as father this badly?

You know what? It doesn't matter anymore, cause guess what? He's no longer going to baby you, you're almost an adult for sevens sake! And you've got the intelligence of two year old.

"That's fine, Headmaster Crowley." He says, trying to keep his demeanor calm despite the now raging storm outside. "I think it's best that from now on I start home-schooling them anyways."

His curls his fists into his lap.

"Thank you for your time, we'll be getting Their things now and removing them from campus. Have a good day Crowley." And with that he grabs you by the wrist and yanks you out of the room.

He didn't even let you grab your things, he just pulled you to the mirror and sent both of you back to Briar Valley. Once there, he continues pulling you around by your arm until he gets to one of old dungeon cells put high up in a tower. There he finally lets you go by throwing you in. When you try to ask why he's doing this he shushes you with his glare. Pointed and sharp.

He may be father, but he's not going to play nice.

He takes a deep breathe, a crackle of green thunder booms from outside the old brick walls of the castle, before he speaks up.

"You disappoint me. I have given you nothing but love and generosity in the hopes that you would turn out as a kind, loving, and respectful person."

You're at a loss for words as you try to say something, anything, but he glares at you once more and shushes you.

"You are a member of the Draconia Family. There are rules and guidelines we must follow, we can not go around acting like brats and destroying anything we like. And until you adhere to those simple rules, you will no longer be treated as a royal.", His tone was sharper than the deadliest knife. And his words made you more scared of your father than you'd ever been before.

"Your time will be spent either studying or cleaning. In your down time you will be making your food and no servant will be tending to you. Do you understand?" You could only nod dumbly as actual tears welled in your eyes. The sight made him grimace.

"..I love you my dear, but you are a Draconia. And you need to start acting like it." He said, almost as though he was trying to comfort you. Before turning on his heel and walking down the winding steps out of the tower.

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing well, I have an idea, feel free to ignore but I hope you like it.

Yandere Male Deliquent x GN Ex Bully

Like he tried to make them explode and being their “true self”, because in the past, when they were younger, they defend him and he became a delinquent just to see them again.

Sorry if my English is bad.

Bye!

YAN! DELINQUENT OC x GN! EX BULLY! READER

Also your English great anon! Dw about it.

AAAAAAA I’ve meaning to do more Yan! Delinquent recently anon!! You read my mind. For those new to my account. I already have a Yan! Delinquent OC named Mori Ban (see tag: hns.moriban) who was the first to really blow up from my yan! ocs. I always loved this trope with yan stories hhh

tw/cw: DDNE, mention extreme bullying, assault, and harassment. (brought out my trauma for this one). i imagine reader to be amab/masc for this one but there are no explicits allusions to that.

Uttering the name [L/N] [Y/N] was enough to strike fear in the hearts of men. Literally and figuratively speaking, your voice was enough to make even the highest of authorities piss their pants. Not only were you capable of destroying a person’s physical body with your very own hands, you were able to dismantle everything from their relationships and reputation to their financial situations in life.

People predicted you to grow up and become an even more menacing, ruthless person. You had the potential, and with the way you were it was simply the natural trajectory.

But like you always did, you broke everyone’s expectations.

You were like the delinquent version Serena Van Der Woodsen. Mindlessly strutting in as if you hadn’t put several companies to bankruptcy because the owner’s kid looked at you the wrong way. Nonchalantly eating your lunch in the same vicinity of your old victims as if you hadn’t shoved their face into the toilet as a way to pass time. Cheerfully waving at the student council president as if you hadn’t constantly blackmailed and assaulted them for several years just so they’d do your homework and projects. No one was safe from you. You had no code. As long as you felt like it, any life could be destroyed.

Standing opposite to your current path was Mori.

He used to be the punching bag of your lesser goons. Known for being weak and poor, only good for his academic excellence.

He grew up to be almost as fearsome than you. Where-areas you were coldblooded, revelling in the pain you brought upon others. He was a lot more morally guided. Sure, his enemies often suffered worse fates physically, but he wasn’t like you in the way he picked his battles. He only brought hell to those that deserved it. Those that hurt other people first.

And then there was the way he treated you.

You technically belonged to the category he dealt with. You ruined dozens, maybe even hundreds or thousands of lives in a whim. You were the devil in a pretty suit of skin. Despite your lack of hostility nowadays, you never apologised or took accountability, never attempted to atone for your mistakes. The only reason why others haven’t confronted you about it was because of fear. They didn’t want to potentially anger you and set off a bomb.

But Mori? Mori could handle you.

After all, he dedicated his whole life to being your equal; serving you, aiding you.

In fact, he was just so disappointed to see you this way. All disgustingly docile and horridly disciplined. What kind of monster tamed you to be like this? Mori chuckled at the thought. No one but him can match you. You must have started behaving yourself for the sake of appearance. All of this was just a façade. If you had truly changed you would have begged for forgiveness to those you’ve wronged. If you had become a better person then you wouldn’t be discreetly glaring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

If someone had truly taught you to be a goody-two-shoes he would have killed them ages ago.

“Hey, [N/N]. Sweetheart. How ya doin?” Mori leaned forward. He grew to be quite a ways taller than you and had to lean over to meet you face to face. Much to your chagrin.

“Fine. It’s so nice of you to ask Ban. If you’ll excuse me.” You adeptly moved to the side. You had dealt with this man-child several times throughout the semester already and knew to just avoid him at all costs lest you lose braincells and precious energy talking to him.

However, you could only take two steps before his hands grappled unto your wrist.

“Woah woah woah there. We’re not done yet.”

You don’t look back, and firmly yet calmly stated, “Yes, we are.”

“It’s a little late but we have yet to give you a homecoming party. That wouldn’t be fair for the great [Y/N].”

You turned back. Eyes wide, not of surprise or anger, but from sheer awe of this man’s audacity.

“I know what you want, and you’re not getting it from me right now.” You scowled at his beautiful pink eyes and effortlessly yanked your arm away from him. You didn’t know it yet back then,

but you had already lit the match.

#hns.moriban #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yancore #dom reader #sub yandere #yandere drabble #yandere self insert #yandere x y/n

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

The Good Ol' Days.

Yan Alhaitham x F Reader x Yan Kaveh.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and implied kidnapping. Word count: 2.1k.

The sweeter the past, the more bitter the present.

“Seriously, this isn’t fair! Let her roll again!”

“I’m not sure what you expected from a game that revolves around chance.”

You've heard this before, you think. Not the exact verbiage, no, but the sentiment strikes a chord. Plucks at your heartstrings in a familiar melody.

“Well, fine, let me lend her some of my money then.”

“First, we both know that’s against the rules; and second, even if you sold your single Mondstadt property, you wouldn’t have enough to cover the charge. Your strategy of holding out in case you land on a Waypoint is as brilliant as ever.”

The hot passion met by cool indifference that leaves you forces you into the mediator role. This position was specially formed for you, shaped in such a way that no one else could ever fit. Consequently, it adheres to your person too well, you can’t go forward or backward. You’re stuck. The more you struggle, the tighter your restraints become.

“You…! I won once, when I got all four Waypoints. It’s a viable tactic. Right, [First]? Don’t you remember how huffy he was the night he came in last? … [First]?”

When opposing temperatures meet, condensation forms.

“... You’re crying,” Kaveh sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, but it’s only you. “Is something wrong?”

The better question would be what isn’t wrong. He won’t ask that, though, so you’ll never get to properly answer. You sit as still as a statue on the couch. From your display stand, you sense you’re being stared at by two sets of eyes, one distraught, the other scrutinizing. The former comes from your left and the latter from across the table.

Kaveh’s hands cup both sides of your face. He wipes away the few wayward tears with the pad of this thumb, his eyebrows pinching together. Wordlessly, Alhaitham gets up from his cushion on the floor and takes his place by your right side. Their towering forms seal you in place.

“You made her cry,” Kaveh accuses, his eyes narrowing. “You should’ve just let me go bankrupt for her.”

“For someone who claims I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, you can be rather dense yourself. I sincerely doubt that has anything to do with this.”

“Then why is she—”

“I remember,” you somehow manage to squeeze the words out of your tight throat. Their attention returns to you. Your next words come out quietly. “That game, I mean. When you won. You had another glass of wine to celebrate, and… kept drunkenly throwing your victory in Alhaitham’s face. You slept through your alarm the next morning and missed a meeting with a high-profile client.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kaveh nods along slowly. He’s using that gentle, soothing tone from when this nightmare began and he didn’t want to upset you further. You can tell he’s trying desperately to follow along despite not having the directions necessary.

“After that, you started a campaign to not speak to Alhaitham until he apologized, but he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him,” the sound you let out is in between a choked sob and laugh. Kaveh’s arms fall limp as if they’ve lost all strength. “He told me… ‘Lately, Kaveh is more tolerable to be around’, or something like that.”

You hug your knees to your chest. “Since you weren’t willing to talk to Alhaitham, you’d have me relay messages. It was silly. Eventually, I got you guys to make amends. It was like pulling teeth though. Heh. Thinking about it now, I can’t help wondering how many times I dug my own grave.”

Kaveh softly speaks your name, but Alhaitham finds words before he can.

“So that’s what this is about,” Alhaitham notes. When you first met the brilliant Scribe, you mistakenly interpreted his rationality for apathy. You know better now. If he were truly disinterested, he wouldn’t bother stringing words together, curt as they may be. “Dwelling on the past only leads to unnecessary grief.”

Kaveh sends a halfhearted glare in Alhaitham’s direction. “What he means to say is that you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything?” You question, staring deep into Kaveh’s eyes, their color reminiscent of the burning sun setting over the desert.

He averts his gaze and swallows thickly. “Well…”

“What he wants to say is that yes, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Alhaitham chimes in where Kaveh is hesitant to. Such is the nature of their dynamic when you’re involved — barbed truths or coddling lies. “The future we were envisioning had already been decided.”

“The condemned can’t condemn themselves, huh?” You chuckle mirthlessly.

They both frown.

“You aren’t condemned, you’re— you’re free from having to worry about those things you used to stress over. Rent, bills, deadlines, you know. The worst parts of life. You can focus on your passions without any restraints now,” Kaveh reasons. Or so he tries.

You gnaw on your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve bothered arguing with either of them on the subjects that truly matter, those topics have been deemed taboo. You can complain about Kaveh’s clinginess when he’s drunk or how tight Alhaitham holds you at night, but should you try to steer the conversation toward your captivity, it’s shut down. Kaveh makes you wish you never brought it up whereas Alhaitham instills regret that you dared to try.

They’re both bracing themselves, you can feel it in the air. Sitting and awaiting a tempest of emotions that one will try to soothe and the other wave away.

You think about fighting then remember why you stopped, falling into this limbo of existing without living.

You could challenge Kaveh’s weak point. Demand to know why he doesn’t do the same then, never leaving the four walls of Alhaitham’s house, committing himself wholly to drawing up blueprints. Alhaitham might make some dry comment that he wouldn’t allow Kaveh to leech off him, or maybe Kaveh would apologize, and say that he didn’t intend to upset you. He would mean it too. You’d cry, beg, scream until your throat was raw and your voice scratchy, but in Alhaitham’s own words, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Their minds are made up. Their resolve is an unshakable foundation upon which your gaol is built. In the same way they soundproofed the house, so too are their hearts insulated from any argument that’d champion your cause. You tried and failed and tried and failed again.

At least if you don’t try, you won’t experience failure.

“... Alright.”

They exchange brief looks.

“Alright?” Kaveh parrots the word, but without matching your listless tone. “That’s— oh. Huh. Okay.”

He mumbles the last few words to himself, as if trying to process them aloud. You can’t fault him for his confusion.

It’s silent then, the kind that holds weight. You uncurl yourself from your protective shell. You feel like a specimen being subjected to naturalistic observation, neither researcher willing to interfere, lest it negatively influence their data’s results. There’s a lot you can get used to — you had no other choice, really — yet that never fails to make you uncomfortable in your own skin. Unwilling to endure it any longer, you quickly form an escape plan.

“Well,” you start, earning their rapt attention, “I think I’m going to, uh, call it a night.”

You stand up as you say this. There’s a light pressure on your wrist, chaining you in place.

“Stay,” Alhaitham’s voice urges. Your muscles go taut, then you hear a subdued sigh. “If you don't mind.”

Kaveh must’ve given him quite the nasty look for Alhaitham to get that close to saying please. You sit back down, almost in a trance, as if the Scribe had cast a spell. Glancing down, you realize it’s Alhaitham who grabbed your wrist. He doesn't let go when you situate yourself back into place.

Kaveh takes his chance to tether you as well. Lithe arms encircle you, gently pulling you into him. The side of your face presses against his chest, his bare skin exuding copious amounts of heat. He smells familiar, for this scene is familiar. Desperation with a hint of citrus and spice. He cradled you a lot in the beginning, shushing your sobs and drying your tears. At first, you’d resist, flailing your limbs wildly like you were a feral cat. Inevitably, his strength and stamina outlasted yours.

His nose brushes against the crown of your head. “I care about you more than I could ever properly convey. Whatever you’re thinking, I can take it. Er, we can take it. I’d prefer that over you blaming yourself for anything.”

Dazedly, you nod. He goes quiet, then, preparing himself for an onslaught you can bring yourself to unleash. Seconds bleed into one after another. You hear the furious pounding of Kaveh’s heartbeat. How if you twist your body, his breath hitches in his throat. It’s nice to know that at least his body will always be honest with you where his well-meaning words fall short.

“You’re trying to regain a semblance of control by thinking ‘had I done this, or had I not done that, it wouldn’t have ended up this way.’”

Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose. “Alhaitham, that’s enough.”

“Let me finish,” he continues. His fingers creep onto your chin and take your face captive. He peels you away from your position against Kaveh, who stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on your torso. Alhaitham’s countenance is close to yours so as not to leave any room for you to cower away. Those analytical eyes that can pick apart the world have you in their sights. “Do you know why you’re here, [First]?”

In the past, when you struggled with an assignment or class, the infamously disinterested Alhaitham would take it upon himself to tutor you. He was a fair yet strict teacher. On those long nights spent hunched over a messy desk, he’d have a different air about him. He stretched you. In the moment, it felt like he was demanding more than what you could provide, but upon further reflection, he just knew what limits you could be pushed to better.

“I’d like an answer.”

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Because you both claim to hold some sort of affection for me.”

Kaveh would look like a kicked puppy if you said this to him. It’s Alhaitham, though, and his composure is infallible.

“Word it however spitefully you want, you get the gist of things,” he drawls. The intensity behind his gaze is enough to make you shiver. “If nothing you’ve been able to say or do has changed our mind now, why would it have back then? It might feel good to sulk, but your logic is erroneous. You’re making yourself miserable only to see if this wallowing is more palatable than the kind you’re used to.”

You hate when Alhaitham’s right. It’s a shame he so frequently is.

“Can you blame me?”

“... No,” he admits. “But this proto-nihilism is worse for your mental well-being than anything else you’ve tried so far. I’d like to nip it in the bud.”

Your smile is thin and far from kind. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll leave that to your overactive imagination to decide.”

He relinquishes his grip on you, leans back into the couch, and crosses his legs. That posture positively irks you. Sparks from kindling flitter throughout your being like confetti.

“Seriously, you have no tact,” Kaveh rests his chin atop your head. “They should study you in a lab somewhere.”

“Says the one who’s taking advantage of [First]'s emotional vulnerability to cling to her like a parasite.”

“Hey! Don’t listen to him, [First]. He’s just being a grump. You don’t think that’s what I’m doing, right?”

“I’d like to roll again,” you adopt a sickeningly sweet tone while addressing Alhaitham. “Please.”

“... Right? [First]?” Kaveh tries again.

Alhaitham speaks up before you can even consider entertaining the whining male behind you. “And why should I bend the rules for you?”

You lean forward with enough momentum that you’re able to break free from Kaveh’s grasp. Newfound vigor burns inside you. Perhaps a day will come when it extinguishes, but as for now, the flame ignites anew. Hot and ready to burn.

Your lips brush against Alhaitham’s ear. “Are you afraid of losing?”

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, bemusement evident. The start of a smirk dances on his lips.

“Not at all. Roll as many times as you please.”

And so you cast the die again.

Come what may — an unlikely win, tense truce, or total loss — you refuse to capitulate without trying.

#yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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