#yandere chisaki

[heroes-among-us-all]

INFATUATION - Yandere!Chisaki Kai x Quirkless!Reader 

Sickness was inescapable. No matter where Chisaki looked, it was there. Thanks to the disgusting malady known as Quirks, the whole world was practically teeming with it. 

I shouldn’t be here. 

Chisaki scrunched up his nose as he waited in line, putting as much distance possible between himself and the other customers. He had a splitting headache and was in desperate need of coffee, but it was starting to feel like it wasn’t worth it. If only he’d been closer to home, then he wouldn’t have even thought to expose himself to all this chatter and filth. 

Thankfully, the mask he wore was enough to intimidate most of the other customers, and they were wary of giving him his space. He’d also been glaring at them with visible murderous intent, which probably helped. 

He eventually made it to the front counter, where a young woman with a pretty smile greeted him. 

“Hello,” you beamed. “What can I get for you today?” 

You were beautiful, no question about it, but that alone wasn’t enough to break through Chisaki’s mysophobia. The thought of being touched by anyone other than Pops made him shudder in revulsion. Every person he met was sick. Just because you were rather easy on the eyes didn’t make that any less true. 

“A small coffee,” Chisaki muttered. “Make it black. I don’t care for sugary things.” 

You nodded happily. “Sure thing. And what name can I put down for your order?” 

For a moment, he considered giving you the alias he’d taken on since becoming the leader of the Shie Hassaikai —Overhaul—but he supposed using his villain name so carelessly might arouse some suspicion.

“Just Chisaki is fine.” 

It was a name he’d discarded of for the most part, and when he uttered the syllables, he couldn’t help but feel they sounded a bit foreign. 

Perhaps he had made the right choice though, because your pleasant smile grew even wider after the fact. 

“That’s a lovely name,” you complimented, then rung the order in and accepted his payment. “It’ll be ready soon. Thank you!” 

Chisaki couldn’t deny that he was attracted to you, which is why is was such a shame. A shame that you were just as diseased as everyone else. 

Or so he’d thought. 

“Damn, [Name], you’re still working here?” an arrogant voice chuckled cruelly. “I thought they would’ve fired your Quirkless ass by now.” 

Quirkless...? 

Chisaki felt his brows lift. Instinctively, he turned back towards the counter and found that a group of people appeared to be heckling you—if your bitter expression was any indication. 

Your beautiful smile was nowhere to be found. “Can I please take your order?” you frowned. “There are other customers still waiting.” 

Needless to say, the people bullying you didn’t relent, not for a single moment. They made a big show of uttering all sorts of vile insults, and Chisaki could see the way your shoulders were trembling as you desperately tried to retain your composure. 

They’re a bunch of idiots. She’s the normal one, not them. I can’t believe they would take pride in being diseased. 

Chisaki felt as if he’d just found a goldmine. He’d finally met someone who struck his fancy, and not only that, but you were Quirkless. You were free of the malady that plagued the vast majority of the population. 

He would be an idiot not to act.

“You’re making a fool of yourselves,” he sneered, stepping closer to them. He normally hated to get near anyone, but in the interest of intimidating these assholes, he supposed he had no choice. “I suggest you walk away before you embarrass yourselves any further. You’re holding up the line and getting on everyone’s nerves. Disease-ridden scum.” 

“Huh?” the ringleader of the crew scoffed. “What’s your deal, douchebag? We can say whatever the hell we want. It’s a free country.” 

As much as Chisaki hated Quirks, his Quirk was entirely necessary if he wanted to purge this world and rid it of its filth. If he so desired, he could kill these morons on the spot, but that would hardly be a smart move. Besides, he didn’t want to risk scaring you off. 

He was still going to kill them, though. Just not right now. 

As it turned out, they were the type to talk a big game, but didn’t have the guts to follow through with their words. All it took was one violent glare from Chisaki’s golden eyes, and they seemed to buckle under the pressure. 

“Leave,” he demanded. “Get the hell out of here before I make you regret it.” 

They exchanged nervous glances before letting out a series of huffs and storming out of the store. What a bunch of cowards. He could have killed them all with his eyes closed. 

Once they were gone, he turned back towards you. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. “It sounded like they knew you. Does this sort of thing happen regularly?” 

You strained a smile. “Just some people I used to go to school with. It’s okay. I know they’re just trying to get a rise out of me. But thank you for speaking up. That was really nice of you. Oh, and... your order’s ready, by the way.” 

You slid the coffee over to him, and Chisaki wasn’t exactly sure what possessed him, but he went out of his way to ensure that his gloved fingers brushed against yours as he grabbed the cup. You didn’t have a Quirk, after all, which meant that you weren’t sick like the others. 

Even though I touched her, I don’t have any hives. 

You couldn’t see it because of his mask, but Chisaki was smiling. His spur-of-the-moment decision to come here had really paid off. 

“I realize you’re working right now, but would you be willing to give me your number?” he asked. “I find you to be incredibly beautiful, and the fact that you’re Quirkless doesn’t bother me. In fact, I prefer it that way.” 

Red hues burst across your cheeks, and you timidly bowed your head. “Oh, um... thank you,” you said with a shy smile. “I’m very flattered that you think so. I’m pretty sure I’m not really supposed to give out my number while I’m at work, but my shift is close to being over. If you’d like, maybe we could talk for a little while once I’m done?” 

Chisaki nodded, feeling his chest swell with excitement. “Yes, that would be perfect, thank you. I’m more than happy to wait.” 

True to your word, it didn’t take much longer for your shift to finish. You ended up taking a walk together outside, and Chisaki was so fixated on you that he hardly took any sips of his coffee, which was surely getting cold. He could tell that you were very friendly and open-minded, considering the fact that you’d so readily given him a chance. Perhaps you appreciated that he’d stood up for you. The thought of you being grateful and indebted to him thrilled Chisaki more than he could even put into words. 

“This was really nice, but I should probably head home soon,” you admitted. “I need to get some studying done. I have exams coming up soon. But I had a lot of fun! You’re such a nice person, Chisaki. I’m a bit curious, though. Why do you say you’d prefer for someone to be Quirkless?” 

“Quirks are a disease,” Chisaki immediately replied. “They are a mutation. Humans didn’t used to possess such powers in the past. What happened to the human species was a massive and detrimental genetic shift. Our bodies are no longer the way they once used to be, natural and unblemished. Quirks are a plague upon humanity.”

“I suppose they are a mutation, but...” You paused, then gave him a puzzled look. “It’s strange. Most people go crazy over Quirks, especially since it’s allowed for so many heroes to surface. To be honest, I’m used to being harassed over the fact that I don’t have a Quirk. It’s my first time meeting someone with a mindset like yours, and I have to admit, it’s really refreshing. You don’t look down on me, and... it means more than I can express.” 

She already considers me to be special.

The way you gazed at him with pure adoration in your eyes... Chisaki decided right then and there that he had to make you his. 

The first thing he did after you gave him your contact information was to look up anything and everything he could possibly find out about you. He had some of his underlings do some digging on their own end. You let a few details slip while you texted back and forth with him—the name of the university you attended, for instance—and slowly but surely, he was able to piece together the various aspects of your life. 

Even though you’d only just met, Chisaki was already infatuated with you. He had never had a such a strong desire to claim someone. He’d never yearned to be touched before, but ever since he’d met you, all he could think of was roaming his hands over every inch of your body, and letting you do the very same to him. 

His morality had long since gone out the window ever since he began experimenting on Eri to develop the anti-Quirk bullets, so he didn’t even bat an eye when he started stalking you all the way back to your apartment. 

The more you talked, and the more research he did on his own time, the more he learned about you—and good lord, every part of you really was perfect. He could hardly stand this anymore. You’d only just recently become acquaintances, and your relationship surely wasn’t developed enough for you to see him in a romantic light, but Chisaki was tired of waiting. He’d already waited his entire adult life to find someone he was interested in. Enough was enough. 

That evening, he broke into your apartment, and you found yourself pinned to the floor by him. 

“C-Chisaki?” you stammered nervously. Your eyes were wide and trembling as you gazed up at him. “What’s happening? How... how did you get in? I don’t even think I told you where I lived...”  

Instead of gracing you with a response, Chisaki did the thing he’d been yearning to do ever since you’d first met.

He removed his gloves and allowed his bare fingers to sink into your soft flesh.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. His lower half was throbbing with arousal; it already felt like he was about to burst. “You’re perfect, [Name]. Just perfect. All for me.” 

He ran his fingers across every curve of your body, and by now you were already kicking and screaming, begging for him to release you. Tears blurred your vision. You couldn’t seem to understand why he was acting so differently all of a sudden, but you didn’t realize that this was nothing out of the ordinary. These were his true feelings for you, and he was a far more deranged man than you could have possibly known.

Chisaki gripped your wrists with one hand to hold you in place, then used his other hand to remove his mask. You were finally able to see his face in full for the first time. He’d always known he was objectively handsome, so he supposed you must have been quite thrilled with this turn-out. 

But you only cried harder. 

“Chisaki, please,” you sobbed. “I-I’m really scared. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I liked you. We were getting to know each other... weren’t we? I promise I won’t cut you out of my life as long as you stop this right now.” 

She’s so adorable.

Chisaki couldn’t help but crack a little grin. You were gorgeous when you smiled, but the sight of your pretty face drenched in tears wasn’t half-bad either. He understood why you were a bit surprised, but you would come to terms with things quickly enough. You were interested in him too. That much was obvious. All he was doing was accelerating the process a bit, that’s all. 

“You’re exactly the kind of person I’ve been waiting for,” he breathed, cradling your cheek with one hand. He let the weight of his body keep you pressed to the ground, and you squeezed your eyes shut when his face drew closer to yours. “We’re going to be very happy together,” he insisted. “Now that I have you, everything is falling into place. The Shie Hassaikai will rise to its former glory again, and I’ll have the perfect bride through it all.” 

Chisaki paused for just a moment, reveling in how utterly helpless you were, then smashed his lips against yours. It was his first kiss, and he was sharing it with the most perfect person. Your lips were so soft and inviting. The way they trembled furiously as your tears fell just turned him on even more. 

He groaned into your mouth, plunging his tongue down your throat and forcing you to accept his twisted love. You choked from how forceful he was being. In between your whimpers and uncontrollable shaking, you didn’t have the strength or lucidity to put up a proper fight. 

Chisaki eventually broke away from the sloppy kiss, strings of saliva rolling down his chin as he gasped for breath. For a man deprived of touch for so long, it was almost too much stimulation for him to bear. 

“Perfect,” he mumbled again. “You’re so perfect, [Name]. I won’t let you get away. You’ll see that we’re meant to be together.” 

He grabbed your hand, which was limp and barely able to hold itself up, then pressed your palm down against his boner.

“Now, then,” he said, licking his lips. “How about we make each other feel really good?”

[after-witch]

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

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.

[dashitsxx]

if only | various male characters x fem!reader | mha

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

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."

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."

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?"

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."

all dividers are from @/cafekitsune, thank you <33

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Floor is Breathing.

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?”

[i-cant-sing]

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!"

^kai rn.

[depravitycentral]

Inspired by my impending period (and scouring through the yan overhaul tag and finding this lovely piece by @after-witch), basically just a short, non-comprehensive yan Overhaul blurb when you’re on your period but I staunchly believe he's Weird About It in a pathetic sexually-repressed way

Tw: dub-con fingering, m masturbation, recording, kind of infantilization, minor mention of forcing you to finish your food

Thinking about Overhaul who is not the biggest fan of your menstruations. He doesn’t find you repulsive – far from it – but there’s still the fear of germs. He’s still hesitant about the dirtiness of it all, the messiness, the fact that you can’t control it. It’s a constant war in his head, each side of him wanting to simultaneously comfort you through the pain and your obvious embarrassment while the other side recoils and urges him to wrap you in disinfectant-imbued absorbent pads.

And he prepares very well for your periods – he’s got a few sets of antimicrobial sheets dedicated to your time of the month, the crisp white stretched taught over three layers of absorbant bed protectors. He’s got a set of extra absorbant panties with a wax coating in the material to minimize leakage, all in that same soft, off-white color Kai always prefers you in.

(Buying the panties had been a decision purely motivated by his worry for the mess you’d inevitably create, but the first time he sees you in them he has to suck in his breath, pupils dilating and his pulse quickening because fuck, how can you still look so enticing with clinical, full-coverage underwear?)

He’ll force you to wear special clothing during it, too – nightgowns that leave you skin feeling simultaneously ticklish and unbearably soft, the material of such high quality that you’re terrified you’ll somehow stain it. He’ll have you lather yourself in a special selection of ointments and exfoliants in the shower, claiming that your body needs exposure to more vitamins and quality supplements to account for everything you’re losing. He’s insisting that your portion sizes get slightly bigger even when you refuse to finish your plate.

(Something he won’t stand for: you’ll finish, or someone will pay – you’ll have a front row seat as he slips off his glove, and even afterwards you’re still expected to finish that last bite of mushy, flavorless ‘food’.)

You’re getting more protein on these days, too, his paranoia eating away at him because he needs to make sure you’re healthy and that you don’t develop any sort of deficiencies or illnesses or anything else that could snatch you away from him.

Anything that could cause you to abandon him.

But really, while his hyper-controlling behavior and the constant scrutiny and micromanaging of your every move is heightened on your period, arguably the worst time is the leadup to the first little drop of blood. Of course it’s never really a surprise when you’re due because he keeps anally strict records and documentation of your cycles – tracking each phase and making sure that everything is uniform, consistent, healthy.

(And yes, that includes tracking your ovulation phase as well – he still can’t quite muster up the courage to fuck you, his own insecurities and fears barring him each time his hand hovers over his zipper, each time the pretty pout of your lips and the lull of your voice leave him hard enough to hurt. He’s still tracking it, though, the start and end dates marked with a big red check mark on his personal colander, the sight making him adjust his tie in the mirror, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he takes in his appearance.

Maybe he should leave his tie just slightly askew – women like the casual, effortless look, right? Maybe it’d make him seem less stoic, less alien, less intimidating – maybe you’d even fix it for him, reaching out with hesitant hands, asking in that pretty voice of yours for him to let you fix it, the feeling of your fingertips through the layers of his clothing enough to get precum staining his boxers. He’ll swallow and leave the tie slightly off-center, throwing off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves for good measure. He’ll run a hand through his hair as he knocks on your door, already anticipating and hoping for even the slightest sign that you notice.

Perhaps your ovulation will leave you more recipient to the way he awkwardly settles at the edge of your bed beside you, his thigh just barely brushing against yours, your breaths close enough that he can hear. Hopefully you will be, because when he spends an hour that night with his cock in hand, embarrassment and shame creeping up his spine at how he's unable to stop thinking about how horny you must be, it would be much easier to imagine you'd at least be willing to let him help you. He wants to help you.)

He's tracking everything, and so he knows exactly when your period is due - but the human body is fickle, and so he relies on a system to ensure you've actually begun bleeding each month. It's clinical, more than anything - he'll ask you to follow him to the room with the gynecologist's chair, the kind with cold metal that bites into your skin. You'll settle in, legs spread and pretty cunt on display, Kai's gaze never wavering from the sight as he rolls on an additional layer of surgical gloves.

He'll maneuver the rolling seat up to the space between your spread legs, his voice monotonous as he asks you whether cramps have started, whether you've noticed anything unusual, whether you're yet experiencing that occasional bout of horniness that accompanies the first few days.

It's hard to answer with a straight voice as cold, latex-covered fingers prod at you, two thumbs spreading apart your labia to peer at your clenching hole, a single finger even running over your clit to test your sensitivity.

(Blink and you'll miss the way Kai tenses at the noise you make, his jaw clenching and his sharp inhale - he won't comment on it, but tonight it'll be on repeat in his head, your small oh mentally punctuating each of his strokes.)

He's silent once the touching begins, partially out of distrust for his own voice and concentration, and you won't bother to fill in the silence. You're completely dry each time, and after he spends a few moments poking and prodding to look for any signs of swelling or abnormalities, he'll pull back for a few moments.

It's short lived, and as he squeezes a bit of antimicrobial lube onto his pointer finger, you'll only shudder. He'll shudder too, for an entirely different reason, as he slowly pushes a single finger in, taking care to go slow.

(He feels a bit pathetic for being so attentive and slow with the 'exam', but he can't shake the feeling of wanting each and every sexual encounter between the two of you - he counts this as such - to be a positive experience. He wants you to associate him with treating you well, with taking the proper precautions for your comfort. Because ultimately, when he finally works up the courage to replace his fingers with his cock, he wants you to be receptive. He needs you to be receptive.)

It's still silent, and as he pushes all the way to the hilt, he'll curl his fingers slightly. He's moving them slowly and methodically, pressing his gloved fingertips against every inch of your walls, the sensation making you bite your lip.

And Kai's watching you - his gaze flicks between your face and his fingers, wanting to bask in the sight of you but also fixated on the sight of his fingers inside you. All the while he's trying to memorize the exact pressure of how you squeeze him, your natural curvature, committing everything to memory because it'll make his fantasies tonight that much better, that much more real, that much more preparative for when he finally, finally has you underneath him, staring up at him and begging for more, please Kai please...

After some thirty seconds he'll pull back, the wet noise of the lube making you cringe and him shiver, and he'll carefully examine the latex for any signs of blood.

If there's no visible blood, he's quick to discard the glove, immediately washing his hands in triplicate at the nearby sink, his voice finally cutting through the oppressive silence in the room. Everything checks out, he'll say, go shower. I'll have dinner delivered in an hour or so.

He'll pause, turning off the sink, but not turning around to face you. I'll be joining you this evening.

There's no question in his voice, no desire for your permission, only a vague sense of resoluteness that makes your heart sink.

Okay, Kai. The sound of his name rolling off your tongue makes his eyes flutter closed, and he only turns around once he's fully in control. The sight of you still spread in the chair catches his gaze, the beat of silence as he openly stares at your cunt nearly impossible to catch, but nonetheless present.

He swallows. I trust you remember where the shower is in this examination room?

He matches your nod with one of his own, before slipping past the steel door. Once it's shut behind him, he sighs, flexing his hand that had been, just moments prior, inside you. He stares at his finger for a moment, still gloved and protected, before slowly exhaling and returning back to his office, the footage from the examination bathroom already live on the screen as he waits for you to disrobe and follow his instructions.

You, meanwhile, will be left to bite your lip and try to forget the feeling of his finger inside you and the obvious bulge in his slacks.

And as the warm water runs down your back, you'll content yourself with the knowledge that at least the specula remains untouched on the bedside table.

For now.

(TLDR Kai uses checking for your period as practice for fingering you, and yes it's just as unsexy and weird as it sounds. And the longer it goes on, the more likely he is to record it - to record you, really, and the sight of his fingers sinking into you.)

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY VIII. — FINGERING

cw: Fingering, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Delusional Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Allusions to Stalking, Allusions to Murder / Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: I love Overhaul, he's such an interesting character. You can literally just take the most terrifying and horrific sexual situation and it's him, sorry. 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 1.8k words.

“You’re tense.” 

That sly and wispy voice tickles the shells of your ears, sending slicing shivers down your back, cutting through the flesh. You swallow, saliva now thick and heavy, and your breathing finds itself stuck near the axons of your lungs. Too long, your mind kicks you like a brick through a window, you’re taking too long to respond. 

“S-Sorry, I just feel a little sore.” 

Kai leans forward only by a fraction, that look etched into his face intense and stony. You glance at him before your eyes immediately shift away, and your legs try to mimic your movements, but Kai’s free hand quickly snaps forward with a cottonmouth palm to snag the middle of your thigh. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, that saliva slipping down into your throat, irritating it, and you meekly cough a couple of times. That look on Kai’s face doesn’t change. 

“Last night was a little rough, wasn’t it?” 

Little was an understatement, but you clip your comment. There’s an inkling inside of you that screams at you, that sinks its talons deep into the seam of your brain to rip it apart to tell you that he can read your fucking mind. Fear is a dagger through your heart, every time, the tear goes down to your toes and you swallow again. 

“Yes, I mean. No. No, it wasn’t rough. You just take a lot out of me.” 

That was not a wise selection of words, holy shit. You shouldn’t have said it like that—surely there was some other polite way to have said that, surely? Terror has your mind, those talons growing larger, splitting you apart, folding prions until they’re eating away the matter. Kai’s fingers cinch a little on your thigh before they loosen. 

“I do, don’t I? Unfortunately, it seems like there’s no way to avoid that. Not anymore, at least.” 

What the fuck does he mean by that? Kai’s always been so intense, a force that leached onto your soul, something that sunk its fangs in until he was sucking you dry ever since you met him. Fuck, you wish you wouldn’t have met him. If you close your eyes hard enough, could you wake up? You just softly shake your head, still not looking at him. 

“W-Well, it, um, doesn’t bother me. I—I enjoy being with you.” 

Lies. Lies and damnation, but you’d rather rip your own head off before you upset him. Even if you never quite know what he’s saying, what he drones on about, what those hisses of air that kiss between his teeth ever truly mean. You’ll never understand his enigma, his intricacies. Not like you ever wanted to. 

A chuckle so curt that you can barely tell it was one then hangs in the air. 

“Of course, you do. After all, who would ever take care of you so well? It makes sense, right?” 

Kai’s hand starts to trail up your leg. Your eyes want to close, they glitch, but you keep them open so he doesn’t think you’re trying to avoid him—again, he doesn’t like whenever he thinks you’re ignoring him. Even if it hurts, even if you can feel the air stinging your ducts so sharply that you feel like you could start crying. It hurts, holy fucking shit does it hurt. His hand crawls ever higher. 

“No one. No one has ever treated me like you do.” 

Faster, the hand reaches the heat between your legs in the blink of an eye. 

“That’s because they’ve never been in the presence of an angel before. They don’t know how to behave.” 

You suck air through your teeth whenever one of Kai’s fingers rubs its knuckle up the slit of your cunt through your panties. He goes slow, like he’s testing the waters. It’s too much, the weight reminding you of your fate—destiny—held in the palms of his hands. Things will never be the same, never will be. It’s something strange, but you’re here now. Could those hands turn you into confetti? Could you ask? Finally, your eyes can’t refuse the offer any longer, collapsing into darkness. 

“Look at me. Now.” 

It’s sheer agony to let the light filter in again, but you open them and slowly tilt your head until you meet Kai’s piercing glowing honey eyes. The unknown emotions swirling like peppermint in that frosty color makes you queasy, but he wants you to look at him and you’re too miserable to object. His knuckle grows a little faster before a couple more fingers fall in line with their brother and join the act, and you try to unfocus your eyes and think about how that feels instead of comprehending the mirrors to Kai’s soul. You wonder what he’s thinking about you. No. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you. 

“I don’t like when you’re not paying attention to me. I try to do everything for you, but sometimes it feels like you’re ungrateful for that.” 

Ohhhh, noooo, no no nooo. You didn’t just make him angry, did you? All you did was close your eyes, all you did was close your eyes, your eyes, fuck, no, please. Kai’s eyes squint a little at your stunned silence, the knuckles immediately dig in. You gasp, taken aback, but you start shaking your head. 

“That’s not it! No, I—No, not at all. I love it, yeah. I love it so much. You make me feel really special, I promise, I promise you do.” 

Could you feed into his delusions better? You think he enjoys whenever you remind him that you love him, too, but sometimes it feels like he’s not even hearing you. It feels like he sees whatever reality he wants, whatever scene he needs to play out in his head. You can never understand him. At one point, you thought you did. You thought he was kind, sweet and polite. He was a gentleman that you bumped into one day—someone who helped you up, who held your hand tenderly while he squeezed his eyes together so cutely. Had that even been genuine? Kai’s so fucking gone, it’s not even funny. Maybe you never even knew him at all. You know he stalked you now, even if he’ll never tell you that. You think he doesn’t want your perception of him to change—too late. 

“Ah, then why don’t you like looking at me when I touch you?” 

Kai’s fingers hovel in deeper, and a moan revs in the back of your throat. Your eyes roll a little while you shift, attempting to scoot away from those dastardly fingers discreetly but they follow. Your thighs are tight together now. Kai starts closing in, honing in on your face, knees on the bed, lumbering. Could you shake your head fast enough? Lie, lie! Make him happy before he goes fucking crazy! Blood splatters before the visions in your mind, the television that loops over and over. The look of shock that crossed your old lover’s face while they turned their face to meet yours before their skin warbled like worms writhing in the ground before they exploded into crumbs. 

“Well, I just, it’s. Oh, Kai, you’re so—h-handsome that I can barely comprehend it. It intimidates me.” 

If you seem infatuated even in the darkest times, he’ll stay happy. Always happy. Kai’s eyes return to their former size, and a gentle kind of half moon crosses his face. Those fingers pressing against your cunt reach the edge of your mound to swivel against your clit, and you gasp again at the jolt of electricity that makes your toes curl before his fingers slide back down. They scratch at the stitching of your panties before they begin to wriggle their way underneath the fabric. You bite your bottom lip, teeth like needles. His skin rubbing against the fat of your labia makes you realize how wet you already are from even his most gentle and brief touches. Kai’s trained you. 

“Is that why you’re already soaking? Do you fantasize about me, too?” 

You don’t even dignify that with a verbal response, you just barely smile and exhale a moan. Kai’s fingertips are deft, practiced and refined from how many times he’s touched you. They slip through your lips, collecting your glaze before his middle finger starts to tap against the outskirts of your entrance. A distinct throb elicits another moan, and Kai takes that as a sign to keep going. His middle finger starts to press down. You part so easily for him, fuck, the strange pangs that start in your burning clit and end in your heart make you dizzy. He hilts in, down to the knuckle, and your jaw is clenched and eyes are wrenched open. The way it makes you start to go around in circles, in these mazes of racetracks, of things that never made sense but make your body warm and fuzzy. 

Kai wiggles his finger a little, testing the plasticity of your walls, and the way it makes moans gather near the bottom of your throat almost makes you want to throw up. And once he grows satisfied with that, he carefully withdraws his finger down to the smile of his nail before he slides it back in. Tears are pricking your eyes, is this really that good, and you dip your head. But you don’t take your eyes off of Kai’s face, not now, placate him. It’s like he doesn’t need to blink, those eyes big and bulging. His brows are knitted together. Is he really happy? Is that why his smile seems to grow wider? 

“I can’t believe how good you feel. I never thought I’d feel this way before I met you. Isn’t that so great? It’s like you’re my soulmate, angel.” 

Delusions. Remember that, delusions. His finger picks up its pace before his ring face traces up your slit and buries itself in with its sibling. You moan, loud and pained, and your eyes turn into slits, brows down and shadowing your vision. Kai’s smile stretches. He’s pumping his fingers in and out, and he twists his hand in just the right way to swipe his thumb over your thumping clit. It’s so steamy and engorged, you’re hard and Kai is psychotic. Remember the gaping horror in your best friend’s eyes before their head splattered against the wall. 

“Tell me you think the same. You sound like you agree, so come on, don’t keep a man waiting.” 

Your parents. Your boss. Your coworkers. Your acquaintances. Your beloved pets. 

Gone gone gone gone gone—smashed pumpkins spread across graveyards. 

Kai withdraws his fingers completely before he punches them back in, stabbing through your cunt with a ferocity that makes you gasp and cry out in shuddering agony. His smile is unyielding. 

“Tell me you think the same.” 

Blood drops trickling down your cheeks like tears, fingers strumming melodies inside of you. 

“Yes. I’m your soulmate, Kai.” 

[narumi-gens]

Triptych | "Fate put us on the same path."

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/ageless/blank blogs dni, yandere, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, complicated family dynamics, codependency, daddy issues, abandonment issues, reader says "faults" but should really be saying "red flags" lol

notes: this is from a non-chronological series so the parts can be read (mostly) on their own or in any order. someone left the nicest comment on this fic on ao3 and I felt like I needed to update this fic, so this is your regular psa on the importance of leaving comments!

words: 2.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

minors, blank, and ageless blogs do not like, comment, or reblog

The Middle

You’re having trouble breathing. You’re having literal trouble breathing. 

The shiromuku is so heavy and tied so tightly that it feels like each breath you take requires a monumental effort. There’s an ache forming in your shoulders from the pure weight of it all. You’ve spent so much of your life in kimono that you can put one on blindfolded. But this? This wedding kimono is another beast entirely. 

“It’s a bit tight,” you wince, causing the two women currently in the process of tying the obi around your middle in an extravagant knot to softly titter. 

“I know. It’s all a bit cumbersome,” the older woman in front of you commiserates before smiling at you so kindly that it alleviates your discomfort for a brief moment. “But it’s worth it. You look beautiful, just as every bride should. Your husband is a lucky man.”

You let out a noncommittal hum, which is cut short by a soft grunt when the woman behind you gives your obi a particularly harsh yank. 

“How did the two of you meet?” she asks, trying to distract you from how uncomfortable you feel as they continue to tie you up in beautiful silk. 

“We grew up together,” you reply, deciding the simplest answer is the easiest. 

“Ah, so fate put you both on the same path,” she observes with a soft smile and her words have you suddenly feeling breathless for a reason entirely unrelated to the thick layers of fabric wrapped around you.

“I guess so,” you murmur, but before you can lose yourself in your thoughts, you wince when your obi is given one final tug.

“There we go,” the older attendant behind you declares proudly as she adjusts the obi knot. As difficult as it physically is to do so, you sigh with relief knowing that the fussing is almost over. It’s been over an hour by this point. “All that’s left is the uchikake.”

One of the women lifts up the final and thickest layer that will be worn over your kimono. You reach out to gently trace the beautiful designs embroidered on the white silk. As your finger follows the outline of a crane’s beak, you can’t help the frown that forms on your lips.

“Can we take a break?” you ask and there’s a pause at your unexpected request. 

“O-of course,” the attendant in front of you says as she carefully places the uchikake back in its box before she and the other woman leave the room. 

When you hear the door close behind you, your posture droops as much as it can in such a restrictive kimono. Instinctively, you tug at the collar to try and loosen it slightly at the neck only to immediately worry that you’ve ruined the women’s hard work. 

You turn towards the room’s floor-length mirror and feel a rush of relief when you see that the collar appears untouched. Your eyes then drift to take in your full reflection for the first time and your lips part slightly in surprise.

So much of your life has been dictated by tradition — from the way you were raised to the clothing you had been made to wear to the marriage that your father tried to arrange for you — that the last thing you wanted was a traditional Shinto wedding ceremony. However, as you see how beautiful the shiromuku is, and how elegant you look in it, you’re in awe. 

But the longer you look at yourself, the more reality begins to set back in until the small frown on your face is reflected at you in the mirror. Without the distraction of the two women dressing you in such an elaborate garment, all you’re left with is the image of someone you don’t recognize — or rather the image of a future that you never envisioned for yourself. 

Eventually, the reflection becomes too much and you turn away from it to look out the window into the shrine’s gardens. When you see how dreary the weather is as it continues to rain like it’s been doing all morning, you sigh and rest your forehead against the glass. Your fingertip follows the path of a raindrop as it runs down the window’s surface and you absently wonder if the weather is a poor omen for your marriage. 

Not that an omen would matter now, considering you and Kai have already filed your paperwork and have been legally married for weeks. This ceremony is just that — ceremonial. So you’re not what it is that has you feeling so out of sorts.

Maybe it’s the chaos of the last months. Your mind has been a mess as you’ve tried to navigate your grief for your father, your guilt over not having returned home sooner, your indecisiveness about what you were going to do next, and your conflicting feelings toward marrying Kai.

You hear the door open behind you and brace yourself for the gentle scolding that you’re about to receive from one of the attendants for wrinkling your kimono with your slouched posture. You drop your hand to your side with a soft sigh.

“Can I have just another minute or two?” you ask, not quite ready to bear the weight of the thick uchikake that they’ve come to drape you in. 

But when you look over your shoulder, it’s not the attendants who have entered — it’s Kai. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him in his montsuki haori hakama. While you of course knew what a groom wore during a Shinto ceremony, seeing Kai in the outfit stuns you. With the black haori, matching kimono, and striped hakama, he looks every bit the part of the Hassaikai’s wakagashira. 

He’s always looked good in the suits he wears, but there’s something about seeing him dressed so traditionally that makes your cheeks feel warm. When your gaze finally returns to his face, you’re relieved that he’s chosen to wear a simple black face mask like you’re accustomed to seeing him in rather than the beak-like one that you detest.

As your eyes meet his, you give him a weak smile and turn back to the window. His steps are soft against the tatami as he moves to join you.

“It’s raining,” you needlessly point out with a small frown. 

“Rain washes things clean,” he replies and somehow, the simple statement manages to put you slightly at ease. Silence settles over you both and the longer that it stretches on, the louder you hear the attendant’s words echoing in your head.

“One of the women said something when she was dressing me,” you eventually blurt out. When you hesitate, he gives you a hum to continue. “She said fate put us on the same path.”

Even without looking at him, you can tell that the sentiment pleases him. 

“She’s right. This is where you belong.” It’s such an expected response that you would feel annoyed if your mind wasn’t already so preoccupied.

“With the Hassaikai?” you gently scoff.

“With me,” he’s quick to answer, his firm tone giving you pause. 

You glance at him to find that his attention is already focused on you rather than the view of the garden. The weight of his gaze feels almost as heavy as your shiromuku and when you can no longer meet it, you look back out the window.

“How…” you begin before trailing off. You hesitantly bite your lip as you consider your words. “How do you think Dad will react when he finds out we’re married?”

You try not to linger on how your question is predicated on the optimistic assumption that your father will wake from his coma. When Kai doesn’t immediately answer you, you sigh.

“He’ll probably be happy,” you say dryly. “All that work he did to force me into marrying a yakuza and he got what he wanted in the end.”

An unexpected wave of exhaustion overwhelms you, and you bring a tired hand to your forehead. You’re certain that right now, you’re the antithesis of a blushing bride. 

“I told the old man I would marry you.”

Your hand drops at the sudden admission and when you turn to him with wide eyes, you find that he’s now looking out the window. 

“When he tried to marry you off, marry you away, I told him that you should marry me.” His frown is hidden beneath his mask, but you can see the tension lining his eyes. “But he said no.”

The questions come to you in a flurry. Why did your father turn him down? Why didn’t Kai tell you? How long has he been planning this? Has he been waiting years to marry you? How different would your life be if you had married him? Does any of it really matter now that you are married?

But with all of the questions that your mind is racing with, there’s one that comes to the surface. Is he in love with you? 

You feel stupid for thinking it. It’s a dumb thing for a wife to wonder about her husband, even if the labels are still new. But mostly, the idea of love is something that you’ve never considered of Kai. 

You’re not so naive as to think that his intentions toward you have only ever been chaste or innocent. In fact, innocent is a word you would never use to describe him. He’s spent enough nights in your bed over the years for you to know that he’s attracted to you on at least a physical level. 

Likewise, you’re not blind to his faults. He’s a dangerous man who does violent work. He’s obstinate to a frustrating degree. And his nature has always been possessive — of the Shie Hassakai’s power and reputation, of the territory that he perceives as rightfully theirs, and of you. 

Maybe for him, that is love.

And he’s always watched over you. He’s protected you. He never abandoned you. He kept you from harm. That’s more important than something as ephemeral as love could ever be. 

“What were you going to do? If I ended up married to some other yakuza?” you finally ask. When Kai turns to face you, you’re unsurprised by the dark look in his eyes.

“I would have killed him.” His response is a threat, but there’s no heat or anger in his tone. He tells you his plan to free you from a forced marriage with the same sort of indifference he would if he were telling you the sky is blue. 

You should probably be horrified that he’s talking so easily about murdering someone. But the tears that you can feel beginning to form aren’t from fear. You take a step toward him and close the gap between you before dropping your forehead to his chest. A gloved hand immediately comes up to rest on the back of your neck and keep you close.

“Always looking out for me, huh?” you murmur with a wet laugh, a faint smile tugging at your lips. He gives your neck a reassuring squeeze. 

Ever since you first brought Kai to your father all those years ago, he’d treated him like the son he never had. You had seen him look past Kai’s flaws as easily as you always have. But if his adopted son had openly gone against him to kill the man he intended for you to marry, you don’t know what he would have done. 

He was willing to risk it all to keep you safe. If that isn’t love, then you’re not sure what is — you don’t care what it is. To you, it’s everything. 

You clutch the fabric on his haori in a pitiful attempt to tug him closer. Despite your best efforts, you can feel a tear escape and roll down your cheek. You quickly brush it away with another sniffle.

Once you no longer feel like you’re about to shed any further tears, you lift your head, although his hand on your nape doesn’t let you go far. Slowly, your hand releases its grip on him and you run your palm over the material to smooth over any wrinkles you may have caused.

Your gaze settles on the symbol embroidered over his chest — the Shie Hassaikai’s emblem in place of where a family crest would traditionally be. You carefully trace the white thread.

“You know, it suits you,” you tell him with a soft smile. You glance up at him and nod meaningfully to his haori, the one in the style of the Shie Hassaikai’s kumicho. With an affectionate touch, you then straighten the front of his kimono, although it��s a needless gesture. You then give him a gentle push. “Get out of here. I have to finish getting ready.”

[yanderes-galore]

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.

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.

[sweetdreamz2]

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

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.

[frickingnerd]

call me your favorite, call me the worst

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

"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!" 

[after-witch]

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

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.

[fluff-n-cookies]

------

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.

------

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.

[melancholymegumi]

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)

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 ♡

[i-cant-sing]

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?!"

[shini--chan]

Hello, I recently read your latest yandere Overhaul fic (by the way, I loved it, it's very true to the character, congratulations!) And I've been thinking about a scenario with poly!Chronohaul (sorry, I don't know if you write "poly") where the reader runs away and encounters a hero (not very creative, but I was curious).

Sorry my english

Hello there, don't worry, your English is better than you think. Let's se what I can whip up here:

Yandere Chronohaul x Reader - Blindspot

Word count: ~9k Synopnsis: Exploiting a moment of their weakness, you manage to escape. Luck seems to be on your side, you even find shelter by a pro-hero, then it isn't anymore. Trigger warnings: discussions of kidnapping, isolation and punishment and gore. Rated mature (further warnings not mentioned to prevent spoilers.)

Were it under other circumstances, you would have taken the time to enjoy being outside for the first time in months. Even the stale city air of Mustafaa was refreshing compared to the recycled and sanitised air you got down in the Yakuza basement. Your heart was beating as fast as that of a mouse and anxiety made your senses sharp. Every rustle of leaves, every flash of lights in the distance and the commotion of a neighborhood slowly falling asleep made your fear spike. Which was influencing you more - the rabbit-like fear of running from danger, or having spent so much time in sterile circumstances with set parameters that you were now overwhelmed. 

Your muscles were severely atrophied. Each step made your legs burn and your lungs ache, yet you continued to push yourself forwards. After all, with each passing second they could be closing in on you, finally having noticed your absence. It really was a stroke of luck that you managed to slip through the cracks. While your more outrageous escape attempts had died down months ago, you had nevertheless kept a watchful eye out for any cracks in Chisaki’s elaborate cage. 

Imagine your surprise when one domino tripped another one over, and a party of some kind gave you the opening you needed. Carefully bent hair pins had opened the door, and it had been easy to lull the sleepy and intoxicated guard to sleep. The commotion upstairs had overshadowed any noises your scampering had caused. Yet … 

Kurono and Chisaki weren’t to be taken lightly, and one or the other or both could have been on their way to seek some peace and quiet in the comfort of your arms when you finally managed to slip out the kitchen window. 

Best get to the busier inner city instead of remaining stuck in the suburbs - with all the people around, they would have a harder time finding you. Not to mention that they wouldn’t be able to just swoop in and scoop you up. The question was if you would even make it that far. Yet you just seemed to be stumbling into ever filthier and rundown neighborhoods. 

Your vision was already swimming from all the physical exertion and you were starting to feel slightly nauseous. The past months had featured a calculated diet and a lifestyle tailored for that of a precious human doll, not an ordinary citizen or even an athlete. Finally, you couldn’t bear it anymore and unceremoniously collapsed on a bench by the road. The squeak of protest the metal gave grated in your ears. 

Taking deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself down. The coppery taste of your own blood lingered in the back of your throat and you felt awfully queasy. Above you, the tree branches and the electric cables swam. Closing your eyes only brought you minor relief. You leaned forward and rested your head on your knees. 

What on earth should you do now? Where could you go where neither Chisaki nor Kuruno would find you? Your old life wasn't much of an option - it would be the first place they would look and your loved ones would be the first people they would threaten. While you had managed to swipe some money on your way out, as well as some other bits and bobs, it wouldn't last you forever. 

The wind weaving through your tresses reminded you too much of Chrono running his fingers through your hair. He had forced you to grow it out, much to his friend's charigin. The memory caused an involuntary shiver to shake your body. 

Now that the adrenaline high was gradually abating, and you were no longer keeping yourself hot by running, the winter chill was making itself noticeable. The cold sweat on your brow and your back made you shiver in spite of the oversized coat you were wearing. Instinctively you drew yourself closer together. To make matters worse, you weren't even wearing proper shoes and the linen of the indoor loafers were soaked through. Now that you paid attention, you couldn't feel your toes anymore. 

To confirm your fears, you scuffed your foot against some of the snow on the ground. A strange jolt shot up your leg and the absence of feeling in your toes was more noticeable. It was like having rubber mockups attached to your foot instead of actual flesh-and-blood appendages. You swore under your breath. All the movement made you more ill. The nausea was coupled with dizziness now. 

You could already hear Chiskai tutting at your pathetic state and explaining in that oh so condescending voice of his that this was what you rightfully got for running away. He was like oil - slick and slippery and contaminating in a way that you would never be able to get rid of him. You’d forever have his voice whispering in your head as an embodiment of your doubts and fear. It wasn’t aided by the fact that he was right so often. Bad girls like you always got the shorter end of the stick due to not listening to their betters. If only you’d listen to his guidance and treat it like the gospel it was, then…

“Are you alright, kid?”

A voice tore you from your spiralling thoughts and you startled. Before you, there was a middle aged man in a gaudy hero costume. 

You couldn't stop shivering. At this point, it was no longer due to the winter cold or your wet clothing. The soaked garments had long since been discarded and banished to a bucket in the bathroom. Now you were huddled on a couch and dressed in baggy clothing graciously provided by your saviour. Canine Instinct, the hero who had given you refuge, gave you a concerned look and carefully handed you a lidded mug with a straw in it.

“Careful there. Drink slowly but drink everything, alright? It is just lukewarm, not hot, so don't worry about burning your tongue. You are now coming down from your adrenaline high and you also spent a lot of time out in the cold. So you need sugar now, or else you'll crash”, he cautioned you.

While you knew that the cup was just warm, yet it burned to touch from the roots of your palms to your fingertips as you accepted it. Feeling re-entered your fingers painfully, and your flesh tingled uncomfortably. With trembling hands you lifted the beverage and took some careful and slow sips through the straw.

The rich, creamy flavour of hot chocolate flooded your senses. Having something so decadent and aromatic after months of a strictly controlled diet really was a treat, utter heaven to be precise. It provided some form of comfort and eased the marrow deep fear that was making you quake.

Sighing, you allowed yourself to sink into the couch. Tension bleed from your shoulders and extremities, and you turned your focus away from your surroundings and zeroed in on the treat.

All of this, running away and finally being free, finally no longer having to cater to the whims of two eccentric men, finally not having to abide by their stringent rules any longer, had felt so surreal. It still did, though you were no longer neigh fully convinced that this was all a pipe dream or an elaborate hallucination. There was still the ember of doubt in the back of your mind, nagging that this was all a trap that was about to spring shut at any moment.

Yet what would you do if it really was a trap? As of now, you were too vulnerable and sluggish to escape or also defend yourself. If you had stayed outside, you would have frozen to death sooner or later, if the hero would have even let you commit such a passive suicide. Overhaul's care had made you soft and fragile - yet another reason to loathe him.

“Thanks a lot”, you rasped in between sips. The ruggish features of your rescuer soften to a small smile. He rolled his shoulders and the ripples beneath the blue-yellow hero costume spoke of a healthy and trained body. “Just doing what was proper, kid.”

It was cute how the hero was downright sheepish now. He rubbed the back of his head and pointedly avoided eye contact by staring off to the side. Your heart started to hammer and your cheeks burned. Yet you were quick to shake yourself out of it and you averted your gaze as well.

Now was not the time to bat eyes at strangers, you admonished yourself. Was it because of your prior social isolation that you were now extraordinarily sensitive to new people? It would make sense; you had avoided developing fuzzy feelings for either Chisaki or Kurono and now that a somewhat passable person had presented himself, you were becoming emotional.

Or you were being a stereotypical damsel in distress. All too quick to be charmed by the knight in shining armour. All too eager to sow a bright future and glorious future now that you were no longer in danger.

Your shivering had died down, now that had introduced some sugar into your system. The silence between the two of you was now awkward. His hand switched from the back of his neck to his arm, and he rubbed the polyester fabric thoughtfully. The silence that reigned was awkward and it made your skin crawl. You rubbed your feet together beneath the blanket and prayed for another miracle to happen. Anxiety made your heart flutter, you tightened your fingers around the ceramic in your hands.

“You must still be cold! I’ll go get the heater”, he mumbled. Before you could say anything to that, he already slipped out of the room and left you on your lonesome.

With a sigh, you sunk into yourself and angrily nursed your beverage. Mind you, you weren’t angry at him, you were angry at yourself. Clearly spending months on end locked away in some Yakuza base of operation had severely degraded your social skills, amongst other things. Seeing the same set of faces, and only really being allowed to converse with two of them hadn’t done you any favours. While in their tender care, you thought you might die due to sheer boredom or a scorned Chisaki or Kurono. Now, you were evidently in danger of finding your end due to social anxiety and emotional clumsiness.

Once upon a time, you had struck conversations with strangers on the train while travelling. That all had rotten away to reduce you to being an emotional mess once you saw an unfamiliar person. Looking back, it was a stroke of macabre luck that you had been too out of it due to exhaustion and the beginnings of hypothermia to panic when the hero had approached you an hour or so ago to think about social implications. Even though both of them were the root of this development, you could very well imagine your kidnappers citing this as a reason as to why you had to be shielded from the rest of the world.

Taking a large gulp of hot chocolate and thus finishing off the mug, you placed it on the coffee table next to the musty sofa. With nothing better to do, other than stew in your own misery, you decided to take a good look around the room.

It was tidy if cramped, and it spoke of a person that wasn’t home often. While there were books stuffed in the shelves and knicknacks strewn across window sills and countertops there was a layer of dust over everything and an odd sort of lifelessness to this living room. There were no photos or items out of order - it looked more like a room from one of those sterile stock photographs. It was sad, because even Chisaki’s office had more of a personal touch to it than this apartment.

Canine Instinct marched through the living room door the next moment, a portable heater in hand. The device was plugged in, and he placed it close to you. The switch was flipped and the heater came to life with an audible whirl and hum. Soon, it enemated a comfortable warmth. You stretched your legs out and flexed your toes.

“Don’t go too close. We don’t need you setting the blanket or your socks on fire”, he warned you. The floundering from before had disappeared out the window now that he could play protector again. You didn’t know whether to label his attention demeaning or flattering. Instead of reprimanding him, you just giggled quietly. Mixed feelings really are a pain.

“Yeah, thanks for the warning. The brain fog is lifting so I don't think I'm gonna do anything rash soon.”

He settled down on the couch, all while maintaining a respectable distance from you. Not that body contact would throw you off centre, at least not when it would be coming from him. Not when he had half-carried you to his home. It had been maddening how he had barked at you to keep your legs moving, lest you be unable to move them. Only Overhaul's punishments of drugging you up to the gills had prevented you from expressing your annoyance beyond facial expressions.

“It was very lucky that you found me out there, and I can't thank you enough”, you started. While your times as an unwilling shut-in had degraded your social skills and the tact needed to navigate interpersonal situations, it hadn't eroded your manners. Best start there and build up on that basis.

“I hope that I didn't interrupt anything important, Canine Instinct.”

The hero scoffed and shook his head, the brown-black hair swaying as he did so. He appeared to be oddly tired at that moment.

“Don’t mention it. And call me Teru. Too many people throw up their hands nowadays when somebody else is in need. This was the least I can do”, he explained. Next to the derision aimed at the everyman, there was a jaded quality to his voice. It stood in sharp contrast to his fumbling behaviour from earlier.

You shifted so that you were facing him. The makeshift underwear fashioned out of torn bed sheets chafed at your too soft skin as you did so. He had given you his name, that was a good sign that you weren’t being too rigid in his gestures, and that he was warming up to you.

“And because it is not a certain thing there is only more reason to be thankful”, you protested. Here, you were earnest. If he had come a bit later, then the negative consequences of your actions would have been more severe, or even permanent. Or even worse, maybe your two kidnappers would have found you. “You did save my life, Teru. It is hard not to be thankful.”

Blue eyes looked at you thoughtfully and he imitated your gesture by angling his torso to face you as well. He studied you from a moment, and you felt your skin crawl in anticipation.

“It seems like I have”, Teru finally muttered. It was contemplative and said with wonder. Wasn’t this guy a hero though? Didn’t he swoop around to save people daily?

Suppressing nervous laughter, you turned to ask him: “What were you doing outside? Was it one of your patrols?” By no means could you claim to really know what hero work entailed, with you only aware of the one or the other aspect of it through the news and also pop culture.

Your host leaned back into the musty sofa and closed his eyes.

“Something like that. Not really patrols in the traditional sense, more of a scouting of the neighborhood and analysing weak points and blind spots”, he elaborated. That wasn’t exactly comforting news. Had you stumbled into the arms of a villain?

He opened his eyes once more and fixed you with a calculating expression.

“I'm just in the area to investigate a series of break-ins. You wouldn't happen to be the villain behind those?”

Your face flushed and you felt mortified for a moment. Being put in the spotlight so suddenly was extremely unpleasant. And how could he just straight up accuse you of commiting crimes? Had he just taken you in to nurse you back to health and then interrogate you and slap the handcuffs on your wrists? Worse still, how could you convince him of your innocence without looking like an idiot? It wasn’t like you really had a verifiable alibi. The laughable notion of pulling Kurono up to testify that you had been in mafia hands and incapable of committing any burglaries came to mind.

Then it rushed away as the absurdity of the situation dawned on you and you began to chuckle. Soon you were laughing so hard, that your whole body was shaking and your muscles were beginning to ache again. It was exhilarating - you had gone around with a dour attitude for what felt like a lifetime, and this was a very welcome change of pace.

As a pleasant surprise, he joined in and his face shone with mirth. The hero looked far better with a genuine smile on his face. For a few seconds, the jadedness and the exhaustion melted away. The two of you sat there, laughter ebbing and rising as the humour resonated between the two of you.

“As sorry as I am for shocking you, you should have seen the look on your face!”, he pressed out once both your faces were more than just flushed from all the chucking and giggling.

His laughter came from the belly, and fully matched the smokey baritone he had. As he passed into chortling again, the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes became deeper. In turn, you tempered yourself for a few moments in order to stop laughing.

“That was very mean of you. You really had me convinced that you were going to arrest me for a moment”, you chided him. The past you might have gone as far as to playfully swat at him, though that person had long since become a matter of the past.

Teru now wore a more comfortable and lighthearted expression. “I know that my brand of humour is very dark and not everybody’s cup of tea. It was definitely worth the try, seeing how tense and on guard you were being”, he elaborated.

Upon his mention of it, you realised your own rigid body language. Despite allowing your body as a whole to sink into the cushions, your shoulders were still slightly hunched and there was tension in your arm and leg muscles. The pain of hyper tense muscles travelled up your back as you cocked your head. Without a doubt, your back was probably as hard as a stone due to all the stiffened muscles; a product of the past few months. Taking a few deep breaths, you consciously unwound the tension in your extremities and lowered your shoulders.

After the bout of merriment and manually relaxing your body, you indeed felt better.

“Sorry about that. It is just that I have been through so much that it is hard to feel safe, even when I logically know that I am.”

The man next you let out a loud exhale and fully turned to you. His body language was open and relaxed, purposefully so. Teru did his best to school his features to a warm and receptive expression - not an easy task for a man with such sharp features. His countenance only softened marginally. There was pity as well, and you couldn't define if the emotion spreading in your chest was relief or frustration.

“It is hard to miss that. You clam up every now and then, you act more like a frightened bunny that is being chased than a human being. While I'm not the most sociable person, I'll still listen to you if you want to talk about your experiences. Best not to be left alone with your thoughts after all”, he said.

In spite of his kind words, you were hesitant to share your burden. Grabbing the edges of the blanket, you cocooned yourself further. Opening your heart would mean exposing yourself to potential attacks and making yourself vulnerable. As tempting as it was to purge the wound of pus, it was nearly safer to keep everything inside. So you stewed in your misery, the concoction becoming more viscous by the minute. Soon you would never be able to free yourself.

What made it worse was that Kurono had been like this all too often. The kidnapper had insisted that you call him Hari and had plied you with books and blankets and fresh fruit. When he had talked with you, it had often been in a soft, warm tone that was more suited for luring in wild animals than conversing with a human. His reasoning had been sound, and with what he had said, you had thought that he emphasised with you. Consequently, you had stepped in his trap, and when he finally revealed his true colours, he had had enough intel to surpass or even rip your defenses down.

Teru sunk into himself after a few minutes of enduring your silence and ran a hand through his hair. Then he rubbed both hands up and down his thighs and sighed shakily. Eyes averted and directed to a distant point out the window, he eventually started talking about himself:

“I’m kind of a mixed bag when it comes to hero work. My quirk enhances all of my senses, for one, so I had a pretty terrible childhood, but that is another can of worms. For most of my career, I’ve been tasked with searching missing people.

“It is hard, gruelling work most of the time, even with a quirk suited for the task. While it is always a delight to find people that had simply gotten lost and were grateful to be rescued and brought home, it wasn't always the case. Far more often we'd find people that were the victims of villains, especially in the years when Almight was in America.”

He gave you a sombre and meaningful look. There was pain in his eyes, and finally it occured to you that all the discrepancies that you were picking up from him were due to him being jaded, of his bitter experiences clashing with his more caring base nature. Your fingers flexed.

“It could be anything from a disorientated or frightened girl to a man mutilated beyond recognition. Often, there wasn’t enough time to give the search party a full briefing, since any search is a race against time, with how things currently are. Therefore, we were never sure what we would find. Most of the time, it would be a terrible surprise that would leave the new members on the team retching, and the seasoned ones with sleepless nights. It is always terrible to have to pack somebody in a body bag and console the families afterwards.

“It is even worse when the person you searched for is dead by their own hand. Suicide never takes pain out of the world, it only transfers it to the people left behind. What follows is worse than usual grief because everybody blames themselves. But most of the time, there are no easy solutions to suicidality. Let me stop here before I divulge into philosophical rambling”, he explained. Towards the end, his voice grew thick and his eyes glassy. He turned his head with a sniff.

Once he gathered his bearings, he turned back to you. He took a shaky breath and quirked his lips to a false smile. Such an expression would be more suited on a softer face; on him, it only accentuated his pain.

“I hung the hat there a few months ago because it just became too much. As of now, I’m concerning myself with easier tasks, like investigating and catching burglars.” He made a sweeping gesture to the living room the two of you were seated in. “As you can see, this place is used and not really lived in yet. Comes from me drowning myself in work to not have to deal with the Gordian knot that is my past. Emotions can really be a pest. Friday nights are for the bar, and the bartender is the closest to a therapist that I can get. I’ve see the best and the worst of humanity, so much so that I can’t bear simply brushing somebody in need aside.”

The latter part of his tale was told in choppy sentences and his words were bittersweet. Teru had opened his heart to you to make you feel more at ease, which was more than anybody had done for you for a long time. To Kurono you had been akin to a pet, and to Chisaki, a doll. Nevertheless, this also pulled on your heart strings and put pressure on you to reciprocate the gesture.

“I am … sorry for what you had to go through. I know that you’ve been through a lot and to be honest, I don’t really know what to say”, you started. It was true, after all. How did you respond to a hero that elaborated on harsh work experience?

Your rescuer let out a small, barking laugh. “While I can understand you now feel the need to console me, you really don’t have to. This was an olive branch.”

You weighed your options and drew your knees to your chest. Your knee jerk instinct was to make up a lie that would be less embarrassing and exposing. Something like being a rich kid that had run away from home, or a tourist that had been mugged. Eventually though, you conceded at any tall tales that you could spin would only come back to bite you. The bitter, disgusting truth it would have to be.

“I was kidnapped by the Yakuza”, you stated. You paused there to gauge his reaction. There was a sharp inhale on his end and some muttered, intelligible cursing. He looked like he wanted to take the reins in his hands and launch into a questioning. Instead, he held himself back, and gave you a stiff nod to continue.

“I don't know what the usual story is of people roped in for organised crime, at least not entirely. There wasn't any fake modeling agency nor had I taken any money in the form of a loan from them. Actually, I didn't have any contact with them and was living a normal life. Things were not spectacular in any way; not very good, nor very bad”, you elaborated.

You forced yourself to unfurl your limbs and stretch. The flesh wasn't as numb as before and there was a pleasant burn as you extended your legs and pointed your toes. Tension curled in your abdomen, like a venomous snake ready to strike. With a shaky exhale you pushed yourself to continue.

“I didn't notice that I was being stalked at first. To me, it was always one of those things that only happen to other people, so I was in denial for the longest time. At first, it was also so easy to brush off as me having an overactive imagination.”

Not being able to contain your fidgeting, you reached forward to snatch the cup. With it in your hands, your twitching and tensing and scratching wouldn't be that obvious. His kindness and hospitality aside, you had still had been an involuntary recluse for the longest time, and furthermore the kidnapping wasn't the easiest thing to talk about.

“Then the gifts started appearing.”

You could recall it with painful clarity. The roses and the candied fruits had been sweet in the beginning, so much so that you had been able to brush the uneasiness aside. Naive as you had been, you had convinced yourself it was just the shy gestures of an acquaintance or co-worker.

“It was normal at first, and easy enough to just label as some cheesy romantic gesture. Then, the gifts started getting weirder and weirder. I got leather gloves and an elaborate filter mask. Next, there were outdated books on quirk theory. These were all things that just popped up on my doorstep, or in my mailbox.

“Then the stalking became more invasive. The gifts started appearing in my apartment, and with letters as well. I was told to avoid people, to not engage with heroes or villains and not to go to the police unless I wanted people to die. Things were stolen or misplaced and they started controlling my diet by replacing food items in my fridge and pantry. I became a nervous wreck and started to isolate myself because I didn't have the slightest clue who it was and who it wasn't.

“Me being at home didn't stop the buglaring or the gift-giving. It only brought me face to face with them and resulted in me getting abducted by the Shie Hassikai.”

Your voice cracked at the end and you were so swept up in emotions that you couldn't continue. Tears spilled down your cheeks and you bowed your head in shame of your own emotional vulnerability. Days upon days you had refused to let yourself dwell on what had happened; it was not like pondering on the what-ifs and has-beens would have improved your situation in any way. You had avoided letting yourself think about that “courtship” in order to not crack.

The hero shifted closer to you, and lay a tentative hand on your back. When you didn’t flinch away, he caressed you.

“Did they want you because of your quirk?”, he asked.

You scoffed derisively. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Though, he wasn’t at fault for asking such a question. Many kidnappings happened in order to utilise somebody’s quirk, or to … establish a new bloodline. It had been ironic luck that Kai Chisaki hadn’t been enthralled with you due to your powers.

“That occured to me as well in the beginning. But the Hassikai aren’t typical villains or like normal organised crime. They want to remove quirks from people”, you spat. You had been so naive in the beginning - you nearly missed those times. Actually knowing the nature and direction of Chisaki’s ambitions was worse.

A sharp gasp left your companion and he ceased his comforting gestures. Indeed, he even sprung to his feet and started pacing.

“Anti-quirk Yakuza, ha? That is very strange and concerning. Did they kidnap you because you are quirkless?”

To that, you shook your head quickly and flinched. While you had avoided being depicted as a human trafficking victim, there was the chance that he would decide that you had fallen prey to human experimentation. All of this was tiresome and tedious and soured acid on a festering wound. Even after he had taken you seriously and not lambasted or ridiculed your hardships, you still felt shame for what happened. While this was akin to draining the pus from an infection, it was still painful and highly unpleasant. Besides, how to make him understand without making it look like you sympathised with Overhaul’s cause. His goals and motivations weren’t of the common flavour and even less comprehensible to most.

That was the issue with explaining Overhaul: he didn't mind quirks, he didn't even mind quirk usage. What he detested was how quirks had changed society, had turned society into a hoard of eternal adolescents and the country into a playground. All these heroes and villains just smash up creatures and things, and then retreat back to their vast carelessness, according to him. Others were then left to pick up the pieces, and clean up the mess they made.

And then there were the ordinary people, who refused to lift a finger to help others because there surely was a hero closeby. Scientific development had stagnated and even regressed in some fields, and the current culture was one that catered to humanity's vices. Chisaki Kai didn't want to destroy quirks, he wanted to destroy hero society and then fashion something new and “healthy” from the ashes.

Overhaul's view was completely alien to most people and it didn't help that he tended to explain it through the lenses of his mysophobia. It had much time and frustration on his part, and much confusion and horror on yours until you had finally understood his rants. You probably only hadn't ended up as a smear on the wall because he had deemed making you understand his point of view to be of utmost importance. Overhaul had yearned for your love and sympathy and support, and had tried to gain it by breaking down his ambitions.

His world view was nearly incomprehensible to a quirk based society, so how on earth could you convey the gravitas and severity of his endeavour without being misunderstood yourself? To make matters worse, Chisaki's scheme of overhauling society even had a high chance of success.

You were about to lay out careful arguments and try to make him comprehend in a few minutes what had taken you weeks to grasp when the sound of a window shattering tore you out of contemplation. Teru immediately stopped pacing and you dropped the cup in your hand out of surprise.

Thankfully, it only fell onto your lap. The lid came undone and a few stray droplets darkened the blue blanket. All the tension that had bled from you the past minutes returned to you all at once and your heart rate shot up.

The hero's attention reflexively went in the direction of the commotion. In the next few moments, you were both motionless and silent as your ears strained to catch further noises. A high note of glass clattering heightened the suspense.

“Hide yourself somewhere close by and don't come out until I say the coast is clear. I'm going to go deal with these burglars”, he announced and then briskly set off to put himself in danger.

Being left alone was very daunting and you were tempted to call out to him and beg him to stay. A very selfish request and you forced yourself to stay silent. Your eyes followed him as he marched away. He didn't even bother with quieting his steps. You swallowed nervously.

Despite feeling lightheaded from fear, you willed yourself to stand up. Your heart was in your throat and you flexed your hands as you considered your next course of action.

Hiding in the living room would be the most obvious course of action. Therein lay the problem - if the criminals were out for blood, then of course they would check every nook and cranny of this room. Even if they were just out for valuables, then the living room still wasn't a safe place to stay.

Best hide yourself somewhere that couldn't possibly hold any valuables. With that thought in mind, you exited the living room, and then decided to head in the opposite direction of the commotion. You were still undecided about your hiding place when you passed the entry way and noticed motion in your periphery.

Just in time you turned your head to see the door swing open on silent hinges. There was no sound of it being unlocked or the tell-tale sound of the door handle being pressed down. Instead there was only the rustle of the lock disintegrating to particles and the exasperated sigh of Chisaki when he layed eyes on you.

You froze, like a rabbit that had just noticed the fox leering at it with hungry eyes. This really was one of the worst outcomes that could have been. Your mind blanked. Gold eyes fixed you with exasperated amusement. Nothing far from the usual and that was the worst part of it.

“I really had envisioned an evening that didn't involve running around and picking up runaways. Now don't drag out the inevitable and come here”, he told you. One gloved hand was outstretched.

The audacity of him to treat you like an unruly puppy, instead of a suffering person that yearned to leave all the hardships behind. It was sickening. It was disgusting. And the big problem here was that he thought he was being righteous and that you were being disagreeable. There he stood in the doorway just out of reach of the light’s rays. He was a spectre that had returned to haunt you, and he would never let you have peace. If you weren’t careful, he would drag you to hell with you in tow.

Slowly, you backed away from him, all while shaking your head. By now, you were hyperventilating, and his dismayed attitude only made you more distraught. Fresh tears started to spring from your eyes, and your lungs constricted with the beginnings of hyperventilation.

“Why do you have to make things so difficult? Can’t you see that I just want the best for you? Staying amongst this sickened society would have only made you fall prey to Hero Syndrome sooner or later. I just want to save you, I just want to keep you safe, and you treat me like a monster”, he criticised you and there was finally some more emotion in his raspy voice, even if it was just condensation.

Chisaki stepped into the light, the messing outline of the plague doctor mask he loved to wear shining. Droplets of water made the obnoxious purple fluff of his jacket shine. A new pair of latex gloves were snapped over the ones he was already wearing and he passed the genkan step to make his way over to you.

That was when fear kicked you into moving, and moving fast. You stumbled back where you came from and darted into the living room. From what you could hear, he didn’t even bother running after you and instead pursued you at a leisurely pace. A quick look over your shoulder told you that he was slowly becoming angry at your perceived insolence.

The door was hastily slammed shut behind you. Without having time to search for a better place to hide, scrammed to a small storage closet and squeezed yourself inside, taking as much care as you could to not knock over the vacuum cleaner inside. As quietly as possible, you closed the door again and crouched down. Right in the nick of time as well, because you had just closed the door when the living room door opened again.

You covered your mouth with a hand to muffle your breathing and you turned the impulse to jump in shock into a flinch when the living room door made a soft knock against your hiding place. Overhaul didn’t bother masking his steps as he sauntered into the room.

“I had planned to spend a relaxing evening with you. Heavens know that I needed it, especially after having to deal with that brat and all those incompetents. Then I come down to your room, only to find that you had knocked out your guard and run away. Just when you seemed to truly be coming around, just when you seemed to finally understand the rightness of my actions, you have to pull a stunt like this. Pet, you have no idea how disappointed I am in you”, your tormentor mused.

You listened as he walked around the living room. There was a loud squeak as he moved the couch, doubtlessly to check if you were under it.

“As much as I love you, it is moments like this that make me really want to tear my hair out. Here I thought that once I made you understand the importance of my work, I could grant you more freedoms. I was looking forward to not having to monitor your every move, and to foregoing the guards. You really have betrayed my trust this way. However, if you come out of your own accord now, I’ll be a bit milder with my punishment towards you.”

Breathing with a hand over your mouth was more difficult than expected. Sweat made your palms slick and caused the oversized shirt to stick in the most uncomfortable places. Your lungs burned as you tried to consciously control your breathing. 

There was a scoff on the other side of the door. 

“The first thing you do upon running away is drink hot chocolate. And here I thought Hari was being too lenient with you. Maybe he has been; I should stop turning a blind eye to him sneaking you treats.”

He tapped his fingers against a shelf as he rounded the room. Again, there was some tutting. Doubtlessly he had noticed the layer of dust covering all the furniture. 

“You know, your punishment is inevitable so there is no use hiding. A burned child shies the fire, after all, so it must be. We all know that a good talking to doesn’t really drive the point home, in your case. You need to be taught a lesson with emotional impact. Thankfully for you, it will be quick one this time.”

Footsteps from the hallway approached you, the steps speaking of a brisk and firm pace. Your heart soared and hope blossomed. You prayed that it was Teru and he was coming to rescue you. If anybody stood a chance against one Kai Chisaki, then it surely was a seasoned hero. Even if Canine Instinct couldn’t best Overhaul in a fight, then he could wreak enough havoc to enable the two of you to flee. If you were lucky, then more heroes would come to your aid and then Overhaul could be finally defeated once and for all. Maybe, you could then…

“Ah, Hari. Took you long enough”, Chisaki remarked, and with that, all your dreams were shattered. 

“Not on purpose, mind you. This one was tougher than your usual run-of-the-mill hero. He had a really nasty right hook”, Kuruno remarked. There was a nasal quality to his voice, as if his nose had been broken. A groan was followed by a thump, as if a body was being set down. 

You balled your hand into a fist and bit down on your thumb to stop yourself from wailing. Shivers wracked your body and sharp pain sprouted from where your teeth dug into your flesh. Hope dies last, and it never is a pretty or peaceful death. 

“A hero, how very quaint. Say, should we torture him?”, Overhaul mused.

You screwed your eyes shut, as if you could will what was playing out to become unreality. This was all your fault in a way, and that made this all the worse. If only you could convince yourself to move, then maybe you could save him. However, you were too paralysed with fear, or you were too selfish to do so. 

"Do we really have the time for that? As much as I would like to see the one that took our darling (name) away from us, 

I would prefer to have them in my arms already", Chrono remarked. 

A huff and then the rustle of fabric. It was very clear to you by now that Chisaki was annoyed and furious and that letting his anger out on the hero would very much a viable option for him at the moment. From everything that Chisaki had shown you about himself, he was the type to bottle his rage behind formality and ambition and transmutate it into a drive to fulfill his goal. Until it would all become too much and he would explode. Then blood would paint the walls and people would die or be mutilated. 

"Look in the storage closet behind the door."

The words barely registered when the door was already ripped open and a hand shot forwards to wrap itself around your wrist. You kicked and yelled and attempted to 

bite with, just in the face of your aggression the man simply fisted your hair with his other hand. The pain caused you to scream and he used the moment to force you to tilt your head back. You were then dragged out of your hiding place by the hand on your wrist; the one on the back of your head forced you to comply and not move a centimetre out of line. 

You were brought to the middle of the living room next to the couch. Teru was sprawled next to the coffee table, the miniscule movements that he was making sluggish. 

The wonderful effects of Chronostasis. The man behind you shifted to release your wrist and then curled his arm around your waist. Kai regarded you with sardonic amusement. The skin around his eyes crinkled to crows feet. 

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?", he inquired mockingly. 

Your thoughts were now racing a thousand miles a minute and that was when something extraordinarily stupid came to mind. You didn't waste any time musing if it was a good move or not, because there was no moment like the present. Briefly, you allowed yourself to sag forward in mock defeat. You didn't plan on speaking - what was there to say that you hadn't said in the beginning? Anything that came to mind was corny or pathetic and you didn't want to say anything that would diminish yourself in their eyes any further. Besides, your throat ached from the stress your body had to go through in these short minutes. 

However, there was one thing you wanted to give off your chest: 

"Go to hell, both of you."

With that, you threw yourself backwards and upwards. There was the satisfying crack as your head met his nose, and crushed the already damaged cartilage. Kurono swore and from the corner of your eyes you noticed Kai jerk forwards. For a precious few moments, the vice grip on you loosened and you attempted to rip yourself out of his arms. 

You failed. While you managed to tear free, he caught you almost immediately. One hand grabbed your hair again, and reeled you back with you letting out small yelps of agony. 

When you were next to him he took his mask off and set it on the armrest next to him. Blood was running down his face, past his lips and was already staining the collar of his off-white coat. 

"I say that our little poppet should learn the price of running away, yes?", Hari suggested, rubbing his nose were you had slammed your head into it. The white glove came away smeared with blood. The already swollen flesh around his nose had taken on a blue-purple tinge. He gave you nasty smile, something very unusual for him given how passive and laid-back he tended to be. Injuring him had evidently crossed a line. 

"Of course. Don't you want me to see to your nose first, however. It looks pretty bad", Chisaki asked. 

His eyes filtered over the injury before landing on you. A vein popped in his forehead and the beginnings of hives were discolouring his skin. That matched with the glare he gave you made you flinch. Not only had you forced him to enter a hero's house, you had also injured his friend and your other lover. With Kurono's tendency to dote on  you, he had probably tasked him with taking care of you. The assumption had most likely been that you wouldn't dare harming Hari. 

Whenever Kai had been frustrated or absolutely strict, Hari had usually stepped in to act as a buffer. You owed one Hari Kurono much of your sanity. Because of that, you had gone to great pains to remain in his good graces. And suddenly, you had thrown all of that into the fire. 

"It is worse than it looks. Let us finish up here and then head back to the compound. We can do all the medical stuff there", was the response. There was some shuffling as he put his mask back on again. Then, he stepped behind you again and proceeded to restrain you in a full Nelson. 

Kai shrugged, an awkward move with that trademark bomber jacket that he was still wearing. He peeled the gloves on his left hand off and bent down. 

Kurono lowered his head so that his mouth was level with your ear. 

"Behave now. It could be worse; I could tell Kai about the things you told me about your time in highschool", he threatened. With hopeless eyes and a hand on your jaw, you were forced to witness an execution. 

Chisaki only touched Teru with the very tip of his finger, yet that was enough to activate Overhaul. The supine body exploded outwards in a whirl of blood and guts and bones. Your abductor stood in the middle, a wicked sorcerer of his own design, and stared thoughtfully at the churning mass of gore. 

Kurono tightened his grip around you as you started to squirm more relentlessly. It was far too late Teru, yet that didn't dampen the desperation and sadness that screamed at you to come to his aid. 

“Calm down, you will only injure yourself”, the man cautioned you. “Don't waste your tears and your heart on that filth when you have Kai and me.”

Finally, Kai came to a conclusion. The maelstrom of human tissue imploded, and next to Overhaul there was the dead body of Canine Instinct. His eyes were open, and skin already deathly pale. It looked like he had been dead for some time now. While you weren't an expert, it appeared as if rigor mortis was already in its final stages. 

"Doesn't look like much. I though you wanted to burn the house down to remove any and all evidence?", Chrono inquired. 

Overhaul shook his head at that. The corpse was given a firm kick and then the Yakuza head made his way over to the two of you. He fished a lone glove out of his jacket pocket and with sure gestures put it on. His yellow eyes remained on you the whole time, as if the answer was actually meant for you: 

"I've changed my mind. Let us give the heroes a mystery to throw them off our trail. I've altered our dear friend here so that all medical examinations will find him to have been dead for a long time already. What I granted was a peaceful death, much more than a hopeless case like him would have deserved."

He stopped right in front of you, the tip of his mask nearly scratched your cheek. What a sight you must have been - eyes glassy and wide blown, your mouth half open as you panted and the veins of your neck prominent. You opened your mouth and not a sound came out. 

"It is your fault, you know", he pointed out. One gloved hand cupped your cheek and his thumb ghosted over your cheek bone. "You forced my hand. If you hadn't run away, then nobody would have had to die because of you. Count yourself lucky that there aren't more corpses."

With that, he marched past the two of you in the direction of the front door. Chronostasis pushed you into moving and you shuffled along, dazed by what had happened.

 On the way past the couch, he snatched the blanket and pressed it to your chest. Wordlessly, you accepted it and undid the bundle with shaking hands. The adrenaline rush was subsiding, and you felt like a passenger in your own body. 

When you took too long to wrap yourself up, Kurono ripped the blanket from your hands and with deft movements tucked the fabric underneath your arms and rolled you up in it. Strong hands lifted you up, and once he was carrying you bridal style he followed his best friend. You found Overhaul by the closed door, waiting for you. As soon as you were by him, he opened it. 

It was snowing outside now. Thick white flakes drifted from the heavens to settle in a seamless blanket on the ground. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

There was nobody in sight, and the snow dampened all sounds. Grief weighed heavy in your heart, and fear stayed your tongue. Kurouno’s bodily warmth was a bittersweet comfort, and you leaned into you despite what he had done earlier. There would no doubt be bruises tomorrow. Next to you, Overhaul sighed once more, as if this was all such a tedious chore. 

“So much for just light snowfall. Our kitty will be too cold to bathe immediately when we get home”, Kai lamented. Your heart clenched at the pet name he used for you. 

Hari shifted you in his gasp and added to the conversation:

“We can still get rid of the clothing and pump their stomach until they are warm enough. Perhaps we should also replenish their electrolytes and scrub their skin before washing. Leaving them alone when they are so emotionally fragile like this would only be detrimental. This sweetheart here needs to be comforted, and brought back on the right path with the carrot and the stick.”

“You are right at that. Let us go now and fast. I don’t want to waste anymore time at this disgusting place.”

Your story was a fairy tale in ways, yet it was one of the older, gruesome ones, where a happy ending was anything but guaranteed.