#yandere katsura

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, stalking, jealously, manipulation, controlling behavior, monitoring, paranoia, isolation

Sweet and gentle s/o

Sakata Gintoki

🍨Gintoki seems to be the one who is constantly being attacked by others here as people wonder what he did to deserve someone as sweet as you. Shinpachi is a bit jealous that Gintoki has someone as gentle and sweet as you as a partner and Otose threatens him to better show his appreciation for you and not just act like the lazy guy he acts most of the time. Now, all the people around him are still happy for Gintoki of course and he knows that but he would lie if he would say that their words don't affect him a bit. Because he sometimes also feels that way. He sometimes feels like he doesn't deserve someone as considerate and kind as you even though he does get childishly jealous if you act sweet to someone that isn't him. He's broke so every gift you buy him or prepare yourself for him always fills him with a tad bit of guilt because most of the time he is too broke to get you something nice in return. But he never shows you that he is under pressure as he keeps his silly antics up to not make you feel guilty. The silver-haired male definitely gets a lot more protective due to your naturally gentle disposition though as it is one of the few ways he can actually return all your love somehow.

Hijikata Toshiro

🚬​He loves and hates it at the same time. On the one hand Toshiro adores how sweet and soft-spoken you are as it makes him unable to be mad at you for long and he often ends up blushing when you do something nice for him or just act sweet around him in general. On the other hand he is also so much more prone to feeling jealous and even more paranoid if you act that way around others and his attempts to hide his feelings always fail terribly. He likes keeping a tough and scary demeanor in public but he can't deny that he is a sucker for your gentle affection, especially when the both of you are alone so he is definitely getting a bit more possessive as he'd like you to save such sweet words and gestures for only him. At the same time he always has this nagging fear that someone might take advantage of you because of your nice personality which tends to make him more controlling when it comes to the people you spend your time with. Hijikata always tells you that he only has your best in mind but that is a lie as his own petty feelings definitely play a role in this. A part of him just believes that he knows some things better than you due to working in the Shinsengumi.

Okita Sougo

😈​Now this is a true example of the saying that opposites attract although he might have just blackmailed you into a relationship with him. Obviously no one needs to know that though. Sougo adores your gentle demeanor as well but for completely different reasons as he will always be on the more twisted and sadistc spectrum of love. Because he often bullies you for your nice behavior. A part of him just can't help but see you as a weak and dumb little thing for being the way you are and so he obviously thinks of himself as the one who is better suited to be in control in this relationship as you are too soft and naive. He's often putting you down by calling you an attention seeker whenever you act kind around others to stop you from being so outgoing because whilst he is a pure jerk, he doesn't like seeing you acting sweet with others. You will definitely suffer a lot of blows to your self-esteem because of Okita's sadistic personality and possessive behavior and he doesn't really mind if he ends up being the cause of your insecurities. As long as it refrains you from being sweet to everyone who isn't him he doesn't mind. You should reserve your kindness only for him after all even if he is an asshole.

Katsura Kotarou

🔵​It is obvious to everyone in his Joui faction that Katsura is a helpless simp for his darling and their gentle and soft-spoken disposition. Everything you do just seems to be something worth praising and gushing over in his eyes as this man is low-key a bit of a worshipper for you. He is dutiful and dedicated in his duties as the leader of his Joui faction and he knows that he can't have you involved in such dangerous affairs so he is more careful in keeping the relationship hidden from those who would take advantage of you. He is quite protective despite coming over like an utter fool at times. Despite his sometimes ridiculous and spontanous behavior though. Kotarou works surprisingly well with his darling because even if he can be quite persistent once he is in high spirits, Katsura is quite sensitive and for that talented in harmonizing with his darling most of the time. He can be quite clingy at times, especially if he has been away from you for some time due to his position as a leader, but even then he tries to not be too overbearing. That partially comes also from the fact that he is a wanted fugitive and for that always makes sure that the time he spends with you is always more private.

Takasugi Shinsuke

​❤️‍🩹​You're going to have a tough time with Shinsuke because your sweet personality is something so strange and foreign to him. Shinsuke seems to analyze your every word and action every time you try to break the ice between the two of you even if you are terrified because he is the one who abducted you. Why did he do that? He doesn't seem to like you and you feel like you're constantly doing something wrong. Matako tries to cheer you up by telling you that Takasugi just needs some time to come around. Truth is that Shinsuke hasn't met someone so genuinely nice and innocent in years and he is aware that he probably isn't the partner you deserve but is too possessive and selfish to care. A part of him is scared that he'll lose you too, especially since he does think that you are too kind for your own good. He doesn't hate you though for being that way. He just doesn't really know how to react whenever you try to make things less tense and to get to know him better besides staring at you with his eye, interested to see what you'll do next. The closest thing he does to show his affection seems to be by isolating and protecting you for quite some time as he needs time to mellow out.

Kamui

👊​Kamui has somewhat conflicted feelings due to his strong obsessive feelings for you. He despises weakness and your behavior coupled with the fact that you are only a human makes this much more worse. He considers the very fact that he fell for someone so very weak as an insult but at the same time he is much too possessive to allow you to go. Instead he just ends up verbally bullying and degrading you whilst also showing you how strong he is thanks to his Yato blood. This serves as a reminder to you that you shouldn't disobey him because he is strong whilst you are only weak. At the same time Kamui can be quite demanding at times for you to act sweet and nice around him because as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys seeing you act all soft-spoken and gentle around him. He likes to see it as a sign of submissive adoration from your side and it is good if he sees that you only act that way around him since it shows him that you have learned where your place is. Honestly, even if his darling acts exactly like he tells them to Kamui still resorts to mean and sadistic behavior at times just to rub his superiority in their face.

Tsukuyo

🌙​Tsukuyo likes to think that she has killed the woman inside of her but this statement of hers is always tested when she is with her sweet darling. Her facial expression never changes much but there is quite often a hint of a pink blush on her face whenever you compliment her or do something for her. A part of her is still acting too much like a woman for her taste after all and that is precisely why she tries to avoid talking to you. Tsukuyo is very protective though and is definitely stalking you a lot. Luckily to her skills as a ninja she has never gotten caught either so she has no reason to stop watching over you like she has been doing for quite some time now. She doesn't take well to any insults or unfit behavior directed against you due to her serious personality and normally replies to such acts with more violent actions such as throwing a kunai at the person. Seriously though, do not mess with her darling because whilst you with your sweet and gentle personality won't hold a grudge, Tsukuyo definitely will do that for you in your place. The poor lady is concerned that people might try to take advantage of you because you tend to be more forgiving.

[bwuniko]

ೀ ⋆𓂃  Yuno Gasai & Kotonoha Katsura

[anti-kawaii-daily]

Today's Anti-Kawaii Character of The Day is Runa from the oneshot manga, Dangerous Love!She wears Dark Girly most of the time but she does wear China Kei at the Cafe where she works, she also fits into the Yandere archetype!

[krurbbbylift]

Yandere meme

[averinna]

Who remember her

[strawbun47]

Katsura Kotonoha fan art (she deserved better 🥺)

[unlovablecreatureofsin]

Hehe stop ignoring my texts or we’ll end up like this ^~^!! ! !

[raphies-art-blog]

3/3

I have the uncensored version of the Kotonoha art on my instagram page since it’s pretty graphic in terms of gore.

[fourthwifematerial]

garden of forking paths | 四 | part i. guilty

yandere lord tengen x fourth wife, eiji. word count: 7,077. explicit content. 18+ MDNI >>

man proposes, heaven disposes.

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains ultimatums & coercion of an intimate nature, deception, forced marriage, dubious consent on all fronts, foreplay, degradation, consummation & deflowering, forced orgasms, self harm (not in the way you might be thinking) & scarification, nonsexual voyeurism, an off screen rape & accompanying aftermath, murder, threats of suicide, and a very apologetic author for taking on another behemoth when she still has works in progress

She’s never worn a piece so fine as her sister’s wedding kimono. 

Bathed in white, the shiromuku settles heavily on her body and soul… A chilling wave passes through her as she stares herself down in the mirror. Crown to cunt, settling deep in her gut. Her nerves are at a fever pitch, threatening to boil over and lash out at any moment.

She hardly recognizes the woman staring back at her. Hardly an easy feat for one such as Eiji. The heavens saw fit to bring flesh to her reflection, one she was forced to protect their whole lives.

On their worst days, Emiko was more her charge than blood. A painful reality for the younger of the two. Years spent in her shadow, ready to strike those that would see her harmed. For flowers so lovely as the twins, it was ugly work in the Red Light District.

No. Her looks were always a matter of contempt rather than ignorance. The bride is abundantly aware of what she looks like.

The palette, however, is new.

A traditional visage for a traditional bride. Something the girls at the brothels were never granted beyond the realm of a marriage born from ashinuke or a buyout.

She couldn’t give into the temptation to touch. She wouldn’t risk damaging the canvas, eyes and lips painted as they were.

There was little need for it before all this. It wasn’t something she ever envied or missed. The closest she came to seeing herself with a full face was her sister. 

Still. Not a trace of either sibling in the looking glass.

Eiji has never looked so beautiful. Nor as frightened.

Even through the beads of sweat lining her temples, she was grateful for the katsura wig concealing her sparse hairs. Remnants of her days in the Sisterhood, her cut had yet to grow past her ears. Her keeper was generous enough to postpone the marriage until after their wounds had healed.

It wouldn’t do for the ruse to end on such a glaring oversight. 

The pins adorning the piece look costly. Too extravagant for one as modest as Sister Eiji. Hazarding a guess, it looked to be worth more than a month’s wages at the brothel.

Cocking her head to the side, her eyes catch on the embroidered flowers that rest upon the uchikake. The sharp angles and thorns give birth to a dangerous suggestion.

“Not enough…”

She gives voice to the intrusive thought before thinking better of it. Seppuku is on the girl’s mind, though she’s not fool enough to follow through. Would that she could and spare herself the devastation of this whole affair.

A delicate touch presses on her shoulder. It’s soft, but there’s an edge… as if the owner doesn’t have the strength for a proper scolding.

“Remember what this is for,” breathes a hushed voice of admonishment. “If I’m to marry him, I’ll never forgive you.”

Standing vigil is her better half. Wrapped in more fabrics than she’s accustomed; her kimono a muted black, with what little she has left of her once prized locs concealed under a zukin. The wimple is an unassuming periwinkle. Nearly so blue as the virgin snow.

While Eiji might dance with the idea, Emiko has every intention of bedding it. Neither sister needs the reminder… 

Even once more and I’ll die. By my own hand if need be.

The threat lingers unspoken between them. Emiko draws back her hand, holding the wataboshi with a white knuckled grip to match. Placing the bridal hood upon her sister’s head, she collects herself with a sniff. 

They meet each other’s gazes in the mirror, color on their lids nearly matching at this point. While one wore rouge, the other bore far less intent. Her eyes are red rimmed from endless days and nights spent sobbing. The anger and resentment, the fear, the loathing—it’ll end her life before the blade has a chance to. 

Placing the bridal hood upon her sister’s head, Emiko nods in approval.

“You’re ready.” Her voice is broken, still shot from the fight. 

Drying the twin tracks running down her cheeks, she lets her go.

No processional. No one to give her away. No tears in tribute.

She doesn’t even see their betrothed until the purification rites. 

For as taboo as it sounds, she doesn’t consider Lord Uzui to be her husband. All the same, she’ll take her sister’s place as his lady wife. She has no choice, not if she wants to keep her alive and unmolested.

It’s all she can do to keep her sister in her prayers as she draws water into the chouyuza’s ladle, washing their sins clean. Twice, in as many hishaku, before rinsing her mouth with a third.

Uzui works himself over in silent tandem. Much as she’s loath to admit it, his refined montsuki haori and golden hakama make the man striking… gorgeous, even. His starlight hair was worn up when last she saw him. And now it rests, barely grazing his broad shoulders. 

This is the closest she’s been to someone of the opposite sex who wasn’t a client. He hardly made a favorable impression to start. She didn’t know him well enough now to gauge his intent. Whether she’s walking into a den of wolves or a field of rabbits strikes her as a mystery she wouldn’t solve until he was already inside her, she’s sure of it.

Their union is a somber affair before the Shinto priest. Intimate. Tense. Almost severe.

The priest gives the blessings. 

With the marriage announcement, Uzui bows where they stand. She realizes too late that she missed the prayers in favor of the mounting anxieties taking root. Nudging her out of her daze, she follows suit. Muscle memory and a lifetime of obedience takes her hand and guides the path before her. 

The saké teases her lips and she finds herself tempted to drink before long. It’s not until passing off the small and medium cup that they are permitted to imbibe. She focuses on her throat, still burning from the alcohol as they move on to the rings. It keeps her present of mind enough to fulfill the task she’s been charged with.

A ring is slid on her finger. His handling isn’t rough with her but he’s hardly gentle. When she does the same, she notes the calluses on his battle-worn hands—a testament to his years spent honing his skills in combat.

The warmth throws her. She stills beneath his touch… Even worse when he’s cast his garnet gaze on her like that. With that smile on his lips, he almost looks fond. He turns her hand over and gives her wrist a small caress, far more tender than he’d been with the rings.

She has the grace to blush. The watashobi only allows her so much coverage from his prying eyes, so she takes advantage where she can. His vows barely register. When it’s her turn, her voice is a hollow echo of the priest’s dictation.

“I will marry this man,” he says.

“I will marry this man.”

“No matter what may come, I will love him, console him, help him. Until death.” 

“No matter… No matter what may come, I will love him. Console him. Help him… Until death.”

“These things, I swear.”

“These things… I swear.”

The shrine maiden presents twin Sakaki branches to the couple. In turn, they place the branches upon the altar. Together they bow twice and clap in quick succession. 

With the stinging of her palms and roar of her ears, it’s over.

It’s finally over.

In every other respect, this is only the beginning.

There was before Tengen… and after.

In another life, she might have been simple… a simple girl of simple means, grown into a simple woman.

What bliss.

No simple girl would ever endure the hand fate had dealt her. They’d never even know it’s touch, let alone see the blow coming.

Back when Eiji had a purpose, she was a nun.

Her mandate was as simple as things went for her. Find your sister, they told her. Find her, mind her. The task proved easier said than done for an Oiran in the brothels of Yoshiwara.

No. If she was anything like the girls to grow up not knowing any better, she’d have thought it a heavenly night. 

The scene was a deep wash of cerulean and coal; falling snow aglow with what moonlight peered behind the kawara roof. A contoured edge ran crisp over the engawa, shadows and flakes stopping in tandem before she could so much as wet her feet.

It was the tenderest mercy she would be afforded in a place such as this.

The languid stream of smoke bled from her lips, too soon to think over another drag as she set her gaze on the abyssal sky.

Her brows furrowed, eyes pleading the heavens for intervention when she couldn’t will the tragic whimpers and panicked groans from breaching the walls.

The only warmth known to her was the burn between her fingers and the fury in her veins, neither poison more bitter than the last. 

If her lungs didn’t fail her, it was bound to be her heart.

After a terribly violent gasp, Eiji tossed the remains of her cigarillo into the mounting snow, the pressing need for quiet far surpassing any desire for escapism. Flush palms ran over the veil concealing her ears. 

Enmeshed in a deathbed of white, the snuffed out embers found themselves buried under the fresh flakes. 

“Stop it.” A whispered bid—painful as it was fruitless. She broke on the words, knowing they’d never reach the bedroom. “Put her out of her misery, damn you.”

If that fucker didn’t come soon, she was going to have to finish the job. Tear the stuck pig limb from limb, out of the frying pan and into the fires of Hell. He would bleed for this.

She wouldn’t betray her vows. She only sought to avenge her sister’s rape. Nothing more, nothing less.

You can’t afford to fall apart. You know she can feel you. You have to be strong for her.

And before she could make good on that promise, there was nothing. Not a breath, not a sound.

The silence was deafening and nearly so oppressive as the screams.

The divine stall, dutifully prostrate before the raging tempest. 

Any relief felt was dead on arrival. She knew better than to get comfortable. Her shoulders were still wound tight as a bow primed for the shot. Tense and waiting. 

Rooms away, Eiji could hear the pleas so viscerally… 

“Eiji—” she cried, her voice a death rattle that cut to the marrow. “Sister… Help me.”

                                 a crash in the distance.

                                 a whisper of fabric on the 

                                 wind. 

                                 the final screams to prelude              

                                 disaster.

The shoji was barely ajar before she’d pushed her way inside. She rushed past the hall of incredulous voyeurs, all with the same questions on their minds and lips.

She didn’t even know where they’d put her tonight. She had to follow the commotion like a dog after a vendor in the streets.

Desperate. Near rabid with its goal to fulfill. Out for blood.

If she centered herself, she could be by her side in an instant.

But her mind was racing. She had no time, no focus. All of her being narrowed on the sole objective of leaving this place for good.

Ashinuke beckoned with an outstretched palm whose finger curled so seductively, there was no need to ask twice.

The door flew open with a shout, “Emiko!”

She surveyed the room. Save the cowering fuck in the corner, it was a barren sight.

Dragging him by the collar of his disheveled robe, she hauled his sweating hull from the ground.

“Tell me where they took her,” she demanded. “I’ll gut you, I swear it.”

He shook beneath her. When the night air kissed the tracks on her cheeks, she didn’t have to look hard. There was a gaping hole in the screen of the shoji, ushering the cold inside.

You cried for me… 

She shook the memory, focusing solely on the path ahead of her. Her entire world fixated on what little she could see from outside the door; a mere pinprick of vision in that busted screen. All she was able to manage were the snapping swords of some third party who’d entered the fray.

The pig squealed, fear coursing through him at the prospect of a fight.

“Useless,” she spat.

Blood came when the words failed him. The blade from her sleeve made fast work of disposing his filth without preamble or mercy.

                                       sank into his ear… 

                                       pull out game for

                                       the gods.

                                       …dragged across 

                                       his throat.

He slumped pitifully at her feet, exsanguinating below her turning frame. She was already following after the chaos—dried her tears and righted the cloth just under her eyes.

The body was still warm as she made for the biting cold.

Eiji sullied the courtyard’s pristine canvas. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Didn’t make it very far in the dark; someone flew overhead, missing her entirely. 

What should have urged her all the more only brought her to her knees.

She couldn’t afford to falter like this, not when the wager was her sister’s life. 

“No one’s after you,” she muttered to herself. “There’s no time for this… Get up.”

She had to press on. So why couldn’t she move?

Eiji refused to give way to the fear. Surveying the perimeter, there was little to be done and less to be seen.

It had to be now.

Closing her eyes, she leveled her breath. Slow. Deliberate. 

She emptied her lungs with a hiss in her throat and put her all into seeking Emiko out.

With the rolling of her stomach subsided, she picked herself off the street. 

Nails bit crescent moons into the meat of her palms, arms trailing behind her as she took off into the direction she foresaw. 

She felt her. She saw her in mind’s eye. 

Smelled the cracked wood in the air. Burnt, not yet ablaze. 

Blood… so much blood.

Eiji found her before too long, limbs akimbo under the caved-in front of a vacant business.

Her sister wasn’t alone. Shock coursed through her as she took it all in.

Three women crowded the body. One at her head, keeping her still, as the others made quiet work of removing the debris from her broken form.

She didn’t have to turn to know they were less alone than the moments that had passed. “Is she dead?” The man asked, feckless to a fault.

He was an eager one, wasn’t he. If this had been out of character for the man, if he’d been a stranger to them… surely they would have reacted.

The smallest among the women only threw herself at him with tears in her eyes.

“Lord Tengen,” she sobbed. “We couldn’t find the lair. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded towards Emiko, his eyes never straying from her unconscious frame. “And the girl?”

“An Oiran.” The name fell from Eiji’s lips with the ease and vitriol of a curse, “Kyogoku House.”

Every stranger encountered this night turned to her, suddenly occurring to them she was worth acknowledging at all. Turned on her just as quickly.

“Kakushi are meant to be seen… not heard,” he warned with a snap, all bitterness.

An incredulous echo fell from her lips, “Kakushi?”

He pinned her down, swiftly and effectively cutting the indignant echo from the root.

“Now what did I just say.” 

The man towering over wasn’t asking, not remotely. He looked at her nearly expectant, all but daring her for a response.

Thick arms neutralized the struggle, pressing into her to drive the point home. Voice lowered in tandem with his head, the words in her ears enough to fill her gut with coal. 

“If you’re going to interrupt, at least make it worth my while. Might just be tempted to take matters into my own hands and modify the offense.”

“Don’t. Please… stop. You can’t touch her. Please don’t touch her.”

Eyes fell shut as she laid witness to the swan song rasping from her sister’s bruised lips. 

Tears streamed, hot and itching. Time slowed to a crawl. “Emiko. Forget about me,” she bade. “You have to save your strength.”

Gravel dug into her cheek the rougher he forced her down. A hitch in her breath. Eiji kept her gaze fixed ahead, locked on the carnage. 

The women on assist weren’t concerned with lowering their voices. 

“The hell’s a nun doing in the Red Light District?” 

“You can’t say that in front of her, idiot.”

She burned under the heat of their scrutiny. Even more as his touch grazed her prone form, searching for weapons. It seemed he’d been blessed with brains to match his brawn and beauty after all.

“You’ve got red on you,” he noted. “You must have seen something.”

“Not my blood.” The words ran cold on her tongue. Near metallic as the blood staining her veil. “He’s dead now.”

“And the demon spared you after it fed?”

“Sir, there was no demon.”

He turned her over. Crouched over her thighs, urging her to continue.

“Patron. Something took her and he was a shit witness. I eliminated my sister’s rapist. If you have complaints, I suggest you keep them to yourself.”

“Eliminated, huh?” He pressed, incredulous. His eyes returned to the women tending to Emiko’s injuries. “Don’t suppose she’s one of ours?”

His aubergine companion spoke with unbidden ease. “Lord Tengen.” A pressing gentleness, as if shepherding apoplectic cats in their twilight years rather than the man straddling her. “In polite society, there are certainly ways to extract such information.” 

He eyed her beneath his rippling thighs. Considered the account she’d woven for him. “You really don’t know anything?”

“If I knew what you were talking about, I’d tell you.” She met his gaze, beseeching. “Please, just help my sister. Kill me for my crime if you must, but please… She needs to leave this place.”

When the weight on her thighs was suddenly relieved, she had little time to breathe. He loomed over her, making fast work of tossing her over his shoulder.

“Don’t go getting too dramatic on me, Sister. Isn’t blind faith supposed to be your thing?” He gave her backside a condescending slap before taking off.

Too burnt out from the fight to argue, she merely allowed herself to be lulled by his hellish pace.

She hadn’t slept in so long. The push and pull of the jostle took her back to that day.

Fractured memories of the shore. She was no more than a child then. Now a woman grown, the bitter cold kissed her cheeks.

She looked out on the water’s edge. The drag of the waves. The crash as they touched back down.

Walking into the sea, she collapsed. Falling onto her knees, the water soaked her kimono. She abandoned her zukin, letting the habit drift away. When she looked down, there was an isolated pool of blood.

Her eyes widened, hands shaking as she dragged her touch underneath. The source of the bleed was heavy. She pulled desperately, fighting the mounting tide and her own limitations. 

When it breached the surface, she was loathed to lose her grip.

She knew that face. She wore that face. 

Realization dawned on her and she was all the more desperate to retrieve what the watery grave that saw to claim from her. 

Limp in her arms. On death’s door, if she hadn’t crossed the Sanzu River already. When she opened her eyes, they were worse than void—they were dead.

Eiji woke with a start, her own eyes locked on the ceiling of the infirmary with a scream locked in her throat.

The medical wing remained so unclouded, so quiet, there was a small part of her that considered she might be dead already.

Eyes blinking into consciousness, she wondered to herself how everything got so fucked.

“The prodigal daughter wakes,” came a rasping welcome.

“Emiko!”

She nearly tripped over herself trying to reach out to her; the hand beckoning her closer so small under the covers. 

Closing the distance between them, Eiji was treated to a slap to the cheek. She didn’t even register it at first. Her expression thrown, ears roaring. 

“You’ve killed me, bringing me here.” Her voice was as weak as her will to live. “Good as signed my death warrant, you bitch.”

Eiji stared in shock before it hit her as one thousand blows.

She was asleep.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t protect her. Hell, she was barely able to find her on time. She’d failed her and the burning realization that there might be more threatens to consume her.

“What happened while I was out?”

Emiko turned away with a hiss—either from aching injuries or her own malcontent, she’ll never tell. “You heard what Lord Tengen said,” she groused. “Demons and the like. He works to annihilate them…”

Her throat went dry in an instant. “What?”

“Sissy, I’m tired.”

Already having rolled to her side and brought the bedding past her ears, Emiko’s eyes pooled. She let the tears fall away from view but couldn’t hide the way her shoulders shook.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

Thoughts swirled in a vicious cycle. She was as furious as she was suicidal.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

The unspoken reverie was loud enough to hear even separated from the bond their blood allowed.

exhaustion. trauma. betrayal.

It was all Eiji could do to crawl into bed with her, arms wrapped around her trembling body. 

“Are you more angry that I couldn’t save you… or that I did?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Emiko rolled to face her sister, curling tight against her as a babe to its mother. 

“Too late,” she teased gently. Her voice is gentle as the touch that ran up and down her back. “Then tell me. What is it?”

“Just cursing the heavens for damning us with this face and body. And all the bastards who came before Uzui.”

Eiji kept her eyes on the wavering fist curled around the sterile linens they both wore. Trailing her fingers up her back, she brings her palm to her sister’s hair. Pulled her in close, stroking her scalp. She said nothing, merely gave her the means to speak.

“He’s a Hashira. Former Shinobi, by his own account.”

“Shinobi,” she echoed, incredulous. Aren’t they meant to be a dying breed?

“I can’t deliver on the promise I made. I was coerced into accepting his hand, it was the only payment he wanted…” Emiko kept talking over her, vision clouded as if in a daze. “I couldn’t just let him kill you… we needed safe passage.”

A fresh tremor coursed through her. The sight chilled Eiji’s blood.

Bloodshot eyes nearly so vacant as her dream stared back. She didn’t have to hear it to know. 

“Emiko… look at me.” She was desperate with tears of her own threatening to break.

“I can’t go through this again. I refuse. Even once more and I’ll die. By my own hand if necessary.”

Her head shook, stunned to silence.

“Those women are his wives. Says I should get used to them.”

“I can’t let you go through with this!” She refuted further, “I won’t. Not for my sake.”

Holding her hands flush against her ears, Emiko’s eyes shut. Face twisting in anguish and grief, she pushes away from her. “Sleep first, then dream.”

“I’m not dreaming. I’m pleading… Let me help you.”

“You don’t understand,” Emiko argued. “That night… It left me with scars, scars you haven’t seen. He saw me. He saw all of me.”

Eiji’s face flushed with anger. “He fucked you?”

“No… He only kept me talking while I was bandaged. Said he wants to wait until the wedding night to touch me.”

“Show me,” she insisted. “If he’s seen it, I need to see.”

It’s a beat before either moved, let alone spoke. Eiji pushed herself off the bed to stand on shaky ground. She was wary, but didn’t argue. Her sister looked away in a pastiche of offered modesty.

“You can look,” she prompted, voice faint.

When Eiji returned her gaze, visions of that night returned with a vengeance. 

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

Breaking on a sob, she saw her under the roof collapse so vividly as she did that night.

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

Her sister’s skin was tattooed, marred with the visible representation of her own failure. Hypertrophic scars cut around her waist. A contracture piece gnarled on her back. Superficial grazes claw across her breasts. 

pierced. mutilated. shattered.

She had to avert her eyes, choking on her own shame. She would never forgive herself. 

Head raised to the heavens, she was anywhere else.

“The Madame will never have me back now,” Emiko noted wryly. “At least there’s one good thing out of this mess, even if it won’t last—”

With the shattering of glass, the words died in her throat. It took seconds for her eyes to catch up, watching her sister follow after the broken vase. Eiji was there, already on the ground. There seemed to be no rhyme, reason, nor method to her madness.

“What are you doing?”

She sifted through the rubbish on hands and knees, seeking out the perfect instrument for her needs. She’d have to start soon while the sight was fresh in her mind… The rest were tossed aside.

“I’m not letting you down again.”

“What does that even mean?” She pleaded, “Eiji, stop… You’re scaring me.”

And still, she refused her. Not until hope was secured.

Lord Uzui ushers his bride inside the bedchamber, quickly sliding the door shut behind him.

no prying eyes, no vying wives.

Eiji makes to sit on the marital bed, still lost to the events of the day. It’s an absolute miracle her knees haven’t given out already.

“Not so fast.” 

The command chills her to the marrow. He’s behind her before she can react, let alone flee. Uzui pins her in place, a belt of his corded arms wrapping around her middle. Despite the warmth, she’s frozen in place as she stiffly shies from his touch. 

His voice in her ears only drags her further. “Let me look at you.”

It’s not permission he’s after. He’s taking what he wants tonight.

Kissing down the column of her neck, he gives her tit a rough pinch. The assault punches a groan out of her throat, “Lord Tengen, please.”

“Look at that. My prized whore acting like a virgin for her husband. How quaint is this.”

“I just don’t want to sully the garments.” She pushes past the fear and finds her voice. “With all your wives, I don’t see you stopping at four… who knows when you’ll need it again.”

The man drops his arms. There’s a soft sound, almost muffled. She looks over her shoulder and he’s laughing behind a manicured fist. Her eyes widen, the whiplash becoming all too much to bear.

He watches her, watching him. He doesn’t react to being caught. Doesn’t scold her or tease. Merely lowers his hand, leaving only a seductive beam in its wake as he leans forward to take the wataboshi hood from her head.

His gaze lingers on her lips. Before he thinks to act on base impulse and desires, he turns to place the hood away for safekeeping. She trails after him and shirks off the uchikake, offers him the robe and fan. Fingertips graze, earning a hum of anticipation from her husband.

“If you’d prefer me not to do the rest, I suggest you undress yourself.”

She bows. “Thank you, Lord Tengen.”

“Your respect and frugality are refreshing.” A sigh escapes him. “With any hope, you’ll rub off on the others… In more ways than one, I imagine. And I can imagine quite a lot.”

Her cheeks flush at the suggestion. 

He gropes her ass as he passes, already stripping as he takes his spectator’s seat at the foot of the bed. Uzui watches her as an expectant beast would his prey. She takes a steadying breath when he bids her to start.

Eiji thinks of the shamisen players in the brothels. She wills the strings to the forefront of her mind. Her eyes are closed as she tugs at the knot of her obi-jime… 

No more than a feather on the stream, the silken cord spills to the floor with unbidden ease. 

Her ivory obi joins the pool of fabric at her feet. She gives herself over to the music, abandoning her nerves.

Deftly unfastening the datejime leaves her kimono hanging loose. She sheds the rest like a second skin, stepping out of her confines in only her slip of a nagajuban.

More than a chrysalis. A rebirth.

The juban is her only defense. She knows it’s guileless to hope, to dream. It’s all she could have wanted just to keep her sister from the bedchamber.

No. She will do what needs to be done.

When the last whisper of cloth leaves her exposed, she’s quick to cover herself. A futile gesture born from her days in the convent.

A hand catches her wrist and she’s far too exhausted to fight him. Neither for her body, nor her modesty.

Fingers curl around her own as he guides her to the bed. Pushing her gently, back flush against the futon, he holds her in check with only his right hand; keeping her arms raised so nothing might obstruct his view.

He appraises every inch of her flesh, taking his left to explore with the pad of his touch.

neck and collarbone. sternum. breasts.

Kneading her aching tit, Uzui nods in approval. “Scratches are gone,” he notes. “Didn’t even leave a scar.”

her ribs. her waist. 

He traces the lesion with reverence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of more use to you then.”

The words tumble from her lips before she can stop them. “You’re blameless,” she says under her breath. 

“Come again?”

“My… my sister. She feels every bit of shame for that night. There’s nothing left. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

Moments pass without a word. Just when she’s about to take it all back, he’s pressing kisses into the worst of it.

Eiji chokes on a whine, eyes widening in shock. “Ah!”

“I think your sister would disagree with you there,” he whispers tenderly against her belly. “I only met her once but she looked like she wanted to kill me for even breathing the same air as you.”

Her heart stutters in her chest, conflicted between the sensations roiling through her and the threat of being found out. She keeps her mouth shut. Neither pleasure nor information would pass her lips. Not when she’s come so far… 

She would not let her down again.

Once she found the ideal shard of glass, she made fast work of undressing herself.

“What are you going to do?” Emiko asked desperately.

Eiji walked to her sister’s bedside. She caressed her face. “I’m going to protect you.”

She returned to her own bed, drawing the curtains around her.

Before she lost her nerve, she pressed the glass into herself. She kept digging the piece further inside until she was certain it would take.

She ignored the cries and pleas of her sister. She had to do this. She had to make this right.

With a trembling fist curled around the bloodied glass, she took a leveling breath. 

“Once more,” she urged herself.

She dragged the piece along her back, piercing herself to the hilt. Eiji didn’t need a reference to know. She’d never forget for as long as she lived… It would take her a great deal longer to forgive herself.

Falling to her knees, she curled in on herself… With her body shaking from the shock of it, the deed was finally done.

“Never… Never…”

He laps at the trail of pink with his lips, relishing what reactions slip past her schooled features.

“Even still, it’s healed up nicely,” Uzui remarks, dragging her back with him. “Clean margins, not a trace of infection.”

“You certainly know your way around a battered woman.”

“If you recall, my girls are former Kunoichi. Scars are a part of the work culture… You’ll fit in perfectly, my little prize.”

Eiji masks her disgust with a breathy titter. “And here I thought I’d scared you away,” she quips.

“Thought or hoped?”

With those three little words, the room chills around her. She won’t allow herself to falter.

“I am but a traumatized woman.” A dangerous answer to feed a dangerous question. “You don’t think they're mutually exclusive?” 

He bullies her legs open with the mass of his bicep. Abandoning her arms, he locks her in place with a firm hold on her hip. Rakes his nails against the meat of her thigh, all too quick to soothe the path with his tongue, just as before.

“Answer me,” he growls against her.

Before she can think better of it, she pushes against his shoulder. He buries his face in her cunt, undaunted by her silent protests. 

One swipe of his tongue and she’s gone.

“I… I thought!” Her thighs tighten around him, despite herself. “We had—ngg! We had a… a deal—”

A harsh slap to thigh has her opening back up for him. She stifles a cry behind a shaking palm. He carries on batting at her clit in rapid succession, her groan turning helpless when he buries himself past his knuckles. 

Two fingers with a wail on the third, too thick as they scissor inside.

She’s anywhere else.

The cacophony of noises bleeding from her lips has her mind racing in tandem with her pulse.

Unrelenting pleasure. Blinding sin.

He makes quick work slinging her legs over his shoulders. Colors her thighs with his affections, cups her cunt. She jerks further into the assault.

Propping himself on the balls of his feet, he suckles his fingers. Uzui laves up the juices, savoring every morsel of her essence. 

“And you’d never do anything to rescind a deal, would you, sweet Emiko.”

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t dare dignify him with a response. If Uzui wants to go fishing, he can drown in her silence for all she cares.

Slow to start, he presses down and teases her all the more. Middle finger lapping her juices, he fucks them deeper every time. His wrist twists without resistance. It’s all she hears. He latches onto her clit, a steady staccato of tongue and teeth with his forearm shining with sweat and her own wetness.

Bracing for the forced release, she maintains a white knuckle grip on the sheets beneath her.

Thighs shaking. Stomach tensing. But it’s over before she can fall over that razor thin edge.

He pulls out without mercy, without warning. She sobs at the loss, sweat beading along her temples and brow.

Uzui takes his time spreading her lips, appreciating her cunt twitching around nothing apart from a watchful eye and wandering touch to match. He slaps her tit, diving back into the fray. She’d scream if she thought it would help.

She’s never felt anything like it. 

His nose prods her clit while he gives her a tongue lashing she’s never known. He laps up her juices like a condemned man drinking his last.

Hooking his fingers, Eiji sees white. She came under him and he fucked her right through it, fingering her while spreading his idle hand over her middle. His pinky caresses her scar with such care, almost worship.

It takes her far too long to register he’s been grinding into her splayed thigh.

He’s hot on her bare skin, heavy and thick… She doesn’t have to see him to know.

As if he can read her trepidation like a damn book, he takes her hand and drags it encouragingly over his cock. “You can touch,” he offers.

She says nothing, denying him all the more. Pushing against his advances, she means to end this encounter. Any longer, she fears he may see fit to fuck her into the little hours.

He pushes her back no less than three times before relenting. Fed up with her efforts, he scoffs angrily. “Should’ve brought Suma in to sit on your face,” he laments, all petulance.

Tossing her over his shoulder, he settles her before the bureau. 

“Hands against the wood,” he instructs her curtly, nodding where he wants her. Damn bastard’s already slotting a knee between her legs. “Forearms, too.”

When she does so, he roughly forces her back into an arch. Eiji hears the whistle of the strike before the pain registers. Feels the dresser’s chill graze her nipples before the burn on her bottom. She grits her teeth, detaching herself from the scene.

His touch roves across the handprint left behind before drawing back to hit her again.

Appreciating the canvas before him is a short lived reward.

One hand with an iron grip on her chin forces her attentions. He pinches and gropes what he can reach with the other, the taunting lilt of his voice never leaving her.

“Open those eyes.” The order sends tingles down her spine. “Let me see my gorgeous bride.”

Another thrashing leaves her crying out. He tightens around her jaw, tears flowing freely now.

She does as he commands, her deep brown gaze at last meeting his scrutiny.

It’s when she catches sight of herself in the mirror that her resolve nearly crumbles at his fingertips.

where did emiko end…

                                      …where did eiji begin?

He takes her in his arms, flush against her back as he cages her against the dresser. Uzui sucks a bruise just under her ear, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He feeds his cock inside her, ears singing with every scratch of her nail against the wood. 

A rough gasp tears its way through her. Eiji remains frozen to his whims as he callously fills her to the hilt. Barely four thrusts as he meets no resistance.

He can’t help but groan at the sight of her. 

Stuck-still, she’s too shocked to move, to speak or breathe. 

It’s not long before he tires of her cockwarming and his grunts fill the room with a renewed pace. One sharp snap begot the rest and her cunt fell so tight around him.

He sets a punishing staccato, the sounds of them filling the room in a symphony gone wrong. Coaxing the cries from her, Uzui kept pushing and pushing… bottoming out until he was coming apart himself. 

“How can a whore like you be so damn tight,” he murmurs, nearly slurring his abuses. “All that work getting you open? What a waste…”

Beads of sweat make a mess of his forehead, the silver strands of his hair catching on his skin. She flushes beneath him as he nears his release.

“Keep those eyes on me,” he commands. “I want you to see who’s making you come.”

She holds more than her will as she looks at her husband. She holds her contempt. Her rage… Her every motive and intent. That’s why it’s such a shock to them both when she meets him thrust for thrust for thrust. 

even as the wooden borough grates against the floor and wall. even as he works his spit inside her asshole.

“Fucking close—”

He throws his head back with a trembling exhale and stuttering hips. Eiji’s unbidden wails fall on deaf ears as he spills his seed.

His shaking breath echoes off the walls in a strange marriage of ecstasy and quiet discontent. Would that he could, he’d stay buried inside her forever. 

Uzui pulls out with a hiss, beyond loath to leave her pristine warmth. Releasing her, his gaze falls to their combined fluids trailing down her legs. He spreads her cheeks, reveling in the sight of his debauched bride.

Spent. Humiliated. Done. Eiji rests her weary head against the wood, between her trembling hands.

No blood, she relishes inwardly… with Lord Tengen none the wiser, Eiji has fulfilled her duty. If there was a shadow of a doubt, it’s gone now. He wouldn’t find proof of her innocence. It was gone by her own hand the day she gave herself her sister’s scars. 

Kisses press against her spine, all the way down to her tailbone. He massages her bruised and bruising flesh while huffing in the musk of their consummation. She twitches under his watchful eye and it’s all the prompting he needs to dive back in for seconds, albeit gently this time.

The deft tongue that pleasured her is the deft tongue that cleans her. She doesn’t shy from it this time. He feels the stark contrast as she bears down on his face, grunting his approval as he lazily stokes himself.

It’s not just for her benefit. Tengen knows that despite the closed doors, this intimate moment was always going to be shared.

Not his wives. Not even the heavens.

He knows the nun is sitting vigil at this exact moment, waiting outside those very doors to tend to her battered sister.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that was her role back in Yoshiwara. Poor girl’s never known the touch of a man, has never come apart by another’s tender care… judging by her disdain that night, she’d likely only ever heard the shameful encounters of brutes and bastards. 

Who was he to deny her? To deny either of them?

If the Sister wanted a show, he’d give that holy voyeur the most flamboyant fucking of her damned life.

Emiko sits beneath a wash of indigo, the stars shining bright enough to spite her. She wrings her hands, anxiously praying he’d be done with her soon. The sun was barely set when they arrived back from the ceremony… He’s had her in there for hours.

It’s all she can do to pray he’d leave her soon enough.

“Stop it.” The familiar prayer falls from her lips, a hush of a bid. She broke on the words as her sister had done so many nights. “Put her out of her misery, damn you.”

In the quiet isolation of the veranda, the only voyeur is the moon above. Emiko weeps for her sister. She weeps for herself.

No one will mind. No one is around to hear it.

[fromyanderewithlove]

TOP 10 FAMOUS YANDERE IN ANIME

When we watch anime, we encounter a rich tapestry of characters, each one embodying a specific archetype, a trait, or a stereotype. However, few character types have captured the imagination and morbid fascination of fans quite like the yandere. At first glance, they might seem like the ideal partner – loving, attentive, and utterly devoted. But, hidden beneath that veneer of affection lies a dark undercurrent of obsession, madness, and sometimes, violence. As we journey into the world of the yandere, tread lightly, for love here isn't just blind—it's often dangerous. Join us as we delve deeper into the psyche of some of anime's most iconic yandere characters, exploring the twisted love stories and the fine line between passion and possession.

1 Yuno Gasai from "Mirai Nikki" (Future Diary): Yuno's extreme love and obsession for Yukiteru Amano are central to the story.

2 Kotonoha Katsura from "School Days": Kotonoha's descent into madness due to her love for Makoto Ito is one of the most memorable aspects of the series.

3 Shion Sonozaki from "Higurashi no Naku Koro ni" (When They Cry): Driven to madness by her love for Satoshi Houjou.

4 Rena Ryuuguu from "Higurashi no Naku Koro ni" (When They Cry): While not a traditional yandere, her intense behavior, especially in certain arcs, qualifies her for the list.

5 Satou Matsuzaka from "Happy Sugar Life": Her obsession with Shio Kobe, a young girl she believes to be her one true love, defines her character.

6 Kurumi Tokisaki from "Date A Live": Her yandere tendencies are especially evident when she's around the protagonist, Shido Itsuka.

7 Ayase Aragaki from "Oreimo" (My Little Sister Can't Be This Cute): While more of a yangire (a character who snaps suddenly out of jealousy or irritation), her obsessive tendencies can't be ignored.

8 Kaede Fuyou from "Shuffle!": Once the truth about her past surfaces, her yandere nature becomes clear.

9 Misa Amane from "Death Note": Her obsessive love for Light Yagami and willingness to do anything for his sake place her in the yandere category.

10 Sekai Saionji from "School Days": Her actions, particularly towards the end of the series, reveal her yandere nature.

As we conclude our journey into the captivating realm of yanderes, it's evident that these characters are more than mere vessels of madness and obsession. They embody the age-old debate of how far one might go for love and at what cost. Their stories serve as cautionary tales, reminding us of the thin line between affection and fixation, devotion and domination. While the yandere archetype may be a product of fictional storytelling, their essence resonates with many, leaving an indelible mark on the anime community. We may not always agree with their methods or their motives, but the yandere's complex blend of love, fear, and fervor will continue to intrigue and haunt us long after the screen fades to black.

[anti-kawaii-daily]

Anti-Kawaii Character Archetypes You'll Probably See Here Part 1

Yandere: Arguably the most well-known "Anti-Kawaii" character archetype in pop culture. The word "Yandere" is a portmanteau of the Japanese word yanderu or 病やんでる in the original kanji (which is another way to say that you or someone is mentally sick, not to be confused with Menhera), and the word deredere or デレデレ in it's original kanji (this word basically means "lovey-dovey").

This archetype consists of character who when they fall in love with someone, they fall harder than most normal people. By that I mean that they obsess over their love interest in ways ranging from mildly unhealthy all the way to destructive to themselves or others. The most known type of Yandere is the type that hurts or kills anyone who may try to "take" the love interest away from them, but Yandere behavior is more of a spectrum than a one-size-fits-all type of situation. And despite most people associating this archetype with unstable, knife wielding, boy-crazy girls, Yanderes can be of any gender identity and sexual orientation.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to Right: Yuno Gasai (Future Diary), Kotonoha Katsura (School Days), Himiko Toga (My Hero Academia), Alex Forrest (Fatal Attraction) and Eobard Thawne/Reverse Flash (DC Comics)

Yangire: Other than the Yandere archetype mentioned above, whenever someone thinks of crazy and violent characters in Japanese media, they tend to refer to the Yangire archetype. The word is a portmanteau of the word yanderu or 病やんでる but unlike the archetype above, the "dere" is replaced by the word gire or ギレ in kanji and gire basically means "to snap".

This archetype consists of a character who may be a decent or maybe even a nice person, but if they were to snap in a mental breakdown, then they get very aggressive, violent, dangerous and unpredictable. There are commonly two types of Yangire characters: they either A, have a split personality or any other mental illness that makes them act violent; or B, they just happen to be cruel and deranged people. But occasionally there are characters who are a mix of both. What truly separates Yangires from Yanderes is that Yanderes tend to do messed up things out of love, while Yangires do messed up things because they can.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to right: Kurumi Tokisaki (Date A Live), Rena Ryugu (Higurashi: When They Cry), Yoshikage Kira (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure), The Postal Dude (Postal series), and Agatha Trunchbull (Matilda)

Dorodere: A lesser known "Anti-Kawaii" character archetype, this term's name is a mixture of the word "dorodoro" (ドロドロ in the original kanji) which translates as muddled or confused, and the word deredere or デレデレ.

This is a character archetype that refers to characters who are mentally disturbed, or has lots of bad feelings (such as grudges or resentment) towards people like their loved ones, but they hide all of that behind a sweet and friendly façade. In western countries this archetype was misunderstood as describing a character that has violent thoughts but who doesn't act on them, but Doroderes while mostly malicious, they can reach a level of violence similar to a Yandere or a Yangire once their true nature is revealed. In most cases there are two types of a Dorodere; type 1 Doroderes have the character genuinely liking their love interest/best friend and type 2 Doroderes who feel a mixture of love and hatred. What separates these two types is that with type 1 characters their "doro" side is hidden by the "dere" side, while with type 2 characters their "doro" side has a small amount of "dere" in there.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to right: Luca Trulyworth (Air Tonelico), Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair), Makima (Chainsaw Man), Billy Loomis (Scream) and The Other Mother (Coraline)

[s-aprua]

me when I oc-ify the least relevant guy in the entire franchise bc wtf was his deal, wym the antagonist doesn't even get a name

so basically he's been in love with chisei since childhood but he never did anything abt it bc he was a loser science nerd with 0 social skills and later also realized it's one sided bc it's so obvious chisei and haruomi are in love but then chisei died of metal corrosion and he decides to take his phantometal to try and revive him or something (he's a yandere or whatever idk)

he uses kanata to trigger corrosion on everyone including himself so that when they're all a puddle of metal goo he can reunite with chisei again (haruomi would probably still win anyway but at least they'll all be together or something)

his name is katsura (mc zura, definitely wasn't trying to match yasha/replace shura, yes this is a gintama ref bc of the voice actors)

[animeyanderelover]

Yandere Gintama Hc's (Gintoki, Toshiro, Sougo, Kamui, Shoyo)

S/o likes their Yandere behavior (Shinsuke)

Darling distances themselves to plan on how to confess (Toshiro)

Happy Death Day (Gintoki, Hijikata, Sougo, Shinsuke)

Sweet and gentle s/o (Gintoki, Hijikata, Sougo, Katsura, Shinsuke, Kamui, Tsukuyo)

[johnnytwist]

Sometimes I think that Marinette Dupain Cheng can be classified as a Yandere, I found her on a Yandere Wiki some time ago. Of course, she cannot be considered a powerful yandere like Yuno Gasai, Ayano Aishi, Kotonoha Katsura and others, But she has many characteristics of a yandere... Anyway, what do you think?

[proxylynn]

What is your thought about portrayal of yandere in media?

[I haven't seen many males. They tend to just come off as creeps, no different from the random weirdo characters, at least in the stuff I've seen. Saw this one anime with hubby and I literally said "I hate how Peter this guy is being". Like, Shinkawa Kyouji in Gun Gale Online isn't built up properly as a yan, so when he's revealed as one it just turns him into a creep that attempts to rape his love interest till Kirito shows up (seriously why is SwordArtOnline so eager to have characters rape or molest and that's their only character trait?). I will say Shuu Tsukiyama from Tokyo Ghoul is a decent one and he's my favorite character of the series. Now the female yans...Senpia this, senpai that, oh my darling I stab this bitch. I tried to look up some I might have seen and some of the names I know didn't even feel like they were yans. Misa Amane from Death Note never came across as yandere to me. More like a big ass simp. But a real legit one I knew of...Kotonoha Katsura from School Days.]