#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

[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?!"

[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?”

[lesinquietes]

Doctor!Kai makes a mandatory call to you, a female farmer, because you only paid a portion of the fee for your meds. Having just moved to this tiny farming town, he doesn’t know what the last physician was doing, giving out free visits and charging half price for pharmaceuticals. Now that he’s here, things will be different. After all, what sort of connection does he have to this life — to filthy gardens and livestock? Nothing. He’s only here because his grandfather insisted that country life would help “loosen him up”. Hopefully, it won’t take him long to realize he’s utterly miserable here.

When you come in to pay what you owe, however, his pupils dilate. He thought you were a farmer. Why do you look so clean and feminine, with your beautiful tresses that smell strongly of lavender, and your form-fitting sundress with yellow daisies? You’re… gorgeous. He requests a piece of ID. You’re a good sport about it. You try to make conversation with him as you pay for the meds. He’s finds it difficult to look at you. He’s grateful he’s wearing a face mask to conceal the blush that’s spreading across his pale cheeks. You caught him off guard, looking like you do. He didn’t expect you to be breathtaking.

Before you leave, he implores you to book a physical examination next week. It’s the middle of June, and heat exhaustion is a leading cause of death for farmers. It isn’t, but you don’t need to know that. You smile agreeably. He books you in for Monday afternoon — as soon as possible. Maybe one day, he’ll save you from this wretched, boring town and take you back to the city with him; maybe this time, he’s found a wife that’s worthy of leading a yakuza empire by his side.

Next l

𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[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.” 

[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!" 

[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 ♡

[yandere-kokeshi]

first of all, love your pfp bestie we stan medusa, SECOND OF ALL how do you think Chisaki would respond to his s/o or darling calling him cute with no warning

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight talk of blood

A/N: thank you <3. Also, I didn't check for errors, so please excuse me! Enjoy otherwise.

The minute those words roll out of your tongue, Overhaul stops whatever he’s doing and looks at you — nobody, not even The Boss, had called him cute, handsome, or whatever compliments the dictionary has. 

His heart beats faster. He feels odd, too sweaty, hands suddenly shaky, and he can't even check your blood now — his cheeks rise red. But, he dodges it. Clearly not wanting to make it a huge deal, even though it is.

He clears his throat loudly, pretending your words didn’t nearly make him choke. When he finds you looking at him, questioning at his dodgy behavior, anxiety, and butterflies flap around in his stomach. Do you know what you do to him?

Kai gulps, nodding at your question if he’s okay, then thanking you with his monotone voice. He’s wearing his mask, of course he is. And he hopes you can’t see the smile. 

However, you do; the creases in his eyes, how his pupils practically light up, and looking at you almost waiting for more praises every time you speak about whatever is on your mind.

Calling him cute made his body short an error, and he liked it. Wants to hear more from you, but won’t do so due to his arrogant, and boss reputation he has to hold.

He'd love to hear you say it again.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[narumi-gens]

Triptych | "You left me alone."

Chisaki Kai x f!Reader

summary: Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.

chapter warnings: 18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, yandere, angst, imprisonment, emotional manipulation, emotional/psychological abuse, depression, reader stops eating, codependency, abandonment issues

notes: this is from a non-chronological series so the parts can be read in any order (or on their own). shoutout to the anon who asked me a very long time ago when their "husband" (triptych) was "coming home from war" (unofficial hiatus). he's back, bb!

words: 1.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

The End

It’s hard to gauge time in the darkness. With no window to keep track of whether it’s day or night, the only way to track the passage of time is by the three daily meals that are left for you by a masked and silent guard. When you were first locked away, it was easy to count the meals and thus the days.

But as the days and the darkness and the isolation stretch on, your grasp on reality begins to slip. It’s difficult in the blackness to tell if your eyes are open or closed — if you’re sleeping or if you’re awake. Is this meal the first of the day or the second? Maybe it’s the third. 

The longer you spend in this room, in this cell, the more you can feel the life slowly draining from you. Eventually, you stop eating, your appetite fading altogether along with your will to keep fighting. 

Your faceless, nameless guard brings you a meal, only to take away an untouched one. You don’t know how long this goes on for. All you know is it doesn’t take long for your body to feel as fragile as your mind. 

Until one day, when the door to your prison opens and the figure holding a tray and standing in the doorway, backlit by the light from the hallway — the only light you ever see anymore — isn’t your usual guard. 

Despite the way your heart races at the sight of someone new, someone familiar, you remain still, too tired and weak to move even if you wanted to. All you can do is look at him with eyes squinting from the sudden brightness. 

“You’re not eating,” Kurono points out needlessly from the doorway. You can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. How long has it been since you’ve heard a voice other than the one in your head?

You watch in a daze as he walks toward you and sets the tray down on the table beside the twin-sized bed that you’ve been curled up in since you were first put here. The scent of your lunch, or maybe it’s dinner, reaches your nose and while your stomach reacts with a deep pang of hunger, you still feel no real appetite to actually eat what Kurono has brought you. 

You glance at the tray and see a shallow bowl on top. It must be a broth, something easy to digest after days — has it been days? — of eating nothing. When you look back at Kurono, you find that his head is tilted down in your direction. With his mask covering the entirety of his face, you can only assume that he’s turned his attention fully to you. 

There’s an unfamiliar sense of longing deep down inside of you. You wish he would take off the stupid mask. You’re desperate to see another person’s face.

“How-” you’re cut off by a small cough, your throat dry and scratchy, unused to speaking after so long spent alone in the dark. “How long have I been here?”

Kurono stays silent, refusing to answer your question. Against your will, tears begin to blur your vision from how much it hurts to be ignored by someone you know so well after having been locked away by yourself for so long. You must look pitiful because he softly sighs.

“You need to eat,” he says and even through your haze, you can hear his weariness. 

You wonder if he’s truly concerned or if he’s just tired of the irritable mood that Kai has surely been in since he put you here. But as you continue to stare up at him, you decide that it isn’t a fair assumption. For as long as you’ve known Kurono, whatever’s important to Kai is important to him. 

And apparently, there’s nothing of greater importance to him than you. Except for one thing…

“E-Eri,” you breathe out, a new type of desperation taking hold. “How’s Eri? Is she safe? Is she okay?”

They’re all stupid questions. Of course she isn’t safe. Of course she isn’t okay. She won’t be safe until you can take her far, far away from the Hassaikai and Kai. 

“If you don’t eat, Eri will be the one to pay.” The words are Kai’s even if they’re coming from Kurono, and they cut just the same.

Your next question escapes you before you’re even able to fully process it.

“Where’s Kai?” you rasp and you should feel embarrassed. You should feel ashamed for asking after the man who’s torturing a little girl, who incapacitated your father, who locked you away in the dark for what must have been weeks by this point. 

You should feel ashamed for asking after the man who’s been quietly controlling you and isolating you and manipulating you for your whole life. 

But you’re just so lonely. You would give anything to be free of the darkness.

Right now, you want nothing more than to see Kai, and the realization has a single tear finally escaping your eye and rolling across the bridge of your nose

“Kurono,” you weakly plead with a pathetic sniffle when he doesn’t answer you. “Hari…Where’s Kai?”

The use of his given name seems to soften his stony demeanor because he gives another quiet sigh.

“Eat,” he says, gentler this time, but you’re already beginning to spiral. The small hint of kindness he’s shown you, even when it’s dripping with pity, is too much for you to handle when you’ve been isolated and alone for so long.

“Please, tell him I don’t want to be here anymore,” you cry. You squeeze your eyes shut in a futile attempt to hold back your tears as the pillow beneath you quickly turns wet. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

The feeling of a warm hand on the side of your head has you opening your eyes back up to find Kurono now kneeling down at your bedside. His mask is held in his other hand, allowing you to see the slight frown on his lips as he watches you cry.

“You’ll feel better if you eat something,” he assures you and you want to protest, to continue to waste away into nothingness, but you remember Eri. 

Eri, who’s suffering, who’s being tortured, who will pay the price should you keep refusing to eat, who will truly have no one on her side if you disappear.

And so, after looking up at Kurono for a long moment, you weakly nod. It’s his steady hand that helps you sit up, holding you carefully but firmly when you feel lightheaded. Once he seems to think you’re no longer at risk of collapsing back onto the bed, he releases you to bring the tray to your side. 

Then, as if you’re nothing more than a child, he raises the bowl and brings a small spoonful of the broth to your chapped lips for you to sip. Anger bubbles in your stomach and you feel the urge to shove away the spoon, the bowl, and Kurono for the infantilizing behavior. 

The anger is almost a relief, letting you know that you’re capable of feeling something, anything, other than despair. But again, you think of Eri and swallow the broth without complaint. Just as you do when he gives you another spoonful and then another, eating what you’re given until you’re full, which admittedly doesn’t take too long. 

He gives you a soft smile before putting his mask back on, picking up the tray, and leaving you alone in the darkness once more. He doesn’t visit again, but the meals continue to show up on their usual schedule, three times a day, evolving from broths to more nutritious food once your stomach can handle something more. 

But one day — you’re not sure how many days later — instead of waking up to a meal, you open your eyes to find Kai sitting on the edge of your bed, patiently watching you. 

There’s a part of you that thinks you’re imagining his presence, or that maybe it’s a dream, until he places a glove-free hand on your cheek. His touch is achingly familiar and you���re overcome with self-loathing at how much comfort it provides you.

“Kai?” you breathe, tears of relief blurring your vision. His thumb gently brushes away the first one that escapes. Your own hand comes up to cover his where it cups your cheek, desperately and pathetically clinging onto him in a wordless plea for him not to let you go. 

“You said you’d never leave me alone, but you did,” you start to cry. “You left me alone.”

He lets you weep, his thumb continuing to swipe away the tears that he can catch with a touch that both burns and soothes. He offers no explanation or words of consolation, silently and calmly watching as you fall apart before him. 

It’s only when your sobs have started to die down that he encourages you to look back up at him with his touch.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he finally asks.

All you can do is move closer to him so you can bury your face in his lap as a fresh wave of tears comes over you. 

[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.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kai Chisaki General Profile

Yandere! Kai Chisaki x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of dub-con, Kai is awkward and literally can't not pop boners around you constantly, threats, mentions of blood, mentions of needles, slight objectification, allusions to neglect, Kai forces you to watch him kill someone, masturbation, fem! reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

Tidy

First and foremost, being Kai’s darling requires a certain level of cleanliness.

They by no means need to be a germaphobe or obsessively making sure every surface is spotless, but keeping their living space fairly clean and orderly is something incredibly appealing to Kai.

And once his darling is living in the base and has a room all to themselves, it pleases him greatly to see his darling’s bed neatly made every morning, their clothes (all hand selected by him, of course) hanging up in the closet, or any other small display of them just generally wanting the area to be somewhat neat.

He likes the reassurance that his darling has a bit of sense about them, that they understand that cleanliness is important.

And honestly, one of the most heartwarming things Kai can imagine is his darling purposefully cleaning something for him, that they’re willing to spend their time and energy voluntarily making sure that something has been sanitized, cleaned or straightened up all in the name of making him more comfortable, of helping alleviate some of the disgust and fear of his everyday life.

He loves the idea of his darling being a sweet little domestic partner, a housewife of sorts, and if they have a natural liking of keeping things on the cleaner side?

Well, it only makes Kai fall harder, deeper, more completely, because god, how is his darling so fucking perfect for him?

Sweet

Kai is honestly a bit pessimistic; he’s not especially positive about things in life, not especially kind or forgiving, and though he hasn’t really given much thought to what he does and doesn’t find attractive, even he can’t deny that there’s a certain allure to someone who’s the opposite of him; of his brash and cold words, someone warm and sweet and soft.

A darling that doesn’t hesitate to throw kind words at him, to praise the people around them and just generally make people feel good about themselves is something he quickly becomes enamored with, the compliments at first catching him off guard.

His darling saying something along the lines of wow, the gold in your mask really brings out the shades of your eyes – it’s really pretty, is only met with Kai’s cryptic, stoic stare, making them shrink in on themselves while he internally tries to process the idea that his darling likes his eyes.

He’s confused at first, slightly irritated and wondering if they meant it in some sort of derogatory or mean way, but as his cold eyes search their own warmer, slightly nervous ones, he’s taken aback to realize that they mean it, that they’re being genuine with their words.

In all honesty, growing up in the yakuza and being surrounded by criminals and an parental figure that used tough love more than anything, having someone actively praise him or deliver compliments is something he’s completely unused to, completely confused by

But he can’t deny the way a little seed of warmth grows in his chest, the words feeling strange but nice.

And as his darling only continues with their offhand compliments, their small, sweet words, Kai only grows more and more addicted to them, and though he tries his best to compliment them back (it comes off more threatening than anything – your hands are very clean, I wish I could keep them for myself), it’s a bit difficult for him to recover from their honesty, from the way his heart hammers against his ribcage at just one mere kind smile from them.

It’s disorienting, but Kai would be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it.

Patient

He is, admittedly, a bit poor with processing and expressing his feelings; he’s never experienced a relationship or romantic feelings of any sort before he met his darling, and as a result he’s a bit clueless when it comes to courting them, to how he should act around them.

Of course, he wants nothing more than to completely woo his darling, to sweep them off their feet and get them to fall madly in love with him, but he’s realistic enough to know that no matter how many cheesy, dreadful rom-coms he watches, no matter how many articles or pieces of advice from colleagues and clients, it won’t change the fact that he’s just naturally not romantic, that he’s just not good with expressing himself.

He wants to be a wonderful partner, always spoiling his darling and making them feel treasured and loved like how he really feels, but it’s difficult for him to break away the layers of carefully built shields around himself, the thick skin he’s acquired through years of working in the underground mafia.

And, because of this, his darling absolutely needs to be patient – they need to be able to give him the time and space he needs in order for him to process his feelings, to try and make sense of how and when he should approach them about his desires to hold them, to see them smile.

And while it’s likely that his darling won’t even be aware of his obsession and romantic feelings towards them until much later in his infatuation, they need to be understanding of how fucking hard it is for Kai to be vulnerable, to allow any sort of happiness or weakness into his life.

Because really, his darling is his one true, huge weak spot – one he loves dearly and would give his life for, but still isn’t quite sure how to rely this to them.·      

Smart

In Kai’s world, strategy, power and manipulation are absolutely everything; he needs to be at the top of his game at all times, making sure that he’s making the right decisions, playing the right cards and just generally making every possible move towards the restoration of the Shie Hissakai.

He’s constantly strategizing, thinking through decision after decision, scenario after scenario, and as a result he’s grown to absolutely demand intelligence out of those around him, to require brains and a general threshold of understanding for those he deems close to him, and his darling is no exception.

They don’t need to be book smart per se, but he needs to have confidence that if he were to explain something to them (though he avidly tries to separate his darling from any and all yakuza business) that they would understand, that he wouldn’t need to spend hours going over the same piece of information again and again before they finally understood.

There’s a certain attractiveness to intelligence that he can’t quite explain, but very much feels – when his darling makes some sort of quick remark or statement in response to something he said, there’s a sense of pride swelling in his chest, because that’s his beloved who’s so smart, so understanding and quick thinking.

He really likes the idea of his partner and him being a bit of a ‘power couple’ (though he absolutely refuses to give up any of his own power over his work or them – he is in charge, as he always will be), in that they’re both forces to be reckoned with, smart and strong and a powerful team together.

It’s enticing, and though his darling likely couldn’t change his mind about anything, Kai enjoys asking them about their opinions and thoughts on certain matters, just to understand how deeply they agree or disagree, how deeply his darling’s smarts run.

That, and Kai will be taking every possible opportunity to bond with beloved, even if talking about hero society is the way to do it.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Controlling

Kai is, as in most aspects of his life, absolutely desperate to be in charge of every little thing around him.

He needs to be dictating every single thing you do, everything you say and think and feel, otherwise things get ugly, quickly.

There’s a part of him that’s absolutely terrified that you hold so much emotional weight over him, that he cares so much about you, that he does things because of you.

He doesn’t like the way he feels so helpless in the face of you, even as unassuming and weak as you are.

He doesn’t like that you hold such power over him, knowingly or not, and as a result it helps to quell down this anxiety and fear when he’s telling you that you’re not allowed to leave your room, that you must wash your hands every ten minutes on the dot, that you aren’t to speak to another living soul besides himself.

Kai craves for you to feel the same overwhelming, disorienting love that he does for you, but more than anything he craves absolute control over you.

He wants power over you, to know that you will follow his every word, his every command, anything and everything he could ever want.

To him, it shows that you trust him, that you love him and that you’re giving yourself to him, to let him love you and show you how much you mean to him.

In his eyes, it’s all actually strangely romantic – you’re his sweet little quirkless woman, the girl he thinks he loves, the one he’d do anything and everything to protective and keep his, and in return all he asks is that you let him decide everything for you, that you depend completely and solely on him.

It’s a fair deal, really, and after all, he knows what you need much better than you do - after all, he knows you better than you know yourself.

He has a, for lack of a better term, brutal schedule that he keeps you chained to – he’s rigging an alarm for your room that goes off at exactly 6:30 in the morning, a steady beeping noise that does the job quite nicely, if the camera feed showing you frowning and covering your ears with the single pillow he’s given you is anything to go by.

He’s sending in a henchman (masked, so that there’s no chance of you finding him attractive) with a tray of nutritionally balanced breakfast items that you will eat, lest he’ll use force against you.

Your breakfast will consist of a pile of meat of his choosing, steamed vegetables on the side, and a small container of starch next to the plate.

A smattering of vitamins are enclosed in a small box in the corner of the tray, the some ten different pills ranging from the size of his pinky nail to a quarter patiently waiting to be swallowed.

(When you ask, he doesn’t tell you what they’re for - he just tells you they’re good for you, that you’d better take them, we wouldn’t want you getting sick, now would we? You don’t need to know that they’re all for diseases or conditions that run in your family - he checked - but you don’t have - it’s just a preemptive measure to make sure you don’t develop them, that nothing could ever harm you and take you away from him. Plus, the small white one you eye suspiciously will help him in the future, he hopes - after all, he’s certainly not ready for you to fall pregnant anytime soon.)

You’re scheduled for testing most of the day after that – various blood tests, check ups on your physical and mental health, mandatory meetings with him in his office to discuss your ‘progress’.

(You’re still not exactly sure what he means by that - he won’t give you details when you press, instead getting this weird sparkle in his eye while he stares at you, the eye contact making you squirm while he tells you that you’re very important, you’re the key to my success.)

Dinner is the same as your breakfast, and directly after is a shower that lasts for ten minutes – no more, no less, where you’re required to shampoo, condition, and scrub your body.

(You don’t know it, but there’s a camera set up in the corner of the shower that’s constantly rolling, just so that Kai can get some peace of mind and make sure you’re doing as you say - it’s certainly not to aid him when it’s late and he’s sitting in his office, eyes trained to the screen as he aches and throbs and yearns for you, both aroused and disgusted by the thought of being intimate with you, of being inside of you…)

You’re to be in bed by 9:00 at night, tucked underneath the covers and eyes closed so that you get the proper amount of sleep, ready to be awoken so rudely the next morning and repeat it all.

Deviation is quite rare in his itinerary for you – sometimes he’ll join you during your meals, or inform you that certain tests are being postponed until further notice, but for the most part Kai will absolutely be keeping you on his regiment – having such obvious control of you is something that he absolutely needs, a requirement he’s simply unwilling to compromise on.

The feelings you give him are already disorienting enough, strong enough to leave him feeling weak, dependent, angry, and the only way to regain some semblance of power is to show you that you utterly and completely belong to him, that you have absolutely no control over your new life, over your life in which you’re Kai’s beloved, perfect little woman.

Possessive

Because Kai has never really developed feelings for anyone in his life, romantic or really even platonic outside of Pops and Chrono, you present an anomaly for him.

The way that he feels for you, the desperation that overtakes him where you’re concerned is something he’s completely unfamiliar with, something strange and new and something he isn’t entirely sure how to handle.

(He’s never been a fan of romance, and has spent very little time indulging in any sort of media discussing the topic, and as a result he does genuinely feel like a fish out of water, even if he doesn’t entirely hate the experience.)

And really, the strangest thing about the development of his feelings for you is the way that he just reacts to you, unconsciously moving or thinking things he would never do otherwise.

There’s a part of him that he completely loses control over when you walk into the same room as him, when he sees your lovely eyes fixed on him, when you say his name, when you so much as breath in the same space as him.

(He’d requested you start calling him Kai in private a few months into your ‘stay’, if only because the way the letters roll off of your tongue makes his eyes flutter closed and a sharp exhale sound from below his mask.)

His eyes are snapping to you every time you enter his peripheral, amber eyes appraising you and scanning up and down your body, noticing a new detail every single time - he wasn’t aware you had a mole there, or a small scar here.

(But now, don’t you worry, he’ll remember well.)

And because he’s so unsure of how to manage the new urges and responses that you present him with, he falls back onto his more aggressive traits, the more primal parts of him that don’t really express themselves much in his day to day life taking center stage.

That is, Kai suddenly turns into a jealous, possessive freak because of you – he’s plagued with worries that you’ll leave him, that one day he’ll wake up to find your bed empty, your smile vanished along with your body he was just beginning to crave touching.

(Though he rationally knows the security system of the Shie Hissakai base and the numerous tunnels and henchmen would prove your escape extremely unlikely).

He’s paranoid that you’ll find someone else within the organization that you like more - someone more conventional, friendlier, more intimate with you.

(Just the thought of another man touching you makes Kai’s muscles stand taught, fists flexing and his quirk spiking up out of control, his bloodlust skyrocketing because absolutely nobody should be laying their filthy, disgusting hands on you and ruining you.)

And though it makes him feel stupid, weak, pathetic, he can’t help the way jealousy sits heavy in his stomach as he watches you smile and thank Chrono for dropping by with a new book to read, one Kai himself had heard you mention something about offhandedly, one Kai remembered and went out and personally bought just for you.

He can’t help the way his fists clench as he stares behind the computer screen, vowing to himself that he’ll be the one to deliver you gifts from now on, so that you won’t associate anything sweet or thoughtful with anyone but him.

He hates the way you make him feel (at least, that’s what he tells himself – but even he can’t deny the warmth spreading through his entire chest when you softly murmur thank you, Kai, I love it as he places the elegant, dainty gold necklace with his initials in your palms), but he knows that there isn’t much he can do to change it.

He knows that for all the negative feelings your smile and touch stir up within him, he’d never really choose to let go of his devotion for you because god, do the positive feelings make up for the negative ones a thousand times over.

And so, once he comes to terms with the fact that you do inspire jealousy within him, that he’s territorial over you in a way that makes him feel more animal than man, he’s taking it and running with it – he wants everyone within the Shie Hissakai to understand that you are completely off limits, that you’re property of Kai Chisaki himself, that you are quite literally owned by Overhaul.

He’s threatening undermen, buying you expensive clothing and jewelry and trinkets to make you feel loved, appreciated, even if the ring he presented you with while you ate the mystery dinner from Chrono’s tray the other day looked much too similar to a wedding ring to comfort you.

He sees you as his possession, an item he can have and own and cherish, and while he does want you to love him, to want him in the same way he wants you, there’s just something about marking you as his, dressing you up in clothing that he bought for you, covering you from head to toe in antibacterial lotion that he chose the scent of, keeping you his sweet little partner that makes him oddly giddy, an honest, genuine happiness washing over him that he hasn’t felt in years.

So really, just let him dress you, feed you, bath you and remind you that you’re nothing without him, that he’s the only one you can trust and should care about, and Kai will be over the moon. He might, maybe even smile fondly at you, petting your hair and whispering a soft I love you to your sleeping form.

You’re just that special.

Dependent

Although he’s strong and almost infuriatingly independent, once his emotional connection with you develops, Kai is a bit of a lost cause.

You mean absolutely everything to him – his whole life before you revolved around re-establishing the Shie Hissaikai and ending hero society, but once you show up?

Well, it’s still important to create and harvest the drug, to be using Eri and making sure the organization will continue on strong and prosperous, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to take just a small break from vigorously rubbing in some hand sanitizer after a business meeting and let his mind wander to you, to imagine how you’re probably curled up on your bed trying to nap, looking all peaceful and calm and - dare he say it - cute.

It’s not too big of a deal to take a few minutes to drop by your room and check up on you, right?

(Besides, seeing the way you brighten up when he steps into the room makes something in his chest swell with pride; you wanted to see him, didn’t you? Not really, no - it just gets so lonely all alone in the windowless room, but Kai doesn’t need to know that.)

Surely it wouldn’t be bad to take a break from the mountains of paperwork and watch the live footage of you in your room, working diligently at the puzzle he gifted you with the other day, right?

Kai is, for lack of a better term, completely whipped for you – your safety, happiness and health are things that are constantly on his mind, swirling questions of what you’re doing at any given time, when you last ate or slept or used the restroom circling through his head so much it feels like a never-ending loop.

Once Kai gets a taste of how good it feels to care for someone, to have a special person in his life that makes his heart race, his throat get a bit tight and his hands to start sweating, he’s clutching onto it with desperation, doing everything in his power to keep the sensations of happiness, of contentedness, of genuine love blooming in his chest.

He’s addicted to you, and while his every waking thought is either fixated on the drugs or you (though as time passes it slowly becomes clear to him that you take more of his headspace than his work, a disturbing discovery but not one he bothers to fight), his devotion to you only deepens.

Of course, Kai is absolutely terrible at expressing how much you mean to him – he’s so emotionally stunted, so unsure of how to approach you and the way you make him feel, that more often than not you’ll be left wondering what you did to irritate him, why he’s always staring at you so intensely, why he’s always stopping by your room and asking you personal, strange questions.

(Do you prefer cold or warm climates? What’s more upsetting to you – seeing a child or a puppy kicked? What areas on your body are ticklish? Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?)

Honestly, Kai will likely just be one huge mystery to you – he doesn’t want to expose himself and his feelings, and as a result he won’t show any traces of vulnerability to you – you’re left completely in the dark, left to wonder why and how you’re still alive, and when the yakuza boss will decide that you’ve lived past your expiration date.

Sure, he does buy you gifts; jewelry much too expensive for your tastes, dresses and skirts that accentuate your form in darker colors (he’s particularly partial to greens and golds – always dressing you up in gold necklaces, gold heels and sleek jade dresses that dip just a bit too low on your chest), occasionally a bouquet of flowers in your favorite colors that he insists brighten up the mood a bit.

(Though you don’t have the heart nor the courage to tell him that a bundle of roses sitting in a vase in the corner of your stark white room doesn’t make you any more comfortable there.)

Sure, he spends hours upon hours upon hours behind the computer in his office staring at you through the screen, the many cameras and audio bugs placed around the room picking up your every action, word and movement, his wide eyes feasting upon your innocent, perfect form as he simply takes in the beauty that is you, the feelings of love, adoration and utter want swimming in his chest intoxicating him.

Sure, he’s killed guards left and right for staring at you for a beat too long, for making some crude, disgusting joke about how they’d love a piece of you, that Overhaul’s too uptight, bet he doesn’t even fuck her – what a waste, she needs a real man to show her how its done.

Sure, he spends the majority of his time obsessing over you, doing daily check ups on your health and your safety, but Kai won’t ever display a moment of weakness to you – he only says he loves you when you’re asleep, laying so gracefully across your bed, his form seated at the edge of the mattress while he lightly strokes your cheek, his mask discarded onto your nightstand as he leans down, closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale of your scent, pressing his lips ever so lightly, softly, tentatively against your forehead.

He doesn’t want you to understand how much hold you have over him – because if you did, Kai is absolutely sure that you could manipulate him into getting whatever you want with just a simple kiss and whispered word of affection.

After all, Kai Chisaki needs you, and although he’s embarrassed by how much you mean to him, how crazy you make him and how absolutely obsessed with you he is, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

After all, he’s never been able to love someone, to touch them and protect them and desire them, and he’ll be damned if he ever loses you.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Kai is, to put it simply, insanely possessive over you; you’re his girl, the only one he can love and touch and really feel happy around, and as a result he absolutely refuses to allow any other man to get even remotely close to you.

It’s a combination of jealousy and deeply rooted insecurity about his romantic skills that makes him so quick to snatch you away from other men.

He won’t ever admit it, but he’s very aware that he probably wouldn’t be your first choice, that his issues with intimacy and expressing himself and the fact that he kills on a daily basis likely does nothing but push you away, make you more hesitant to fully give yourself to him, to actually love him.

But instead of communicating with you, of putting himself in a position where you could actually see how much of a mess you make him, Kai instead decides that isolating you from every other man in the complex is the best solution.

This fear only serves to make him more strict on limiting your contact with every other person on Earth who isn’t him, every other man that could possibly draw your attention, that could make you forget about Kai and instead fall heads over heels for them.

He’s methodical in his approach to keeping you utterly and completely his – making sure that your contact with others is incredibly limited, that you understand the consequences of becoming too chummy with anyone but himself.

Because you’d have to be his captive before his feelings for you even really form, he doesn’t have to worry about any men that he doesn’t know approaching you, fighting for your affection and love.

He only needs to consider the possibility of one of the very few people he allows you to have contact with – namely, a select group of the eight bullets, himself and Chrono.

It’s an ease to his mind to know that he’s really only competing with a few other guys, and although it makes him feel stupid, pathetic, weak to be comparing himself to someone like fucking Rappa, there’s a certain part of him that can’t help but wonder if it’s really someone more like him you’d like – muscular, social, not hesitant to touch you, all of the things he really isn’t.

It’s stupid and he knows it, but as he stares into his mirror with an expressionless face, looking at his nude body and his hands that can so easily take and give life, there’s a certain amount of insecurity settling in his chest.

Obviously, you don’t really have a choice in who you spend your time with, who you’re forced to depend on, who you’re destined to be with until your dying breath, but Kai really truly would prefer you to want him, to actively be choosing him.

And when one of the few people he lets have contact with you starts pushing the boundaries too far, getting a bit too friendly?

Well, all of those pushed down insecurities and destructive thoughts are rearing their ugly heads, forcing him to take measures he would prefer to not deal with, to not have to feel such terrible, sick things in his heart as he watches you laugh and smile.

You’re his, whether you like it or not, and Kai will absolutely make sure the fact is drilled into your pretty little head, even if the methodology is less than tame.

When he spots Sestuno leaning on the doorframe of your room, smirking down into the space while your lovely, tantalizing voice gushes about some show you used to love watching before you got kidnapped, immediately he’s scowling, thin eyebrows drawing taut as he realizes how fucking close Setsuno is standing next to you, how his gaze is aimed directly at you, how you’re just letting him stare.

Kai’s pissed, and as his footsteps grow harsher, more distinct against the cement of the underground hallway, he’s nearly growling.

He hates when he gets like this – it’s so painfully obvious how much of an emotional hold you have over him when the jealousy is seeping through his every pore, when he’s nearly driven insane just by another man looking at you.

It’s infuriating that something as simple and weak as you are able to make him a complete mess with just a few actions, just a few smiles and looks directed towards others.

It’s infuriating, but as he approaches Setsuno, the anger at himself is drowned out by the rage he feels towards his underling – immediately he’s clearing his throat, piercing eyes staring right at his subordinate as he interrupts the conversation, letting out a surprisingly calm sorry to interrupt, but tests are scheduled for right now. Wouldn’t want her to be late, would we?

And although Setsuno holds respect and genuine awe for his boss’s abilities, a twinge of fear climbs up his spine, making him hastily nod his head and return back to his station a few hundred feet away, nervously awaiting what he’s sure won’t be a pretty sight whenever Kai is done with your tests.

All throughout the blood draw that day, he’s tense, not really responding to your questions as thoroughly as he normally would, not paying as much attention to you as he’d like to.

(He’s staring at you, yes, but he’s sort of staring through you - not as observant as normal, not with the same concentration as normal, as if he’s counting your eyelashes or memorizing every blemish and pore on your face.)

Instead, he’s thinking of exactly what he’ll be doing once he safely escorts you back to your room, once he makes sure that you’re safe and sound and completely unaware of what he’s about to do.

And once your door is closing, he’s immediately scowling and stomping over to Setsuno, approaching the man with a deadly glare and scolding him in a voice so eerily calm that it has the other man gulping.

You know your place – you aren’t to look at her, touch her, speak to her, be anywhere near her. So tell me, what did you do today, Setsuno?

And when the other man can only respond with the truth, Kai won’t hesitate to disassemble him a few times – each with an interval longer and longer, sometimes not assembling every limb back together until it’s just barely not too late, letting him feel the excruciating pain of his arm being ripped off again and again.

There’s this twisted, maniacal look on his face as he does it - like he’s enjoying hurting Setsuno, like with every time his leg is ripped from his body, he’s ripping away some of the damage that him talking with you caused, ripping away any semblance of attraction or even a friendship between you two.

If Setsuno wasn’t busy in excruciating agony, he’d almost be scared his boss’s expression.

Kai’s pissed, and it’s only after twenty or so rounds of assembling and disassembling that he’s finally calmed down – though he won’t leave without hearing the words I’ll never come near her again, I promise! She’s yours, Overhaul, all yours!

And once he does, he’ll only firmly nod, leaving Setsuno on the cold ground, assembled yet terrified, as he retires back to his office to review the last hour’s worth of footage from your room.

Jealousy isn’t a pretty look on Kai, and he holds back absolutely no restraint when he feels that his claim on you is being tested.

So when Setsuno, one of the only people here you feel you can call a friend, begins avoiding you like the plague, don’t be surprised when Kai shows up, telling you how Setsuno’s just strange like that, always changing his mind back and forth. Don’t worry about it – I brought you a deck of cards, would you like to play?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

To really catch Kai’s attention, a very specific set of circumstances must occur.

You must be quirkless, a civilian, and he must have stolen you off the streets for testing.

Only then, once he’s got you under his grasp already, do his feelings begin to form, in all their horrible and wonderful glory.

But, because had stolen you away before his feelings for you even manifested, there really isn’t a forming-the-obsession-and-stalking-before-kidnapping phase for him.

You’re already at the Shie Hissaikai’s base, already under his control and grasp, and as a result you’re already accessible to Kai, already close to him and so very vulnerable to his wants and whims, to him being around you as much as he pleases.

He doesn’t experience any sort of longing to steal you away, nor does he have any kind of dilemma on kidnapping you.

However, because of the way in which Kai got to know you, it creates a bit of a unique situation as his captee – you’ll find as his feelings grow and develop, as he becomes more and more dependent on you, that your surroundings seem to change, that you periodically get moved to different rooms, different spaces in which you spend the majority of your time.

The rooms get progressively nicer, larger and more private, soon getting to the point where you even have a small kitchenette in the corner, where you’re able to prepare little snacks and food items.

(Kai must always be present in the room during your little cooking episodes, however – you need to be eating healthy, making sure that you have a balanced diet, though the minute that you turn around excitedly and ask him if he’d be willing to sample whatever you made, he’s fighting a blush and nodding stiffly, trying to calm his racing heart and quell the thoughts of how you look so much like a lovely, domestic wife cooking for him…)

You won’t be sure of why you’re gradually being treated better and better, getting spoiled with gifts that you didn’t ask for, spending time with Kai in quantities that make you cock your brow but shrug, knowing that if you confront him it’ll likely be more trouble than it’s worth.

You won’t know, but Kai sure as hell does – he wants you to like him, to love him and need him, and as he progressively decides to upgrade your living space until your room is right next to his own, allowing quick and easy access (and thin walls, of course) it helps quell his desire to be near you every moment of the day, to be on your mind just as constantly as you’re on his.

And really, it’s only a plus that he can press his ear to the wall and listen to you breath at night (he moved his bed to be right next to yours, only the thin wall separating the two of you), or that he can basically speak to you through them - even as much as it terrifies you.

It’s better this way, really - it helps quell the fear of you somehow slipping through his fingers.

As his captee, your experience with him really depends on your own behavior and tolerance – the only way you would’ve ever caught his attention is being a mix of quirkless and kind, reaching out with soft, understanding words rather than screaming, fighting or cursing him out like every other test victim he’s picked up.

And so, if you keep this behavior up, Kai honestly isn’t too terrible of a captor; he’s relatively clear on what he expects from you, relatively easy to please as long as you follow his every command and keep talking to him about your day, about yourself, asking him how he’s feeling at any given moment.

He’s possessive and controlling to an almost staggering degree, yes, but his expectations are crystal clear, if a bit sterile.

And so, if you can put up with him placing cameras in your room to keep an eye on you every minute of every day, of him regulating what you eat, when you bath, how you sleep, you’ll be fine.

If you can deal with him bringing you into his office for hours on end, just having you sit and read or chat to him while he works simply because your presence is enough to help ease the stress of running the organization, then you’ll be just fine.

If you can deal with the daily check ups that progressively get more and more personal (it started with a simple blood draw, checking your temperature and an eyesight test, then gradually moved in a full body examination over your clothing, then without the clothes, then with you sitting in what appeared to be a gynecologist’s chair), then you’ll be just fine.

It’s about tolerance with Kai – if you’re patient and generally obedient, life under his rule will be surprisingly easy, even if loving the man who kidnapped you isn’t as simple.

As his feelings grow, Kai honestly gets a bit clingy; you calm him in a way he didn’t know was possible, the warmth spreading through his chest foreign and strange yet addictive as you place yourself on the leather couch opposite his desk, trying to ignore the way his amber eyes pierce through you, or the way there’s a very obvious tent in his pants when he reaches across his desk to place a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He’s wanting to visit you constantly, though he rations himself a bit if only to keep some semblance of self-control.

And though he wants to be constantly touching you, feeling your soft skin against his own (that he knows he can touch with no penalty, and since the day you willingly held his hand, he’s been harboring the fantasy of hugging you, resting his hands on your waist, cupping your cheeks, running his hands through your hair, kissing you…) and just being around you, his awkwardness when it comes to opening up to you persists even once he’s absolutely sure that he’s in love with you, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

It’s just not that easy to tell you that his happiness depends on you now, that you’re on his mind in both the waking and sleeping world, that he’s devoted to you in every sense of the word – and so, he tries to show it to you by making sure that you’re in pristine health, that you’re spoiled with the most lavish gifts and items and goods that he can find, that you’re treated like a queen by everyone in the Shie Hissaikai, or else they’ll have hell to pay with Kai himself.

He hopes that you might understand via these methods, as it’ll take him years to fully admit to you how much you mean to him, for him to feel comfortable actually telling you those three little words he’s thinking as he stares at your sleeping form, as he watches you smile while you read a particularly happy part of your new novel.

He loves you, and as long as you stay good and obedient and personable with him, life under Kai’s rule won’t be too difficult – removed and odd, yes, but as long as the feeling that you’re some thing he’s studying and obsessing over doesn’t bother you, then you may even find yourself being okay with the locks on your doors, the threats of his men down the halls.

It’s okay, you tell yourself as he traces a single, ungloved finger across your collarbone.

It’s okay, you’re not dead yet, you’ll be okay.

PUNISHMENTS:

Despite the general softness that Kai possesses for you, he has absolutely zero patience when it comes to you misbehaving.

He’s still the boss of the Shie Hissakai, a yakuza member who’s used to being completely obeyed, to killing rebels with a flick of his wrist.

He’s still a criminal, even if you smiling at him leaves him flushed under his mask, and the moment you step out of line, he has no problem reminding you of that fact, no problem making it explicitly clear that he’s the one in charge.

He’s very much a worshipper (though more on the down-low, if only because a small part of him is still absolutely mortified that he’s fallen so deeply for someone like you), though despite seeing you as a bit of a goddess, Kai doles out punishments right and left.

Of course, there’s always the omnipresent threat of his quirk hanging over your head; you’ve been told by Rappa how excruciatingly painful undergoing a disassemblement is, and if the muscular, violent Rappa is saying that?

Well, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’d be almost glad to be dead after such an ordeal.

You’re painfully aware of just how much power Kai holds over you; how his every whim and emotion could potentially spell your death, how any small misstep (or lack thereof, to be honest) could result in your blood splattering across the walls.

And call it self preservation, but in the face of a violent, painful death at the Shie Hissakai boss’s hands, obedience begins coming quite naturally to you, as does being hyper aware of every little thing you do.

It doesn’t take long to figure out that Kai is very much not a person you want to cross, as just a few simple demonstrations of his quirk in action on unlucky yakuza underlings are almost violently shoving the truth in your face.

It becomes your mission to be the picture-esque captee, to not give him any trouble and follow his every command to a T.

After all, Kai is a difficult man to please, and while your mere presence relaxes him, makes him happy in a way he can’t remember ever experiencing, he’s not afraid to do what he needs to in order to make you understand that you will be following his every word.

Along with the ever present threat of him using his quirk on you (something which Kai has sworn he will never do, if only because he’s terrified that in doing so you’ll lose some of the precious purity you harbor), he has a tendency to use other methods to keep you in line via fear.

Killing is a part of his daily routine, and while he doesn’t particularly enjoy ending someone’s life, it’s something that he sees as necessarily in order to keep his underlings in line – and when you’re in need of a punishment?

Well, who is he to deny such wonderful timing and opportunity?

And so, when he drops by in the evening to bid you a goodnight, he can’t help but smooth his shirt down slightly and run a hand through his hair outside your door, feeling like a teenage boy with how he so desperately wants to look good for you, to impress you.

He opens the door without a knock, amber eyes flicking across the room to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with the latest book he bought for you perched in your hands, your eyes staring raptly down at the yellowed pages.

You’re so pretty when you’re focusing on something, Kai’s found, and as he watches you read with an air of complete concentration, he can’t deny that a small pang of irritation eats away at him.

He’s here, present inside your room, having sped walked through the hideout to reach you in his haste to see you, and yet you’re ignoring him in favor of a book?

It hurts a bit, if he’s being honest, if only because shouldn’t your attention be solely and completely focused on him, not some mish-mash written down on a page?

His brow twitches as he clears his throat, watching the way you jump and immediately meet his gaze, surprise flitting across your features.

You make some comment about not seeing him that only makes Kai feel worse, the distinct realization that you don’t just sense his presence as he does yours hitting him.

But before you really have any space to say more, he’s telling you to follow him, that there’s someone he’d like you to meet, which you do, hesitance eating away at your gut at the irritation swimming in his eyes.

He’d meant to have a simple conversation with you, to bask in your presence and maybe and lightly hold your hand (something that still makes him flush from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck, though he’d rather die than admit it), but now that you’ve made such a clear choice to ignore him, to prefer your book over him, he’s deciding that the man he’d planned on killing tomorrow for having made openly insubordinate comments about himself and Chrono would be receiving his punishment early, with another set of eyes viewing.

You know immediately that something is off the minute he closes the door behind you, the bald man tied to the chair in the center of the room staring wildly at you, his dark eyes pleading silently as the gag muffles any words spilling past his lips.

You can’t hide the shock and fear on your face, terror at what exactly Kai plans to do eating away at you, though when he moves to stand next to his victim you can only harshly swallow.

Tell me: do you know why I might be angry at you?

His voice is deceptively calm, apathetic yellow eyes boring into yours as you stutter out a weak ‘no’, genuinely at a loss as to why he’s upset. Kai can only frown, humming lightly before tugging a glove off, making the man beside him squirm.

I bought you those books for entertainment purposes yes, but don’t you know it’s rude to ignore others in favor of fictional characters?

You’re freezing at his words, the realization that he’d been angry at you for not noticing him earlier hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Really, I know you’re smarter than that, so I’m letting you off easy this time. But, don’t think you’ll be going completely unpunished – it’s just that Yamaro here just so happened to be willing to take the punishment for you.

The man’s eyes go wide, his squirming and struggling more desperate than before as kai unceremoniously taps a finger against his bare hand, the man immediately exploding in a shower of blood and guts, making bile rise up the back of your throat.

Kai clicks his tongue, shuddering at the splash of blood against his arm, but those cold eyes stay focused on you as you gag and look anywhere but at the sight in front of you.

It’s your fault, (f/n). If you hadn’t been so rude, he’d still be alive. Do you understand your lesson now?

That of course is not true, but Kai won’t tell you – not when you’re nodding, frantic in your desperation to get out of the room, and when Kai nods a few seconds later, opening the door, you breath heavily, staring at the cement ground in fear and shock.

The guilt is overwhelming, the idea that you’re responsible for that man’s death weighing heavily in the back of your mind, exactly as Kai hoped for.

He’s silent the rest of the night, dropping you off at your room without a word, and when you awake the next morning and he steps inside your room, you’re immediately throwing your book to the side, forcing a smile and a chirp of good morning, Kai. How are you?

It’s a bit of a dirty method yes, but Kai couldn’t care less – obedience is what he wants, and he’ll get it from you, even if he has to lie and kill right in front of your eyes.

Anything to keep you in line and his, after all.

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

In all honesty, the danger that comes with being Kai’s darling is that there is truly, genuinely no escaping him.

He’s so thorough in his planning, so steadfast in his organization and meticulous thought put into every possible scenario that could play out with you that your future is quite literally sealed the moment he feels the trace edges of his feelings form.

Kai is, without a doubt, not a good man – his devotion to his organization is commendable, but his moral compass is deeply skewed, the mere existence of Eri enough to prove that just as he’s willing to do anything to ensure the success of the drugs, he’s willing to do absolutely anything to make sure that you stay by his side, that he gets to keep you like a prized possession that only he gets to gaze at.

You’re something he revers, his dedication to you unparalleled, and because of Kai is absolutely making sure that you’re spoiled, that he rewards his dearest, as he calls you, with the finest jewelry, the best food and the strictest schedules he possibly can in order to keep up your perfection, to keep you pristine and healthy.

He loves you, in some sick, obsessive way, and poor, poor Kai is so unused to having someone with whom he holds such deep, desperate emotional connection to that he’s honestly floundering a bit.

And lucky lucky you gets to experience every drop of cruelty, desperation and yearning the Shie Hissakai boss has to give you – and receive you shall.

[i-cant-sing]

What do you think president Kai’s search history is like

"Who is First Lady Y/n's favourite man?"

"Who are First Lady's exes?"

"Why are my sons so ugly?"

"How to make my daughter stop being mad at me for not buying her an octopus?"

"First Lady Y/n x reader fics"

"First Lady Y/n x Kai Chisaki fics"

"Y/n x Kai Chisaki fanart"

"How to throw my kids out of the house?"

"Is my wife pregnant again?"

"Why isnt my wife pregnant again?"

"Conspiracy theory: Y/n and Kai's wedding is a sham"

"Y/n Chisaki's thick thighs fandom-"

"Are my kids a part of a satanic cult?"

"Is Dabi Chisaki a criminal?"

"Who is Himiko Chisaki dating?"

"Does Tomura Chisaki have Oedipus complex?"

"Also, how to kill Sigmund Freud again?"

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE OVERHAUL HEADCANONS

He'd be attracted to people who don't have that 'sick disease' also known as a quirk. He'd want someone who's pure and clean and the minute he sees you and your quirkless form, he thinks you're an innocent naive helpless little darling that he NEEDS to protect since the pro heroes suck at doing their job

The idea of him keeping you locked away and isolating you from the rest of the world so you can rely ONLY on him for everything is really tempting and appealing to him (Sadistic prick)

If you had a really strong and useful quirk, he'd still be attracted to you though. Just, he'll make sure to get rid of it and rob you of it by stealing it so he won't have to see you 'suffer'. And THEN, he might lock you up and leave you in isolation 

If you're someone he decided to protect from everyone else, oh man... I PRAY for ya. He'll try befriending you and worming his way into you life and pretty soon, he'll ask you to come live with him. You agree but when you start rebelling against him, you'll be restricted from using your favorite things and lose your freedom

He thinks that he'd doing everything for the sake of your 'best interests' and to be honest, he knows more about you than anyone, even YOURSELF, considering the amount of time he spent stalking you and asking his men to keep an eye on you. He's like a doctor, but a really creepy and short tempered one. He'll give you regular checkups so expect constant fussing by him over you since he thinks proper health, nutrition and hygiene are a TOP priority 

If you're behaving well, you'll get all sorts of things you want but you'll have to EARN them by gaining his trust and behave good around him since there's only so much fun one can have when they sit and stare at a wall for 24 hours everyday 

The WORST thing this sicko might do is try convincing you in his sick and twisted way that he's NOT treating you bad. And after a while, you'll fall into his trap and web of lies and you'll start believing him and start feeling guilty if you misbehave around him. Damn does this dude know how to pull out an UNO Manipulation card 

Punishments are simple if you try escaping or behaving badly. If you yell and scream at him and throw insults at him, he'll just ban you from using your favorite things and it'll be a really LOOONNGGG time after you get them back. You won't be getting them back till you apologize and admit that you were in the wrong. If you manage to hit him or kick him, you'll be denied of his attention for a while even after you cry out an apology

He isn't going to punish you physically but his punishments can take a really HUGE toll on your mental health and state of mind and so.... like I said, for the sake of your sanity just don't argue with Bird Face and agree to everything he says 

If you manage to attack him with a weapon (One, HOW TF did you manage to do THAT!? And 2, that's actually way cool Hehehe.... okay, I sound like an evil twin of Sangwoo,imma stop nowTvT) , you'll be isolated in a room with white walls and he'll only come by to give you your meals and THAT'S IT. No screen time, no favorite things, nothing. He'll isolate you till you're practically BEGGING him for forgiveness 

This dude ain't a Romeo so don't expect him to be all lovey-dovey with you. But occasionally when he feels like it, he might hold you and hug you from time to time and say how glad he is to have found you, his little pure angel to care for and protect. Who KNOWS what would have happened to you by now if you didn't come under his care?

He'll let you roam around the backyard ONLY (Not without you having at least a dozen of heavily armed bodyguards keeping a close eye on you) and if you still complain, he's gonna make sure you're grateful for letting you at least step out of the house 

He'll let you look after Eri and Eri just ADORES you. She sees you as a parental figure and I won't be surprised if she develops platonic yandere tendencies and feelings towards you. She'll be sad and pouting when you won't focus your attention and honestly, WHO can resist her CUTE adorable little face? I sure as heck can't....

So... Mr Bird Mask is really SCARY yandere who can haunt you in your dreams and become your WORST nightmare unless you abide by his rules and laws. And THAT children, is today's moral of the story UvU

"Angel.... I'm doing this for YOU now it's time for your daily checkup. Don't be a brat, I only want what's best for you~"

[lesinquietes]

You visit Doctor!Kai’s office at 9 am on Monday for your next session with him. You look like you haven’t eaten or slept right in days. He asks you what’s been going on. In a hollow, broken voice, you mumble, I’m worried about what you found. Behind his medical mask, he smirks. Ah. The fear-mongering worked. You’re such a vulnerable little lamb in his grasp right now.

“You’ll be okay, so long as you heed my advice,” he reassures you with a warm tone, accompanying his lie with a fake smile. “I’m here to help you, (f/n).”

He imagines, for a brief moment, that he’s lecturing you as your husband. So long as you obey me, I’ll protect you. That speech will come later, though. It’s enough that you look reassured.

He steps out of the room as you change into your medical gown and lie down on the examination table. He’s almost ashamed of how eager he enters when you give him the go ahead. Thankfully, you’re too nervous to notice. Cute little thing. You seem to trust him with your life. Did he make that good of an impression on you?

He situates himself at your feet and asks if you’re ready. You bob your head, fixated on the ceiling. He slips the gown above your knees and marvels at your puffy pussy. He’s never wanted to worship one before. He craves to bury his face between your folds and taste your engorged bud. He pines for the sensation of your juicy thighs against the sides of his face as you claw at the metal surface, desperate at the height of pleasure. But he won’t indulge. Those are the kinds of things husbands do to their submissive, doting wives — the women who prove they deserve it. You haven’t earned that type of attention from him yet. When he finally tastes his first clit, it’ll be when you’re legally his.

He grabs an instrument from the desk next to him. You catch at glimpse of it. Your heart drops when you piece together that it’s a dildo. He tells you it’s to stretch your tight cunt enough for him to inspect you more closely. You don’t want him to miss anything, do you? No, absolutely not.

He lathers the toy in lubricant and twists it into your hole. He’s impressed when it slips snugly into your moist cavern. He keeps it lodged there, intent on studying your expressions. You like this, don’t you? He thought he would have to use the arousal gel he bought on the black market — the kind that don’t wear off for days. He’s glad you’re in the spirit to be a good girl for him. Anything to ensure your health and survival, right? And perhaps you’re a little lonely on that big farm of yours.

He straps your ankles into the stirrups. You can’t get away now. You’re even more helpless like this. It’s difficult for him to contain a devious cackle that threatens to spill from his lips. He pinches your clit gently between his thumb and index finger. You gasp. His eyes narrow. He reminds you that this is strictly procedure. You apologize adorably, orbs downcast and cheeks hot from embarrassment. He didn’t realize how much joy he would take from shaming you for your body’s natural reactions.

He dips his fingers back down to play with your nub, rubbing and flicking it with gloved digits. Your pupils roll to the back of your skull. You can’t help it. He’s stroking you intimately — in a manner only you’ve graced yourself with before. You’re able to hold on until he decides to remove the dildo. The movement of the toy and his dexterous fingers tips you into an orgasm. It surprises you both. Your toes curl and your throat closes up. Your back arches and your jaw unscrews, preparing to release a cry. You cover your mouth to prevent the loudest mown of your life from rattling the neighborhood.

Doctor!Kai retracts his hand and glares at the mess you made on his glove. His nose wrinkles. He normally doesn’t like bodily fluids… but perhaps he can’t view this as proof of a massive victory. He made you cum.

He removes the gloves and tosses them into the trash, replacing them with a new pair. All the while, you stay in place. Your chest is heaving wildly, and you’re gazing up at the ceiling vacantly. He wonders if he broke you. Maybe you’re nothing more than a brainless toy, at his disposal.

Then, you jerk up from the examination table. You seem feral, at first. He half expects you to wrestle your way out of the stirrups and run away. He doesn’t want to chase you, but he will if he make him. Thankfully, you stay put.

Both of you wait in limbo; incredibly connected through sexual and emotional energy. You don’t blink, lost in this ever present bond. He watches you with hawk-like eyes, a predator stalking weak prey. He feels the shift, too. You’re cracking.

At last, you crane your neck around to stare at him. Your lower lip is trembling, as though you’re able to cry. He thinks, for a fraction of a second, that he’s shattered your pretty mind. Suddenly, you jut your face forward, clumsily pressing your lips against his mask-laden mouth.

His eyes widen. He stiffens from head to toe. The mighty doctor — one of Shie Hassaikai’s most esteemed members — is rendered useless for a moment by a mere kiss. Well, a mere kiss to everyone else. A mere kiss to your exes, who didn’t appreciate the time they shared with you, or the love your graciously offered. A mere kiss to those who dismissed you as nothing but flesh, adamant to conquer your temple and tarnish it with their filth. But to him? To him, it was more. To him, it resounded what he already knew: that you were meant to be his wife.

He snaps out of his paralysis and wraps an arm around you, pressing you more passionately against him. He wants to take you. His cock rouses hungrily in his trousers, prompting him to accept what’s his. You want him to take you, as well. He wishes he could.

He pulls back. You don’t stop him. You simply gaze in his direction curiously. It’s enough to draw a curt chuckle from his closed lips. You’re incredibly beautiful. Gently, he collects your chin in his grasp. He hasn’t broken you, but he’s knocked a few of your screws loose. What sane woman comes into her physician?

“I’m going to change the frequency of our sessions together,” he murmurs. “Twice per week.”

You nod silently, transfixed.

“9 am Mondays and 7 pm Fridays. We’ll extend treatment into the weekend, if I deem it necessary.”

You concede again.

He hums with approval. That schedule is ideal. You start and finish your week with him. On Friday evenings, he can take you home with him. The streets will be quiet enough, given that the clinic closes at 5 pm. No one will be around to see him escort you into his vehicle. He’ll have you all to himself for the weekend, and into Monday.

“Make arrangements for your animals and crops to be cared for over the weekend.” He instructs. “And don’t tell them where you’re going… unless you want to be embarrassed.”

He knows that’s the last thing you want. This community is too small. Rumors are spread quickly. If you tell someone you have a medical condition involving your womanhood, you’ll be viewed differently by others.

“One last thing.” He tilts his chin higher, gazing down at you with ravenous passion. “Are you pure?”

Purity isn’t common amongst adults in their twenties. He doesn’t anticipate that your flower was left untouched. He holds his breath, unknowingly, until you bob your head shyly. Your mouth runs dry. Yes. Yes. You’re a virgin. You’re clean.

“Was that your first orgasm?”

Once more, you confirm his suspicion. No wonder you reacted to him with such fire after you recovered from the energy you spent. He’s heard that women tend to attach after they’re intimate with a man.

“Good.” He praises, voice husky with lust. “I’ll be the sole one to mold you.”

At the end of your visit, he steps out of the examination room to let you change back into your clothes. He does it out of courtesy. Sure, he’s already seen it all, but his years in the yakuza taught him to also be a gentleman. Besides, he’ll be seeing much more of you soon enough.

Previous l Next

𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲