#yandere!kai chisaki
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after-witch · 5 months ago
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The Morning After [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Title: The Morning After [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Synopsis: You wake up in a room you’ve never been in to the sight of a man you’ve never met.
Word count: 3500ish
Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, degradation, drugging
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Memory and time and the world itself are fuzzy, gray things as you wake up. Before the abrupt, awful, heavy awakening, there was nothing--just a dull blackness where you did not exist. 
Yet there’s a dim sense as the world returns to you, as your heavy eyes struggle to open, that you are, indeed, alive. 
Alive and a person, you remember that, too. Alive and a person and... somewhere. You must exist somewhere, that is a basic tenant of existence, isn’t it? But as your eyes finally open and the world above you is stark white, too bright, you can’t quite remember where somewhere is.
Underneath your head, there is a body. That, too, feels heavy. So you flex it, or at least you try. Your fingers feel like fuzzy sticks but perhaps they are moving when you try to curl your hands. The fuzziness extends all the way through your body, like you’ve rolled around in pins and needles and have yet to shake them off.
Breathing--you’re breathing, too. That is a sign that you are alive, that you have returned to the world. Even if your mouth feels dry and sticky, and there is an awful taste in it. You open and close and it almost hurts; there’s a vaguely wet smacking sound, and the awful taste is amplified by the trace spit that registers against your tongue.
Your head hurts. Your neck, too--specifically one point. There’s an instinctive desire to reach for that point, and your arms obey, feeling like heavy lead, until your hand slaps against it. Why does it hurt like that? 
It’s a small point of pain, like someone had stuck a needle into your--
And there. There. It all comes flooding back to you. Your name, your life, your world, the moments before it all went dark. 
You worked the day it all went dark. It was an ordinary day of work, a bit stressful, with moments of reprieve. Your lunch had been soup and rice and a treat: blue raspberry soda from the vending machine. After work, you went grocery shopping--you needed something for dinner--and returned home to your apartment. You remember the sound of the key turning in the door, the surprise that there was a light on in your kitchen--hadn’t you turned it off that morning?--and then… and then…
The pain, in your neck. That small point. An awful prickling, like being stung by a bee. Only there was no time to swat it away, and you fell into darkness, the bags of groceries hitting the floor before you did.
That was… however long ago. How long had the world been gone? A few hours? A day? Days?
With the returned sense of self, your body seems to want to catch up with your mind, and the sense of buzzing heaviness fades away enough for you to push yourself up onto your elbows. The material underneath you is soft: a bed, a mattress, with plain white cotton sheets.
You’re in a bed. In a bed, in a room with plain white walls. There is sparse furniture: two wooden dressers, a table, two chairs. There looks to be a folding door--a closet?--and two more doors, besides. 
Are you in a hospital? Did you pass out, and some kindly neighbor heard the thunk-thunk-thunk of your body and bags falling to the ground, then called for emergency services? It would explain the sparse room, although there’s no IV in your arm, no machines monitoring your heart rate. 
It would explain, too, what you’re wearing.
You’re not wearing the clothes you fell down in. Instead, you’re wearing a cotton nightgown, made from a thick but relatively soft material. There is lace on the collar, which is strange (but not impossible, your mind reminds you) for a hospital. Still. It makes sense. You pry away a thin comforter with still fuzzy hands and see that your shoes are gone; your feet are clad in only soft white socks. That, too, makes sense. You wouldn’t be put in a hospital bed with work shoes. That would be silly, and silly things did not belong in hospitals--which must be where you are.
Even though there are no IVs hooked into your arm, and no machines monitoring your heart and blood pressure and many more things, besides. Even though this appears to be some private suite, and you were sure that no hospital would put someone who fainted into a fancy room like this. You weren’t wealthy or notable, just a nobody who lived in a mediocre apartment and had a mediocre job and--
The door opens, and a doctor walks in. Or he must be a doctor, because who else would walk in wearing a tailored black suit and a face mask, if you had woken up in a hospital? Which must be where you were--despite all the confusion, and the strange details, and the fact that you had neither the wealth or status to be in a private room like this.
He stops when he sees that you’re sitting up. He must be surprised to see you awake, or perhaps he’s looking you over for signs of continued injury, because the way he stares is a bit unnerving.
You want to ask where you are, and what happened, and if anyone called your emergency contact. But your head still feels heavy, a little cottony, and all that comes out is--
“Um.” The word comes out all dry and croaked, and you’re suddenly aware of your dry, parched throat.
“I’ll get you water,” the mystery doctor says. He has dark hair and his voice is low, almost neutral. Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? Doctors probably had to practice speaking like that; like nothing was wrong, even if you’d clearly had some awful medical episode that required some sort of specialized care with a private room.
He steps away from the door he entered--locks it, too, and isn’t that strange?--and walks to the only other door in your suite. When it opens, you realize it’s a bathroom. Just as white and sterile-looking as the main area. There’s a squeak of a tap being turned on, and a rush of water, and before long he walks up to you.
Your heavy hands move forward to take the glass, but he takes one look at the trembling and tsks.
“I’ll hold it,” he says. The thought makes your stomach squirm but, he would know best, wouldn’t he? 
So you don’t protest when he raises the glass lid to your lips, and tips it back so you can take a drink. He doesn’t hold it there for long. Just long enough for your throat to feel soothed and damped. Then the glass goes away, and he sets it down on the nearby table before grabbing a chair and placing it near the bed.
He sits.
You stare.
Shouldn’t he be taking your vitals, or something? The thought comes softly. He’s not like any doctor you’ve ever seen. And this is not like any hospital room you’ve ever been in; even a private suite should have… something, right? An IV bag trailing into your arm, a heart rate monitor in case something went wrong. 
The sense of wrongness hangs in the air as he begins to speak.
“I’m glad you’re awake. I had to guess at your body weight, so I wasn’t sure if I had the correct dosage.”
Your brain feels heavy as you ask--
“The correct dosage…” Dosage, of what? “You mean, medicine?”
He blinks impassively at you. Then there are wrinkles around his eyes, like he might be smiling. 
“The sedative.”
The sedative? The sedative--
Memories come back slow, unwillingly, like dragging your feet through heavy gray slush in the winter. 
When you opened your apartment door, the kitchen light was on. The kitchen light was on and when you turned, there was something; no, not something. Someone. A man with no mouth--a mask--and cold eyes and there was a glint of silver before it plunged right into your neck.
This wasn’t a hospital.
The man in front of you wasn’t a doctor.
If you had been hooked up to a heart monitor, it would have no doubt gone haywire in the next moments, as you forced your leaden body to shove back against the wall, your trembling legs getting stuck on the cotton sheets of the bed. There was nowhere to go; the bed was pushed up against the wall and he blocked the only exit.
“You--you--” The words come out stuttered and tingling, like they aren’t even coming out of your mouth. “You kidnapped me.”
He eyes your sudden skittering with nothing more than a moment of raised eyebrows.
“I acquired you,” he corrects, as if that was a correction to be made at all. “To keep you safe. To keep you away from the filth.”
His words barely register as your breathing speeds up. You’ve been kidnapped. Kidnapped and redressed and taken to some bizarre room by someone who was clearly out of his mind. So you do the only thing you can think to do in an awful situation like this: you bargain.
“Please,” you say, and the dryness in your throat comes back and makes your words crack. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. If--if it’s money you want, I don’t have much, but I can--”
He raises a gloved hand.
“Please, this has nothing to do with money. I won’t be letting you go.”
You shake your head, like that matters. 
“Who are you?” You ask, not sure if you really want to know.
The lines around his eyes crinkle again.
“Chisaki Kai. That’s what you may call me, anyway.” He sighs, a soft, almost imperceptible sound. “Very few have the privilege of doing that, you know.”
You’d rather have your freedom than this thing he calls a privilege, but you don’t have the wordpower to voice that particular thought. 
Your fingers cling to the only thing they can: the cotton sheets underneath you. Tighter and tighter, until they almost feel like they’ll cramp up.
“Why did you bring me here?” There are tears in your eyes now, and you can see his gaze begin to follow them as they trickle down your cheeks.
“To protect you,” is all he offers, before slapping his thighs and standing up. “Now, it’s time to get up.”
A million awful scenarios rush through your head at once, leaving you feeling sick. What is he going to do to you? Is he going to hurt you? Kill you? Are you just one in a long line of people he’s brought to this room, all drugged and hazy, before he kills them and does who knows what with the bodies?
You shake your head.
He tsks from behind the mask. There are no crinkles around his eyes, now.
“Get up,” he orders. Softly, yes, but there’s a finality and firmness to his tone that makes your wobbly legs push towards the end of the bed as if you were an automaton. 
“Why?” You squeak out. If he’s going to kill you, will he tell you, first?
He turns around and repositions the chair so that it’s back at the table, and pulls out the second. His hands hover around you as he guides you on jelly-like legs to sit down. 
“It’s time for breakfast.” A simple answer, like you had met him on the street and asked the time. Like he didn’t just admit to drugging you and kidnapping you. 
“I’m not hungry,” comes the automatic answer. You’re not. Your stomach feels empty, but it’s wrenched; from fear and stress and gallons of adrenaline.
“You will eat breakfast,” he says, just as automatically. “You will eat everything on your plate, as well. I’ve calculated out the perfect nutrition for your needs.” There’s a bit of a smile to his voice, even though it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.
The wooziness in your body, the fresh horror creeping from your skull down to your toes, keeps you rooted to the chair while he briefly leaves. When he returns, he’s carrying a tray--it reminds you of a hospital tray, despite everything--with a modest amount of bland, healthy looking food on it.
Your stomach turns.
--
The rest of your day comes in awful little vignettes, all blurry black around the edges, only becoming clearer when he explains the rules to you. It’s an awful form of clarity.
He doesn’t call them “the rules,” but that’s what they’re meant to be, certainly. He lays them out so simply, almost sickly sweet. Like you’ve been brought to some boarding school and are getting shown the ropes.
The thought of ropes makes you feel sick. But he hasn’t tied you up, and that’s some small relief.
Or it would be, if it weren’t for the rest of those black-rimmed vignettes that fill up your day. 
When he picks out an outfit--a simple dress, a pair of clean underwear, and soft socks--and turns around, telling you to get changed. He won’t look, as long as you behave; as long as you don’t make a fuss.
When he shows you the dresser, the closet, the bathroom, the empty shelves. Tells you that if you behave, you’ll get rewarded; with books and paper and pencils. That the better you are, the happier you’ll be here, he says. Like you had any control over the situation at all.
When he makes you eat lunch and tells you to chew your food more slowly, more thoroughly. It helps with digestion, he says. You’ll get an upset stomach otherwise. As if you aren’t fighting the urge to gag with every bite you take--as if the reason you’re feeling queasy isn’t sitting in front of you with a mask on his face.
When you tell him, teary eyed, that you want to go home and burst into sobs but he merely waits until your hiccuping shoulders have ceased to move and tells you: “This is your home now. I’ll take care of you. Crying is only going to work you into hysterics.” 
When you refuse to eat dinner--your first act of rebellion, such as it is--and he simply sighs, leans back, and tells you that if you refuse to eat, you will go to the clinic and be fed through an IV.
“Would you like that?” Honey drips bitterly from each word.
You would, in fact, not like that. 
The spoon trembles when you lift it, but the soup goes inside your mouth, all the same.
--
“But why do you have to watch me?” The words come out dry and scratched. If you were home, you would brew yourself a cup of tea and drizzle in a modest amount of honey for good measure. You, however, are far from home.
“It’s my job to look after you.” Even if he wasn’t wearing the mask, you’d have no idea what he looks like right now, because you can only manage to stare at the tiles on the bathroom floor. Below you are your bare feet, feeling shakier than ever; above, your cheeks are burning so hot it almost hurts. 
“You don’t have to… I’ve always--what I mean is--I can do this myself,” is what you manage, fists clenching at the soft fabric of your dress. It felt flimsy enough all day--how much flimsier, then, if you were to pull it over your head and let him see you bared? 
“I’m sure you think that.” There’s something like a smile in his voice, and it’s a smile you hope to never see. “But the reason you’re here is that you can't take care of yourself. Now,” he says, with an air of finality. “Remove your clothing and step into the tub.”
There’s no room for argument. No room for pleading, no room to change his mind. There’s only one thing that you can do to end the situation, and that's to do exactly what he wants: take off your dress, your underwear, even your white padded socks, and sit in the clear water while he stares at your naked body. 
“I’ll turn around while you get undressed.”
It’s a wonder that you don’t burst out laughing. 
Instead, you fight back tears and look up, staring at the still back of the man who has turned your world into a frizzy, confusing mess in a matter of 24 hours. 
Despite the warmth of the water steaming up the room, you shiver. Your heart might as well be in your ears, for how well you can hear it pounding. That haziness from the morning returns, a sort of numbness as your fingers clench the fabric of the dress and you pull up, up, up, slipping it over your head and dropping it on the floor. 
The underwear takes longer to remove. So long that you worry he’ll turn around, and that’s what finally has you yanking the fabric down, has you stepping out of them and then--like an automaton cranked too tightly--rushing to step into the tub.
Water splashes around you as you settle, pulling your knees up to cover what you can.
He turns around and, of all things, kneels next to the tub. If he touches you--if he reaches for the sponge and tries to wash you--you think you’ll scream.
But his hands stay where they are, resting on his knee.
You look at his hands, and not his face. There’s nothing you want to see less than his eyes right now.
“Most people don’t know how to bathe properly,” he tells you, as if instructing you on something of high importance. And it probably is, to him. You can sense the beginning of some long speech, a list of things you must do in the bath, just as he gave you a list of things you must do when dressing, when eating, when everything.
“I know how to wash myself,” you mumble, feeling hot around the ears.
He doesn’t bother acknowledging you, and a further rush of shame flushes through your chest and threatens to jump out and migrate to the wobbling knees pressed against it. 
Instead, he points--you follow his hands, still unable to look anywhere else--to a line of cloths and brushes hanging from hooks on the wall of the tub. 
“They’re color-coded,” he offers, almost cheery. “Pink is for the initial scrubbing, to slough away the initial dirt and dead skin. Blue is for cleansing with antibacterial soap. Purple is for rinsing.” His fingers tap the brushes. “The same for the brushes, for your back.”
There’s a moment where you think he might actually grab the cloth and wash you, but thankfully, his hands return to their former position. 
A moment more--two or three, at least--and he clears his throat.
“Start with your legs. Most people do not scrub their legs well enough, and it leads to an excess amount of dead skin.” There’s a bit of distaste in his voice at the mention of dead skin. Your thoughts go to the gloves on his hands, the mask, the insistence on making sure you get clean enough in this tub of his.
You grab the pink cloth. Dip it in the hot water, and start scrubbing at your knee.
He clears his throat again, and your stomach drops.
“Put your legs down. Scrub under the water, so the dead skin doesn’t accumulate on the cloth.” 
No. No. No-no-no-no-no. It’s what you want to say, a simple word, a clear word.
But the word is stuck in your mouth, and you’re left with nothing to do but let your knee slide down, one, then the other.
He can see you. He can see you.
The thought makes the held-up tears finally come, bubbling out like soap. Something childish in you glances at him, then, hoping for pity--for disturbance, for him to wonder if perhaps he’s doing the right thing.
But the only thing you see in his eyes is a flash of impatience.
“If you take too long,” he says, over your sniffles, “the water will not be hot enough to disinfect. We’ll have to start over, at that point.” Start over and--would he want to take over, fed up with your clear incompetence? 
And so you get back to work, the colored-coded cloth scraping at your skin, and you can only hope you’re doing it well enough to avoid dragging out the bath any longer than possible.
“Don’t forget behind your knees,” he murmurs. Despite not looking at him, you can feel his eyes on you. Watching. Assessing. 
And that’s what he does: assess. Because the comments don’t stop, even as you move on to cleansing and rinsing and everything else he’s ordering you to do.
Wash this. Scrub that. Do it gently, do it harder. Use this soap and only one pump--don’t wash your hair like that, it causes breakage--let me test the water to make sure it’s hot enough. 
--
That night, on clean sheets, in a clean nightgown, with a clean body, you cry yourself to sleep. 
And in the morning, when you wake up, you’re still here.
And Overhaul still comes in through the door, breakfast tray in hand, a smile hidden behind his mask.
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dashitsxx · 10 months ago
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if only | various male characters x fem!reader | mha
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summary. Maybe leaving him wasn't the best decision to ever do.
genre. dark. explicit smut. nsfw. 18+
word count. 1.7k
characters. aizawa shota (eraserhead). chisaki kai (overhaul). takami keigo (hawks). todoroki touya (dabi).
warnings. dubcon/noncon. all in an established relationship. quirk au. vulgar language. cunnilingus (aizawa). rough fuck. penis in vagina sex. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. creampies. stomach bulge (dabi). manhandling. forcing. evident male dominance. yandere themes. possessive. obsession. mentions of killing (dabi). selfish behaviour. egoistic behaviour. indicated the use of quirk. breeding kink (dabi). praising (dabi).
disclaimer. Please note that this work is entirely fictional. It is not intended to condone, glorify, or encourage any form of violence, illegal activity, or harmful behaviour. All characters (credits to the manga artists), scenarios, and events are products of the author's imagination and/or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or real events is purely coincidental. The purpose of this work is to entertain and provoke thought, not to promote harmful behaviour.
notes. finally done with this! been itching to post this as quick as possible. i definitely didn't like how i wrote them but enjoy sluts, tried to make it spine-shivering as much as possible! reposting 'cause i found out that tumblr didn't kind of added it into the no. of my posts?? idk why
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shota aizawa (eraserhead) — If only you weren't clumsy enough.
Oh love. That was the biggest mistake you have ever made to him. Do you think that you could easily slip away from his sight? Oh my. How dumb of you. You may have a strong quirk but it doesn't surpass his level... and he'll make sure to let it stay that way.
A trembling shaking rattled on the bedframe as you arched your back from the pleasuring sensation. Pants and moans vibrate against the wall of the room. No matter how much you want to try to push the head away from your cunt, your hands prevented you from doing so as it is tightly tied by his binding cloth, whereas with each forceful pull you create, it suddenly stiffens its fabric.
You moan loudly as you squirm under his touch. "Stop moving," he ordered in a vicious tone. Then, a warm wet long stripe was placed on your cunt, making you hold your breath. A strangled moan left your lips as you attempted to break the cloth that was chaining you.
"I-I can't—ah! No, n-ngh! Ah! no, s-stop. Aizawa!" you exclaimed, panting in the process.
"I said stop squirming." he painfully held your hips in place as he halted his motion. Your eyes slide down to him as you find him with a raging fire, "You wouldn't been in this position if only you had been obedient to me."
Then he slowly rises from his position as he continue to glower down at you, "You know you can't escape from me, love."
You heard a rapid swish of fabric as you found your legs bound up in a lewd position, wide open for him. "N-not like this! A-Aiza—" A painful feeling slapped your pussy which made your back arch. "Shut up."
A sinful smirk slowly formed on his lips. Who would have thought that his fantasies would come true? He was thankful that you attempted to escape, but it still does infuriate if you wanted to leave him. He didn't like that idea, nor would he let it happen. Maybe... it is time to mark you.
Then, he quietly placed his hands on the middle of his pants before unzipping it. A look of fear and shock was evident on your face as you knew what it meant
"Aizawa! No, no, no!" you attempt to back away from the raging man, but he grabbed your thighs and pulled you down to him to let you feel his hardened cock with your bare vagina—you moaned at the sensation. Pride was evident on his face as he spoke in a possessive tone.
"I'll always find you, love."
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kai chisaki (overhaul)— If only you were fearless.
Darling, darling, darling. Why did you ever think that you would be able to escape from his grasp? He didn't do all those cheesy courtship with no purpose just for you to leave him. He did it all in his satisfaction to have you caged within him despite that you were a great benefit to the yakuza. Hence, you are his possession—and there is no way for you break free.
"Fuck—so... t-tight. Fucking tight." A deep growl emitted from his chest as he thrusts his fat cock into your gummy walls. You moan from your taped mouth and warm tears fall on your cheeks from the overstimulation.
A pleasured moan left his mouth as he stared down at you, a contemptuous smile was plastered on his face. You looked so pretty taking his godly size dick—it fits well with your pussy. Although he's been fucking you for who knows how many rounds, his rage hasn't been satiated yet.
The fact that you tried to leave him really fucking blood-boiled him. He has never felt this way after the heroes attempted to meddle in his business. Upon the thought entering his mind, his eyes darken immediately as he pushed the back of your thighs to your chest.
Your felt your eyes widen at a new sensation as your chest rose, heaving at the new position he put you into. It was the position you knew that would make you feel his size.
Feel him more.
You attempt to push his hands from your thighs with your taped wrists, but it keep slipping off from the body sweat formed. Then, he harshly flicked his hips onto you. Your body jerked as you felt the tip of his dick kissed your womb.
The smile remained on Kai's face as he leaned forward, "Feel that, darling? You're not dumb enough to know what it means." a chuckle erupted from his chest as he pulled out until his tip before slamming back deeply, making your body jerk again and a moan leaving your lips.
Then a sudden shivers crawled on your body under his, making his cock more slick from your cum. Kai lets out a short deep laugh before he slides his hand from your thighs to your clit, having one of your legs hanging on his shoulder.
You try to take in deep breaths as your eyes make contacts with his lust-filled ones. He tilts his head slightly with a naughty smirk.
"You can release one more, right darling? After all, you deserve this punishment."
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takami keigo (hawks) — If only you weren't slow.
Sweetheart, you knew that you could never outrun him—so, why did you still do it? You are one dumb girl with a mediocre quirk, but he still loves you. It's just that your stupid mind persuaded you to leave him. Says who? He gave you no order about that—in fact, you have no rights to step away. Once he laid his eyes on you, he knew that he had to fly and catch you.
"Ngh-ah! Fuck! K-Keigo!"
"That's it. Moan my name, sweetheart."
He grabbed your hips before pulling it to his hips with a tight grip, hitting your g-spot perfectly. You hiss at the sensation as you gently place your forehead on the wall, trying to catch your breath. Hawks continued to thrust in your pussy, but it wasn't the usual way he does. He never would have acted so rough to you if you hadn't tried to hide and run away from him.
It aches his heart to put you in this position, but you need to learn your lesson.
Pants and groans escaped his lips as he pushed you more to the wall, drunk in bliss. He snakes his arms around your chest, grabbing one of your tits to twist your nipples and waist to hold you—he wants to feel your skin. Only moans are emitted from you as you try to pull away from him while clawing his arms.
"Ah, ah, ah. Sweetheart, you'll only make it worse. Hah... s-shit. J-Just allow me–ngh–to fuck you like this," he pauses as he pulls his hips until his tip is in you before slamming it deeply to your cunt, you arch your back greatly as you moan—uttering curses beneath your breath. "You'll eventually like this..."
Yes, you will like this. He'll do anything to keep you and a good hard fuck may help him hinder your ability to walk and run.
Maybe, that is a good idea—it'll let him keep watch of you. The thought of that made him more aroused as he slowly quickened his pace. Yet, you were too fucked up in pleasure to notice the malicious intent your boyfriend had in mind.
But it's okay, as long as he has you—he'll do anything.
"Sweetheart, you know I am the only man for you, oh—ngh? Ah—fuck... hmm, right?"
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todoroki touya (dabi) — If only you were strong enough.
Dilly dally doll, such a beauty you are. Yet, you are such a fucking pain in the ass. You dare to escape from him—were you insane enough to consider that he'll never find you? Doll, you are wrong there. You have such a weak body with a weak quirk, he definitely doesn't want you to go to unknown places because he actually fucking cares about you. Maybe... there is another method to keep you by his side.
Deep grunts and vulgar words escaped the scarred lips of the villain as he gripped your plump sides, shooting thick ropes of white sticky liquid in your womb.
"Take it all like a good girl, doll. That's it." he licked his lips in satisfaction as he watched the erotic scene before him.
You look so pretty under him, just being a perfect cumdump for him. Although, he just hated your pettiness—who told you that you could leave him? Just because he accidentally put on a show of his ruthless killings of heroes in front of you, you had the nerve to escape. He is just doing his job, it's not really a big deal.
His eyes darken at the thought.
He pulled his dick out of your swollen pussy, letting the cum leak from your hole and giving a painful smack on your ass. A smirk forms on his face as he slides the leak sensually back into your hole, "That's the right place. Keep it in, doll. I really don't want you to piss me off again after that silly little stunt you've pulled."
You yelp in pain when you feel a stinging heat place on your clit as you comply with his order, carrying your body in a doggy position.
A boost of confidence fires in Dabi's core as he looks at your pussy clenching to hold his essence in you. But his ego wasn't the only one that fired in you, his huge cock was standing up again. He contemplates methods
Maybe, there is a way to let you stay with him.
Before you even attempted to get up from your bruising position, your face was suddenly pushed on the bed mercilessly, your ass at a higher height with an inviting pussy, and you felt a prodding tip in your entrance as it was gone in.
A loud moan from you echoed the room smelled of sex and sweat as Dabi let out a hiss to your tightness even if your mixed essence with his served as a lube.
"Touya! Wait, I-I just came!" you exclaimed, turning your head to the side.
A deep chuckle emitted from his chest as he snapped his hips against yours. You felt a protruding bulge on your belly when he snapped, jerking your body in reaction. His eyes held a purpose behind those lust and temptation as he leaned down, marking you with hickeys.
"I need to make sure that my baby mama doesn't waste a drop of my cum. I am certain you'll be a great mama, doll."
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all dividers are from @/cafekitsune, thank you <33
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ataraxiaspainting · 5 months ago
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The Floor is Breathing.
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Yan Overhaul x F Reader. 
Synopsis: You feel like both the witness and the victim in an uncommitted crime.
Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking/non-consensual recording, mentions of binge eating, and some infantilization.
Word Count: 1k.
*~*~*~*
You can swear that these white walls blink.
Something, somewhere here, has eyes that look you up and down – you feel its breath on the back of your neck when you fall asleep facing a wall, the only decorated wall you have ever seen in this facility, actually. 
You’re not crazy. You have to remind yourself day in and day out of that fact, but you’re not crazy; you know another living being is in here with you, watching attentively.
Overhaul – no, “Kai” is what he forces you to call him now, says that there are no cameras in your room, but your gut screams otherwise.
You asked if he was sure, once, two days or four days, or six days ago – it should still be recent as you did not feel as isolated as you do now – and he responded by saying if he really wanted to keep a closer eye on you, he would just become your new roommate.
You’re unsure as to if that was a threat. He seemed happy when those words came out of his masked mouth, so perhaps it was just some unfunny gest. He made those sometimes, especially when he tries to coax you into taking vitamins every mealtime. Those jokes were as dull as the light brown and white pills piled up in a little cup meant for dipping sauces. Perhaps it was repurposed or Kai had ordered some from somewhere or he has some restaurant under his control somewhere.
Somewhere so dirty and filled with sugar and oils and artificial coloring. You’d die for just a sniff of pizza being served at an all-you-can-eat buffet or deep-fried cakes being served at a pop-up carnival. If health inspectors didn’t approve of such spots, or at the very most give them a C rating, then Kai wouldn’t go within two blocks of them. Much less let you. You’d stuff yourself to the brim like it is your last meal and compared to the boiled chicken and rice and broccoli you were given daily, chips and cookies may as well be.
A call of your name makes reality come back faster than a slap to the face – and hurts just as much.
“I asked you something, sweetheart. What do you want to do today?” Kai asks.
He didn’t seem angry or irritated as he repeated himself. His voice was still soft and the way he taps his foot against the pastel pink heart carpet reflects that. Times like these almost make you wish you were deaf. The words feel rehearsed but also feel as though they are straight from the heart like the actor was passionate enough in reciting their lines or was grossly in love with the story of the show. 
“I don’t know,” Unlike Kai, you forget your script quite often – aside from that one saying.
“You don’t know?” He’s still smiling. You know it.
“No.” You murmur. He puts an elbow on the small white table, stabilizing his head with his gloved hand. “I don’t.”
“I have some ideas,” The feeling of dread makes your stomach drop. Or was it your heart? Lungs, perhaps? You don’t know how to breathe right now, after all.
“I… don’t know, Kai.”
“You said that already.”
For your sanity, you choose to look at your freshly remade bed instead of his eyes. The rabbit plush you were given on your third or so day here lays alone on top of your singular pillow. The bars surrounding the sides reminded you of a crib. You’re only allowed to put your legs over the railing when Kai comes to your room in the morning and you’re not allowed to get out by yourself; he grabs your hand to assist you.
“Do you want to know what my ideas are?”
You’re not allowed to say no to anything Kai suggests. It’s an unspoken rule, unlike the ones for your room. “Um… okay…”
“Well,” Kai begins, his other arm being laid out on the table. His palm is facing upwards and you know what that means.
Your hand moves towards his – you try your best not to flinch this time in response to his slight grip, but you fail.
Kai chooses not to notice it for now. Just a small treat for this morning’s hug.
“I was thinking we could go to my office. Just for a change of scenery.” His thumb moves back and forth across your knuckles. “We could bring your colored pencils or your book if you’d like. It’s still noon, so we have some time before your daily check-in.”
“Okay…”
*~*~*~*
You had opted for your book in the end, although you regret your choice now because two of the four walls in Kai’s office have windows, and just outside of them were uncrowded streets that lead up to small hills on either side. The hue of the grass was off – a dull brown – but considering it was about time for autumn to roll around, you didn’t judge. Not that you could, anyway.
Could you ask to go back and get your colored pencils? You attempt to dismiss the thought by imagining future possibilities. Kai seems to be working on his computer right now though, and the guards outside wouldn’t let you leave by yourself anyway.
To hell with it, you think. It’s fine. He won’t get mad. 
At least… you hope so.
You walk over slowly until you are nearly touching his left shoulder. “Can I please get my colored-”
It’s you, from different angles and at different times of day – even some videos of you before you were kidnapped. They are of you sleeping, of you eating, of you looking under your bed. They are of you putting on socks, of you microwaving dinner after a long workday, of you talking on the phone with friends for hours. They are long and short – you can see some of them even repeat. Oh fuck. Is there a camera in this room too, or-
Before you can continue analyzing, Kai slams his laptop shut.
“Go back to reading, sweetheart.” It’s an order – you know it from the way he does not blink and the way his arms cross. He didn’t want you to see his screen; that fact is as clear as a cloudless sky. “You can color another day, okay?”
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i-cant-sing · 8 months ago
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Yandere President Kai saying "I love you" to First Lady reader in private and these are her responses:
"Thank you?"
"As you should."
"M'kay."
"Nice."
"Everyone does these days."
"There are no cameras here to record you doing that."
"What did you do now?"
"I think Rihanna did too, but I lost her number."
"Stop being creepy."
"We already have 3 kids."
"No- its your turn to change the diapers- no! Not just Himiko's, you'll your sons diapers too!"
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^kai rn.
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touyas-multi-purpose-saline · 3 months ago
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DAY XVII. — MASTURBATION
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cw: Masturbation, Delusional Thoughts / Behaviors, Allusions to Stalking, Yandere, Obsessive Thoughts / Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Gender-Neutral Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!
author's note: Oh, how I adore you, virgin Overhaul. Yes, I definitely think he is voluntarily celibate. So imagine what happens when he falls madly in love. Also, yeah, I did the stereotypical didn't develop hives thing—what about it? I love fiction. Anyhow—I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.
word count: Approximately 1.6k words.
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A sharp gasp tears through his mouth. Kai winces, squinting his eyes so hard until they sting, prickles of salt and saline tickling their rims. His teeth grit, and Kai tries to catch his breath. Both eyes slowly reopen, bleary and foggy, and he stares down. 
His cock is resting loosely in his cupped hand, fingers not even fully curled around his shaft. Kai feels ridiculous the longer he stares down at himself, but he doesn’t feel ridiculous enough to tuck his cock away. He’s throbbing, painfully so, and he can feel the heartbeat of his blood thrumming against his skin. Kai shifts awkwardly, and the toilet seat squeaks in protest. The sound is a bullet, and Kai flinches before he sighs in frustration and carefully leans back until he lays against the tank. The crown of his head digs into the wall. Unbelievable. Kai can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s never done anything like this before. It’s filthy. It’s gross. It’s—
Kai swipes his thumb across his phone, unlocking it. He’s deft, tapping away until he pulls up his photos and locates a very specific album. There’s hundred of photos there. Hundreds. But he knows which one he wants. He knows exactly where it is. He wants this photo right now. 
There.
A photo of you fills the screen, blurry and almost pixelated. It’s not the best quality because of how close it’s zoomed in, but Kai doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t even really need to look at this photo, but it helps the illusion. Kai remembers this day, this hour, this moment. He can still clearly see it in his mind—everything, Kai remembers every little detail. It’s one of his favorite photos of you. That beautiful smile, the way your face scrunches up, the outfit you’re wearing, that cute litte pose, the way it seems like the whole world revolves around you—the center of Kai’s universe. This photo may be lost in the hundreds of you in this album, but Kai can’t stop thinking about it. He always comes back to this one. 
And the longer he stares at the photo, the heavier his cock feels in his palm. Kai shifts again, sitting up a little straighter before he slowly curls his fingers fully around his shaft. Another quick gasp leaves him, but Kai exhales noisily and bites the inside of his cheek to prevent any premature noises from escaping. Even though he’s never done this before, Kai doesn’t want to feel like an amateur. Whenever Kai has you, he’ll have to do more than this, right? He needs to practice now. He needs to make you feel good. He makes sure his grip is firm enough before he caaaaaaaarefully drags his fist down. Intensity shoots from his cock all the way to his brain, an explosion that sends his eyes rolling back into his skull and his head thrashing against the wall. Kai’s eyes blow out of his brain, and he pauses, fist resting at the base of his shaft. 
He can do this. It’s all for you—all for the pretty cashier who accidentally brushed his wrist, the one who touched him so softly; the one who didn’t send blistering hives across his flesh, bubbling. You’d touched him—touched him, and it was something he’d never forget. Even now, months later, the skin underneath your fingertips still burned like a fever. He was on fire, insane, and it was that memory that spurred his hand on. Kai gasps again, and he momentarily pauses whenever his fingers slide his foreskin over his cockhead but quickly continues. Your smile, those teeth, and Kai’s rolling his wrist down again. Each little gyration of his hand is quicksilver in his body, silver and lead poisoning, something spreading like a wildfire. His chest is tight, he feels tight, Kai is lightheaded and it’s only been three pumps. 
He’s been stalking you for so long. Kai sheathes his teeth through the inside wall of his cheek so that he can force himself to keep going. He’s rubbing himself as best as he can, groaning and moaning behind melded teeth. Up and down, but his thighs are shaking. His whole body is shaking. He’s imagining your touch, imagining how it would feel for you to wrap your fingers around his cock and slowly work him off. How much longer does he need to stalk you? Kai’s right hand shoots to his face, and the phone escapes his grasp and falls onto the floor, clattering embarrassingly loud, just to slap his mouth before it covers his eyes, massages into his brow line before it lids his mouth again. His cock is like a war drum, harder and harder, louder and louder, and Kai feels like he’s about to implode, about to plaster out, guts and grits and dregs splattered across the bathroom. He doesn’t want to wait any longer. 
His hips meet each pump of his hand now—it’s like clockwork, he can't control it. He’s panting, mewling for breath, and tears are brimming to life in his eyes. A few loose ones start trickling down the apples of his face, boiling, and Kai is whimpering behind his palm. The smiles of his nails slice the skin around his mouth, but it doesn’t ground him. Kai knows almost everything about you. There’s the strange pressure building up underneath his belly, and it’s almost too much for Kai to take. He can’t breathe now, he’s holding his breath, but he doesn’t even know why he’s doing that. There’s disease in his lungs, but Kai doesn’t care. Smoke, ash, and candle wicks, and it doesn’t stop the twisting, the cottonmouth in his belly coiling itself, pink mouth exposed. You probably don’t even remember that Kai exists. When he glances to the floor to see his phone, a few fat rivulets of tears drip onto its screen, fogging up the already mystical photo. Kai’s  stare is imploring whenever he starts to focus on it again. 
How would you have sex? Would you want to be on top or would you want him to be on top? Would you submit to him? Would he have to use toys on you? What sort of fetishes do you have? What about kinks? What places would be the most sensitive to touch? What places would make you moan the loudest? 
Kai’s cock is wailing now, banging its desolate body against the walls of its cage, and his fist is hammering himself in. That pushing, that tourniquet, soggy and dry, is spinning and spinning, and Kai’s starting to feel so dizzy and weightless. His fist is a mile a minute, aching and tense. 
Would you touch him until time ended? Would you never take your eyes off of him? Would you dedicate yourself to him like he would you? Would you beg him to hide you away from the rest of this disease-ridden world for your own safety? Would you only look at him until you died? 
Airy and whiny moans are tumbling out of his mouth, spilling over the edge and splashing to the floor. Kai feels so close, he doesn’t even know what close is, but he feels something, it’s imminent and impending, it won’t last much longer. 
Would you love him? Kai loves you, loves you, and only you. You have to love him back. He’ll make you. You’ll have to see what you do to him. You’d like his collection of you. You need to love him back. Kai wants to know what it’ll be like to have sex with you. He wants to know what it’ll be like to be inside of you for the rest of your lives. Kai needs it. Needs it. He’ll die without it. 
Kai needs you so bad that he can taste the desire on his tongue, and it only takes one sparing glance at that image of you, and only a tiny tug at his cock, and Kai is yelling. Everything in him fulminates, mushrooming out of control, and tremors seize his body. He’s cumming, Kai is cumming. And he’s whimpering, crying so hard and dipping his head down until his chin almost touches his collar bones. He’s trembling, white plumes squirting out of his cock uselessly, making a disgusting mess on the linoleum, but he can't concentrate on that. He’s staring at that image of you. He’s sitting there naked on a toilet in a bathroom, but you’re out there not with him. You’re not with him. You’re not here. He’s by himself, pleasuring himself, hidden away in a bathroom. 
Throes of passion and pleasure are melting through him, pillowing him in things he’s never felt before, but his reality remains true. 
You’re not his. 
Kai’s cock throbs again, desperate. 
You’re not his. 
Kai feels like his head is turning circles, on a carousel that won’t stop, quicker and faster, and it’s keeping his body suctioned to its agony. His fist never unfurls from his cock, and he starts pumping again. Harder. And his teeth make this terrible sound whenever they slide together, but Kai is staring at his phone and he bends forward so he can quickly snatch it back up, and his thumb begins madly flicking through the hundreds of images of you. He doesn’t even have a destination in mind—just you. 
You’re not his. 
Yet. 
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yanderes-galore · 1 month ago
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Overhaul from BNHA yandere alphabet?
Sure, I THINK I have his character down. I made you Quirkless in this.
Yandere Alphabet - Overhaul
(Quirkless! Darling)
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Murder, Blood, Violence, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Drugging, Stalking, Human experimentation mentioned, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.
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Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Kai doesn't typically enjoy physical touch with people. He finds most people on this society unclean due to their Quirks. However... When it comes to you, Kai feels different.
Kai would prefer a Quirkless obsession, be them born that way or their Quirk being removed by him. He views your Quirkless nature as clean and pure. He wants to keep you that way... away from all the rats.
Kai may sometimes show physical affection to his darling, but he still seems to feel cold at times. He feels okay to hold you since you are clean compared to the world's filth.
You're probably the only person he desires to touch.
Kai, as a Yakuza with a strong Quirk, would be an intense yandere. He isolates his obsession, as if the outside world would taint them. If anyone tried to change that, he'd have them killed.
He is not to be taken lightly.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Kai is not a messy person. He absolutely hates blood on his skin or clothes. However, that doesn't mean he isn't going to have people killed over you. He has pawns to do such a thing.
Meanwhile, he gets to hold his clean obsession while his pawns do the dirty work.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
You're very isolated. The only person you're allowed to see is Kai. For the most part you're treated well, kept in one room with him so he can make sure you aren't tainted.
His affection is brief and depends on his mood. It's strange how he hates touching anyone else, but with you he'll pull you onto his lap or hold you as you sleep. Sometimes he just... doesn't say a word.
Kai may mock you if you're fighting him or used to have a Quirk, claiming he's your savior. You shouldn't want to leave his hideout. You should be happy he cares and saved you from the world's filth.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
I don't doubt it. Kai treats you like any other interaction that isn't him will taint you. Your world is condensed to a small room where only he can have you.
He doesn't let you speak to anyone else, practically glued to his side.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
I don't think Kai is a vulnerable man most of the time. He only has brief moments of weakness. Most of his time with you he's calm and focused, although sometimes he appears nice.
I can see him being warmer in private with you. He has brief moments of vulnerability. Yet he's still self-centered.
You're his to own.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Irritated but he never seems to break his calm demeanor. He can be brutal, but since he seems to have access to medicine, there's a good chance he'd have you drugged if you fought him. He knows you can't do anything to him and have nowhere to go...
But this way also acts as a punishment to show your attempts at escape are futile.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
It's not a game to him and he gets irritated when his men report yet another escape attempt.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
I can think of a few since Kai has no morals. Drugging and experimentation for punishment comes to mind. But then again, the isolation and being forced to only see him can drive you mad too. All the murder is typically done out of sight... Unless he wants you to see it.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
He wants a world where there's more people like you. His main goal is obtaining that goal with you by his side. That way the world will be much safer for you both.
Other than that, he probably doesn't think about it, often focusing on the present.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Yes and he does lash out. He thinks no one else is worthy of touching you. If they did, he'll have them killed, and you sanitized (Aggressive bathing... hopefully that's all).
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Distant, Cold, Calm, Manipulation, Possessive, Selfish, Ruthless, Sometimes nice but it's hard to tell if it's genuine.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
I have a feeling if you were Quirkless he found you by doing research for experiments. If you had a Quirk, it's for a similar reason, except now he wants to purify you.
Honestly, maybe it's an odd curiosity of his... or maybe something drew him to you as he gained info on you....
Your first meeting is through him abducting you, unfortunately.
It's then he treats you like an experiment until he deems you perfect.
He wants to know why he likes you so much.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
He's sociopathic... It's hard to tell if he genuinely means his affection or just wants to own you.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Drugging, human experimentation may happen... If someone was trying to help you escape, he'll have them purged in front of you or force you to watch experiments.....
He can be downright brutal without touching you at times.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Under his care, just about every one. You belong to him.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
He can be patient until something sets him off I think.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
I imagine he would... but he only cares for a select number of people. You included. So, who knows, losing you could also just break him?
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
No and No. In his eyes he's saving you.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
I'm going to assume his past? If you were naturally born Quirkless, he's obsessed with that alone.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
He isn't the best with comforting so he'd leave you alone for a while. Perhaps in total isolation. If you want him again, beg for it.
He's all you have.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
SKIPPED.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
I don't think there is one except hoping heroes will save you.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Yes he would.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
Not entirely a worship yandere... but he does praise you for being Quirkless. How far would he go for you? He'd do almost everything to have you in his grasp.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
I want to say he watches you for months or maybe close to a year before striking?
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Yes he would.
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sweetdreamz2 · 3 months ago
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Twisted Sanctuary
Synopsis: once a distant acquaintance from your life outside, your worlds collided when you inadvertently uncovered his dark dealings. Kai takes drastic measures to ensure not only your silence but your safety.
Pairing: yandere! kai chisaki x f! reader
word count: 1.5k
content: power imbalance, elements of distress, forced feeding, kidnapped reader, coercion
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The dim light from the small barred window barely illuminated the sparse room. The scent of antiseptic was overpowering, clinging to every surface, and every sterile, white wall reminded you of the man who kept you here. Overhaul, or Kai, as he preferred you called him, was nothing if not obsessed with cleanliness and order, and this room reflected his twisted sense of control.
You sat on the cot, legs pulled to your chest, mind racing as the now-familiar echo of footsteps approached. It always sent a surge of anxiety through you, your pulse pounding as you prepared yourself for whatever mood he might be in today. 
Would he be cold and detached, or would you catch that unsettling flicker of affection in his gaze, the one that made you shudder? 
The door clicked open with a soft finality, and there he was, standing in the doorway. Kai was dressed impeccably, his suit perfectly pressed, his gloved hands clean and unblemished. The plague mask obscured his face, but you knew that behind it, his eyes were calculating, watching your every move.
"Good evening," he greeted, his voice smooth and measured. It carried an artificial politeness that you hated. He stepped into the room, his movements deliberate as he set down a tray of food on the small table besides your bed.
"I've brought you dinner. Your favorite."
You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling, jaw clenched as you fought the surge of helplessness rising within you. Memories of how you had ended up here flashed in your mind, fresh and unrelenting. You had first met Kai through a mutual connection in the underground—an ally who had vouched for you as a reliable healer and someone who could aid the Shie Hassaikai in exchange for protection. At the time, your association had been nothing more than a temporary agreement, a way to navigate the dangerous world of heroes and villains unscathed.
But it had all changed one fateful night. You had witnessed something you shouldn’t have—Kai using his quirk in the most brutal, inhumane way, tearing a man apart in a fit of rage. You’d frozen in place, your breath caught in your throat, and your horrified gaze had met his. It wasn’t just that you had seen him commit such a violent act; it was that he had seen the fear and revulsion in your eyes, emotions he couldn’t tolerate.
It all happened so fast and before you knew it, you were taken, stripped of your freedom and held captive in this sterile prison. He had told you it was for your own good, that the world was dangerous and filthy, that only he could protect you now. His obsession had grown from that moment, twisted and all-consuming.
"I’m not hungry," you muttered now, though your stomach growled in protest.
Kai tilted his head slightly, a sigh escaping him. "You need to eat," he insisted, voice soft yet laced with an undeniable command. "I’ve taken care to make sure the ingredients are of the highest quality. Nothing harmful, nothing contaminated."
Your gaze flickered to the tray, the aroma of the food tempting, but you steeled yourself. You would rather starve than give him the satisfaction of seeing you obey. 
He crossed his arms, his posture tense. He was getting impatient. 
"I’m not going to leave until you eat," he declared. "You’ll only make this harder on yourself."
A long, tense silence followed, each second stretching out painfully. You knew he was watching you closely, his eyes scrutinizing every twitch, every movement. The oppressive weight of his presence made it difficult to breathe, but you kept your jaw clenched, determined to stand your ground.
Minutes ticked by. He didn’t move, didn’t waver, just stood there with that unnerving stillness that made your skin crawl. Finally, he exhaled, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "Stubborn as always," he muttered.
You swallowed, fear prickling at the back of your neck, but you kept your expression defiant. 
"You can’t force me to eat. You can’t control everything about me,” you challenged even though your voice trembled near the end. 
Kai's patience snapped. He strode forward, closing the distance between you in a few swift steps. Before you could react, his gloved hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly and dragging you to the edge of the cot. You gasped, heart pounding, as he pulled you close.
"You think I won’t?" he said, voice dangerously calm. His grip on your wrist wasn’t painful, but it was firm, unyielding. 
"You underestimate me. I’ve gone to great lengths to keep you safe and healthy, and I won’t let your stubbornness put you in danger."
Your breath quickened as he reached for the tray of food. He picked up a spoon, his movements precise, as though he were handling a delicate procedure. Without warning, he brought the spoonful of food toward your lips.
You recoiled instinctively, eyes wide with panic. "No! Stop it—let me go!"
But Kai wasn’t deterred. He pressed the spoon closer, his free hand moving to grip your jaw, holding you in place. You struggled against his grip, but it was futile. He was far stronger than you.
“Open your mouth. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, little one.”
You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes as you continued to resist.
Kai's patience frayed further. "I’m trying to take care of you," he said, voice low and intense. "Why must you always fight me?"
With a swift, practiced motion, he forced the spoon into your mouth, ignoring your protests. You tasted the food—a blend of flavors that was somehow comforting and revolting at the same time. Instinctively, you clenched your jaw, refusing to swallow.
“Don’t be difficult,” he said, voice eerily calm. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
He pushed the spoon deeper, and you had no choice but to taste it. “Swallow. Do it, he ordered, eyes boring into yours.
You shook your head violently, tears spilling down your cheeks.
Kai’s expression darkened, and he pressed the spoon against your lips again. "You think you can win this battle of wills? You’re only prolonging your suffering," he said, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “Trust me, I will win.”
The food slipped inside as you struggled to hold it back. But he wasn’t giving up; he continued to press the spoon against you, forcing you to swallow.
"Just give in, little one. You’re only making it harder for yourself."
“Let me go!” you gasped, the food swirling in your mouth, your throat tightening as you fought against it.
"That’s not going to happen," he said, his voice unyielding. "You’re too important to me. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."
With every spoonful he forced into your mouth, a mix of anger and humiliation burned inside you. Each time you tried to turn away, he was right there, his grip unrelenting as he made sure you complied.
“You’re not in charge here,” he reminded you, his voice eerily calm despite the turmoil that simmered beneath the surface. “You need me. I’m the only one who can protect you from this filthy world.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you had no choice but to swallow the last spoonful, tears streaming down your face. He watched you with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, his eyes glinting with a fervor that made your skin crawl.
"There," Kai said, setting the spoon down and releasing your jaw, though he lingered close enough that you could still feel the weight of his presence. "That wasn’t so hard, was it? You need to eat to stay strong."
You turned your face away from him, the anger and humiliation swirling inside you like a storm. “You’ll never break me, Kai,” you whispered, voice trembling with defiance.
Kai’s expression softened for a moment, but there was something chilling about the way he smiled. “Oh, but I already have,” he replied, a dark edge in his tone. “You just don’t know it yet. But don’t worry, in time, you’ll learn to appreciate my care.”
As he stepped back, the door creaking open, you felt the weight of your circumstances more heavily than ever. The silence that followed his departure was almost deafening, pressing down on you as you struggled to catch your breath. The taste of the food he forced down your throat lingered, a bitter reminder of the depths of his control, as though it seeped into every fiber of your being.
You knew he wasn’t just determined to keep you here; he was fixated on breaking down every barrier, every ounce of defiance you held on to. The horrifying realization settled like a stone in your chest—Kai’s obsession wasn’t merely about keeping you safe. It was about possessing you, about making you bend, until every inch of your existence belonged solely to him.
The thought made you sick. You pulled your knees to your chest, clutching them tightly as if you could somehow shield yourself from the reality closing in around you. But deep down, the truth was sinking in, slowly and painfully—no matter how hard you fought, he would always come back, always push further, testing every boundary until there was nothing left of your will to resist.
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frickingnerd · 2 years ago
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call me your favorite, call me the worst
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pairing: overhaul / kai chisaki x gn!reader
summary: after kidnapping you, overhaul tries to train you, his precious darling, to final say those three little words to him...
tags: yandere!overhaul, overhaul training his darling to be obedient, angry!overhaul (trying to hide it), bratty!reader
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"say it! say you love me!"
chisaki stood in front of you, arms crossed and glaring down at you. you had been nothing but disobedient ever since you had gotten here. he had imagined you were the type to easily break and give in to his demands, but to even get you to the point where you'd stop screaming and hitting him whenever he entered the room was hard work! 
"no."
you didn't even look at him. chisaki was starting to get frustrated with you, but a small part of him was glad you weren't making this so easy. after all, if you had just followed his every command from the start, he'd have to worry if you would've done the same for any other man kidnapping you. 
"say it, brat"
"no!"
chisaki stepped closer and you immediately flinched. he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. 
"be good, darling. just say that you love me, alright?"
he hummed in his most charming voice, a stark contrast to his usual behavior. but you weren't buying it. 
"screw you..!"
chisaki glared at you and shoved you aside, before walking up and down the room quietly. you were starting to worry that he might be thinking of things he could do to you, but instead he stopped by the door and glared at you one last time. 
"i'll be back here tomorrow at the same time. you better start to behave by then, darling. otherwise you'll get to see me really angry!" 
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fluff-n-cookies · 5 months ago
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In that goddamn cell, his cage of steel. all that mattered was how scared you must be. he misses the days when you'd drag him out to the garden, your tiny little fingers that gripped his so tightly, so kindly. to show him a caterpillar. you're a butterfly now. but butterflies don't live long without the care they need. please. he misses his darling little butterfly girl.
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author notes under the cut
I fucking hate my life but oh well gotta feed you guys every now and then, don't worry, I'll post the Dabi fic part 2 just gotta overhaul my life goals and aspirations and my routine and my relationships and everyign haha bye.
ps. get it cuz' Overhaul and Overhaul omg I'm soooo funny.
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melancholymegumi · 1 year ago
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melody's current thoughts . . . 💭
being overhaul’s special test subject ♡ but, you've accepted your phase and had become more comfortable around them— bratty even.
content warnings ; little space , bratty reader , hari is your main caretaker , Kai experiments on you , diapers/pull-ups, piss , they put you and treat you like a baby in the car , you wet yourself on the carseat and Kai degrades you for it, reader is an iPad kid. nothing smutty just fluff ):< (ew)
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Hari was always the one who carries you, bathed you and buy you pretty toys! If, you've been good of course. He's also the one to let you hold plushies while getting absolutely tormented by Kai — Kai's against it, but let it slide as long as it doesn't interfere with the experiment.
I've always thought about this too— going somewhere far for a work trip with Kai and Hari, them forcing you to come along just to make sure you don't run away, they know you won't , but a precaution is needed.
Of course for the 5 hour long ride Hari had to put you pull-ups , maybe the ones with the pretty patterns if you're lucky. Kai also doesn't wanna admit it, but even if he's the “cleanest” he's still the dirtiest out of everyone. Forcing Hari to feed you more water and telling him to ignore you everytime you said you needed to go, soon making you wet yourself and degrades you for it. “I told you to be fucking patient and you couldn't even wait? I thought you said you were a big girl, maybe not. You're just a useless mutt who doesn't know how to follow orders and just wants to be pampered all day aren't you? Now poor Hari has to clean up your mess. Don't you feel guilty? Do we need to potty train you again?” and you're just sitting there crying , I mean how could you not? He was so mean for no reason! He was the one that ignored you.
Also, getting gifts for being good (2) !! It's nothing that you ever asks for though, you could be asking for a novel and he'll bring you back a dollhouse. After all , aren't you too little for that? Can you even read?
Hari also feeds you food. All of them are soft foods – and disgustingly healthy too. Porridge , oats , mushed up carrots even. Sometimes you get the good stuff— carbonara spaghetti (that he cuts into bite size pieces) , pancakes (with blue berries and less sugar syrup) all the good stuff. Snacks are a different story. You're only allowed to snack about 2-4 times a day, 5 if you're lucky. The snacks are always pretzels , baby carrots , veggie straws and apple sauce. All of the food that's mainly for toddlers.
If he feels nice, you could play on his iPad! Of course, Hari’s watching you if he's not there— only watching the shows he allows you to watch, and games that he approves of. The iPad had parental control too, which was always annoying. Don't let getting an iPad thru your head though— if you refuses to sleep without it, you'll be forced to sleep with a few melatonin gummies and the experiments will be done without any meds to take the pain away ♡
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after-witch · 5 months ago
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To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Title: To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]
Synopsis: The best laid escape plans of mice and men often go awry. 
Word Count: 2200ish
notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abusive behavior, drugging
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You’ve been planning. Bad, bad thing that you are--not that Overhaul knows about the planning. Not that he knows you call him Overhaul, in your head, all the while “Kai” bubbles from your lips like sweet candy.
Not that he knows that while you obey and nod and pretend to go along with it, you’re screaming, plotting, fervently dreaming about the day that you’ll get away from him.
That day is today, in fact.
All thanks to two things: your penchant for drawing, and his penchant for closing his eyes while you change into your nightgowns.
The drawing is what earned you the box of pencils. They’re nice pencils, middle-of-the-road when it comes to quality. Better than the cheap pencils schoolchildren get, but a seasoned artist might not work with them. You, though, are no seasoned artist. You’re simply a kidnapping victim who liked to draw in their spare time before all this, and after weeks of behaving, he let you have a box of pencils and paper to keep in your room when he wasn’t there.
Because you were good. Because he trusted you.
His mistake.
That pencil is sharpened now, razor sharp or something close to it; it won’t kill him, you’re not that naive. But you’re sure that you can jab it into his flesh enough to hurt, enough to send him to his knees long enough for you to rush into his office and get one of the knives he keeps in his desk. And that’s what will kill him. That’s what will secure his death--and your freedom.
It’s his mistake, too, that he gives you a hint of privacy now and then. When you get dressed, especially. In the morning, when you change; in the evening, when you shower, then again when you change into your nightgown.
The pencil would be useless, without that hint of privacy. Because it had given you the opportunity to slip the pencil from your shirt sleeve and, quick as a bird, slide it underneath the comforter before he took you to the bathroom to shower.
And here you were, sitting in bed with a hand tucked under the comforter and holding onto that pencil; skin scrubbed raw and smelling of sterile soap. Clean. Fresh. Ready.
He’s still turned around, and you put an earnest smile into your voice.
“I’m dressed, Kai.” Dressed and ready to never call him Kai again. Dressed and trembling,  fingers tight around the pencil, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
The perfect time comes when he turns around, eyes crinkled in what must be a smile behind his mask, and approaches to tuck your blanket over you. It’s a soft think--pink and sweet, like he wants you to be.
His fingers are smoothing out the blanket, his words forming some sort of soothing goodnight message, when your arm whips around and you stab the pencil straight into his neck.
The pencil makes contact, you think. But it doesn’t plunge into his flesh the way you imagined it would. It scratches--leaving a jagged quickly -reddening gash--and Overhaul falls to one knee, giving you only a second to scamper off the bed and flee through the doorway connecting your room to his office.
He’s not down for the count, you can hear his steps, hear him shouting something--your thoughts are all jumbled and when your trembling hands grip the handle of his desk and yank at the drawer, it doesn’t budge. He locked it, today. Or maybe it was always locked and you were too stupid to realize it.
There’s no time to kill him, no time to attack--you can only run. So you do, socked feet scampering towards the door of his office, hoping it led to some sort of escape route. 
The door doesn’t budge, and you stupidly shove yourself against it, feeling hot, useless tears streaming down your face. Everything happens too fast and too slow all at the same time. It didn’t work, none of it worked, and you’re left pressing your back against the door and watching as an extremely pissed off Kai Chisaki stalks towards you.
You’ve never seen him like this--hives breaking out on his skin, one hand clutching his neck, eyes practically bulging out in anger and betrayal.
A gloved hand reaches down to grip your wrist, yanking you upward with an uncharacteristic force. You were delicate, a doll; an ornament to be cared for and cleaned. Or so he said, with words and actions. Which is why the tight grip, so harsh you wonder if your bones might snap, comes at you like a bucket of ice water.
“There will be consequences.”
The words are spit out, and your mind supplements the image of wispy saliva hitting the inside of his mask, a bitter poison. No sooner than he warns you, he grabs your arm, gloves slipping on your skin as he tightens his grip and yanks you upward.
Instinct tells you what he’s going to do, and your body tries to turn to lead, but there’s no escaping his grip in the moment. He drags you over to his desk and you see the inside of the drawer he pulls open--all manner of syringes and bottles and you already imagine a needle sliding into your skin, turning you to jelly.
It’s not the needle he grabs, but the handcuffs. And that makes your stomach twist worse.
The moment when you’re dragged back into your bedroom and tossed harshly onto your bed blurs over the next few hours. You will remember the feeling of hitting the mattress, the awkward way your arm bent as he held it down and snapped the cuff over your wrist and then over the pole of the bed. You will remember your heart pounding like a rabbit.
But you’re not sure exactly what Overhaul said--or if he said anything at all--or if you did anything but cry. Did you beg him not to hurt you? Did you tell him to fuck off? Did he tell you to go to sleep, or was it an implied command? 
It’s hard to say.
You’re not even sure if the later sound of hot steaming water from his office bathroom, the image of him scrubbing his skin where the pencil scraped it, is real or imagined. 
Sleep does not come for hours and when it does, you have a horrid nightmare of a large, unfathomable monster sitting on your arms, keeping you immobile. 
--
“You’ve lost the right to move without permission.”
There are many things you imagined Overhaul might do to you. You thought he would toss you back into that horrid room with its white walls and stripped toilet; or cut your meal to miniscule rations, to teach you to be grateful. Or make you sit in the damned clinic of his while he tested your blood to find some practical reason for your rebellion.
You didn’t imagine he would cuff your hands behind your back, and keep you on a chain that kept you leashed to the bed. It wasn’t even long enough to walk around the room, not that there was much to do anymore; when you woke up the morning after, your books, papers, pencils, had all been stripped away. 
It was a wonder he didn’t take the shelf with them.
“They will come off,” he says, gesturing with his hand towards the chain and cuffs, “only if I permit it. At meal times.” He pauses. “And bath time.” 
What relief might have come with the thought of being alone in the bath--those sweet moments of privacy--dissipates a few minutes afterward, when he leads you, hands uncuffed and sore, into the bathroom.
Only he doesn’t, as usual, usher you inside and give you privacy to change and wash yourself. He doesn’t even turn around. He simply stares at you, until anxiety forces you to speak, your voice a squeaky whisper.
“Aren’t you going to…” The full sentence doesn’t come. Aren’t you going to leave? Let me get undressed? Look away? 
He only blinks at you. 
“No.” The word is short and clipped and awful in its simplicity.  “You might try something. You’ve lost the right to privacy.”
Heat rises to your cheek and awful bile claws up your throat with it. He can’t--he wouldn’t look; that is one thing he never did, despite all his hovering and controlling. 
He must catch your thoughts, because from behind the mask comes an almost throaty murmur. “I’m not base. I’m only watching to make sure you don’t do something dangerous to yourself or others.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Don’t trouble yourself about that.”
Oh, but you do trouble yourself. Your hands shake as you pull off your nightgown, smelling of sweat from last night’s activities, and fold it carefully on the countertop. Shame crawls inside your stomach and you cover yourself as best you can, shifting positions as you step into the tub. 
Your hands reach instinctively to draw the curtain behind you, only to realize that the curtain that you usually pull for your showers is gone. 
“Take a bath,” he says, simply. “Until you’ve earned the curtain back.”
Something low rumbles in your stomach and you know it’s not hunger. Slowly, you lower yourself down into the tub, pulling your knees to your chest to cover as much as possible. Because he’s still just--staring at you.
He stares even as you turn on the water and begin to fill the tub and wash yourself, quickly as can be, with hot water and soap. Showering usually felt good; it was like taking away a layer of invisible grime that built up around him. But with his eyes on you the entire time, it’s like the grime sticks to your skin, no matter how much you scrub. 
The lack of commentary on your nakedness is somehow just as worse than his gaze upon it.
--
Life, such as it was, quickly turns to shit. 
Overhaul keeps you chained to the bed unless he’s in the room. And even then, there are times where he insists you stay cuffed or leashed to the bed like a wayward dog. 
“You can’t be trusted on your own,” is all he says, if you ask him about it. 
He doesn’t look away when you get dressed. When you bathe. Even when you go to the bathroom.
When you protest too much, when you squirm and kick at the chain and pull your hands harshly against the cuffs, he merely threatens to gag you; to tighten the chain; to leave you cuffed when you bathe and eat, which means he’ll be the one doing the scrubbing and the feeding.
You stop fighting, after that. The threat hits your chest hard and you’re forced to accept the new routine.
That’s what it is, after all. A routine. 
You accept it for what it is--life, now. A new reality.
It’s your new reality that you sleep in soft nightgowns with a cold chain around your ankle and a cuff on your wrist. It’s your new reality that Overhaul stands and stares while you bathe, taking in your body and occasionally critiquing your washing technique. 
It’s your new reality that you have no such thing as privacy, no such thing as softness or entertainment or the quiet enjoyment that comes (however unbidden) from reading your books in the afternoon or drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. 
Now, you have only yourself and Overhaul and the basic functions of life. 
--
“You’ve been behaving,” he remarks one day. A simple compliment for the simple act of no longer fighting against the cuffs, no longer tugging at the chain around your ankle. 
It’s true, though. You haven’t fought. Or argued about the new rules. And you haven’t so much as thought about another escape attempt. The last one was so futile, and look where it got you? Chained and stared at, like an animal in a zoo; hardly worth the effort.
But–but, but, but. When you go into the bathroom that morning, the shower curtain is back.
He doesn’t turn around when you change, and it doesn’t bother you because, after all---it’s a start.
And that night--
“The handcuffs will stay off,” he tells you mildly, locking the chain around your ankle, “if you continue to behave.”
You do behave.
The next week, it is the chain that will stay off--if you continue to behave. And you strive to behave, because the thrill of being able to properly toss and turn and curl up in bed is worth it. And it’s not as if misbehaving got you anywhere before, did it? 
And one blissful morning, you wake up to find your books returned. Your papers. And--not pencils, no. Large crayons, the kind you give to children. Still, still, it’s something.
You swear you can see his smile from behind the mask as you marvel at them, thinking of the ways you’ll be able to occupy yourself with the bright, waxy colors. 
“These will remain,” he says, “if you continue to behave.”
And you do--
You do behave.
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narumi-gens · 8 months ago
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Triptych | "You left me alone."
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Chisaki Kai x f!Reader
summary: Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.
chapter warnings: 18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, yandere, angst, imprisonment, emotional manipulation, emotional/psychological abuse, depression, reader stops eating, codependency, abandonment issues
notes: this is from a non-chronological series so the parts can be read in any order (or on their own). shoutout to the anon who asked me a very long time ago when their "husband" (triptych) was "coming home from war" (unofficial hiatus). he's back, bb!
words: 1.5k
SERIES MASTERLIST
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The End
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It’s hard to gauge time in the darkness. With no window to keep track of whether it’s day or night, the only way to track the passage of time is by the three daily meals that are left for you by a masked and silent guard. When you were first locked away, it was easy to count the meals and thus the days.
But as the days and the darkness and the isolation stretch on, your grasp on reality begins to slip. It’s difficult in the blackness to tell if your eyes are open or closed — if you’re sleeping or if you’re awake. Is this meal the first of the day or the second? Maybe it’s the third. 
The longer you spend in this room, in this cell, the more you can feel the life slowly draining from you. Eventually, you stop eating, your appetite fading altogether along with your will to keep fighting. 
Your faceless, nameless guard brings you a meal, only to take away an untouched one. You don’t know how long this goes on for. All you know is it doesn’t take long for your body to feel as fragile as your mind. 
Until one day, when the door to your prison opens and the figure holding a tray and standing in the doorway, backlit by the light from the hallway — the only light you ever see anymore — isn’t your usual guard. 
Despite the way your heart races at the sight of someone new, someone familiar, you remain still, too tired and weak to move even if you wanted to. All you can do is look at him with eyes squinting from the sudden brightness. 
“You’re not eating,” Kurono points out needlessly from the doorway. You can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. How long has it been since you’ve heard a voice other than the one in your head?
You watch in a daze as he walks toward you and sets the tray down on the table beside the twin-sized bed that you’ve been curled up in since you were first put here. The scent of your lunch, or maybe it’s dinner, reaches your nose and while your stomach reacts with a deep pang of hunger, you still feel no real appetite to actually eat what Kurono has brought you. 
You glance at the tray and see a shallow bowl on top. It must be a broth, something easy to digest after days — has it been days? — of eating nothing. When you look back at Kurono, you find that his head is tilted down in your direction. With his mask covering the entirety of his face, you can only assume that he’s turned his attention fully to you. 
There’s an unfamiliar sense of longing deep down inside of you. You wish he would take off the stupid mask. You’re desperate to see another person’s face.
“How-” you’re cut off by a small cough, your throat dry and scratchy, unused to speaking after so long spent alone in the dark. “How long have I been here?”
Kurono stays silent, refusing to answer your question. Against your will, tears begin to blur your vision from how much it hurts to be ignored by someone you know so well after having been locked away by yourself for so long. You must look pitiful because he softly sighs.
“You need to eat,” he says and even through your haze, you can hear his weariness. 
You wonder if he’s truly concerned or if he’s just tired of the irritable mood that Kai has surely been in since he put you here. But as you continue to stare up at him, you decide that it isn’t a fair assumption. For as long as you’ve known Kurono, whatever’s important to Kai is important to him. 
And apparently, there’s nothing of greater importance to him than you. Except for one thing…
“E-Eri,” you breathe out, a new type of desperation taking hold. “How’s Eri? Is she safe? Is she okay?”
They’re all stupid questions. Of course she isn’t safe. Of course she isn’t okay. She won’t be safe until you can take her far, far away from the Hassaikai and Kai. 
“If you don’t eat, Eri will be the one to pay.” The words are Kai’s even if they’re coming from Kurono, and they cut just the same.
Your next question escapes you before you’re even able to fully process it.
“Where’s Kai?” you rasp and you should feel embarrassed. You should feel ashamed for asking after the man who’s torturing a little girl, who incapacitated your father, who locked you away in the dark for what must have been weeks by this point. 
You should feel ashamed for asking after the man who’s been quietly controlling you and isolating you and manipulating you for your whole life. 
But you’re just so lonely. You would give anything to be free of the darkness.
Right now, you want nothing more than to see Kai, and the realization has a single tear finally escaping your eye and rolling across the bridge of your nose
“Kurono,” you weakly plead with a pathetic sniffle when he doesn’t answer you. “Hari…Where’s Kai?”
The use of his given name seems to soften his stony demeanor because he gives another quiet sigh.
“Eat,” he says, gentler this time, but you’re already beginning to spiral. The small hint of kindness he’s shown you, even when it’s dripping with pity, is too much for you to handle when you’ve been isolated and alone for so long.
“Please, tell him I don’t want to be here anymore,” you cry. You squeeze your eyes shut in a futile attempt to hold back your tears as the pillow beneath you quickly turns wet. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
The feeling of a warm hand on the side of your head has you opening your eyes back up to find Kurono now kneeling down at your bedside. His mask is held in his other hand, allowing you to see the slight frown on his lips as he watches you cry.
“You’ll feel better if you eat something,” he assures you and you want to protest, to continue to waste away into nothingness, but you remember Eri. 
Eri, who’s suffering, who’s being tortured, who will pay the price should you keep refusing to eat, who will truly have no one on her side if you disappear.
And so, after looking up at Kurono for a long moment, you weakly nod. It’s his steady hand that helps you sit up, holding you carefully but firmly when you feel lightheaded. Once he seems to think you’re no longer at risk of collapsing back onto the bed, he releases you to bring the tray to your side. 
Then, as if you’re nothing more than a child, he raises the bowl and brings a small spoonful of the broth to your chapped lips for you to sip. Anger bubbles in your stomach and you feel the urge to shove away the spoon, the bowl, and Kurono for the infantilizing behavior. 
The anger is almost a relief, letting you know that you’re capable of feeling something, anything, other than despair. But again, you think of Eri and swallow the broth without complaint. Just as you do when he gives you another spoonful and then another, eating what you’re given until you’re full, which admittedly doesn’t take too long. 
He gives you a soft smile before putting his mask back on, picking up the tray, and leaving you alone in the darkness once more. He doesn’t visit again, but the meals continue to show up on their usual schedule, three times a day, evolving from broths to more nutritious food once your stomach can handle something more. 
But one day — you’re not sure how many days later — instead of waking up to a meal, you open your eyes to find Kai sitting on the edge of your bed, patiently watching you. 
There’s a part of you that thinks you’re imagining his presence, or that maybe it’s a dream, until he places a glove-free hand on your cheek. His touch is achingly familiar and you’re overcome with self-loathing at how much comfort it provides you.
“Kai?” you breathe, tears of relief blurring your vision. His thumb gently brushes away the first one that escapes. Your own hand comes up to cover his where it cups your cheek, desperately and pathetically clinging onto him in a wordless plea for him not to let you go. 
“You said you’d never leave me alone, but you did,” you start to cry. “You left me alone.”
He lets you weep, his thumb continuing to swipe away the tears that he can catch with a touch that both burns and soothes. He offers no explanation or words of consolation, silently and calmly watching as you fall apart before him. 
It’s only when your sobs have started to die down that he encourages you to look back up at him with his touch.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he finally asks.
All you can do is move closer to him so you can bury your face in his lap as a fresh wave of tears comes over you. 
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i-cant-sing · 11 months ago
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Thinking about that tiktok about the girl being all sad about her parents dying one day and stuff, and I'm just thinking about Yandere President Overhaul AU, the toddler triplets are just sitting around with reader (who's heavily pregnant and snoring on the couch, a little drooling too) and Tomura suddenly realised that you could die- be it by pregnancy or talking to other people- ANYTHING could kill you.
And now Tomura is about 2 seconds away from having a full blown meltdown, and Dabi and Himiko are just trying to calm him down (and give your poor self a break and not wake upto 3 kids shrieking and crying).
Himiko: can you like- not freak out? Mom's not going to die-
Tomura, snot and tears: maybe not now! B-but who knows when?! Maybe- maybe it's today- or tomorrow- or when we're asleep! What are we gonna do w-without her?!
Dabi, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest: stop being such a baby, Tomu. If mom dies, we'll just- go with her.
Tomura, stops sniffling: what?
Himiko: dabi... that's a brilliant idea! Oh my gosh, we can use my knifes!
Dabi: of course its a brilliant idea, I'm the oldest. I'm smart like that. *pats Tomuras head* see? I told you we have nothing to worry about.
Tomura, wiping his tears away and nodding: you're right. Wait, what about dad?
Dabi: we are not inviting him. He's not coming with us, he hogs mom all the time!
Tomura, eyes twinkling: Dabi, you're a genius.
And the kids all just gather around their poor innocent mom, who's just content when she wakes upto her 3 menaces sleeping away in her arms. Meanwhile, Kai (who's been listening on to the triplets convo because ofc he has the whole place bugged.) is just thinking in his office... "what the fuck? The kids are just gonna kill themselves when Y/n's not around anymore? What- how- why didn't I think of that first? Also, why didn't Himiko stand up for me? Won't she invite me along when they all go? Is she still mad at me for not getting her a pet octopus last week? What was I supposed to do when her mom said no?!"
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shini--chan · 15 days ago
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Yandere My Hero Academia Concept 1#:
One of the reasons for keeping you in a sterile enviroment next to his mysophobia would be to degrade your immune system. Overhaul would refuse to really keep you up to date on all your vaccines and every little illness would be immediatly treated with all the medicines needed to get rid of the sickness swiftly and without making your immune system really work.
That way, in the event of you escaping, you wouldn't get far. You would become ill so easily and so severely that it would be so easy to track you down and bring you back into the fold. Chisaki would really just have to check the local hospitals to find you.
Afterwards, he would chide you, and would explain that falling ill would be your divinely given punishment for defying him. If only you'd stay by him and obey, then he'd always ensure that you'd be clean and healthy.
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touyas-multi-purpose-saline · 3 months ago
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DAY IX. — FORCED ORGASM
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cw: Forced Orgasm, Violence / Allusions to Violence, Weapons / Use of Weapons, Murder / Reversed Murder, Blood, Traumatic and Graphic Descriptions of Death / Dying, Overhaul Being an Asshole and Desperately Angry, Sexual Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Yandere Undertones, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!
author's note: I think that if Overhaul had a lover, he would not be very kind in the sense that he would be a little too unstable to view everything you do in the right light. I.E., good luck, he's delusional and jealous. Also, he would definitely threaten to use his Quirk on you. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.
word count: Approximately 1.2k words.
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The bed isn’t as comforting as it should be whenever your knees and palms slammed against its plush expanse. A shocked gasp warbles in the back of your throat, but it’s immediately stifled by a frustrated growl accompanied by a hand connecting to the back of your head. Kai’s voice is like poison to your ears whenever your face collides into the bed. 
“What was that? Were you trying to be cute or were you trying to piss me off?” 
You attempt to respond, but Kai’s hand keeps your face buried in the covers. It’s getting harder to breathe, but you don’t struggle. No, if you do that, you’ll just make him angrier. He clambers onto the bed with you, one leg folded to support his weight while the other dangles off of the edge. You can feel it—he likes to hold you in this position whenever you’ve done something ‘wrong.’ 
“He was so annoying. The way he laid his filthy hands on you is just driving me crazy. I hate it!” 
Kai’s fingers braid through your locks before he clenches and rears your head back roughly. You cry out, agony igniting in your veins and shivering down the wisps of your blood, but Kai doesn’t falter. He just pulls you into his lap, his free hand immediately diving down in between your legs, seeking, fondling. 
“I’ll never let you go out with me like that again. What kind of bait wants to get dirty with their target? I can’t believe you would cheat on me like that. Damn!” 
It’s better to close your eyes and let Kai rant, to let those claws slice down your thigh. A couple of them snagged against the holster strapped around it—the one hidden underneath your skirt, just a backup in case you needed to protect yourself on these sorts of heists. He rips it off without a care in the world, as if he doesn’t care there’s a loaded weapon in there. Kai lets the gun dangle by its strap for a few long and heavy moments, breathing so hard that you think he’s panting, that he’s not even sucking up oxygen, it’s just a reflex. You crack one eye open, vision carefully sliding over to watch the gun sway. The hand in your hair drops down, swooping underneath your arm before his fingers cup your jaw harshly. 
“Why are you always flirting with other men? Is there something wrong with me? Do you not love me? I don’t understand. Tell me why you cheat on me.” 
I’m not, but you don’t say that. 
“N-No, there’s nothing wrong with you, K-Kai. I was just trying to—to butter that guy up, I swear.” 
The holster clatters to the bed, loud even in its muted silence. And it happens so fast, but Kai’s hand is a falcon, and suddenly something hard and cold pressed into your temple. You gasp in genuine terror, both eyes open and unfocused, and you home in on the object digging into you. The gun. Kai has the gun against your head right now. Are you breathing? Is this real? Surely this can’t be happening. It’s so chilly—when did the room start darkening? Shadows splatter against the wall, you can’t breathe. Holy fucking shit, you can’t breathe. He’s delusional. What. What did you do? That guy’s face flashes in your mind—what was his name again? He was so unimportant to you that you can barely remember the finer details of his appearance. Kai was jealous of him—of that? You swallow, but all that comes up is frothy milk. 
“Prove it. Touch yourself for me. I want to hear you moan my name. I want to hear you beg and apologize while you finish. Now. Do it now or I’ll pull this trigger. Don’t make me. I don’t want to have to punish you, angel.” 
Tears are welling in the corners of your eyes, lip trembling, and you slowly start to slide a hand down your belly until it’s bunching up the fabric of your skirt and slipping down your mound. 
“K-Kai, I—Please, listen, I didn’t mean to upset you. I—” 
The gun’s gravity sucks in. 
“Too late. You’ve hurt me, so stop stalling and make it better.” 
Your fingertips roll down until they catch against your clit, flaccid and still. You’re not aroused in the slightest and the gun against your head serves as a reminder of impending doom—and you can’t get hard with that, you can’t get wet, you can’t feel any heat pool down your tummy in the delicious kind of way that makes you want to pleasure yourself. 
“Please, please, Kai. It’s not what you think—he—that guy doesn’t matter to me, I was trying to help you—I just wanted to help, I—Kai, I love y—” 
Thundering echoes rumble throughout your head. It’s a kind of ache that feels like a pinch, but a needle that doesn’t know when to stop piercing the skin. Deeper and deeper, there are cries in your head. Silence and ringing, some sort of pressure, sinus, allergies, fireworks, firecrackers, altitude. Fuzz and haze flashes before your eyes, some sort of smoky and mystical summer day that hangs in the distance of an incoming twister. Your eyebrows pinched together. Time is pausing, so slow, like a falling tone of music that keeps building the bass. The reverberations. And on the other side of your head, an explosion. You don’t even have time to scream, but the pain you feel is nothing human. Papercuts, lemon juice, fire, acid, car crashes, broken bones, knife gashes, decapitation, drowning—all at once and yet not at all. 
It feels like it just goes on and on, a light at the end of the tunnel that beckons but never quite reaches its hand out, at the spinning and feverish shudders wriggling underneath your flesh, and then—it all sucks back in. 
You blink. 
Kai is hyperventilating. A few wet droplets hit the back of your neck. He’s crying. 
“N—… Next time I won’t put you back together. Hurry up, come on, I need it. Come on, angel!” 
Your fingers are rubbing your clit in quick jerks now, up and down, side to side, pressing down and twisting in all of the right ways. You think you’re moaning. They shake in the back of your throat while your thighs clench. You stare at the wall. Your chest is tight, heart frozen in ice and quicksand. 
“I’m sorry, Kai.” 
A moan punctuates your statement, but there’s no emotion behind it. You lean back against him, unaware of anything. His chest heaves and tickles you. It’s so good. Proper, sturdy, and you’re bucking your hips up while you chase your high. It’s there, building, and you start gasping. 
“I’m really sorry, Kai. I love you, Kai. I want you, Kai. I only need you, Kai. I need you to forgive me, Kai. Kai. Kai Kai Kai Kai kai kai 
Something pops inside of you, cream and sobs that choke you and you’re left decaying in Kai’s arms. 
The gun still against your head. 
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lesinquietes · 1 month ago
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As Doctor!Kai anticipated, it’s the end of the month when your treatment comes to an abrupt climax. He explains that his careful ministrations worked. Your body is healing well. He cautions you about going back to farming, however; he understands that it’s your primary source of income, but you can never overexert yourself again. You don’t want the symptoms to return, do you? Not when you so narrowly escaped your demise this time. Had he not come along, you might have dropped dead one day without knowing what hit you.
Horror washes across your pretty face. Of course — like the good girl you are — you offer him thanks for his diligence and compassion during the course of your flare-up. He smirks beneath his black medical mask. He’ll never grow tired of hearing you worship him.
You tear up. If not farming, what? Your home in the fields is all you have, and being in the outdoors, working for an honest income, is all you know; anything else is foreign to you. Your savings are nearly depleted. Soon, you’ll be forced to sell your place. You don’t know what you’ll do. Fortunately, the friendly physician provides a surprising recommendation.
“You could be mine.” He suggests nonchalantly, successfully concealing that your love would mean the universe to him. “We’ve gotten to know each other quite well this past while, haven’t we?”
There’s a reason he acts as though he’s indifferent to your answer; it’s because he doesn’t know how much it’ll hurt if you reject him. He isn’t the type to show weakness, and thus, he won’t be direct with his desire to have you. You’ll have to want him. That’s what his scheme was all about, wasn’t it? Priming you to crave his touch, to ingrain his image into your mind, and to make you believe you need him. The moment of truth is here. Was his plan effective?
You’re a little hesitant. Isn’t he your doctor? At the same time, he knows your body better than anyone — even yourself — and there’s no denying your attraction. It’s evident that you would be taken care of. Based on his caretaking, he has the propensity to be a good husband. And his pay check, alone, would ensure you aren’t on the streets.
You’ll miss farming… but if you really have to give it up, this is your next best option.
You ask him if it would be okay to marry him, eyes glued to the floor. Embarrassment floods your chest cavity. You’re nervous he’ll take it back, and you’ll look like a fool. He doesn’t, though. He takes your reply seriously.
“Of course I am.” He says. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if you’d be a bother.”
Kai clasps your hand and brings it up to his face. He inspects your fingers. He’s going to buy you an engagement ring as soon as he gets into the city, before he takes you to meet his grandfather. He can’t have you without a sparkling gem, now, can he? No self-respecting yakuza leader would leave his woman unmarked.
Men can be savages. He’s seen leaders brand their wives with tattoos. He’s seen them impregnate their wives endlessly — a symbol that their bodies are no longer their own to control. And he’s seen them kill their wives for the mere thought of defiance. He will do none of these things. Although capable of violence, he won’t resort to using cruel tactics with you. Having done preliminary work to shatter your mind, he doesn’t need the perceived safety net of aggression. An engagement ring is enough to make your heart soar and keep you by his side. Finally, someone wants you.
Yes, and he’ll keep you forever.
He presses your knuckles to his lips. Although his mask covers the kiss, you find the gesture entrancing and intimate. You tell yourself you e made the right choice. You bagged a doctor. Not just any doctor, either; a compassionate one. You convince yourself that you’re set for life.
You have no idea what’s to come, what awaits for you in the cold, bustling city.
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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲
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