#yandere demon slayer

[gothicxreylover]

Yandere giant hashira Au x tiny reader

(Basically like arrietty from studio ghibli. A great movie and I definitely recommend watching it!)

Reader is gender neutral and is referred as “the tiny”

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Genya’s forest adventure

Genya trudged through the dense forest, the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath his boots loud in the silence. He was tasked with gathering herbs for the medics, his irritation growing with every step.

“Stupid plants… why can’t Shinobu just send someone else…” he muttered, kicking at a branch. As he bent down to grab a bundle of herbs, his sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement near his boot.

“Eh?” He crouched low, scowling as he spotted the culprit—a tiny human no bigger than his thumb trying to blend into the shadows of the forest floor.

“What the hell? A tiny?” His voice was rough, his brows furrowed in disbelief. The tiny flinched at his tone, scrambling backward. Genya clicked his tongue, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oi, don’t run. I’m not gonna crush you or anything,” he grumbled, extending his hand in a rare gesture of gentleness. The tiny hesitated, eyeing his scarred, calloused palm. After a moment, they cautiously stepped onto it, trembling like a leaf.

Genya raised them to eye level, his rough features softening as he studied them. “You’re braver than you look, wandering out here with demons roaming around.”

He frowned, his grip tightening slightly—enough to make the tiny squirm but not hurt them. “You’re too damn small to be out here alone. What if a demon found you before I did?” His voice grew lower, his protective instincts flaring.

“You’re coming with me. No arguments.” He tucked the tiny securely into the crook of his scarf, their small weight barely noticeable.

As he resumed his trek, his muttering softened. “I’ll keep you safe… no matter what.”

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

Tengen was lounging on the porch of his mansion, the warm sun casting a golden glow over his extravagant home. His wives—Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru—were scattered around the courtyard, enjoying the calm afternoon.

Suma’s sharp voice broke the tranquility. “Tengen-sama! There’s something moving near the training grounds!” she called out, pointing frantically.

Makio rolled her eyes. “It’s probably just a bird, Suma. Stop screaming like that.”

“No, it’s small… but not that small! Come look!” Suma insisted, waving her arms.

Curious, Tengen stood and stretched, his towering frame casting a long shadow. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

The group approached the training grounds, their footsteps rumbling like distant thunder to anything small nearby. Hinatsuru was the first to spot the tiny human trying to hide behind a blade of grass.

“Oh my… it’s a tiny human!” she gasped, kneeling to get a better look.

Makio crouched down beside her, narrowing her eyes. “What’s a tiny doing all the way out here? Don’t they usually stick to their villages?”

Suma squealed, clinging to Tengen’s arm. “They’re so cute! Look at them!”

The tiny human was frozen in place, overwhelmed by the four colossal figures looming over them. Tengen crouched down last, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, well. Looks like we’ve got ourselves an unexpected guest.”

Reaching out with surprising gentleness, he scooped the tiny into his palm. His flamboyant demeanor didn’t mask the possessiveness in his gaze as he studied the fragile figure. “You’ve got guts, sneaking into a giant’s domain. Or maybe you’re just reckless.”

Suma leaned over his shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “What do we do with them, Tengen-sama? Can we keep them?”

Makio sighed, crossing her arms. “We’re not adopting a tiny, Suma.”

“Why not?” Suma pouted, tugging at Makio’s sleeve. “They’re adorable!”

Hinatsuru smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can’t just leave them here. It’s too dangerous.”

Tengen’s grin widened as he gently stroked the tiny’s head with a finger. “Of course, we’re not leaving them. A tiny this bold deserves protection… and flashy protection at that.”

He stood, cradling the tiny carefully in his palm. “From now on, you’re under my care—and my wives’ care, too. Don’t worry, little one, we’ll make sure you live in style.”

As they returned to the mansion, Suma clung to Tengen’s arm, chattering excitedly about building a tiny home for their new companion. Makio grumbled about the hassle, though her occasional glances at the tiny betrayed her curiosity. Hinatsuru, ever calm, began brainstorming ways to make the tiny feel safe and comfortable.

For the tiny human, the Uzui household was overwhelming—a world of vibrant personalities and immense figures, each vying for their attention. But there was no denying one thing: in this family of giants, they were cherished.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Shinobu’s Garden Encounter

Shinobu stood in her garden, tending to her vibrant flowers and watching butterflies flit around lazily in the warm afternoon light. She hummed softly to herself, the tranquil atmosphere calming her after a busy day of training and research.

As she reached down to pluck a stubborn weed near the roots of a lavender plant, her sharp eyes caught a faint movement. She paused, tilting her head curiously. Beneath one of the petals was a tiny human, frozen mid-step.

“Oh my,” Shinobu said softly, her lilting voice carrying an edge of playful intrigue. “What have we here?”

The tiny flinched at her voice, their wide eyes staring up at her looming figure. Shinobu crouched gracefully, resting her chin on one hand as her violet eyes studied them.

“Are you lost, little one?” she asked, her tone sweet but tinged with mischief. The tiny human didn’t respond, too frightened to move under her piercing gaze.

Shinobu smiled, reaching out with delicate fingers to gently pluck them from the ground. Her touch was careful, her grip loose enough to ensure she didn’t hurt them. She brought them closer to her face, her gaze softening as she observed their trembling form.

“You’re so small… so fragile,” she murmured, her tone almost a whisper. “I wonder, what brought you all the way here? Were you curious about us giants?”

The tiny human stammered something unintelligible, their voice barely audible to her. Shinobu chuckled lightly, her smile widening. “How adorable. You’re like a little butterfly, wandering into my garden.”

Her fingers brushed lightly against their head, a gentle yet possessive motion. “It’s dangerous for someone your size to roam around like this. What if someone less gentle had found you?”

Her tone shifted slightly, growing softer yet somehow more intense. “No, I can’t let you go now. You’ll stay with me, won’t you? I promise to keep you safe… as long as you don’t try to run away.”

Cradling the tiny human in her palm, Shinobu turned and headed back toward her mansion, already planning ways to ensure they couldn’t escape. After all, such a delicate treasure didn’t belong anywhere but under her careful watch.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Mitsuri’s Joyful Discovery

The sun was setting over the sprawling grounds of Mitsuri’s mansion, casting a warm pink glow that mirrored her hair. She was sitting in her courtyard, enjoying a freshly baked pastry after a long day of training. Her enormous sandals rested beside her, and her toes wiggled idly in the grass.

As she reached for another bite, she noticed a tiny movement by her foot. Blinking in surprise, she leaned down, her pastel hair cascading around her face. There, trying to crawl under the edge of her sandal for cover, was a tiny human.

“Oh my gosh!” Mitsuri gasped, her voice full of excitement and awe. “A tiny human! You’re so cute!”

The tiny froze, looking up at her with wide, fearful eyes. Mitsuri’s expression softened immediately, and she lowered herself closer, her hands resting on her knees. “Oh, don’t be scared! I won’t hurt you, I promise!”

Carefully, she extended a single finger toward them, her smile radiating warmth. “See? I’m gentle!”

When the tiny hesitated but didn’t flee, Mitsuri’s heart swelled. “You’re so brave to stay here with me! Most tinies would have run away by now.”

She cupped her hands around them, her fingers forming a protective dome as she gently scooped them up. Her massive green and pink eyes sparkled with wonder as she held them close to her face.

“You’re so small,” she murmured, her voice tinged with amazement. “It’s like holding a little doll! How did you end up here? Were you curious about us giants?”

The tiny’s nervous expression made her giggle softly. “Oh, don’t worry! I’ll take such good care of you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Her expression grew more serious for a moment, her grip tightening slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to let them know she meant what she was about to say. “You’ll stay with me from now on, okay? It’s way too dangerous for someone your size to be out there alone.”

Mitsuri stood, cradling the tiny against her chest. “Come on, let’s get you inside! I’ll find you a cozy little spot in my room, and you can tell me all about your adventures!”

As she carried them into her mansion, her mind raced with ideas. She’d build them a tiny house, cook them little meals, and protect them with all the love and strength she had. The thought of someone else finding them—or worse, a demon—sent a shiver down her spine.

No, this tiny was hers now. She’d make sure they were loved and cared for, no matter what.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Sanemi’s Rough Protection

Sanemi was pacing the edges of his training grounds, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of demons. The wind rustled the tall grass around him, carrying with it faint scents from the forest. His hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, his senses on high alert.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something moving. His brows furrowed as he stomped over, boots thudding loudly. When he got closer, his sharp gaze zeroed in on a tiny human scrambling through the grass, trying desperately to stay out of sight.

“What the hell is this?” Sanemi growled, crouching low. His voice was like thunder to the tiny human, who froze in fear. “A tiny? What are you doing here?”

He reached down, his large, calloused fingers easily pinning them in place without much effort. The tiny human squirmed, but his grip was firm. “Stop moving, idiot,” he snapped, lifting them to eye level.

His scarred face twisted in confusion and irritation as he studied them. “Tch. Do you have a death wish? Wandering out here like this? What if a demon found you before I did?”

The tiny human tried to stammer out a response, but their words were too faint for him to hear clearly. Sanemi sighed heavily, his free hand raking through his messy white hair. “Damn it. Now I gotta deal with you.”

His tone was harsh, but his actions spoke differently. He carefully curled his fingers around them, shielding their small body from the wind as he stood. “You’re way too fragile to be out here alone. Stay put. You’re my responsibility now.”

As he made his way back to his mansion, he muttered under his breath. “Don’t get any ideas about running off. If I catch you trying to leave, you’re in for it. Got it?”

Despite his gruff demeanor, there was a glimmer of protectiveness in his sharp eyes. No matter how much he grumbled, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to the tiny now that they were in his care.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Giyu’s Silent Protection

Giyu was sitting by the river near his mansion, the tranquil sound of flowing water easing his mind. He had been meditating, his sword resting by his side, when a faint splash broke his concentration.

Opening his eyes, he looked down and spotted a tiny human struggling to climb onto a rock near the riverbank. His expression didn’t change, but his sharp blue eyes followed their every movement.

The tiny finally managed to haul themselves onto the rock, only to realize they were being watched. They froze under Giyu’s quiet yet intense gaze, their small form trembling as he shifted slightly closer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his deep voice soft but firm.

He reached out, his large hand easily surrounding the tiny human as he gently picked them up. They tried to speak, but their voice was too faint for him to hear. Giyu frowned slightly, tilting his head as he brought them closer to his face.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you,” he murmured, his tone low and calm. “If it had been a demon—or someone less careful—you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

The tiny human’s fear was evident, and Giyu hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” His words were simple, but his sincerity shone through.

Cradling them carefully in his palm, he stood and began walking back toward his mansion. “It’s dangerous out here. You’ll stay with me from now on.”

His tone was final, leaving no room for argument. As he walked, his grip on them was firm yet gentle, his movements slow and steady to avoid jostling them.

Inside his mansion, Giyu placed the tiny on a soft cushion near the window, watching as they hesitantly looked around. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he said quietly, his gaze never leaving them. “You’re safe here.”

Though he didn’t say it out loud, Giyu felt a strange sense of protectiveness toward the tiny. They were so small, so vulnerable—it made his chest tighten at the thought of something happening to them.

No matter what, he wouldn’t let harm come to them. Even if they didn’t fully understand it yet, they were his to protect now.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Obanai’s Quiet Curiosity

Obanai Iguro sat perched on a low branch near his mansion, Kaburamaru coiled lazily around his shoulders. He had been silently observing the area when the snake suddenly hissed, its head darting toward the ground. Obanai’s mismatched eyes followed the movement, his sharp gaze catching sight of something small scurrying through the grass below.

A tiny human.

Obanai tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “What are they doing here?” he muttered under his breath.

Leaping silently from the branch, he landed just a few steps away, startling the tiny human. They froze, looking up at the towering figure now looming over them. Kaburamaru slithered down Obanai’s arm, his tongue flicking curiously toward the tiny.

Obanai crouched, his face calm yet unreadable. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said softly, his voice carrying a faint edge. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is for someone your size to wander around?”

The tiny tried to back away, but Kaburamaru hissed lightly, cutting off their escape. Obanai extended a hand, his slender fingers surprisingly gentle as they scooped the tiny into his palm.

Holding them up to his face, he studied them closely. “You’re trembling,” he observed, his tone almost mocking, though his grip remained careful. “Are you scared of me? You should be more afraid of demons.”

Despite his cold words, there was a strange softness in the way he cradled the tiny human. He gently stroked their head with his finger, a faint smile playing at his lips. “You’re so small. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.”

Kaburamaru curled around Obanai’s wrist, flicking his tongue at the tiny. Obanai’s gaze softened further as he whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe now. You’ll stay with me, where no one—and nothing—can hurt you.”

As he walked back to his mansion, he kept his hand close to his chest, shielding the tiny from the wind. “You’re mine now,” he murmured under his breath, a possessive note creeping into his voice. “Don’t even think about running.”

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Rengoku’s Warmhearted Rescue

The setting sun bathed the world in a fiery orange glow as Kyojuro Rengoku strolled through the fields near his mansion. His booming laughter echoed across the landscape as he thought about the training session he’d just finished. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, always alert despite his cheerful demeanor.

It wasn’t long before he spotted something unusual—a faint movement among the tall grass. Curious, he strode over, his large frame causing the ground to tremble slightly with each step. When he reached the spot, he crouched down and saw a tiny human, no bigger than his thumb, trying to hide behind a blade of grass.

“Ah-ha! What do we have here?” Rengoku exclaimed, his voice loud yet warm. His bright eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned closer. “A tiny human? Incredible!”

The tiny flinched at his booming voice, their small body trembling in fear. Rengoku’s expression softened immediately, and he sat back on his heels to appear less intimidating. “Oh, no need to be afraid, little one! I won’t harm you!”

Extending a single hand, he waited patiently for them to step onto his palm. When they didn’t move, he chuckled softly. “I see. You’re cautious. That’s good—it’s what’s kept you alive so far. But I promise, you can trust me!”

Carefully, he scooped them up, his massive hands cradling them with surprising gentleness. He brought them close to his face, his fiery hair glowing in the fading sunlight. “You’re so small! I’ve never seen anything like you before. How remarkable!”

The tiny human stammered something, their voice barely audible. Rengoku tilted his head, his grin widening. “Don’t worry, little one! I’ll protect you from anything that might harm you. No demon will lay a finger on you while I’m around!”

Standing tall, he held them securely against his chest as he began the trek back to his mansion. “You’ll stay with me from now on. I’ll make sure you’re safe and well cared for. And if you ever feel scared, just know that Rengoku Kyojuro will always be here to keep you safe!”

As he returned home, his booming laughter filled the air. “Perhaps I’ll even build you a little house! Yes, that would be wonderful! You’ll have everything you need, and you’ll never have to worry about a thing again!”

For Rengoku, the tiny human was a new treasure—a life so small and fragile, yet so precious. He vowed to protect them with all the warmth and strength his fiery spirit could offer.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Muichiro’s Clouded Curiosity

Muichiro Tokito wandered through the forest near his estate, his eyes unfocused and his mind drifting like the clouds above. He wasn’t on any particular mission, just enjoying the quiet, his twin swords lightly tapping against his sides as he walked.

As he stepped over a cluster of moss-covered rocks, his sharp eyes caught an unusual movement near his foot. He stopped abruptly, blinking down at the ground. There, trying to scramble out of sight, was a tiny human no bigger than his pinky finger.

“Hm?” Muichiro tilted his head, his expression blank but curious. He crouched down slowly, his long black-and-teal hair falling over his shoulders like a curtain.

The tiny froze, trembling under the immense presence of the towering Hashira. Muichiro stared at them in silence, his gaze distant yet sharp. “A tiny human…” he murmured, his voice soft and almost detached. “What are you doing here?”

Reaching out, he plucked them up with a surprising gentleness, holding them in the palm of his hand. The tiny squirmed, their movements barely noticeable to him. Muichiro’s expression didn’t change, but he brought them closer to his face, studying them as though they were a strange insect.

“You’re so small,” he said, his voice calm and quiet. “Smaller than I thought tinies could be.”

The tiny tried to stammer something, but their words were too faint for him to hear. Muichiro blinked, tilting his head. “Are you scared?” he asked bluntly.

He paused for a moment, as though contemplating something. Then, his expression softened slightly—just enough to hint at the care behind his otherwise impassive demeanor. “You shouldn’t be out here. Demons roam these woods, and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt someone like you.”

Standing up, Muichiro held them securely in one hand as he began walking back toward his mansion. “I’ll take care of you,” he said simply, as if it were an obvious decision. “It’s better if you stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

As he entered his estate, he gently placed the tiny human on a soft cushion by the window, his distant gaze fixed on them. “Don’t wander off. You’re too small to survive on your own,” he said, his voice as soft as the breeze.

Though his words were straightforward, there was an unspoken promise in his tone: Muichiro might not express it well, but he would protect this tiny human with everything he had.

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

Gyomei’s general rescue

The rhythmic sound of prayer beads clicking together filled the air as Gyomei Himejima knelt in meditation by a quiet stream near his mansion. His massive frame was still as a mountain, his closed eyes turned toward the heavens.

A faint rustle in the grass broke his focus. Though his sightless eyes could not see the source, his heightened senses immediately located the small presence near his knee. He tilted his head slightly, listening.

“You’re quite small,” he said, his deep, rumbling voice calm and kind. “Are you a tiny human?”

The tiny froze, their heart racing as the giant spoke directly to them. Gyomei extended his massive hand, his movements slow and deliberate, as though afraid to startle them. His large fingers gently brushed the ground until they found the tiny’s trembling form.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly, carefully cupping them in his palm. His touch was impossibly gentle for someone of his size and strength. “Don’t be afraid. I will not harm you.”

Bringing the tiny closer to his face, Gyomei tilted his head slightly, his blind eyes gazing past them as he smiled warmly. “It must be frightening, being so small in a world so large. But you are safe with me.”

The tiny human’s voice was too faint for him to hear, but he felt their tiny movements in his palm—nervous but not trying to escape. He nodded slowly. “I understand. You must have been very brave to survive this far.”

Standing carefully, Gyomei cradled the tiny in both hands, shielding them from the wind as he made his way back to his mansion. His slow, deliberate footsteps felt like distant thunder to the tiny, but his calming presence eased their fear.

Once inside, he placed them gently on a table, his massive hands resting in his lap as he addressed them. “You will stay here, where I can protect you. The world is dangerous for someone of your size, but I will ensure no harm comes to you.”

His voice was filled with quiet determination, his kind smile never faltering. Though Gyomei’s size and strength were overwhelming, his heart was as gentle as his touch. The tiny human couldn’t help but feel safe under his watchful care.

As the evening fell, Gyomei sat nearby, his prayer beads clicking softly as he meditated. “You are a gift from the heavens,” he murmured. “And I will protect you as such.”

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough. 

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking. 

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets. 

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do. 

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality. 

But you’re not joking… 

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide. 

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that. 

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything. 

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

[just-null]

Urogi I love you but never do that teeth less smile ever again

a full tooth grin like the lovesick idiot he is!

behind the scenes:

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If your taking requests can you please do Yandere Tengen uzui and his wives with a reader who died and was born as Tengens wives. ( a bit like recantation mawhnas)

Reincarnated Wife to be | Yandere Uzui Tengen + Wives

Being reborn into the world of shinobi is hard

Your higher intelligence is helpful for somethings but it still doesn’t compare to strength training before you can properly walk

Not to mention its the Taishō era 

Everything is different 

No plumbing 

No typical school

And on top of all that demons are alive and well

In your new lifetime demons don’t physically appear until your early teens

“That man…”

“Yeah a demon. Those overpowered slugs got to our target before us.”

It’s brutal 

That the clan you come from was just so nonchalant of an epidemic on humanity

That was arguably much more brutal then sending a shuriken before an unsuspecting person’s eyes

You only realize they intend to give you away when you hear whispers of the arranged marriage

“He’s the only one who’s survived…”

“Ah he must have the best genes…”

“....or the only one who actually can learn from those graves on their property.”

“What are they at….six?”

The final nail in the coffin is when your prepped to meet with your fellow wives

“Make sure you take note of their weaknesses. It’ll make all the difference when it comes to his favorites.”

Your hesitant

By now you recognize the venue, your sister wives, his surname

But despite how cool it is you don’t want to marry the future sound hashira

You know how it goes 

And your not sure if you’d survive with your addition to the other wives

So you run

Using your built up skill and knowledge to get as far as you can from your family if you could call it that

Your plan is to hide in someplace until you can gather enough wisteria to give yourself a private sanctuary

In the meantime you try to find the mineral of nichirin

Enough for you to craft a decent weapon that bodes well when demons occassionaly attack you

For years you’re sure your scott-free 

Able to slowly widdle at the demon’s population in your little sanctuary 

That is until you stop at the sound of jingling chains from the roof

“I heard there were talks about a mysterious ninja outside of demon corp! To think it’d be just who I was looking for!” 

You barely escape a young but powerful demon slayer who you can’t seem to decipher

Is he trying to kill you? 

To catch you?

Why does he keep following?

You hold up pretty well for a while unil you narrowly dodge a star thrown in your direction

“We really liked you (Y/n). Why’d you choose to run away?”

If it wasn’t worse already all three of them seem to arrive from the shadows to continue their assault

You try to reason with them 

“Can’t you understand?! I didn’t want to be forced to marry some guy I didn’t know!”

“But you knew us! Doesn’t that make it better?!”

“No it really doesn’t!”

It’s getting overwhelming 

So unless you’ve mastered some kind of style of your own

They’ll overpower you

“Yack!” 

Your strength is preying on their care for one another 

Sending an unusual violent kick toward Hinatsuru 

You take advantage of them running to help her

Easily disarming a distracted Tengen, you run off 

But you aren’t home free 

For whatever reason your ex-fiancees are just so hung up about you 

And between Uzui’s new occupation he’s aiming for your capture

“You’re just as flashy as I’d hoped! When I do win, there’s sure to be fireworks.”

[married-to-google-translater]

Yandere Rui with motherly reader

Rui found you wounded in his forest.

Apparently some demon slayer had tried to do his job but you had escaped.

Rui offered to heal you if you joined his family.

The fight had made you weak and you had no other choice.

And that's how you became Rui's mother.

Definitely not the best start for a mother and son relationship.

However, you were surprisingly good in the role you were given.

This really saved you from many situations and punishments.

At first, Rui couldn't believe this to be true.

He is not used to someone genuinely caring about him.

Rui might do some tests because he wanted to find out if you were trying to escape.

This would have many positive effects.

Rui will become gentler with time, both for you and the rest of the family.

However, he would also become much more clingy.

Spiiiiider boy really needs a hug.

[eskumii]

Can you pls do platonic yandere sanemi x demon child reader (that is also tanjiros and nezukos younger sibling to)

soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!reader hcs [platonic]

TITLE: " TURBULENCE " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers in regards to sanemi's past/relationships!! also ,, ty for being patient annonie, if ur still there :') also i accidentally posted this b4 i finished it, so sorry if anyone saw that...

PAIRING: soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!kamado!reader (platonic)

CHARACTERS: shinazugawa sanemi (21), reader (12), nezuko (14), tanjiro (16)

☆ sanemi hates demons.

☆ that much is clear from the spectacle he made of your older sister, nezuko, at the hashira's headquarters with that horrrible temper of his. needless to say, you don't like him at all and he clearly doesn't like you or your sister, either. it certainly doesn't help that master kagaya seems to have a sour sense of humor as you're now stuck with him as your babysitter.

☆ both tanjiro and nezuko vehemently object to master kagaya's orders. the servants of the residence had to literally rip you from the ironed grips of your older siblings, who were screaming bloody murder as if you'd be separated for the rest of eternity. they were certainly being a tad bit dramatic, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as upset.

☆ with the deal set in stone, however, sanemi drags you to his home as begrudgingly as humanly possible and condemns you to one of his spare bedrooms. apparently he lived alone (expected tbh) in a traditional style home, complete with the koi ponds and bamboo deer scares. it's nice, you'll give him that, but his nasty attitude doesn't seem to match the beauty of his residence.

☆ although your living conditions are less than ideal, you're old enough to know that staying under someone else's roof is almost never free. you try (keyword: try) to do what you can to help around the house but sanemi is constantly hollering at you to leave him alone or to not mess with his stuff.

☆ he insists you stay in your room and out of his way, but you still tail behind him from afar out of your debilitating boredom. if he notices, he says nothing, and simply ignores you as if you're not even there. at least when you were with tanjiro and nezuko there was always something to do—sanemi is so boring.

☆ sometimes sanemi gets really angry for seemingly no reason and at any given time. he'll storm outside and take it out on the poor practice dummies that litter his backyard, grunting in oblivious rage when he accidentally kicks one of their heads off. you're not sure what it is about you that makes him so angry; you've kind of already ruled it out as his perpetual state of being.

☆ and, well, sanemi doesn't... hate you. you remind him so much of his younger brother, genya, and most of his anger is only borne out of pain. as the eldest of the family he once knew, it's not like the instincts he acquired to take care of his siblings just went away. you simply remind him of who he used to be and the weaknesses that tore his family apart make him inexplicably angry.

☆ considering your resemblance to his late younger siblings (and genya), sanemi does get protective over you in his own ways. sometimes you meddle too close to the windows during the day, so he'll yell at you to move. or sometimes when you're scarfing down the raw meat he gives you, he yells at you to slow down lest you choke.

☆ it may seem like he's not paying attention to you at all, but he's always peeking at you with watchful eyes. he's notices that you like to watch him train but can't be out in the sun, so he hung up a blanket in the branches of a nearby tree without saying a word to you. you smile knowing that you're growing on him.

☆ during the evening, sanemi often catches you out in the garden picking flowers. usually he'd shrug his shoulders and turn his nose up, but he felt compelled to see what you were doing out there all the time. plus, he couldn't have you wandering out beyond the walls.

☆ "what're you doin', kid?" sanemi's booming voice scares you and you drop your basket of colorful flowers on the ground with a squeak. you scramble to gather them again and you're surprised to see a pair of scarred hands helping out, too.

☆ "i'm gonna make flower crowns for when tanjiro and nezuko get back." you answer once all the flowers are back in the basket. sanemi snorts. "flower crowns?"

☆ you nod. "yup! here, i'll show you how to make one." sanemi has zero time to refuse as you grab his hand and pull him down onto the grass with you. you take a length of string that you had stolen from one of his many rooms of junk and began to attach the flowers to it with a clever weaving pattern.

☆ sanemi is fuming in embarrassment as you eagerly teach him how to make a stupid flower crown. this is ridiculous. but why can't he just get up and leave? when you hand him the string of flowers to try it out for himself, your childish giggling is contagious as he fumbles clumsily and accidentally crushes the delicate stem in his callous grip.

☆ in the end, sanemi finds himself enjoying making flower crowns with you, but he threatens you violently with a ruffle of your hair should you tell anyone about it. he would never admit it but as he looks at the crudely made flower crown that you helped him with, he feels a distantly familiar feeling of warmth igniting in his heart again.

☆ the rest of the days you spend with sanemi begin to feel more pleasant than it did initially. sanemi no longer leaves you to your own devices, but instead tries to find things for you to do during the day when you can't go outside. he'll bring you puzzles and teach you how to read with children's folktales written on tarnished scrolls that he said he kept from his old family home.

☆ you're not sure what happened, but sanemi dotes on you now. once you had tripped and split your finger open, and sanemi rushed to your side like it had been your head. it healed within a few seconds, but sanemi still scolded you for walking around unsupervised.

☆ and when you get feverish due to your refusal of eating human flesh, which is often, sanemi tarries by your side day and night in order to make sure you're as comfortable as can be. cold, damp towels on your forehead, fresh raw meat at your bedside, and anything else you want, he gets for you. the worry etched into the lines of his forehead shows how much he cares about you.

☆ by the time tanjiro and nezuko return from their mission to collect you, sanemi doesn't even want to let you go. in fact, you've both grown attached to each other and while you're overjoyed to see your siblings again, sanemi has also become something like an older brother to you. you've grown to love the big residence and his presence.

☆ you're in tears as sanemi pats your head and smiles crookedly at you for what feels like the last time. you beg tanjiro to let you stay longer but he firmly tells you no. sanemi makes tanjiro promise that he'll take you to visit him or else he'll kill him (he's serious).

☆ when you inevitably depart from sanemi (tanjiro has to pry you away from him), he feels about as lonely as the day is long. the residence feels too big without you following behind him like his own shadow, and every time he turns a corner he half-expects to find you doing something to cause trouble.

☆ sanemi takes the flower crown you both made and seals it in a glass jar. he hopes that you'll visit again before it withers, or else he might just go out and find you himself.

[thetreefairy]

Call me dad

warnings: suggestion of forced turning, reader refuses to call Muzan dad, the upper moons are scared, reader is tied up, reader is tied up. GN reader

Reader hated Muzan with a burning passion.

They hated how Muzan got angry when they didn't call him dad.

They hated how his anger was never directed towards them.

It made Reader feel like they weren't justified in their anger. But what they hated more was the forced cuddle time.

"I hate this." Reader mumbled, Muzan was having a meeting but since it was at the same time as cuddle time. Reader had to attend, they were tied up unable to leave his lap. It would feel domestic if Reader ignored the restraints.

The upper moons tensed. Muzan turned to Reader with sharp yet concerned eyes. "Are the restraints too tight?"

"I don't want to be here." Reader mumbled. "It's too loud., Muzan"

"Is it?" Muzan mumbled. "How sensitive you are, my dear but it's dad remember." Reader rolled their eyes. "Don't worry, I'll punish those pests for disrupting our cuddle time."

Reader scoffed and mumbled: "I think they should be rewarded instead."

Muzan's grip on them became stronger. "Don't say such foolish things unless you want confinement." Reader couldn't help but chuckle. "And you say I am sensitive Muu-zan~!"

It felt like a victory every time he got pissed, the upper moons terrified faces made it all worth it. "It 's dad, preferably papa." Muzan hissed.

"Oh, it is now?" Reader hummed with a grin. Muzan dragged his nails on Reader's shoulder. "It won't be when I die."

Douma looked up scared, the other uppermoons looked at Reader with wide eyes. "Are you threatening me with your death?"

They grinned. "Well, it is the one thing you can't control." Reader whispered in his ear for dramatic effect. "Is it? Perhaps I should turn you now."

Reader's eyes hardened. "As if you would." Muzan didn't want to turn them until they were an adult". But the more Reader opposes him, the more he wants to turn them. "Oh, I will."

Their young demon self would need guidance and would be under his full control. And he could command them to call him papa.

and he will take that opportunity gladly

[gothicxreylover]

omg , we can request? can you pleas write about yandere upper moons with a reader that duma or muzan loved first and they beringed her to infinity castle then everyone start falling too? ty~!

Here you go I hope you enjoy! I’m trying to get as much as request done as possible!

The Beginning

Your life had been peaceful before that fateful night. Whether it was Muzan Kibutsuji or Douma who first crossed your path, it didn’t matter. Everything changed once they set their sights on you.

If it was Muzan, the encounter had been quiet and unsettling. His crimson eyes pierced through you, and with a single look, he decided you were his. If it was Douma, the meeting was deceptively warm, filled with a faux kindness that masked his deadly obsession. Either way, there was no escape once their interest was piqued.

One day, you were spirited away to the Infinity Castle, a disorienting void of shifting rooms and oppressive power. At first, you thought it was just Muzan or Douma you had to fear, but it quickly became apparent that the others who lived there—the Upper Moons—had begun to take an interest in you as well.

What started as one demon’s obsession quickly spiraled into a suffocating battle for your attention.

Douma

If Douma was the one who brought you to the castle, his obsession was immediate and overwhelming. He adored you—your voice, your expressions, the way you recoiled from his touch. Everything about you fascinated him, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Ah, little one,” he cooed one day, leaning far too close for comfort. “Why do you keep pulling away? I’m only trying to keep you safe!” His cheerful smile didn’t waver, but there was an unsettling edge to his words.

Douma showered you with gifts—silks, jewels, and even fresh flowers, plucked from the gardens of unfortunate humans. He was desperate to see you smile, to hear you laugh, but your discomfort only seemed to fuel his obsession.

“You’re so lovely when you’re sad,” he admitted once, tilting his head as if studying a piece of art. “It makes me want to protect you even more.”

But you knew that his version of protection was just another form of control.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan’s obsession was cold and calculating. If he was the one who took you, it wasn’t because he needed your companionship—it was because he had decided you were his.

“You belong to me now,” he said one night, his voice calm but utterly commanding. “There’s no need to think of anyone else. They’re beneath you—and me.”

He would dictate every aspect of your existence, from where you stayed to what you ate. Muzan didn’t tolerate disobedience, and his punishments for defiance were swift and terrifying. Though he never harmed you directly, his methods ensured you’d never dare challenge him.

Muzan’s obsession wasn’t about love. It was about possession, about keeping you as a flawless jewel in his crown. But even as he commanded your life, his crimson eyes would soften when they lingered on you too long, betraying a flicker of something deeper.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo didn’t approach you immediately. His stoic nature kept him in the shadows, silently observing you from a distance. But the more he watched, the more his intrigue grew.

At first, he couldn’t understand why Muzan—or Douma—had brought you to the Infinity Castle. You were human, fragile, and so out of place among the demons. But there was something captivating about your presence, something that tugged at his long-buried humanity.

“You are… different,” Kokushibo said one evening, his voice deep and measured. “But this is no place for you.”

Despite his cold demeanor, Kokushibo often found himself intervening when the others’ advances became too much. He would step between you and Douma, his sword at the ready, or silently guide you away from Akaza’s frustrated attempts at conversation.

But his protectiveness wasn’t selfless. Kokushibo didn’t want you to be swayed by anyone else. He wanted your attention to remain solely on him.

Akaza

Akaza’s obsession was different from the others. He didn’t understand why Muzan—or Douma—was so fixated on you at first, but over time, he found himself drawn to your kindness and resilience.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Akaza muttered one day, his usual confidence replaced with uncertainty. “This place… it’ll break you.”

Akaza saw himself as your protector, the one who could shield you from the dangers of the Infinity Castle. He hated how Douma hovered around you, his flirtatious comments making Akaza’s blood boil.

“You’re wasting your time with him,” Akaza told you one night, his voice soft but insistent. “He doesn’t care about you like I do.”

But even as he tried to win your trust, his obsession grew, and his frustration at your fear or resistance began to show.

Hantengu Clones

The Hantengu clones were chaos incarnate, their fragmented personalities pulling you in different directions.

Sekido’s possessiveness was fiery and explosive. “You don’t need anyone else,” he snarled, his sharp eyes glaring at the others. “Stay with me.”

Aizetsu, on the other hand, was quiet and sorrowful. “You look so sad,” he said one day, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… my fault, isn’t it?”

Urogi delighted in teasing you, his laughter echoing through the castle. “You’re so fun to play with!” he exclaimed, circling you like a predator.

Karaku, ever the flirt, leaned in close with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you relax, sweetheart? You’re much cuter when you smile.”

Their chaotic attention was overwhelming, and no matter where you turned, one of them was always watching, always wanting.

Gyutaro and Daki

Daki was the first to approach you. Unlike the others, her obsession was more platonic, though no less intense.

“You’ll stay with me forever, won’t you?” she asked, her voice wavering with desperation. She clung to your arm like a child afraid of losing their favorite toy.

Daki loved the way you treated her gently, as though she were human again. She soaked up your affection like a flower basking in sunlight.

Gyutaro, however, was more skeptical. “Why are you so nice to her?” he hissed, his jealousy barely concealed. “You’re just pretending, aren’t you?”

Despite his suspicions, Gyutaro couldn’t help but feel drawn to your kindness as well. It was a foreign, almost painful sensation, but one he couldn’t ignore.

Nakime

Nakime rarely spoke, but her presence was always felt. Her control over the Infinity Castle allowed her to monitor you constantly, her silent gaze following your every move.

If you ever tried to escape, Nakime was the one to find you. Her koto would echo through the halls as the rooms shifted, trapping you in an endless maze.

“You cannot leave,” she said simply, her voice calm but final. “This is where you belong.”

Her obsession was quiet, but it was no less suffocating.

The Weight of Their Obsession

No matter where you turned, there was no escape from their attention. Douma’s playful flirtations, Muzan’s cold possessiveness, Kokushibo’s silent watchfulness, and the chaotic obsession of the others—it was all too much.

The Infinity Castle became your prison, and their love became your chains.

But no matter how much they claimed to love you, you couldn’t bring yourself to love them back. You couldn’t forget the life you’d lost, the freedom that had been stolen from you.

And as their obsession grew, so did your despair.

[lavandulawrites]

Carcass

Yandere Douma x reader

This is by far the most gory thing I’ve written (or at least posted).

Synopsis: Douma decides to show his love for you in the ways of punishing the woman who has harassed you countlessly.

Masterlist

Warnings: Douma is a warning himself, Douma is horrible in this, abuse (from a woman to reader), gore, violence, demon eating a human, someone gets eaten alive, Douma is head over heels in love with reader, manipulation, obsession, female reader, non of the violence is towards the reader except implied former abuse (not from Douma), Dead Dove: do not eat, let me know if I have missed anything

Word count: 1673

The hall was lit just enough so you could see the silhouettes of its contents. A young woman with long beautiful hair was sitting beside you on the tatami floor. By the door were multiple servants all dressed in white. Their face was turned downwards. The sliding doors slid open. The room froze as the long haired cult leader entered. It was like the air turned to ice and it burned whenever your breathed. Even though it was dark, you could see his jovial grin. His fangs as sharp and threatening as ever.

The woman besides you bowed and you followed after.

The man took a seat on the platform before you. “I am so glad you could come” his smile showing his sharp fangs. He spoke as you had a choice whether or not you would come when the cult leader asked for you. “You may leave us alone” he waved his hand at the servants. They bowed and fled the room silently like white ghosts.

He leaned forward. “What is your name dear?” his gaze was fixed on the woman beside you.

“Yui, sir” she bowed her head.

“Yui… What a beautiful name. Fitting for such a beautiful woman as yourself” his voice sweet, but uncanny.

She smiled and glanced at you with triumph in the corner of your eye. She was clearly happy with gaining the attention of the handsome cult leader.

He shifted his gaze to you. His rainbow eyes scanning your features for something. He hummed when he found what he was looking for.

“Miss Yui, wouldn’t you be so kind as to come up here?” he spoke in his honeyed voice while his eyes were still on you. You swallowed in fear, which caused him to laugh.

Yui rose to her feet and strutted to the platform, looking over her shoulder at you. Her red lips were twisted up into a taunting smile.

Douma patted his one of his crossed legs for her to sit. “You have suck beautiful hair…” he hummed as he held a strand up to his nose and sniffed it. “You see Yui… I have had such an exhausting day” he sighed.

“A person that I am quite fond of won’t respond to my advances” he turned towards her. “Can you believe such a thing? Luckily I have come up with a plan on how to get her closer.”

Yui looked at him with a confused expression, but quickly brushed it off. She smiled at him to continue

You looked down on you hands and knees wishing you could just disappear. Douma noticed your discomfort and laughed.

“Why the long face? Are you perhaps bored?” he tched. “Oh dear… We can’t have that” he shook his head and grinned. “Say what Yui. Why don’t we put on a show to entertain our little audience, hmm?”

Yui nodded. An obnoxious smile plastered on her beautiful face.

“I am so incredibly famished. Aren’t you, Yui?” he sighed dramatically as he looked at her through his long eyelashes.

“I suppose I am…” Yui answered sheepishly.

“Whatever should we do…” Douma sighed as he threw his hand back in an overly dramatic manner. He snapped his head back and raised his pointy finger upwards. “Oh! I have it!” he grinned and looked at Yui.

The black haired woman tilted her head at his sudden outburst.

“Why don’t you… Offer yourself to me?” his eyes beamed with mischief.

“My lord, I am not sure if I follow…” Yui’s voice filed with uncertainty.

Your hands harshly gripped the fabric of your clothing.

Douma must have noticed your movement given his widened smirk, but said nothing. His attention turned back to Yui. His fangs catching the light from the lanterns that hung on the walls. His long fingers gripped her shoulders. The claws of the demon digging into her clothing, almost ripping the fabric. He brought his nose down to her neck and inhaled. “Mmm… You smell heavenly, but not as good as my dearest” he snickered.

Yui gulped at his comment. Her brown eyes flickered to you.

“What is the matter Yui?” he tilted his head.

“N-nothing master…” she muttered with her eyes cast towards the floor.

“I thought so” he grinned. His pale hand moved to her neck and he pulled her closer. His face mere centimetres from hers. Pale blue nails dragged down her face leaving shudders. Douma’s eyes trained on you.

Your nails pressed crescent moons against your palms, your skin almost breaking. “Stop! Please Douma! Don’t do this!” you pleaded. Your voice was hoarse after many hours of not being used.

His smile widened. “You finally decided to grace us with your beautiful voice” his voice soft. His rainbow eyes bottomless as they gazed at you lovingly.

“I can however not stop this. Or rather, I won’t” his smile still as ever present. His pale hand yanked the ravenette’s head back, making her neck strained.

She yelped and instinctively tried to peel his hands away. Her struggles were met with the click of a tongue, which made her stop struggling.

“I am doing this because I love you, [Name]. Don’t ever think anything else” his expression blank save from his eyes which were blown wide and shinning. “I know how she has been treating you. I am just going to… teach her a lesson. That’s all.”

What made him look human before, was all gone. What remained was a monster with fangs and claws ready to tear apart its prey.

“I have been keeping an eye on you, Yui” his voice a low sneer. “My servants have told me how you treat my dear [Name]. Many days I’ve smelled you on her skin and hair. Don’t think her bruises go unnoticed” he leaned closer to her face.

“You are just a worthless piece of shit. You should have known your place and perhaps I would have speared your pathetic life” his jaw was clenched.

“I-I am sorry! I am sorry!” the woman cried as she felt his ice breath on her skin. Her dark eyes found yours as they sent you a silent plea. A plea for you to do anything to stop her death.

“Silence!” his shout uncharacteristic. “I did not give you permission to speak” his hold on her hair tightened.

He free hand wrapped itself around her neck. His nails digging into her skin making small droplets of blood break through it. “Oh how I have waited for this. How I have longed to rip you apart for your sins” with each word that left his mouth, his nails dug into her skin deeper.

She clawed at his hand, but to no avail. She was truly helpless in the grip of a wrathful demon. Blood dripped from her mouth as she watched you with tears in her eyes. You wanted to do something, but you knew it was nothing you could do. If you tried to stop him physically, he would only kill her faster and get more furious. Who knows who else he would then take his anger out on.

Gurgling sounds filled the room as his claws sunk in even deeper. With a giggle he ripped his hand out form her neck. His tongue leaped out and licked his bloodied hand. He sighed in delight. Yui desperately tried to stop the bleeding by pressing her hands on her wound, but the damage was to great. Her fate was sealed the first time she had glared at you.

“H…help…” she wheezed out. The gaping hole in her neck making you wanting to vomit. Veins were fully visible among with tendons. If you looked closely you could see the whiteness of her bones.

Douma pinned her down with a speed no human could possibly possess. He bit down on her shoulder and tore out a mouthful of fabric and flesh. The black haired woman screamed in terror and you thought your eardrums would explode.

“Douma!” you shouted. Your pleas feel on deaf ears as he continued to eat her alive. “Please stop!”

He didn’t spare you a single glance as he continued to tear of chunks of flesh from the screaming woman. His fangs were stained red and his pale skin speckled with blood. Despite the horrendous sight, he was utterly beautiful. It made you truly sick.

Douma’s claws dug into her chest and clutched around her heart. It was a wonder Yui wasn’t dead yet. “I’m feeling rather kind today, so I think we will stop for today” was all he said has he ripped out her heart. Her head fell back revealing her half eaten neck. Douma raised two of his fingers and flicked her forehead causing her head to tear of with a disgusting sound. With a thud it landed on the platform.

The jaws of the demon opened as he but down on her heart. He hummed in delight as he chewed.

You closed your eyes and tried to swallow the bile that threatened to spill from your lips. You cheeks were damp with tears you hadn’t seemed to notice through the horrible act that had happened before you.

“I hate you. I really hate you” you sneered through clenched teeth. You couldn’t bear to look at the pale blond demon as he happily ate the heart of the woman who he had just brutally murdered.

“Mmm… you might say that now, but it won’t be long before you run into my arms” he chuckled. “You are making me feel, [Name]. I would have never thought I would experience love before I met you. So how could I possibly let you go? I love yous i much that it hurts” he looked at with you such earnestness it took you by surprise

A splat sounded behind you as he threw the heart at the wall opposite of him. “I will be waiting my dear. Don’t disappoint me” you could feel his wile smile. Your skin felt as if it swirled up and died.

You truly hated him.

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Part 2 ->

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon/dubcon, bullying, reader wears glasses

♡ gn reader

Thinking about jock bully hunting you down after the bell rings...

You hurry – haphazardously shoving your books and pens into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder – ready to get out before the chimes are even done singing.

Thankfully, it seemed fine for now as you couldn't hear the roaring of buzzing students in the hallway just yet, only your own class packing up their belongings with movements rather lazy compared to yours. 

But you couldn't afford to take your time – even with the free period following the end of your class. You needed to leave before he could find you.

"Where’ you off to in such a hurry, Specs?"

You ought to have knocked on wood before finishing your thought – you admonished yourself with eyes squeezed tightly shut and a punishing bite to your lower lip.

It's funny – you winced – how his voice is so casual, so breezy and laidback, all cool and friendly – funny how it sends such spiky goosebumps down your spine.

You ignore him, trying to squeeze past him – quick and dexterous as you attempt to slip away and disappear out the door – maybe be so lucky to lose him in the crowd.

"Whoa, whoa- you tryna run off on me?" He joked. His large hands held up to block your way. 

You watch the rest of your classmates leave – leaving you to fend for yourself. But you couldn't really blame them… none of you wanted to explain new bruises to worried parents at home.

He was like a shark circling, and if he smelt blood in the water, you were as good as done for. And you were like an open cut.

"Now, what did I do to deserve a disappearing act, huh?" He pouted. His head tilted, blocking out the lights in the ceiling, shadowing his already scary face. 

You nearly squeaked instead of speaking. "Please- I- I-"

"Calm down, will yah?" He dismissed. Flashing you a wide smile – the one that nearly fooled you into believing he was a good and decent guy. "I ain't come to pick on yah…"

You didn't listen. Once again, you bravely tried to push past him with your bag squeezed tightly to your chest – trying to rush to the door.

But his size was like the door itself. Big and squared. Muscly and tough as he blocked your way effortlessly. Though, no less bothered with your insistent attempt at running away from him.

"Now, when I tell you to do something-" He laughed passive-aggressively as his hand reached out to clutch the handle on your bag, yanking you back. "You should perk up and listen, yeah? Use that head of yours for something useful for once."

His knee rode up between your thighs – making you whimper where you stood, caged between his thick arms and the desk behind you.

"Wouldn't wanna make me angry now, do yah?"

His breath tickled your face, and you bowed your head under his gaze – unable to take your eyes off of the veins flexing along his beefy arms as his large hands gripped the table’s edge, sleeves rolled up like usual – the sight of his knuckles whitening, making you queasy with unease.

You tried ducking away once again. "Please, I need to-"

But he just clicked his tongue at the measle effort. Cutting you off yet again. 

"You don't need to do anything but stand here and entertain me." He decided with a voice a bit more biting than before.

You jolted, your eyes round and wide as you looked back up into his glare.

He laughed out a lighthearted chuckle before his hand broke off from marring the desk – scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile – serving a small effort at easing your worries where you stood tense and rigid in your place in front of him.

"Thing is…” He started once again, his tone back to normal – or whatever he wanted you to think was his normal. “Coach is gonna kick me off the team if I don’t get my grades in order.” He explained. “So’s thinkin’ since you’re such a good little nerd, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out.”

His hand reached out to tickle your chin.

“M’sure havin’ a cute little nerd-tutor like you is exactly what I need.”

Your throat was so tight you thought you might just choke. “I don’t-”

“Good!” He boasted over your pitiful protest. “Since y’got nothin’ better to do, how ‘bout we just head straight for my dorm right now?” He asked – though you knew better than to think it was a question. “Le’me carry that for yah-”

He yanked your backpack from your chest, ripping it out of the tight hug before throwing it over his own shoulder.

“I can carry you too if yah want?” He posed – smirk loud on his face as he placed his large paws at your waist – followed quickly by you shooting your arms forward to shove him off in protest.

But though you thought you’d put in some strength behind it, the boy in front didn’t budge at all. 

He just arched a brow as though asking if that was really all you had. And you hoped dearly he couldn’t see how the stiff muscles of his shredded chest had actually strained your wrists instead.

“What do you say, short stuff?” He leaned in, his breath foggy on your glasses and hot on your cheeks, as his hands clawed themselves into the fat of your waist, pulling you off your feet just a bit.

“N- no, thank you.” You stuttered out, stumbling a bit as you braced yourself against him. Your eyes squished close as you bowed your head away from him in a mix of fear and embarrassment while you suppressed the mortifying feeling of nearly pissing yourself.

But the tall boy realized little of your inner turmoil – rather enjoying it as he scoffed out an amused laugh at you. “A'ight then, come on.”

He yanked you along – his large paw gripping your arm as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Nearly needing to resort to jogging where you otherwise tripped when the gap between the two of you became so large you had to skip a step or two to catch up – and before you even realized it, you were already standing outside the boy’s dorm waiting for him to find his keys.

He unlocked the door and welcomed you inside with the same grace of a warden showing a prisoner to their cell – with the weight and breadth of his warm hand on the small of your back as he nudged you inside.

The room had an overwhelming dank scent of both bodyspray and sweat and other things you’d only expect to smell in a boy’s locker room.

“Yo.” Came another voice from inside.

“Sup, roomie.” Your bully replied lazily. Grinning at how you gripped his shirt, all but jumping into hiding behind him. 

You’re cute…

“Who’s that you got there?” His friend arched a brow at you, where you peaked at him from behind your bully’s sleeve.

“I’mma need the room.” He announced, not really answering the question.

The roommate then scoffed with a grin, beholding you with slim eyes for a moment, then scoffed once more before he got up to leave.

“Don’t hit the books too hard – Coach’ll have your ass if you don’t bring your A-game later.” He warned, pulling his gym bag up on his shoulder as he excused himself.

You looked around once he was gone, spotting dumbbells and other equipment – and quickly realized how there must be many more muscles beneath his shirt than what you’d already borne witness. 

“So- uhm-” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you awkwardly turned to the boy. “Where're your books?”

Your bully smiled, taking a casual step toward you. “My books?” He asked, nowhere near even trying to sound the least bit genuinely confused.

“Your- uhm...” You paused, feeling uneasy. “Textbooks?”

His smile sharpened. “That’s cute.” He mocked sweetly while buttoning up the small black buttons of his white uniform shirt, giving a flash of those muscles you’d been anxiously anticipating. “You actually thought we were gonna study?”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Tendou, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[just-null]

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can you do yandere platonic Tengen with reader who is his blood related child and is hinatsuru’s child?

Yandere Tengen Uzui and his wives with a Child reader | Kimetsu no Yaiba

You don’t have to be bloodrelated to be dearly loved 

Whether you were birthed by one of your mothers or legally adopted or illegally abducted

You are the light of their lives

A sweet little baby they can pour all their love into 

Happily cycling with each of them through the night as you wake at the crack of dawn

..or maybe not so happy

“Come on! Suma its Hina’s turn!”

“Shh and no she get’s to spend all the time nursing them! I want it to be my turn!”

“Suma. Give me my baby or you won’t be able to hold them after what I'll do to you.”

“Suma…” “...Fine. But I take the next time they cry.”

As talented Shinobi spending the night with a crying baby is not as big of a change as usual

Plus there’s three of them to help

And when Tengen’s home it’s likely he’ll just take over because he’s away so often he just wants to spend all that free time with you

Even as you grow to a toddler stage you take absolute first priority

And if there's any time the wives might be inclined to ignore him is when they haven’t gotten their kisses for the day

“(Y/n)! Come here baby! Come on!”

“Don’t walk to him, he doesn’t have your bottle now does he? Come on my sweet mochi!”

“Makio!”

“Tengen!”

You’ll probably be spoiled beyond belief 

Unless you learn humility on your own you will actually take all their praise to heart

Just as they raised you

You’re allowed to step on others because your perfect in every way 

And if the world doesn’t treat you like a gift then the world has a problem

[married-to-google-translater]

Helloooo, could you do Fem!reader (or gn!reader, idm either) with Yandere Uppermoons (1-3 btw, and maybe also muzan?) where the reader is like "I don't care that you kidnapped me, but if you want me to stay obedient just give me stuff to entertain myself so that i'm not bored" and they like literally don't care about anything kinda.

Have a nice day and Happy Bdayy :333

Thisssss is now for Douma and Muzan

Also thank you ❤️

Akaza is here

Kokushibo is here

Yandere Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan's reaction would really depend on how you would ask for things and how you would behave.

He wouldn't like YOU putting conditions on HIM.

You would have no right to do that.

Muzan would be the one to dominate in this regard.

You would have to prove your obedience before you would receive things.

If you obeyed…

Muzan would give you almost anything.

If you had something to do, you wouldn't try to escape so easily.

However, if you make mistakes you would lose everything.

Muzan does not tolerate disobedience.

He wouldn't be so concerned about you not caring about your situation.

Although it might not be the most normal reaction of all.

You wouldn't even scream when he tried to kidnap you.

You clearly understand his power and that he is worth obeying.

That wouldn't necessarily be the truth.

However, Muzan wouldn't want to hear that.

Muzan would mainly acquire things that fit with him.

He would like to show you who you belonged to.

Yandere Douma

Your attitude would make Douma happy.

He would have met you in his cult.

Because you made him feel things Douma would decide to keep you.

This would really excite him.

Douma would have heard of the negative reactions.

He wouldn't want you to become suicidal in any way or risk your health trying to escape.

You couldn't be let go.

You knew Douma's secret and he wouldn't want you to share it with others.

Oh yeah and because he loves you.

Douma would give you anything you could think of to ask for.

He would have the resources and power to do so.

Even if you spend most of the time together.

Douma would love to pamper you.

You would get the best clothes, books and food you could ask for.

Douma would be a bit confused.

He would know that a "normal" person wouldn't behave like this.

However, Douma would go along.

He would like to believe that you love him.

That's what he would need.

[fangdokja]

🔞He says it’s love, but the scars on your skin tell a different story.

❤︎ Synopsis. Trapped in his obsession, your brother’s love is a cage—burning, possessive, and unyielding. Every kiss is a claim, every touch a warning. You’re his, and he’ll make sure the world knows it.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Older Brother x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. Sins of the Silent Heart - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,010

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, incest, non-con, rape, overstimulation, isolation, kidnapping, confinement, forced marking, dacryphilia, bondage, sexual punishments, BDSM, sadism, unhealthy power dynamics, loss of virginity, toxic relationship, spanking, emotional and psychological manipulation, social isolation, physical assault and abuse, sexual violence, knife play, blood play, permanent injury, choking / breath play

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly to keep the prying eyes of the world at bay. You struggle against his ironclad grasp, but he's too strong.

He shoves you onto the bed with a force that steals your breath, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other clamps over your mouth, muffling your screams. "Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"You're only making this harder for yourself. You need to understand." His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—fear, submission, perhaps even love. But all you feel is a cold dread unfurling in your stomach, a horror that threatens to consume you whole.

Your brother's grip on your face tightens, his thumb digging into your cheek as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

"You're mine," he repeats, the words a chant that seems to fuel his rage. His other hand begins to roam, skimming over your body in a way that makes you feel violated and disgusting. You try to kick, to fight, but he's everywhere, his weight pressing down on you like a mountain.

"You think you can just go out there and give yourself to someone else?" he snarls, his eyes wild with jealousy. "You're too good for them. You're too good for anyone but me."

His hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. Panic sets in as you realize the full extent of his intentions, your eyes widening in horror.

You manage to break free from his hand over your mouth, gasping for air. "No, please, stop," you plead, your voice shaky with fear and desperation.

"I'm your sister! Please don't do this!" But your words only seem to fuel his rage further, his grip on your wrists tightening until you think your bones might snap.

"Your mouth will be the only thing that's used for speaking my language tonight," he sneers, his free hand ripping at the fabric of your shirt, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. The sound of buttons popping off and fabric tearing fills the room, echoing your own silent screams.

You feel a warm wetness between your legs, not from desire but from fear and the humiliation of knowing what's about to happen. "You're going to learn your place," he murmurs, his voice low and menacing as he straddles you, his weight pinning you to the bed.

You writhe beneath him, trying to find an inch of space, any way to escape, but his body is like a vice, trapping you in this twisted nightmare. He reaches for your pants, his hand fumbling with the button before he yanks them down with a rough jerk, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"You're going to love me," he says, his voice a twisted mix of anger and lust.

"You're going to forget all about those other boys. They're nothing compared to me." His words are a knife to your heart, each syllable twisting the blade deeper.

Tears stream down your face as he pulls his own pants down, his erection straining against his boxers. You can feel his breath on your neck, his chest pressing against yours, his arousal against your thigh.

The room feels like it's spinning, the walls closing in around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of the monster above you, but his touch is everywhere, invasive and repulsive.

He pulls your panties to the side with a cruel efficiency, and you can't help but sob out loud. "Please, brother, no," you whimper, but your words fall on deaf ears.

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name. You're going to beg for more."

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pushing your head down into the pillow, the fabric smothering your cries. You feel his hand move away from your face and grip the base of his cock, guiding it towards your entrance.

The feeling of his bare skin against yours is a violation so profound, it feels like your soul is being torn apart. The tip of his cock nudges against your folds, and you tense up, trying to resist, but your body is too overwhelmed with fear to do much more than shiver.

With a grunt of effort, he pushes inside you, the pain tearing through you like a bolt of lightning.

You scream into the pillow, your nails digging into the mattress as he starts to thrust, each movement a brutal reminder of his dominance.

You can feel the fabric of your ruined panties wedged between your thighs, a sadistic reminder of your innocence lost. His rhythm is punishing, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through your body. You try to hold back the tears, to hide your pain, but they come anyway, soaking the pillow beneath your face.

He drives through your hymen without mercy, the fabric of your innocence ripping away as he claims you as his own. The pain is unlike anything you've ever felt before—sharp, searing, and unrelenting.

Your eyes fly open, and you scream into the pillow, your body arching off the bed as he buries himself deep within you. The sensation is a mix of agony and unwanted fullness, a violation that sets every nerve ending on fire.

His grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel his cock pulsing inside you, thick and demanding. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a harsh whisper.

You force your eyes to meet his, and what you see there is a twisted mix of satisfaction and rage. He watches you, his pupils dilated with lust, as he continues to fuck you without care for your pain.

"Say it," he hisses, his hips grinding against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Say you're mine."

Your throat is raw from screaming, but you manage to croak out the words he wants to hear. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice a broken echo of the defiance that once burned within you.

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you know it's what he needs to hear.

His eyes flash with triumph, and he releases your neck, allowing you to gulp in a desperate breath. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sick parody of affection as he starts to move faster.

You feel his hand snake around your throat again, squeezing gently before sliding up to cradle your face. "I'll always take care of you," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he pushes deeper into you, each stroke a declaration of his ownership.

You whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus on anything but the pain. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your muffled cries and his grunts of pleasure.

He's so deep inside you that it feels like he's touching your very soul, and you can't help but wonder if there's any part of you that will ever be yours again. You want to fight, to scream, to push him away, but your body feels like it's made of lead, heavy and unresponsive to your will.

He leans down, his mouth crushing against yours in a kiss that's more claim than affection. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you taste the salt of your own tears.

You try to pull away, to bite him, to do anything that will make him stop, but he only grinds against you harder, his hand on the back of your head keeping you in place. "You're mine," he says against your lips, the words a dark benediction that sends a shiver of revulsion through your body.

Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser. Your face is a mascara-stained mess, your hair a tangled halo around your head, and your body is a canvas of bruises already beginning to blossom.

The sight only seems to excite him more, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he watches your reflection, his eyes glinting with a malicious pleasure. You feel yourself start to detach, floating above the scene like a ghost, watching as your body is used and discarded by the person who's supposed to love you the most.

"Please," you manage to gasp out, the word a pathetic plea that hangs in the air, unheeded. "It hurts."

But he either doesn't hear you or doesn't care, his hips pumping faster, his breathing growing ragged.

The pain becomes a living entity, a monster that consumes you from the inside out, reducing you to a trembling wreck beneath him.

He shifts his weight, his hand moving from your face to your hip, his fingers digging in as he pulls you closer to him. "You're so damn tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You were made for me."

His thumb slides between your thighs, finding the bundle of nerves that had once brought you pleasure, and you feel a spark of hope—maybe if you can just make him finish, it will all be over.

But his touch is rough, almost punishing, and any hint of pleasure is drowned out by the agony of his invasion.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he continues to thrust, his movements becoming more frenzied with each passing moment. "You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a mix of demand and question.

"You're going to come and show me how much you want this." You feel his thumb circle your clit, pressing down hard as he continues to fuck you, his other hand squeezing your hip so tightly that it feels like he's trying to leave a permanent imprint of his fingers on your skin.

The pain and the pleasure meld together into something twisted and unrecognizable, and you can't help but whimper as your body starts to respond despite your mind's screaming protests.

His eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, feeding off your fear and pain like it's his lifeblood. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Show me how much you need me."

And you do—your body betrays you, arching up to meet his touch, your walls tightening around his cock as the beginnings of an orgasm build against your will.

You want to hate him for reducing you to this, for making you feel like a whore, but the pleasure is too intense to fight.

With a final, brutal thrust, he releases your hip, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, his other hand still working you into a frenzy. "You're mine," he says again, his voice a hoarse growl.

"Say it. Scream it." And as if on cue, your body shatters, your orgasm ripping through you like a tempest, stealing your voice along with your dignity. The only sound that escapes you is a strangled cry, a sound that's half-pain, half-pleasure.

His eyes widen with triumph as he feels your body clench around him, his grip on your wrists tightening as he starts to come, filling you with his seed. The feeling of his release only adds to the horror, his hot cum a declaration of his claim on your body.

You lay there, trembling and sobbing, as he collapses on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion. For a moment, the room is silent except for your ragged breaths and his own, his weight a suffocating presence that makes it difficult to draw in air.

As the fog of pleasure fades, the reality of what's happened crashes down on you like a tidal wave of despair. You feel soiled, used, and utterly broken. Your eyes fill with fresh tears, and you struggle to find the strength to push him off.

But he's still inside you, his cock now limp but still a violation of the most intimate kind. "Don't," he says, his voice suddenly gentle as he rolls off you and pulls you into his arms.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore." His touch is tender, almost loving, but it's tainted by the knowledge of what he's just done.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, your face buried in his chest, your body shaking with sobs. He strokes your hair, whispering sweet nothings that only serve to make you feel more disgusted.

"It's okay," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of his actions. "You're safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again."

His words are a mockery of comfort, a twisted parody of the brotherly love you once knew.

You want to scream, to push him away, but all you can do is cry.

He gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he says, his voice a soft command.

"I'm not going to let anyone else have you. You're mine. You always have been." His eyes searched yours, looking for some sign of understanding, some spark of the love he believed you owed him.

But all you see is the monster he's become, the predator that's stolen your childhood trust in him.

"I know you didn't mean to," he continues, his tone earnest. "But you can't leave me. You can't love anyone else. Do you understand?"

You nod, the tears still streaming down your face, the taste of defeat coating your mouth like bile. "Y-yes," you manage to whisper, the words barely audible. "I understand."

It's not what he wants to hear, not the declaration of love he craves, but it's all you can give.

For now.

────────────

The weekend stretches before you, a prison of his twisted love and dominance. Each moment is a silent scream of agony and degradation, as your brother takes you again and again.

The bedroom, the kitchen table, the living room couch—every corner of your shared home becomes a battleground for his obsession.

He fucks you in every position imaginable, his hunger insatiable, his need to claim you complete.

You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, used and abused at his whim, your body a canvas for his depravity.

────────────

On the first night, he ties your wrists to the bedposts with the usual belt he uses to punish you, spreading your legs wide as he looms above you. "You're going to take it all," he says, his voice a dark promise.

"Every inch of me, until you're screaming my name." He pushes into you, his cock thick and unforgiving, and you bite back a whimper, your eyes squeezed shut.

He's gentle at first, almost loving, but as the night wears on, his strokes become more forceful, his grip on your hips tightening.

You're too tired to fight, too broken to resist. When he finally releases you from your bonds, you collapse onto the bed, your limbs trembling from the exertion.

────────────

The next day, he takes you into the shower, the water a scalding caress against your bruised skin. He soaps you up with a tenderness that feels like a slap in the face after what he's done. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low growl.

You do, unable to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the water cascading down your breasts. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Say you love me."

The words stick in your throat, a lie that feels like acid. But you whisper them anyway, because it's what he needs to hear, because you're too scared not to.

────────────

In the kitchen, he bends you over the counter, your hands gripping the edge to keep from collapsing. You can hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the jingle of his belt loops echoing through the room. "You're going to learn to crave this," he says, his voice a harsh promise.

You feel the head of his cock against you, and your body tenses, bracing for the pain. "You're going to want me more than anyone else."

His hands are everywhere, pushing into your hips, squeezing your breasts, his thumb circling your clit.

You hate the way your body responds, the way your pussy clenches around him, begging for more even as you silently pray for it to end.

He enters you from behind, his hands on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. You grit your teeth against the pain, your knuckles turning white as you hold onto the counter for dear life.

He's deep inside you, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan despite the fear choking you.

"That's it," he says, his voice thick with pleasure. "You like it, don't you?" You bite your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, your eyes squeezed shut as you focus on the kitchen tiles beneath your feet.

But the orgasm builds, unwanted and unstoppable, stealing your voice as it rips through you, leaving you trembling and sobbing.

────────────

Later, in the living room, you're forced to straddle him on the couch, his cock buried inside you as he watches TV. His hands are on your hips, guiding your movements, his eyes flicking from the screen to your face, watching you with a perverse fascination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a stark contrast to the horror of his actions.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but the words won't come. Instead, you stare blankly at the TV, trying to lose yourself in the flickering images, trying to forget the reality of your situation.

────────────

On the second night, he takes you to the floor in the hallway, pushing you onto your knees. "You're going to suck me off," he says, his voice cold and demanding. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

You hesitate, your throat tight with fear, but his hand wraps around the back of your head, pushing you closer to his erection.

"Do it," he growls, and you have no choice but to comply, your mouth opening to take him in.

You can taste the salt and the bitterness of his lust, and you want to gag, but you force yourself to swallow, to keep going until he's satisfied.

When he finally comes, you feel his hot cum spurt down your throat, and you have to fight not to throw up.

He pulls out, his hand releasing your head as he watches you, his eyes filled with a perverse satisfaction. "Good girl," he says, his voice a taunting whisper.

You crawl away from him, your body trembling, your dignity shattered beyond repair. You can't believe this is your life now, that you're nothing more than a toy for his sick games.

────────────

On the final day of the weekend, you're lying on the floor of his room, your body bruised and sore from his relentless attention. He's sitting on the bed, watching you with a strange mix of love and possession.

"Look at you," he says, his voice almost gentle. "So beautiful, even when you're broken."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, searching for any hint of remorse, any shred of the brother you once knew. But all you find is a monster, a creature consumed by his own desires.

He stands up, walking over to you with a predatory grace that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's time to go back to your room," he says, his voice a command.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, as he helps you to your feet. The room spins around you, the pain making it difficult to stand.

"You're mine," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Always remember that." He gives you a final, bruising kiss before releasing you, his eyes never leaving your face.

You stumble back to your room, feeling his gaze on your back like a physical weight.

The door closes behind you, the soft click echoing in your ears. You collapse onto the bed, your body a mass of pain and despair.

You can't believe what's happening, can't believe that the person you trusted the most has become your worst nightmare.

But even as you cry into your pillow, a part of you knows that this is only the beginning.

────────────

Days turn into weeks, and the abuse continues. You try to find ways to resist, to fight back, but his control over you is absolute.

He's always watching, always waiting for the slightest sign of disobedience. You start to feel like you're going mad, trapped in a cycle of fear and pain that never ends.

But you keep the secret, hiding your bruises beneath layers of clothing, smiling when you know he's watching.

────────────

One evening, as you're serving dinner, a knock at the door pierces the tension that's become a constant in your home.

It's a friend from school, someone who's been worried about you since you stopped hanging out. You can see the concern in his eyes as he asks about your well-being.

Your brother's grip on your wrist tightens, a silent warning not to say a word. "She's just been busy," he says, his voice too cheerful. "Aren't you, little sister?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've had a lot of... stuff to do."

The friend's gaze lingers on you, searching for the truth behind the forced smile. "Well, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me," he says, before finally turning to leave. The door closes, and the room feels smaller, suffocating.

He pulls you closer, his grip painfully tight. "You're mine," he says, his voice a low growl. "You don't need anyone else."

His eyes bore into yours, demanding assurance, and you nod, the lie rolling off your tongue like a well-rehearsed script.

"Yes," you murmur, "I know."

────────────

As the days go by, the lines between fear and obedience blur. You learn to anticipate his moods, his needs, his desires.

You become an expert at hiding your own emotions, burying your pain beneath a mask of submission. You go through the motions, cooking, cleaning, smiling when he enters the room.

But inside, you're screaming, a caged animal waiting for an escape that never comes.

One day, you're in the kitchen, your hands shaking as you prep dinner. The knife slips, slicing your finger, and blood wells up, a stark crimson against the pale flesh.

He's there in an instant, his eyes flickering with concern before they darken. "Careful," he says, his voice a low warning.

"You're too clumsy for your own good." He takes your hand, leading you to the sink to clean the wound.

But instead of the gentleness you expect, his grip turns cruel, his fingers pressing into your palm until you wince.

"You're going to be more careful," he says, his voice cold. "You're too precious to be ruined by something as stupid as an accident."

You nod, your heart racing as you watch the blood swirl down the drain. "I'll be more careful," you whisper, the words feeling like a noose around your neck.

He releases your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Good," he says, his voice softening slightly. "I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

But the way he says it, you know he's not just talking about accidents.

He's talking about you leaving, about you telling someone. The fear is a living thing inside you, a creature that feeds on your hope.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" You can feel his arousal pressing against your side, his desire for you a constant, unyielding force.

You nod again, because what else can you do? He takes your injured finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the cut, the sensation surprisingly gentle.

The room spins around you, the line between love and hate blurring until you can't tell the difference.

His eyes never leave yours, his gaze holding you captive as his mouth works its magic. When he pulls away, you're left gasping for air, your body a battleground of emotions.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask, your voice shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

He looks at you, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Because I love you," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you're mine, and no one else can have you."

You pull away, your heart racing. "But we're siblings," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't right."

He sighs, his grip on your hand tightening. "Don't say that," he says, his voice a low warning. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive, the only one who truly understands me. I'm going to marry you, make it official. No one can ever take that away from us."

His eyes are wild, desperate, and for a moment, you see the little boy who protected you from the monsters under the bed.

But the monster is him now, and there's no escape.

You nod, your voice trembling. "Okay," you say, the word sticking in your throat. "I'll be yours."

It's a hollow promise, but it's what he needs to hear.

His smile is like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud, lighting up the room and your heart despite the fear.

That night, he takes you gently, as if you're made of glass. His touches are softer, his kisses more tender.

But the pain is still there, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. You lay there, your body bruised and used, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, of telling someone.

But every time you open your mouth to speak, the fear clamps down, silencing you.

────────────

As the weeks turn into months, the abuse becomes a twisted routine.

You find yourself craving the moments of tenderness he offers, the fleeting moments when he's not a monster, but the brother you once knew.

His love feels like a drug, an addiction that you can't shake, no matter how hard you try.

And he's always there, watching, waiting, making sure you know you're his.

One evening, as you lay in his arms, the room lit by the flickering TV, you feel something shift inside you. You've been playing along, pretending to be the obedient little sister and wife he wants, but the weight of the lie is crushing you.

You look up at him, his eyes closed in contentment, and for the first time, you feel something other than fear.

It's anger, burning hot and pure, a fire that's been smoldering deep within you. "I can't do this anymore," you say, your voice shaking with the force of your emotions.

He opens his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What do you mean?" he asks, his hand stroking your hair.

You sit up, pulling away from him. The words come out in a rush, the dam of your fear and anger finally breaking. "This isn't love, it's not normal. You can't just take what you want from me."

You can see the hurt in his eyes, but it's mixed with something else—a hint of anger.

"What do you know about love?" he snaps, his grip on your arm tightening.

"You're just a kid, playing games you don't understand." His voice is low, dangerous.

"You're mine, and you always will be. You don't get to decide who loves you, or how."

You try to pull away, but his hand is a vice, his nails digging into your skin. "Let go of me," you say, your voice trembling.

But he doesn't.

He pulls you closer, his eyes searching yours, looking for the submission he craves.

"You don't get it," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're all I've ever had. You're all I've ever needed. And now that I have you, I won't let anyone else touch you."

His grip tightens, and you know he's not just talking about love anymore. He's talking about possession, about control.

You try to fight back, to push him away, but he's too strong. "Please," you whimper, the word a pitiful sound in the quiet room.

But it's not enough.

He's already decided what you are to him, and he won't be swayed.

He yanks you closer, his breath hot and sour in your face. "You're going to learn," he says, his voice a snarl. "You're going to learn to love me, to want this."

His hand moves down your body, cupping your breast roughly, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You flinch, the pain mixing with the fear and anger. "Look at me," he demands, his eyes boring into yours.

"Tell me you want it."

You can't find the words. You can't bring yourself to lie to him, not when you're so close to breaking free of this psychological cage of hoping he'd change.

Instead, you look away, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't," you murmur, your voice barely audible.

The anger in his eyes flickers, and for a moment, you think he might hit you again. But instead, he sighs, his expression softening slightly.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise and a threat. "You just need time." He releases your arm, his hand moving to gently wipe the tears from your cheek.

"But for now, you're mine. You're going to stay here, with me."

────────────

But, that doesn't mean he's not vengeful.

Your older brother drags you down the stairs to the basement, his grip unyielding. The cold concrete floor hits your bare feet, sending shivers up your spine. You struggle, your body protesting, but his strength is too much.

He throws you into a dank, dimly lit corner, the scent of mold and dust thick in the air.

Ropes coil around your wrists and ankles, securing you to a rusty pipe that runs along the wall. You whimper as the metal digs into your skin, leaving a trail of cold, metallic pain.

"Why are you doing this?" you manage to ask through clenched teeth, the reality of your new prison setting in.

He paces the floor, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and disappointment. "Because you need to learn," he says, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"You need to understand that you can't just decide to stop loving me."

You stare at him in disbelief, the ropes biting into your skin as you try to pull away from the pipe. "This isn't love," you spit out, your voice raw with emotion. "What you're doing to me is sick."

He stops pacing, his gaze meeting yours with a cold intensity. "You think I don't know that?" he snaps.

"But it's all I know. It's all we have." He strides over to you, crouching down so he's level with your bound form.

"You're going to stay here, and think about what you've done." His hand comes up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"And when you're ready to tell me the truth, when you're ready to love me the way you should, I'll be upstairs."

You feel bile rise in your throat at his touch, his words a twisted echo of the love you once knew. "I can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, just let me go."

He sighs, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something that looks almost like regret.

"You don't get it," he murmurs, his hand dropping away. "This is for your own good." He stands, walking towards the stairs.

"You're going to thank me one day, when you realize what I've saved you from."

You watch as he ascends, the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut with a finality that makes your heart sink. The darkness of the basement envelops you, the silence deafening.

You try to scream, to call for help, but your voice is hoarse from the weekend's screams. You're alone, trapped in the cold embrace of the concrete walls.

────────────

Days crawl by, each one a blur of pain and despair. He comes down to check on you, bringing you water and the bare minimum of food to keep you alive.

He doesn't touch you, doesn't speak of love. His eyes are hard, his expression unreadable.

But the silence is worse than the abuse—it's a constant reminder of the distance he's put between you. You beg, you plead, you scream, but he just watches with a detached air, as if you're nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

On the third day, he finally speaks. "You've had your time to think," he says, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Now it's time for your next lesson." He crosses the room, his boots echoing on the hard floor.

You shrink back against the wall, your heart racing.

You're not ready for this, not ready to face the monster again.

But there's no escape, not here in the dark.

He unbinds one of your wrists, pulling you to your feet. You stumble, your legs wobbly from days of disuse. He leads you over to a dusty old chair in the center of the room, the legs scraping against the floor with an eerie sound.

"Sit," he commands, his voice devoid of warmth.

You do as you're told, the chair creaking beneath your weight, as he restrains your arms and ankles to the chair. He then stands in front of you, his eyes raking over your body with a hunger that makes your skin crawl.

"You're going to tell me you love me," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to mean it, or you're going to regret it."

You shake your head, the words caught in your throat. "I can't," you choke out. "I'll never love you like that."

His expression darkens, and for a moment, you think he's going to hit you again. But instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife, the silver glinting in the dim light.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise. "I'll make sure of it." He flicks open the blade with a metallic snap, the sound echoing in the basement.

You try to jerk away, but the ropes around your ankles keep you in place, the chair digging into your back. "What are you going to do?" you ask, the fear in your voice clear.

He steps closer, the knife glinting in his hand. "I'm going to show you what happens when you deny me," he says, his voice a low growl.

"You're mine, and you will say it." His hand moves to your chest, pressing the cold steel against your skin just above your heart.

The threat is unmistakable.

You swallow hard, the fear thick in your throat. "I can't," you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. "Please, don't make me."

He sighs, his expression shifting from anger to something almost pitying. "You're so damn stubborn," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the blade's path along your collarbone.

"But I'll break you. I'll make you love me." He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, just below your ear.

You shiver, trying to keep your revulsion from showing. "I'm sorry," you whisper, the words feeling like acid on your tongue.

"I love you." It's the first time you've said it, and you hate the way it feels—like a betrayal to every part of yourself that's been violated by his hands.

He pulls away, his eyes searching yours, looking for the truth he so desperately needs to see. You force a smile, hoping it's convincing enough. "I love you," you repeat, the words a little easier this time.

For a moment, you see a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it's quickly replaced with satisfaction. "Good," he says, his voice soothing now.

"Very good." He reaches down, his hand brushing against the ropes that bind you to the chair.

"Now, let's see how much you mean it." He traces the knife along the fabric of your shirt, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine.

With one swift motion, he slices through the material, exposing your bra. The knife lingers for a moment before he cuts the clasp, the cups falling away to reveal your breasts. He cups one in his hand, his thumb circling your nipple.

You can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as he pinches it, the pain mixing with a twisted form of arousal that makes you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself.

"Look at how beautiful you are," he says, his voice a hypnotic purr. "So perfect for me." His other hand moves to the fly of his pants, the knife still in his grip. He opens them, freeing his erection, which stands tall and demanding.

You feel a fresh wave of dread as he steps closer, the knife still hovering near your skin.

"Now, tell me you want me," he commands, his eyes dark with lust. The blade presses harder against your flesh, the sting of it making you flinch.

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. "I want you," you murmur, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. You feel his hand tighten around your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple until it's hard and sensitive.

"Please," you add, hoping it's enough to satisfy his twisted desires.

He seems to consider your words, the knife pressing into your skin just enough to make you whimper. Then, with a smirk, he pulls away.

"Good girl," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let's make it official." He grabs the knife again, this time bringing it to the waistband of your pants. With a quick jerk, he slices through the fabric, exposing you completely.

You struggle, trying to pull away from his touch, but he's too strong. He forces you to remain still, his hand moving down to cup your sex, his thumb stroking your clit with a brutal gentleness that makes you squirm.

"You're going to tell me you're mine," he says, his eyes boring into yours. "You're going to scream it."

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words a defeated whisper.

He smiles, his grip on the knife loosening slightly. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sickening blend of affection and triumph. He steps closer, the knife now tracing patterns on your exposed thigh, sending shivers of fear and anticipation through your body. You can feel his erection pressing against your leg, hot and insistent.

Without warning, he slams the knife into the chair, the blade sinking deep into the wooden frame. You flinch, your heart racing as you realize how close you just came to being sliced open. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Now, tell me," he says, his voice a demand.

"Tell me you're mine, and mean it." He repeats.

You stare into his eyes, the fear and disgust warring within you. But the knife, still lodged in the chair so close to your body, is a stark reminder of his power. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words barely audible.

His smile widens, and he leans in to kiss you, his breath hot and sour. You force yourself to remain still, to accept it, to survive. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his other hand still playing with your body.

You can feel the wetness between your legs, and you hate yourself for it—hate that your body can betray you like this.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes gleaming with triumph. You're panting, your heart racing from fear and the unwanted arousal his touch brings.

He takes the knife from the chair, the wood protesting as it's yanked free, and you can't help but feel a pang of relief that it's no longer a threat to your skin. But his gaze is on your thighs now, and you know that relief is short-lived.

"Look at me," he says, his voice low and commanding. You meet his eyes, trying to keep the fear and disgust from showing. "You're going to carry my mark," he continues, his tone matter-of-fact. "So you never forget who you belong to."

He grabs your chin, tilting your head back so you're forced to watch as he brings the knife closer to your skin. You flinch as the cold metal touches you, the tip hovering just above the delicate flesh of your inner thigh.

His hand is steady, his eyes never leaving yours as he traces the first letter of his name—a deep, painful groove that makes you try biting your lip to keep from screaming. The blood wells up, a crimson line against your pale skin.

But, it doesn't work.

The second you feel the searing pain of the knife digging deeply, your scream rips through the basement, echoing off the cold concrete walls.

He tightens his grip on your chin, forcing you to keep watching as he carves the next letter into your skin, the blood running down your thigh in a warm trickle. Your eyes are wide with shock and horror, your body sweating and shaking with pain and fear. He's methodical, taking his time with each stroke, his gaze never leaving yours.

The sound of your own cries is the only thing that breaks the silence, mixing with the wet, sickening sounds of the knife cutting into your flesh.

When he's done with the last letter, he pulls back, admiring his work with a twisted smile. "There," he says, his voice smug. "Now you're truly mine."

He reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his thumb coming away smeared with your blood. "You're beautiful, even when you're crying," he murmurs, his tone almost tender.

You can't help but flinch at his touch, the pain from the fresh wound making your stomach churn.

You look down, the sight of your own blood and his initials etched into your flesh making you feel like a piece of meat, marked and claimed. The pain is unbearable, and you can't stop the tears that stream down your face. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this to me. No more, please, I beg you."

He frowns, his expression one of disappointment. "You're supposed to be happy," he says, his voice tight.

"This is a declaration of love, not something to be feared." He grabs a rag from the floor, pressing it against the wound to stem the flow of blood.

"You need to learn to appreciate this, to cherish the bond we have." His tone is firm, brooking no argument.

You can't find the words to respond, your teeth chattering from the pain and the cold. You watch as he dresses himself, his movements deliberate and controlled.

He picks up the knife, wiping the blood off on the rag before slipping it back into his pocket. "I'll be back with something to clean you up," he says, his voice gentle, as if he's just finished giving you a present instead of violating you in the most horrific way.

He leaves you alone again, the door slamming shut like a tomb. The pain in your thigh is a constant reminder of his ownership, a brand that feels like it's burning into your soul.

You slump forward in the chair, the ropes digging into your skin, and sob into your knees. The basement is cold, the only warmth coming from the throbbing in your leg and the hot tears that fall onto the concrete floor.

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When he returns, you're too tired to even look up. You feel him approach, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. He's carrying something, a first-aid kit maybe, but you don't care.

You're beyond caring.

He kneels in front of you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he takes the rag and replaces it with something cool and clean.

"Shh," he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheeks. "It's okay, it's okay."

The pain is overwhelming as he cleans the wound, the sting of antiseptic making you whimper.

You try to jerk away, but he holds you firm, his grip unyielding. "You have to let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft but firm.

"You're all mine, and I'll always take care of what's mine." He applies a bandage, his movements careful and precise, his eyes never leaving yours.

"It'll heal," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the bandage.

"But you'll always remember."

He stands up, his gaze lingering on your naked form. "I'll leave these off," he says, nodding to the ropes around your ankles. "But don't try to run. You're not going anywhere."

The door opens, and he steps back, giving you a view of the stairs leading up to freedom.

The temptation is almost too much to bear, but you know better than to try.

You nod, the reality of your situation sinking in deeper with every second.

He walks over to the stairs, his back to you. "You're going to stay here," he says without looking back.

"Think about what you've done to deserve this. Think about how much I love you."

The door closes again, and you're left alone with the echoes of his footsteps.

The ropes around your wrists cut into your skin, a constant reminder of his control. You try to tug them loose, but they're tight—too tight.

Your eyes drift to the bandages. Hiding the deep, scarring marks just right above your pussy, his initials branded onto you like your mere cattle.

You can't believe it—you can't believe he's done this to you.

But the pain in your thigh is all too real, a pulsing, raw ache that throbs with every beat of your heart.

You can feel the sticky warmth of blood seeping through the bandage, a grim reminder that you're not just his sister anymore.

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List of Fandoms and Characters

Ace Attorney: N/A

Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Rui, Sanemi Shinazugawa

Dishonored Series: Kirin Jindosh

Genshin Impact: Ayato Kamisato, Childe / Tartaglia, Scaramouche

Haikyuu!!: Atsumu Miya, Hajime Iwaizumi, Kenjiro Shirabu, Suna Rintarou, Tobio Kageyama, Yūji Terushima, Ushijima Wakatoshi

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Chrollo Lucilfer

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: Demon Aru

Jujutsu Kaisen: Naoya Zenin, Suguru Geto

Kill The Hero: Se Jun-Lee

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Xavier

Naruto Shippuden: Kabuto Yakushi, Tobirama Senju

One Punch Man: Amai Mask

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: Ais

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans / Murder! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Geshu Lin, Scar

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