#yandere honkai star rail x you

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Implied Murder, Captivity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Undressing, Bathing Together

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You've learned to count how long Moze takes to wash his hands when he returns home.

A minute, and everything is fine. At least as fine as things can be, considering the bizarre circumstances you're living in. Sometimes you pinch yourself at random, believing you must be living in some everlasting nightmare—the man you met only in brief, fleeting moments over the course of months kidnapped you.

It could be worse, you think to yourself as you begin ticking off the seconds. One, two, three, four, five...

When Moze took more than one minute to wash his hands, you began to let your mind sail off into seas of uncertainty. Perhaps he was sent on a mission to dispatch some Disciples of Sanctus Medicus or clear out the remaining Borisin.

Maybe he killed a friend or relative.

When thoughts like those come, you try to clear them from your head like grime from your hand, but the ideas are like blood from a deep, chronic wound. No matter how much you washed and scrubbed, trying to clear your thoughts, you couldn't escape the constant trickling anxiety.

...thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one...

Giving up on quelling your dread, you slide off the bedside you're sitting on and walk over to a small shelf on the opposite side of the room. A row of random books lie on the wooden shelf, ranging from traditional Xianzhou poetry to encyclopedias of espionage. When you had woken up in the bedroom, there had been nothing. It wasn't until a few weeks into your confinement that Moze brought a stack of books home, silently depositing them on a small table in the kitchen.

It would have been a kind gesture, if you hadn't been blubbering the previous day about how terrified you were, and how you felt you were going crazy with nothing to do. So fearful that you were talking to nobody. Or so you thought.

...eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine...

The sound of flowing water suddenly ceases. In a moment, Moze has entered the room, not even making the hardwood floors creak as he steps. "I've brought you dinner. Beef noodle soup." Moze's eyes scan you from head to toe with a surgical precision, one that makes you want to shrink away from him. "Wash your hands, and then we can eat."

You nod, and tentatively step towards the door. Moze makes no movements as you walk past, letting your fingertips accidentally graze against his. He smells of nothing, save for the faint, metallic tang of blood.

As you wash your hands, you can see Moze standing behind you in the bathroom mirror, supervising you as you scrub your already-clean skin with a slow, methodical precision. You've learned to spend at least thirty seconds washing your hands, moving over every finger and knuckle with extreme focus. If you didn't, Moze would walk over, chest pressed against your back, and take your hands in his and wash them for you.

Even when you washed your hands as perfect as could be, sometimes the man still insisted on "helping" you.

Dinner is a silent affair. You pick away at your food, ignoring how Moze's eyes are piercing into your skull. Sometimes, you can't help but wonder what pushed him to do all of this. For a man who you've come to regard as extremely efficient and forward, his decision to take you prisoner is quite contrary to his personality. Not only that, but he refuses to tell you why he's done it. You've tried to decipher any sort of plausible answer to that question, to the point where you've wondered if you accidentally committed some sort of unforgivable crime, and this—the everlasting dread—is your punishment.

After dinner comes bath time. When he had first corralled you to the bathroom and began to run the water, you thought you were finally being put out of your misery. Granted, the thought of death by drowning made you start to tear up with fear, but at least you knew what was happening. Or, at least you thought you knew. Instead, after filling up the tub with water, Moze's hands went to the hem of your shirt. With a single, fluid motion, the assassin lifted the shirt over your head. Despite how you shrieked, Moze simply folded the shirt into a neat square and placed it on a counter.

Tonight follows a similar pattern, though you don't shriek, and your body trembles less as Moze's hands slowly strip you of protection. He gives you a small mercy in how his eyes remain staring into yours, but it doesn't suppress how vulnerable you feel as he lowers you into the warm water.

His hands, calloused with scars, reverently scrub at your skin with a luxurious bodywash, scented a sweet and floral jasmine. Your favorite. Moze says nothing as he continues to wash you. You'd come to understand that he didn't speak to you often unless you spoke to him first.

Part of you wishes he would speak more. Your life feels like it's shrouded in a thick mist, and maybe if Moze would speak a little more, you would have more answers to your questions. But the thought of speaking up makes you nauseous with anxiety. So, you continue to let Moze bathe you in silence.

After deeming you satisfactorily clean, Moze lifts you out of the tub and hands you a fluffy towel. He takes another towel for himself and gets dressed in simple, comfortable sleepwear. Then, he helps you get dressed and leads you through your nighttime hygiene routine. After finishing up getting ready for bed, Moze takes your hand and walks you back to your shared bedroom. Turning the lights off, he settles close to your side. Even with your eyes closed, you can feel his gaze pressing against your head like a sharp blade against tender skin.

After what feels like hours, you feel something soft press against the crown of your head. "Goodnight, my dear." The words are whispered, yet they drown out any thoughts floating in your mind. Quickly, you piece together that the sensation you felt was a kiss.

Moze kissed you.

You spend the rest of the night awake, trying to understand why.

[jymwahuwu]

mr reca with overstimulation but it's just you and him going over a certain scene over and over again because he wants the actor to be..more exhausted. it's you, you're the poor actor who has to keep going and keeps getting overstimulated until your brain is void of thoughts..

It's delicious...but let me tell you, more than just an over-the-top orgasm, he's going to consider this movie a masterpiece...😌💦💖

cw: yandere, dub-con, penetrative sex, humiliation (release your orgasm for the whole universe to see), ooc because the official plot has not been released yet

okay Imagine that you are an unknown actor struggling in the entertainment industry in the entire universe, with the lowest remuneration. However, one day Mr. Reca visited you and invited you to play the lead role in the new movie.

Mr. Reca goes on and on about how he has watched every TV show, movie, and commercial that you have appeared in - you usually only appeared for a few minutes, or even a few seconds. "You are the born protagonist", "the actor born for my movie". Those are his evaluations of you. You were flattered and panicked, avoiding his passionate gaze. Are you really that outstanding? Isn't that too much…? Or is he just trying to scam you and plan a joint venture to make a movie? Unexpectedly, he blushed and took out the script and movie contract. Written on the screen was the work content, the name of the movie… and the salary was million credits.

Did you read it wrong? You blinked and picked up the contract. How much?

You studied the script and took the job. The script describes a lot of sex scenes, but this is your only chance to play the lead role. And Mr. Reca promised that this is not a simple pornographic movie ("It's a philosophical movie. A masterpiece of mine." He corrected with some anger.) To provide people with entertainment… So, you agreed.

After filming officially starts, you will know that the salary is really worthy of the content of the work. Mr. Reca has unusually high standards for you, requiring every smile, frown, and sigh of yours to conform to the perfect idea in his mind. Especially those sex scenes. He claimed that he wanted to express the plight and emptiness of mankind through experimental lens language… You pouted and gibbered, spreading your legs in the constructed space jungle, and being adjusted by the director himself. The director's cock spreads your inexperienced spasming walls, prying you open and closed like a breath. The photographer focused on taking these shots. You were washed to a pulp by the pleasure of your constant orgasms.

"No - no, I said, this is not the feeling. You should show a look of indifference and arrogance." Mr. Reca squeezed out these words through his teeth. If it didn't interfere with the filming, this director would spank you.

You respond helplessly. "I-I can't…"

"Huh? How can you say such a thing as an actor!" Mr. Reca accused, holding your hips and plowing faster, his testicles slapping against the wet flesh in the middle of your legs. You rolled your eyes in the surge of bliss but then forced yourself to focus, screaming. "I-I'll try, I'm so sorry…!!"

"Yeah, be good now." He said in a mocking tone. "You are always like this. You need others to push you and stimulate your potential."

Listen to the slight jeers among the staff. You hide your face in despair. "Hey? What are you doing? The protagonist has to face the camera." The director takes your hands and back and makes your face face the camera without any reservations.

What happened next:

After the filming of the film was completed, Mr. Reca was quite satisfied. Film bureaus on various planets reviewed the film, and the film bureaus were still arranging a release date.

Under his supervision, you signed a contract for the next 10 films.

You stammered when he said he would sell the movie to the IPC streaming platform so the whole universe could see your orgasm.

[mothwingwritings]

Apologies

Reader X Welt Yang

I want to preface this little story snippet by saying I don’t really plan on regularly writing for Honkai Star Rail (this may be the only thing I write for HSR tbh) and I’ve not gotten super far into it (I only just recently got to Luofo) but I love Welt Yang with all my little beating heart and I get sad that he doesn’t seem to be as popular as the other dudes when it comes to fic content, so I wrote him a little something. :3

I really want to try and push myself out of my comfort zone and get more acclimated with writing nice characters through the yandere/dark fic lens. Mr. Yang has become one of my guinea pigs so bless him.

WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mentions of physical and mental abuse, yandere, dubcon kissing/touching.

Your first kiss with Welt was full of desperation.

His iron grip held you taut against his body, while ravenous lips pressed down firmly upon your own. It felt more like an attempt at suffocation than a kiss, and you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the ferocity at which he came for you. Was such unbridled desire always lying dormant in this reserved, kind, gentle man this whole time? The interaction happened so fast it was hard to process what was going on, let alone decipher the true intentions of the man who was perpetrating the act.

Discomfort bordering on pain-this was how you would remember his initial show of affection.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words followed his first tense love confession and succeeded each one thereafter. Every hold that lasted a beat too long, every kiss the was a tad too invasive, every moment he lost control of himself and ended up hurting you as a result of his unchecked passion, a fervent apology would follow shortly after. They would tumble from his lips in breathy whispers, spoken as if they were a prayer, peppered in with the delicate kisses he would litter over the wounds that he had inflicted upon you.

It didn’t matter how gingerly he’d treat you after, you’d wince at each unwanted kiss. The sear of his lips causing you more pain than any other touch ever could.

“I’m sorry.”

He said it so much it was becoming like a catch phrase. When he caught you crying alone in your room or when he felt you struggle against his overbearing affection, the words would spill from within him. His regrets would be relayed to you in hushed tones, mumbled against your skin, chanted to you over and over and over again, begging to be absolved of the sins he was committing against you.

“I’m sorry.”

Those words no longer held any meaning.

“I’m sorry.”

They were only spoken to make himself feel better.

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking himself into thinking he wasn’t hurting you, that by saying them he was making something right.

“I’m sorry.”

If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.

“I’M SORRY!”

You were, too.  Sorry that you believed he was a good man, sorry that you trusted him, and sorry that you were once naïve enough to ever have given your heart to him.

[katocatmi]

𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗫

a/u: im overdosed of manhwas and this is based on pure whim. you may know me from other blogs, or not. tee heeeeeeeeeeee. i dont support the company btw, they can go suck my dick as stelle blows my back :3

summary: you, an omnipotent and supreme being that transcended beyond mere concepts, were utterly bored, having spent most of your existence overseeing multiple timelines. one day, you detected an anomaly in your realm, marking the beginning of an unheard comedy.

warning: basically timekeeper cookie but more fucked up. slaughter, mentioned death, insanity.

your earliest memories were the praises of people around you.

"such an amazing kid!"

"you are destinied for greatness!"

a quintessential example of geniuses, your hyperintelligence made it hard for you to enjoy things. you were perfect, as flawless as a human could be, you didn't need to prove anything, for people had already been on their knees at your mere presence.

it was so boring.

a thought occurred to you upon stumbling across a tragedy about two lovers, who were bereft of other's existence because they were stuck in different timelines.

for the first time, in your aimless and doomed to meet an end somewhere else mortal coil, you found something that exhilarated you. frankly, it wasn't an original idea, for generations of forebears had failed in attempts to look into the concept of time as a whole. your goal in this project, however, was not only to explore the untapped potential but also to open a new way to utilize it. at that moment, time was considered taboo, a flow of nature that mortals and alikes were forbidden to meddle with, thus the extreme backlash you were subjected to. you had never once cared for the crowd's opinions, they served to slow you down, so why should you listen to them when you had discovered a new toy to waste time on. your arduous journey led to the creation of the 'sonic embroider', the most powerful and controversial invention from mankind. it allowed the users to wield a small portion of time, not enough to control it, but enough to cause a ripple throughout the universe. some said this marked an unheard era, while others were prone to fear and distaste.

you weren't satisfied.

your belief in the item's full power had resulted in the many disappearances of volunteers, one by one, vanishing into thin air without any traces left.

well, one did return.

she, #14, was reported as the sole survivor of your merciless experiments. her mind was fractured, always mumbling incoherent words, and her tendencies to flinch at the smallest noises and vacant faces were annoying, to say the least.

after all, you were exasperated by humans' feelings in general.

her death didn't deter you, causing you to spiral farther into an abyss of insanity, one that you had never regretted, not even when your power, which was that of a being transcending beyond concepts, allowed you to turn back.

one day, you decided to ride on the 'sonic embroider' yourself. it was a much faster and more effective solution, but its consequences were to be warned.

the exposure to views of all ruined and refracted timelines, accompanied by the horror of constant dreadful loops, happened because an ambitious person dared to explore its endless cruelty was enough to wreck your mind. it brought irreversible havoc and chaos within your quiddity and you embraced it.

you welcomed the madness, for it helped dissolve any resemblance left of human nature inside you.

in the end, you remained the head of the organization, your personality had never changed, for there was no difference between the divinity and mortality. there was a thin line between a genius and a madman, and how you thrived off of it.

when they passed away, you took it your cue to reside in your realm, not before bringing forth more unnecessary entropies and messing with other timelines. the realization that you were now a sovereign of time itself didn't bother you, especially not when the waltz of discord and consternation, of divinity and mortality, mixed so well together, a symphony of your actions.

recently, you had been hanging out with a past version of yourself, a timeline where you were more caring and more lenient towards others. you took it upon yourself to convince 'her' to become a second you, as you were bored of observing without a 'friend' to gossip with. since upon 2¹³⁶ ²⁷⁹ ⁸⁴¹ − 1 timelines, there was only one you that succeeded in ascending to godhood, you chose to play an unpredictable gamble with yourself, turning off your ability to view the future for fun temporarily. you were glued to her since then and always bothered her with irrelevant ideas, not to you.

today though, you had to cut on your stay a bit. a time distortion was spotted in a nearby future, which was extremely rare. it indicated that this specific timeline had been kept clandestine from your keen eyes. as a typical bored god, you decided to give this time distortion a little push.

grass gasped underneath the footsteps of people, as the once cheerful ceremony now tainted with the ugly high-pitched screams. amid the chaos, was the one who caused it all, you, sitting on the golden embroider. a smile was plastered on your lips, like it had always been there. your one single eye swirled in a wicked excitement, revelling in the delicious desperation of residents. it wasn't the voices nor the blood that delighted you, but rather how they pushed each other back, willing to leave behind their loved ones to secure their lives. some begged, on their knees, foreheads clashed against the floor, for a salvation from you. with a mere flicker of fingers on their noses, you casually granted them the ability to wind back in time. your eye, the one that hadn't covered by the eye patch narrowed ever so slightly at their joy, giggling to yourself for your knowledge of their future.

you felt quite tired of having to do it by yourself. hadn't it been for that precise requirement, you would have 'borrowed' a mechanical armor from a fallen empire. wiping clean your trustworthy weapon, you rode away into a hole. it was an entrance to a time pocket, which you usually randomized. a comfortable place, except for those who were sick of the constant ticks from the clocks, or the hypnotizing movements of swirls. with a loud bang, an anomaly crashed onto where you usually sat, the sonic embroider.

"hello there!" you cooed, speeding up its disorientation. gloved hands gently wrapped around the small creature, as your smile widened ever so slightly.

"look like you are going to be stuck with me!" you exclaimed, examining its cog-like appearance.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[flokali]

Boothill and a corrupt USB with a “love virus”… and you’re the poor, unfortunate engineer forced to deal with him in this state, except his little metal heart has gotten too attached to you and the feeling of overbearing longing that you make him feel… on the bright side, your wanted posters look lovely together ♥︎

[endlessdreamworld]

God, I finally caught up on the HSR story and I'm so down bad for this man, this traumatized guy, my poor little meow meow.

So here's some yan! Aventurine X gn! reader headcanons that have been rotting inside my brain for the past few days. Bark bark bark rate up soon please haha!!

In the early stages of your relationship, his behavior matches his superficial self, the shell he shows everyone. One of his first gifts to you would be a credit card attached to his personal bank account. 'Don't ask! Just spend.' He'd get a hit of endorphins every single time he sees a charge coming through from you. He knows it's you because he named the profile attached to that card with some corny pet name with a slew of emojis beside it, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on the screen of his phone.

It doesn't take long for him to be utterly obsessed with you. How could he not? You're just so... everything! His everything. It's at this stage, the mask slips off. Material gifts are no longer enough, and the gifts he gives you are pieces of himself. He'll overrule whatever pet name you gave him in favor of honey -- a reference to his heritage.

And speaking of heritage, he's prepared quite the gift for your one year anniversary. Once the sun had long set on a sinfully indulgent all-day date, and after some desperate and incredibly needy sex when the two of you are tangled up in a knot of your sweat and burning feelings, he'll give you his present. Kakavasha, he'd mutter into the sensitive skin on the side of your neck mirroring his commodity code. It's one of the few things he owns that truly matter to him, and he can only hope you'll accept his humble gift.

He's needy, so very very needy in general, about everything, always, in every single way. Pathetically so. He can't hold your hand like a normal person, your fingers must be laced. Kissing? There's rarely a moment when you're not being kissed, and he's generous with the sheer variety he provides you with. Sometimes it's little soft sweet kisses that are more like whispers against your flesh. Other times, he'll kiss you on the hand or face only to never pull away as if he's moving into the real estate on your bare skin wherever he can find it.

And after a particularly horrible day, he'll return home without greeting you in his usual cheerful way. You'll immediately know something is up, even more so when he puts you into a vice grip, kissing you in such a way where it's like he's trying to suck the air out of your lungs. It's as if he believes you can baptize him with your spit and turn him into something worthy of walking around other human beings, a luxury he can never afford himself. On days like this, he feels so utterly unworthy of the life he's taken from the people who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, one stolen day at a time. Of course, he's shameless enough to steal from you of all people -- the sweet little giving thing that you are.

He dreams about working up the nerve, or maybe stooping so low as to ask for your hand in marriage. Whichever comes first. It's something he would have thought a lot about up until that point. He's got more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime, even if one of his hobbies was lighting huge stacks of credits on fire just for fun. With that in mind, any gem no matter how priceless would be a bauble in comparison to what you deserve for putting up with him. Of course he could carve off a piece of his cornerstone, a piece of him, and give you a fragment of God to decorate your finger. But if life on Sigonia IV taught him anything, it's how quickly your most precious belongings can be taken.

So naturally, there's only one thing he could think of that would be more valuable than that, only one thing comes to mind that can't be taken. The idea came to him in passing, an idea that's quite literally staring him in the face.

He's tried getting rid of his commodity code in the past, but even with all of his money, there's nothing that can make it go away without leaving some sort of mark. It was just easier to accept it and it slowly faded into the background over time.

So what would be more valuable than a piece of him, a piece of God? Why, eternity of course, something truly priceless. It would only be proper to get your wedding band's tattooed. You'd even be considerate enough to encourage him to pick an Avgin pattern.

While the idea of a ring as a symbol of your bond is nice, a ring is an object. Objects can be stolen -- or worse, taken off. Countless times were the things he held dearest taken from him. Although those days are long gone, and even though he's a gambling man, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not with this.

Having your promise to love one another until death do you part sealed onto your skin would give him tremendous comfort. If anyone wanted to take this away from him, the symbol of his vow to you, they'd have to peel it off of his cold, dead body. But first, they'd have to manage to kill him, of course.

Aventurine is hard to get a read on, which is just how he likes it. He's been many thing: a scoundrel, a villain, a confidante, a friend, a rival, a whipping post, a beggar, a tool, a whore, a hound, a pawn, a con artist, and a killer; all things he wouldn't hesitate to become again if the situation demands it. It's in his nature to adapt to what he needs to do, and who he needs to become. But no matter how much of a shapeshifter he pretends to be, the core of his being is unchanging and inviolable, for better or worse.

He's still that scared, lucky, little shivering Avgin boy no matter how hard he tries to play dress up. He needs you to find Kakavasha underneath all of the masks and bullshit he hides behind.

Every day he bets on you to find him, the real him, and love him. The wager? Just the usual -- his life.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

Okay look, I know people are gonna characterize Aventurine as the kind of yandere that manipulates everything behind the scenes and is always coming up with ways to try and make his darling unable to rely on anyone but him. But honestly? I can see him as the desperate needy type who needs to have your attention on him, he NEEDS to be the only man you'll ever want and look at, and GOD, he just desperately needs you to own him in his entirety.

He'll do anything to keep your attention on him and make sure that you at least will keep him around long enough for him to enact his plans of keeping you by his side. You want a dog who does whatever you say and will crawl on hands and knees for your amusement? You want a pretty little toy that you can break over and over? You want him to take the lead and make you unable to think or walk anymore? He'll do it, he'll do whatever you want, he'll do anything to keep your attention on him until he can make you his.

[azen13]

Since somebody sent in an ask about favorite yandere males in genshin, who are your favorite yandere hsr males?

CW: Yandere Themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Azen posting 2 actual writing-ish posts in one day? Extremely unlikely, but now that I'm on break and finished writing about mermen, possible! All things aside, thank you so much for this ask!

I'd say absolute favorites are Argenti and Jing Yuan, but before I talk about them in-depth, I wanted to do some honorable mentions. Aventurine has a lot of potential as a yandere in my opinion, considering his backstory and how that might have affected his psyche, but I just find myself struggling to tap into his character. I love Boothill, but find it hard to envision him as a yandere considering the fact that he's a Galaxy Ranger. Still, like Aventurine, I definitely can see a motive for why he would be a yandere. In my favorite Genshin yanderes post, I mentioned how Neuvillette and Zhongli are two of my favorites from that game, and I also really like Dan Heng/Dan Feng! Draconic characters are really fun to write for, but I'm not very good at keeping up with HSR lore, so I try to shy away from writing Dan Feng because of how entrenched his character is in a lot of the lore. Dan Heng is a little hard for me to write because I struggle to see how he could act on his possessive tendencies with the Astral Express crew being in such close proximity. Dr. Ratio is a super interesting character, but I really struggle with his characterization and while I have a few drabbles written about him, they will not be posted because I don't like how they turned out. Gallagher is another character I've loved since his release, but like Dan Feng, I'm both confused about his lore, and I'm unsure on how to write for him in general when in-game he...doesn't exist? Still not exactly sure what happened to him haha. I recently posted a Moze drabble and depending on what happens in the future, he may move up to be one of my favorites, because I think he has a lot of potential and I'd love to write a oneshot from his perspective about realizing his feelings, but I just need more time working on getting used to his character before I can definitively decide how I feel on him. And finally, I love Sampo, and I actually have an idea of a fic I want to write in regards to a MSND!AU where Sampo is Puck, but he's another character where I really struggle with his characterization.

Ok, now it's time to talk about Argenti and Jing Yuan.

When I say Argenti is my favorite yandere from this game, I mean it. I think he has so much potential as a yandere, and I have this very specific vision of a reader who is an Emanator of Beauty that he finds one day and kidnaps and brings back to his ship. He's such a gentleman to them, but he refuses to let them leave. You can see stars shooting by the windows of his spaceship, see your home planet slowly shrinking into a tiny pinprick on the horizon, until it just pops out of existence. Your new home is with him, he tells you, pressing a chaste kiss against your wrist. He pampers and dotes on you every chance he gets. He can't let you leave his ship, so he brings back souvenirs and memorabilia from every planet he visits. Sometimes he takes photos if he can figure out how to work his phone's camera. Every hour or so when he's off espousing Idrila's prowess to some planet, you'll get a text or call from him making sure you're safe. He cares so much. He cares too much. He cares too much, but he means so well. He sees something of such supreme beauty, and he can't help but want to shelter it.

It's how sweet yet cruel he would be that gets me. The thing that draws me to write yandere content is the fact that these feelings are born from a distorted sense of love. What they are distorted by changes depending on the character, and in Argenti's case, I think it's due to an extreme sense of devotion to his beloved. That method of distortion is probably one of the most fascinating for me to explore. Beyond that, I also think he'd be a good yandere logistically. I could easily see him having a method of controlling the entrance to his spaceship to prevent his beloved from being able to leave while he's out. All in all, I just really, really love Yandere!Argenti, and I hope that me talking about him might have convinced some people to start looking into him more, because he's such a fun character to write for!

Onto Jing Yuan, I have less to talk about, but I still feel really strongly about him! I'm pretty sure most of the writing that I've posted on my blog has been about Jing Yuan, and that's because I feel like I have a good handle on his character. Jing Yuan strikes me less as someone affected by obsessive love, and more as someone affected by overprotective desires. He's lived centuries and seen countless close friends die, and because of that, I think when he's in love, he'd be extremely anxious about losing his beloved. I'm not sure if I talked about this when I talked about my favorite Genshin yanderes, but something that I also find helpful in terms of writing is the level of power the yandere has. This could range from something like pure strength to how much social capital the yandere has. Jing Yuan, in my opinion, is incredibly powerful in a multitude of ways. Canonically, he's an Emanator of The Hunt, he's General of the Luofu, and he's hundreds of years old. Strength, social capital, wisdom, and more. All this power makes for a really fantastic dynamic in my opinion, and it's really fun to write for.

[strawberri-yan]

After all, you were his wife first

[moonsaver]

Reader crying until they get a fever in yan!sunday's arms.... ough

--

You might have a fever.

But its hard to tell. You've been crying for the.. who knows how long?

Your face is hot, and tired. Facial muscles strained beyond their endurance, your eyelids hanging as you can't seem to find it within you to sniffle through your burning nose. A part of you wants the snot to drip onto Sunday's pristine clothes. But you know he won't mind.

He hasn't minded, not when your tears and saliva and snot all dribbled onto his shoulder. He didn't mind when you scratched and pushed at him. He doesn't mind your incessant crying. He's been comforting you all this time and you hate it even more.

"Shh", he says for the umpteenth time, his feathers softly bristling against your eyes. They're cooler than your skin, soft against the stickiness smeared from your own bodily fluids.

"You'll get sick at this rate, my love."

You sniffle again. And regret it instantly, as the snot burns your nose on the way back.

His hand runs up and down your back, his head turning slightly as he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. He presses another, his lips brushing against the cartilage form of your ear. He shifts again, pressing another kiss to the warm side of your face, on your cheek.

"Your temperature is rising. Get some rest."

He tells you, but every moment in his arms is a tormenting cycle – you're here, not at home. Here, with him, not your friends nor your family. People you won't see ever again. You feel another sob throbbing your throat, but you swallow it down, with great difficulty, the flesh constricted and pained from a combination of phlegm and previous episodes of crying.

You open your eyes and see white. Sunday's feathers rustle against your face as they sense the flicker of your eyelashes. You breathe out, quietly; the warm air irritating your already red nose. You're warm. You really might have a fever. You pull away from his shoulder, dizzy. Sunday hums, and then clicks his tongue.

"See? You've been crying for hours, my dear. Isn't it tiring?"

His hand comes up to pull away hair strands from your face, sticking to the snot and wetness of your face. His gloved thumbs wipes the dribbling water from your nose, before pinching it playfully,

"Your face is all red. You might need to wash it, my love."

He leans in and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Lay down. I'll bring some facewipes for you."

You can't stand being with him.

[angelsrcute]

Imagine Yandere!Sunday who babytraps you, what, you wanna leave him? no way, you have to stay with him, not like you have a choice. You're his pretty little bird after all, so even if he has to drug your meal n fuck a baby into you to make you stay with him, he doesn't mind. Pressing you into a mating press as he fucks you through a lot of rounds. Surely to fix this broken relationship, you just need a child to take care of, stay with him and complete his dream of a happy family!

[draconic-desire]

I can’t get it out of my head. You cannot tell me that Yan!Boothill wouldn’t make you dance with him.

💥 This man just loves to show off in front of you, whether it’s his gunslinging skills or the various ways he can move his body. His flexibility isn’t just useful in the bedroom, he tells you with a wink.

💥 And still, the first time you see him dance, you’re shocked. This is the same man who kidnapped you, who has to use voice messages on his phone? Who thinks first with his gun instead of his neuro chip? Where in the hell did he learn those moves?

💥 You don’t think he notices you gawking at him, but oh, the stunned look on your face is priceless. He can’t wait to grab that irresistible waist of yours and spin you until you’re dizzy.

💥 So imagine one of his favorite songs comes on the radio, one that he used to strum on the guitar around the fire, under the stars on his home planet. It’s an upbeat tune, fast-paced and twangy. You’re unaware of the effect the music has on him until it’s too late; he’s pulling you up from your chair and immediately drops you into a dip.

💥 You cry out in protest, but Boothill spins you around so quickly you can’t escape, flashing his pointed teeth all the while. You’ve never been much of a dancer, but he doesn’t allow you to make a single step out of line; he’s in control of your entire body, your every movement, just like he controls your entire life. You spin around him like the planets around the sun, for that’s exactly what he wants you to be. The glowing moon orbiting his celestial body.

💥 “That’s the forkin’ spirit!” He laughs as he scoops you up and tosses you into the air effortlessly, followed by another round of circles that has you reeling. The swing dance finally ends when he spins you in towards his body, your back against his metal chest. You’re panting from the effort, yet he seems unfazed. His nose nuzzles into your neck, teeth nipping at your ear.

💥 Without warning, he seizes your chin and angles your face to his, devouring your lips. You gasp in disagreement, but he only groans into your mouth.

💥 Pulling away, you notice his devious smirk as he bares those dangerous canines. “I think I’ll make you my permanent dance partner, whatdya say?” He laughs, then, a husky thing filled with dark promise. “Not that ya have any choice in the matter, darling.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Sunday manipulating you into loving him...

His manipulation is so good that you no longer doubt your feelings. It's hard to imagine your life without him, and it shows. You cling onto him like a baby bird and he is soaking in all of the attention like a man who hasn't had a sip of water in a millennium....

He needs you. He needs you like never before, he is love for you is ethereal and true. His devotion mirrors that of an acolyte worshiping their beloved god.

Please, love him in the same way he loves you, for nothing else shall satisfy him and his bleeding heart.

[mubabee]

Yandere Genderbent Kafka using spirit whisperer to make Y/n give him a kiss but then when Y/n breaks out of it she’s like, “you didn’t need to do that, I would given you one anyway” and then they keep kissing cause Kafka likes her too much.

ur ur ureakwkwm I hate the drawings

I swear whenever I go past any mini comics I post, I make an incomprehensible noise to ease the cringe of the dialogue and art. I got lazy at the last one too 🌝

so basically elio has another mission for kafka buts it’s risky so kafka’s just like ‘I shall have no regrets if I die’

mitsuri-like reader. I was looking at fanart of kny and I just wanted to make reader have her personality for this one.(woohoo reader has personality this time)

YALL I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRAW KISSING JUST IMAGINE IT(image added for people scrolling)

so basically u kiss and Kafka is shocked for a sec before he goes in for another