#Yandere bsd

[elisabetta-something]

1AM where I am and woke up with that thought, might delate later...

I do not encourage any toxic behavior, this is a work of fiction and fiction only !

TW : kidnapping, captivity, manipulation ?

_____________________________________________

A tear falls on your cheek as Fyodor bends over to your tied up form, caressing your wet cheek tenderly.

"I know, my love," he whispers, "I know you want to leave, to see the outside world. You are a dove, after all, and birds like yourself long for freedom. But you cannot be free in this polluted world, so undeserving of your immaculate wings. When this world will be pure, you will fly away as you wish." he explains, for the fourth time this week. He speaks with so much love and care, you could almost forget all those people he killed. You could almost forget that he has you tied up gods know where, away from everything you've ever known and loved. He explains it over and over, like it is himself he tries to convince and not you. Like he tries to make himself believe that it is for you that he does everything, when in reality he is a selfish man. He wants you all to himself and he will have you, no matter what.

[n0cturnalcm]

The Two-faced Secretary.

[httpskuzuu]

A strong word

Yandere!Dazai x Reader

idk english

summary: you need a little break from your daily life. Dazai decides to keep you company

tw: drug addiction, relapse, harassment, mention of breaking and entering, reader is weird, nsfw conversations, a bit oc¿ maybe, I'm pretty sure there's more, but I don't remember

You weren't an extra in a poorly made horror movie. You know when something is wrong.

You could feel eyes fixed on your back, watching your every move even in your own house. You noticed that from time to time some insignificant object disappeared from your house, other times it was not so insignificant things. And, most telling of all: You began to meet in a supposedly casual way with an eccentric man full of bandages.

You don't understand your bad luck. You always end up involved with weirdos.

That man, Osamu Dazai, was trying to flirt with you in the strangest ways known to man.

As he grabbed your hand, he gently ran a finger over it. You didn't know if this was supposed to be seductive. “You're the reason I've lived so far, just so I could commit double suicide with you, Belladonna.”

Your responses were obviously not positive. But he didn't give up. You would meet somewhere very casually and not at all suspiciously, he would try to flirt with you and you would stare at him silently with a poker face until the atmosphere was so uncomfortable that you had to separate. Still, you never verbally rejected him, nor did you want to. There was a strange amusement in that the two of you had.

You must be the only freak in the world who found it entertaining to be stalked by another freak.

“And you haven't by any chance been stealing stuff from my house or watching me or anything, have you, 'Samu?” It was funny to see his face after your accusation. He still maintained his smile, but it was obvious his bewilderment.

From that moment when you made it clear that you knew, Dazai became much more obvious. One day he left you a note on the table at home: “I love your perfume, my dear! I'll borrow it :D”. Other times he would come straight into your house while you were still at home to spend time together. Apparently he had made copies of your keys. Lovely.

But today you couldn't go on with your cat and mouse game or whatever your relationship was.

Ups and downs are part of recovery, so say all the doctors you went to in your youth. If that's true, it wouldn't matter a little up and down in your life. The problem is that you didn't want Dazai to see you like this, the way you are right now. It would be giving him too much power over you. You couldn't bear the thought of him laughing at you, of him knowing the fact that you are weak.

So you packed a backpack with money, a change of clothes, your cell phone, charger and most importantly, pills. You took two whole tablets full of little white circles that looked at you and laughed in synchrony for your defeat. You ended up in the first motel you found and prayed that Dazai hadn't followed you.

And now here you are, lying face down on an uncomfortable bed, with a tablet and a half of pills in your system. Your movements are slow as you sit up in bed. You grab the half-empty bottle of water from the bedside table and drink a mouthful accompanied by two more pills. You awkwardly count the empty spaces on the tablets, giving you seventeen. You take seventeen pills.

You fell back on the bed, too tired to find a position where you weren't drowning against the pillow.

All would have been peace and happiness if you hadn't heard someone opening the door.

“Is someone having fun here?” bastard.

“What are you doing here?” you don't know if your mouth has gotten smaller or if your tongue has gotten fatter, but it's uncomfortable to talk.

“I was curious to see what the love of my life was doing in a cheap motel.”

Your mouth was like a desert, you couldn't produce saliva. Well, actually you could, but very little, not enough. “Give me some water.”

“What's the magic word?” You're going to kill him, you swear you're going to kill him.

“If you don't give me water I'll die and it'll be all your fault... Please.”

Dazai laughs, but it doesn't take him long to fulfill your whim. He pushes your limp body until you are lying on your side, facing Dazai. He squats down with the water bottle in his hand and a smile on his face. It doesn't look mocking, though you're not in a state where you can be sure of that.

Water runs down the side of your mouth, ruining the sheets, but you don't care. It feels good to have a cold mouth.

“I can't believe you tried to die on your own - and I thought we had something special!” He shrieks dramatically. You don't feel like reacting, you just lie back down with your face against the bed. Seeing him now, making eye contact with him in your state, it's too much, you can't. You hide in the mental fog.

“I'm not going to die.”

You don't quite know what happens after that. Dazai says more things, but they go through your head too fast to process. You think you've fallen asleep at some point, if you have the man doesn't say anything.

What wakes you from your trance is the sound of your name. Dazai has apparently moved without you noticing, sitting on the bed next to your useless body. One of his bony hands is resting on your lower back, too close to your ass. Fuck, the pills should diminish sexual desire, not make you horny for these things.

In the end you'll be weirder than Dazai.

“Why did you get high again?” The word again rings in your mind, did he know about your past? Well, seeing as you always know where you stand, you wouldn't be surprised if he knew about the things you did when you were younger.

“Ups and downs are part of recovery.” You repeat it as your personal mantra. Indeed it is. An excuse so cheap that even you see through it.

“Ups and downs is the same as relapsing? I didn't know that.” You hate that tone. It mocks you. It mocks your problems. Maybe that hatred is what gives you the strength to swing your arm and punch him.

You can't see if he's surprised or if he doesn't give a shit. Your hand hurts from the blow he delivered near his forearm, but that could just be because you feel things more than you usually do. You doubt you've done him any real harm.

“Aggressive!” Dazai pretends to cry and again the mockery bubbles in his throat. But suddenly his dramatic whimpering stops. “Are you crying?”

What? Ah, apparently so. You had begun to sob. Sobs that were drowned out by the pillow but still reached the culprit's ears. How pathetic and weak. If you keep this up you'll bore Dazai, he'll see through your facade of indifference and leave you.

“Fuck you.” God, you need a bottle of vodka or more pills.

You reach for the remaining tablet you left lying on the bed, but your fingers meet only the softness of the sheets. Where the fuck did you leave it?

“No more pills. I'm surprised you're still awake with the amount you took.” You hated it. You came to this shitty motel just so I wouldn't fuck around, but apparently even that couldn't work out for you.

You try to sleep, to forget everything. The uncertainty of whether you will wake up is not as strong as the pills.

You don't know how long you went between unconsciousness and consciousness, but when you fully wake up you still have the effect of the drugs in your system. The only thing that catches your attention amidst your blurred vision and the fogginess of your mind is that there is someone lying next to you.

Right, Dazai had come for some reason you can't remember. Where were you again?

You turn your head and the world spins, but you manage to glare at the man next to you, looking at you with a serious face you can't even take in. “Where are we?”

“A motel.”

“Aren't motels for fucking?” The words come scattered, stumbling out of your mouth. “Did we fuck?”

Dazai's stern expression disappears, giving way to a playful smile. “No, but I won't refuse if you're interested.”

“If you want you can use me, but don't be offended if I fall asleep.” When you sober up you'll probably hate yourself for practically blurting out one of your fetishes to your stalker's face. But it's worth seeing Dazai's face, one that is never surprised. Did you really say something that crazy? Apparently you did because you managed to catch Osamu Dazai off guard.

He pulls himself together faster than you'd like him to. “That's a lovely idea, Bella, but I'd rather you were in your five senses.” He turned out to be quite the gentleman, who knew.

...Why were you in a bed with Dazai? You forget again. You don't care enough to ask, it's not like you're uncomfortable either. He has one of his hands on your back, stroking it up and down and you almost fall into the clutches of sleep again.

“Don't get your hopes up, I'd only let you fuck me if you loved me.” You don't realize your words and it's funny this way. You missed the fuzzy, peaceful feeling that being high gives you. You don't even remember why you decided to get high.

Anyway, Dazai seems surprised again. It's an interesting view. You should say things out of place more often.

“So you're the romantic type... I see, I see.”

“Don't you love me?”

There is a silence that makes you regret speaking, but it is too late to take a step back. You would have preferred a sober confession. You would have preferred that there was no confession in the first place. With this you have put an end to your stalker-victim relationship, you are sure that Dazai will get up and leave and…

“I love you.” There didn't seem to be an ounce of mockery in his expression, just a quiet, loving smile? You weren't sure. Suddenly you feel very warm, it's uncomfortable. You can't stand his gaze on you so you hide your face against the bed again.

You fall asleep after that. No more conversation, no more looks, what were you supposed to say? Oh yes Samu, I love you too. Let's get married and be happy in a little house in the country.

When you wake up, everything feels horrible. Your head hurts and spins, your stomach roars, you feel nauseous... And Dazai is not by your side.

You don't remember much, only that he was an idiot and that he told you he loved you. Apparently your brain only keeps what it's interested in. You don't like to think about the twinge of pain you feel in your chest when you see the empty bed.

That's it, you fucked up. He dumped you and now you'll have to go on with your life with all the shame that entails.

“You woke up!” a male voice makes you turn toward the door. There stands Dazai, a smile plastered on his lips. And it feels like a knife stabbing at you has been taken away. He hasn't left. He hasn't abandoned you. He loves you. “I was about to pronounce you dead.”

He quickly lies down next to you on the bed. There is a genuine desire to hug him and not let him escape from your arms.

“You know, you said a lot of funny things while you were high.” You and your big mouth.

“What stuff?” your voice sounds hoarse and you remember the bottle of water on your bedside table. It's still there, so you gulp down all the leftover water. It's warm, but you don't complain.

“Things like you wanted me to use your body and-”

“'Shut up!” Your words come out faster than you can process the sentence. God, what is wrong with you? You're such an idiot. How can you even think of saying such things.

Dazai laughs. “Well, if you still want me to fuck you while you're high, you can always let me know.”

That earns him a punch in his shoulder with what little strength you have.

“I remember something you said too, 'Samu.”

“The what?” You wonder if it's worth breaking off your strange friendship just to get back at him for making you feel embarrassed. Yes, it is.

“You said you loved me.” Dazai's smile disappears with that, though you can tell by his expression that you weren't hallucinating. He did tell you that he loved you.

“Sure, why else would I ask you for double suicide?” Even though the man tries to act like he always does, there is something different. The forced smile, the look that avoids you....

You can only laugh when you see him that way. There is also a feeling of relief that embraces you. He loves you. God, he loves you. Do you love him? Well, the word love seems very strong to you, but on second thought, why would you get this excited to hear about his feelings if you didn't have feelings for him yourself?

“Well... You're lucky I like weirdos like you.”

[ghostsy]

Stay

YANDERE x READER

WARNINGS: yandere, implied imprisonment, a lil angsty

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

“Don’t leave me.”

The arm wrapped around her middle tightened, squeezing the remaining air from her lungs. But she stifled her discomfort; he would only ever reprimand the feeling. 

“I won’t.”

It had been like this for a while now; where he crawled into bed at night, oftentimes after he made sure to thoroughly bed her, and wrapped himself around her like a child–an overgrown child with strength that could snap her in half if he so chose. But a child nonetheless.

The whining was new, though. 

“I’m serious,” He rasped, breath tickling against her hair, “Don’t you ever leave me.” 

As if it were her choice. She was silent for a moment; what response could she give that would assuage his paranoia, or more pertinently, spare her the consequence of his rage? 

“I’d die,” He continued, lips brushing her ear, “I’d kill everyone, and then I’d die.”

“You won’t die,” She sighed out the words, trying and failing to stamp down her building annoyance, but self-preservation won out in the battle against her own emotions, “I’m here, so you won’t die.”

She felt his heartbeat speed where his chest pressed against her, “No,” He curled deeper into her if it were even possible, face pressed to the crook of her neck, “But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?”

Before she could respond, she felt wetness on her skin. Was he crying? “Bet you dream about it,” She’d never seen him cry before, never seen a chink in the armor, “Leaving me here to rot.” She didn’t like the uncomfortable burn in her chest as she listened to the shuddering breaths behind her. It had to be pity. Of course, it was pity.

“That’s okay, you can dream,” The rasp of his voice made even deeper with the cracks in his words, “You can dream all you want, so long as you’re here with me when you wake,” Before she could even consider her actions, she was turning in his arms. Or struggling to, only succeeding as he lessened his iron grip when he was sure she wasn’t trying to leave. 

His eyes were wide when she was face to face with him, no doubt surprised she’d chosen to be closer to him of her own free will. He was handsome, with a devastating kind of beauty to the lines of his face. She always thought it cruel, a handsome monster she was chained to forever. 

“I don’t,” She breathed, lips uncomfortably close to his own, “Want you to die, I mean. I don’t want it.” She wasn’t sure if she was lying, but the words had the opposite effect she’d intended.

His brows furrowed in the way they usually did before red hot anger took control, but the night was full of surprises, it seemed, because this heat was only directed at himself.

“You should,” He spat, the arm at her waist squeezing so harshly she couldn’t help but wince. He weakened his grip immediately upon notice, "You should hate me," And she saw what she could only call self-disgust swimming in his eyes.

“Yes, I should,” The words spilled out before she could stop them, but this moment between them felt it was owed honesty, promised safety. 

“I’d still love you if you did,” It was a breathless confession, and he pressed his forehead against her own, eyes closed, “No matter what, I would still love you,” He made it sound like an apology, like he knew his love was a torture he’d inflicted on her without reprieve. 

“That’s stupid.” She sighed out the words, but her hand came to rest at his cheek, nearly admiring. Admiring the unbelievability of his vulnerability. 

“Yeah,” He huffed out a low laugh between the unsteady breaths, and turned to press a kiss to her palm, “It is kind of stupid.”

There was a sort of finality to the words. Because in the end, his cruelty masked as love, stupid as it was, was not something either of them could escape. It was a painful realization that he hadn’t just trapped her in a cage, but locked her into his own.

Her fingers traced patterns along his jaw, and their eyes met in the low light of the early morning hours. Maybe when the sun rose he’d return to the monster she knew, and she would only have this moment as a memory with a man she thinks she could have loved. She’d take a moment.

Slowly she inched forward, and his breath hitched, fingers flexing where they rested against her skin. Before she could connect them she froze, considering, hesitating, rethinking. But he took the opportunity, and pressed forward, lips uncharacteristically soft against her own, before retreating nearly as quickly. A stolen kiss. Unbearably cruel in its deceptive innocence. 

“Just tell me,” He whispered it like a secret, “Tell me you’ll stay with me.”

“I will.”

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

Couldn't pick just one character, but had a few in mind:

BNHA: Bakugou, Shinso, Todoroki Shoto

JJK: Yuta, Megumi

Blue Lock: Nagi, Rin

Haikyuu: Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo

BSD: Dazai, Chuuya

[yandere-sins]

thank you soooooo much for writing for pm dazai I am absolutely starving for good content for him... could I request mafia dazai being sweet to his darling? or the closest thing to sweet hes capable of... maybe hes had a sad day and is using darling as a comfort object? tysm, have a good day!

Of course! Thank you for requesting ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

If you had learned anything about your captor, then that there were no good days.

There were days where he seemed slightly annoyed by your presence as if you were an inconvenience (that he caused himself!), and then there were some where he couldn't get his hands off of you. Neither was good. It was either starving and freezing or desperately trying to get rid of him. Those days could all be counted as 'bad'.

For you.

But of course, a bad day for Dazai looked much different than a bad day for you. It looked like blood on his gloves, splatters of it on his shoes that he discarded. It smelled pretty badly, too. Like a mix of gore and cement, drifting in with his body as he dragged himself back into his private room and spreading like the shadows he cast as he turned on the lights. It felt like his hands slowly digging beneath the rim of the blindfold, painfully patiently pulling it off to reveal an even deeper, even worse darkness in his eyes.

"Darling," he cooed, a smile crooking his lips. His expression seemed to be in need of time as it tried to remember how to soften. How to be gentle and sweet. But bit after bit, his face contorted back into a memory of adoration, although he couldn't fool you.

"I missed you."

As soon as his face had appeared, it was buried in your shoulder, the restraints on your arms not allowing you to shove the bones right into it and give him what he deserved. You two had fought it out before, and Dazai knew which finger to separate from the others in a way it would hurt if you moved.

His hands let go of the blindfold, the fabric landing in your lap and sparsely warming your bare thighs there. Arms weaved into the space beneath your armpits, leaving a tinge of pain in your finger joints as he ruthlessly moved them. Then, two warm palms pushed you forward, resting on your shoulder blades as you felt, heard, and saw him take a deep breath, rubbing his face deeper between your neck and shoulder, lips still curled into a smile as he hovered them above your pulse.

"Did you eat today? I told them to check in on you regularly, have they treated you well? Do you want some ice cream for dessert?"

As if the promise of ice cream was enough to repent for leaving you alone all day and at the mercy of some goons who thought they could shove you around and burn your tongue with hot soup. Even though you were glad for every minute away from this psycho, Dazai leaving you alone all day was just as much of a challenge as having him by your side.

He waited for all but five seconds for your response before you felt his hands curl inwards, nails scratching over your skin in an effort to coax a reply. And you gasped, even now, your body reacting so sensitively to all of his punishments. Dazai had left his marks plentiful and in return, made your subconscious even more afraid. As much as you wanted to fight and resist him, your broken bones had only just healed, and you've only just recovered from feeling weak and helpless—a state you didn't want to return to.

"Ice cream..." you mumbled. "That would be nice."

"Thought so," he replied, sounding happy with your choice as he gave you another squeeze before moving away.

"Dazai?" you called out as he got up again, and he immediately twisted around, the faintest hint of a spark returning to his eyes as you called his name.

"Yes, my love?" he immediately replied, sitting down by your side again and cupping your face. His gaze flitted from one of your eyes to the other, trying to read your mind and learning what you wanted, the anticipation killing him. You could imagine the thoughts that raced through his head. Thoughts that included you telling him you loved him and all those fake feelings he expected you to develop after kidnapping you. But you really only had one thing in mind.

"Can you... can you cut the rope?" you asked carefully, wiggling your arms a little to emphasize your point. "I'll be good, I promise! It hurts and I want to enjoy the ice cream... with you."

Immediately, the spark you had caught in his eyes vanished. Your lies were as transparent to him as they were to you. Dazai was too clever, too aware to fall for your empty promises, his hand falling from your face as he shook his head, chuckling lightly. He seemed to always hope that it was true, his sworn feelings transmitting to you, but he let himself get disappointed over and over.

For a few, anguished moments, he merely stared straight ahead, lost in the ghost of a memory. Then, he gave one, hearty nod and turned back to you, not looking into your eyes as he reached behind you.

"Just for today then," he mumbled, and you heard the click of a pocketknife unfurling before pressure built against your hands and then vanished completely.

You let out a deep breath of relief, your mind briefly out of commission as you let your upper body fall forward, now being the one to rest on his shoulder. Normally, you would have flinched away immediately, but your strained muscles didn't even jerk at the idea of moving away. They were much too happy with losing the tension and resting, your body immediately hurting all over.

Unexpectedly, Dazai sat still as you leaned against him. Even when you applied more pressure, he didn't move away and let you fall face-first onto the mattress of the bed. He let you rest, and it emboldened you somewhat to have the merciless mafioso serve as your counterweight.

"Today was hard..." you admitted, voice drifting off feebly. Having to follow the orders of his goons while blindfolded, having them dribble food all over you and laugh at your misery really didn't do your mental health any good. And with your arms bound in an uncomfortable position, it had been impossible to lay down or do anything, your body in constant restraint and tension. Even if you weren't working hard, every day was a fruitless struggle and it was wearing you down.

"So it was."

You thought you didn't hear right, but Dazai agreed with you, and you forced your head to turn sideways, eyeing him. He barely hesitated before looking down, giving you a small, tired smile, probably the first real emotion you had seen from him in a long time.

"You have hard days?" you asked, part sarcastic, part curious.

"Many," he admitted, smile widening to reveal his teeth, but it didn't conquer his eyes. Instead, he leaned down, kissing the top of your head. "But I don't complain. Not when I come home to you and get to turn every bad day into a good one by being with you."

Silence fell between you two as you lowered your gaze. It was enough to feel his eyes digging into you from above. Enough that you knew how obsessed he was with the idea of bettering his life by being with you, making you out to be some saint who will wash away the sins he commits. But he had to kidnap you first because he couldn't live with the idea of having to share you with anyone, tearing you down to his level until you'd finally cave and become his kind of crazy; that was the plan.

Exhausting. Utterly exhausting.

Perhaps, for him, too.

"Does ice cream still stand?" you asked into the silence, and his head leaned against yours as he let out a long, thoughtful hum.

"You already got to take the ropes off, I'm not sure if you deserve it anymore."

"And I promised to be good, isn't that reason enough?"

"Hmm, is it?"

You let out a long breath. He had too much fun playing you like this. Clearly, it wasn't exhausting enough for him. Perhaps, fortunately, you weren't dumb either, playing his game like a pro just as much. Because no matter how false it was, a little bait could still sway a heart as cold as his.

"What if I feed you?"

Instantaneously, his body tensed, and he sat upright, forcing your head to slip off his shoulder, and you already regretted it. Nevertheless, you slowly heaved yourself back into a seating position and watched as Dazai jumped to his feet, a spring in his step as he moved forward, declaring loudly, "Ice cream it is!"

"No crazy flavor, please!" you yelled after him, an unlikely normal moment passing between captor and captee. But to your surprise, Dazai turned around the table in the middle of his room, returning to your side and leaning over you, his breath tingling on your cheeks as he froze for a moment, observing you.

"No, nothing crazy," Dazai confirmed before suddenly crashing his lips down on yours, his hand jolting upwards to support you as he threatened to topple you over from the force. His breath was steaming hot as it slid over your tongue, his lips forceful and demanding, testing your promise to be good to the point of overdoing it.

But just as suddenly as he had initiated it, Dazai broke it off again, leaving you both breathless, with a darkened fire swirling in his eyes.

"Something as sweet as you. I needed this. I needed a reminder of what you taste like, but I think I can go and find something now. Thank you."

And with that, he walked off, never turning around as he left you bewildered and flustered behind to presumably get some ice cream. You knew it would taste bittersweet, especially when you had to share every other spoon with Dazai, his hand probably kneading your legs while he gave you a lovesick grin and stole bites from you despite his own bowl of ice cream melting before him.

Because when Dazai had a bad day, it usually had a sweet aftertaste.

At least for him.

[angelic-afsa]

helloo !! i was wondering if you could write something with beast dazai <3 maybe where hes readers husband or something like that ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝi feel like he would be a sweetheart with the one he loves

omg beast dazai is literally so AGGHHHHHHHH

need him.

heheheehe ^ 3 ^

sorry for being on and off u guys, luv u sm. take care of urselfs <3

Dazai was something. That was for sure. Your husband was a little crazy, but you didn't mind. He was so sweet with you.

Your husband has such a huge obsession with you. One of them is touching. You can't think of a time where his hands weren't on you. Caressing each part of your body, holding you, just skin against skin was something he favored. Its genuinely a problem since most of the time he genuinely could not function with you around. He needs to consume you whole, you think.

I mean despite him being a scary and complex figure, he masked that up pretty well..? You knew he loved his spouse- you, very dearly. You clutched his heart in your hands tightly, he simply could not resist you.

Perhaps this is why currently you are under him on the couch, his kisses softly yet slowly trace from your temple, to your forehead, your eyelid, nose and so on. You simply close your eyes basking in the moment. His semi chapped lips planting kisses wherever he could reach.

His hands trail against your body, touching anywhere, but he favored your waist. He loved any and every part of you.

Sometimes he didn't tell you things, but you knew there was something. You wouldn't bug him about it which he appreciated.

Then he nips at your neck slightly harsh and you instinctively your eyes shoot up. Glancing down at him. You keep on staring at him, telepathically communicating 'what was that for?'. He lets out a dry chuckle as if to telepathically communicate 'nothing'.

It seemed none of you wanted to break the quiet moment, nor the eye contact. So he slowly trails up, his lips finding yours. It fit perfectly, so perfect. you gently close your eyes as you reciprocate.

You didn't know for how long, but you knew it'd been a while. Kissing and smooching and combining lips, over and over again. Dazai's lip kept on finding yours as they continued their worship on yours. You then placed a hand over his heart, it was pounding. Sometimes he felt you were the only one who could make it beat, which sounded ridiculous but it was somewhat of an understatement.

"you know I can never resist you," he murmurs, but he didn't even have to. His eyes communicated with yours as a small smile graces his lips. He gently nips at your bottom lip, then traces it with his tongue. To apologize, you assume.

You get really content after a little. Really really content. You ended up falling asleep mid make out session. He didn't even really notice until after a minute. He pauses and furrows his brows. He felt offended for a second, 'am I boring you?' he thought.

But as quickly as it comes it goes. You looked so vulnerable. You trusted him if you fell asleep like this. He simply stares at you. Then plants a kiss as he dims the lights, enough to see you. Then grabs a blanket as he lays over your chest with the blanket covering you both.

After his eyes continue tracing your features as you slept peacefully, his hand gently slides up to yours. The one with the ring. The pretty one he got you, that you loved and adored. He eyes it. Bring's it up to his lips, kissing that finger. Then each knuckle and finger tip separately. This goes on for a little until sleep consumes him. You both fall asleep and wake up together later that day. You enjoyed moments like these. especially with him. Your husband and you.

[lavandulawrites]

I had a migraine earlier and that would be me at my weakest, I would willingly come with a yandere if they offered me excedrin

Pain

I hope you are doing better now anon❤️

Your head was pulsating with a horrible headache. Behind your eyes hurt so much it brought tears to your eyes. Your temples felt as if they were pressing against your veins creating an unbearable pressure. Nausea was building up in waves and you vision had become blurry.

Your surroundings was unclear and you felt as if as you were looking through your eyes from a faraway place. The light made you almost hiss out like cat and you tried your best to shield your eyes from it.

“I can help you, you know” he was looking down at your kneeling position on the sofa. “Let me take care of you. You are struggling so much. It’s unfair” his voice was so soft, your heart almost ached. “You don’t have to worry about such trivial things, you don’t have to work. I will take care of everything.”

“Everything will be okay if you come with me” he gently stroked the top of your head.

“Do you have any painkillers?”

He stilled his movements at your words. He let out an amused chuckle. “Of course.”

“Alright. I will come with you.”

- CHROLLO (HXH), Luocha, Jiaoqiu, SUNDAY, Phainon, Dr. Ratio, Aventurine (HSR), BAIZHU, Diluc, Albedo, Zhongli, AYATO, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kinich, Kazuha (Genshin), FYODOR, Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, MORI (BSD), JOHAN (Monster), Zayne, Sylus, CALEB (Love and Deepspace),

Requests (and asks) are open

[corpselovinggirl030]

Stealer of hearts | Yan!Bsd x reader series

♡♡1

Warnings

• Female reader

• stalkers

• bad grammar

• bad spelling

• Music

• lesbians kinda.

• wlw kinda

• no proof read

• swearing

• cringe

• Mori is a teacher and likes reader...

NOTE:

Y/n = your name

L/n = last name

You have a brother named Jinsu (his nickname is Jin tho)

You have a sister named Fiona

C/n = cousin name

H/c = hair colour

H/L = hair length

E/c = eye color

S/c = skin color

You have a mom named Marry

You have a dad named Loid

Gp/n = grandpa's name

Gm/n = grandma's name

F/n = friend's name

F/F = favorite food name

A/n = authors note

Ex/n = ex's name

'text' = means the character is thinking

"Text" = means the character is talking duh

So ummm yeah I hope you enjoy!

I wake up to the loud horrendous noise for my alarm, I fight the urge to pretend that i had some sort of sickness.

I sit up and my feet touching the cold floor, I look around the room and under my bed for my slippers but i cant seem to find them.

"Oh well" I say to myself. "OIIIII GET YOUR ASS OVA HERE!" I hear my brother say. I run down stairs still feeling cold, I see my brother at the table waiting, while my sister was at the stove. I look at the clock and it says it's 4:58am. School starts at 6 so I still have time to read one more chapter until I eventually have to get to the shower.

"Made food" s/n dead paned as she gives me a plate with scrambled eggs, french toast, bacon/sausages and another plate with toasted waffles with butter, maple syrup, and strawberries on it.

As I was eating look over at my brother who was microwaving a bowl of cereal, like a psycho.

[Time skip]

I run out the door as fast as I can, not caring much of the thought of passers by wondering where I'm running of to.

I suddenly felt something hit me I look up/down and see a short ginger man. "HEY WATCH-" he paused for a sec when he saw me. "So sorry!" I say as continued to run, no leprechaun in going to make me more late than I already am.

I finally made it. I rush in shoving some people but it's okay.

As I was rushing I dumped into a white haired boy with ugly bangs. "Oh hey are you ok?" The boy said. "Oh- yeah I'm fine..." I say awkwardly as I try to avoid eye contact. 'OH COME ON, THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I BUMPED INTO SOMEONE!' I screamed internally.

"Oh no problem! By the way I'm Atsushi Nakajima, just call me Atsushi." Atsushi said as he offered he's hand, "I'm Y/n L/n!" I say taking he's hand, 'He's hand is kinda sweaty.(⁠'⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠'⁠；⁠)' I think to myself.

"Hey Atsushi~" I hear a man say. I looked behind Atsushi, and saw a brunette slowly walking up to us. "Oh and who might you be?" The brunette said smirking at me, "I'm Y/n" i plainly said, "I am Osamu Dazai, you dear can call me Osamu." He said, gently grabbing my hand, while my other hand was still intertwined with atsushi's. 'I feel like I'm forgetting something hmmm' I think to myself. 'OH SHIT! I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN CLASS RN!'. "Um sorry I have to get going!" I say running of.

[Atsushi's POV:]

'oh my god she's was so pretty, I hope she didn't notice I was nervous or that my palms where sweaty, oh I hope she doesn't hate my bangs like the others...'

[Dazai's POV:]

'oh what a beautiful woman, i wish she could be mine, and then we can be together till death! Oh well there she goes, like everyone else.'

[1st person pov:]

'WAIT I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE MY CLASS IS!' i think to myself. 'Maybe I can ask Atsushi and Osamu for help!' i think to myself. I look behind me but there not there I only see a bunch of unfamiliar faces. I hang my head low feeling slightly defeated and stupid for running of without asking for detections.

"Hey there are you lost?" I hear I woman say. I turn around to see a blonde woman looking at me and behind her is a girl with long black hair.

"Yeah it's my first day... Do you know where class 2-B is?" I ask tilting my head slightly. "Oh yeah! Let me show you!" The woman cheerfully said grabbing my hand.

"By the way my name is huguchi, and this is Gin." The woman pointed at the black haired 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷 running with us. Gin gave me a small wave before going back to focusing on avoiding the other students.

[Time skip]

Walk into class and see that most of the students at already there but the teachers isn't. 'wait didn't the clock say 6:45pm when I left!?' i think to myself.

I sit down paying no mind to the people and my surroundings. 'why don't I check the time' I thought to myself pulling out my phone, 'it says... 5:55!?!?!? SO I'VE BEEN BUMPING INTO PEOPLE AND RUNNING AROUND LIKE CRAZY FOR NOTHING!?!? Ugh I'm so stupid!!!!!!!!!' i screamed internally.

"Oh- hi! There!" I hear a girl say. I turn around to see a girl with pink hair. "My name is Yuan! What's yours?" Yuan said. "Oh I'm Y/n, nice to meet you." I say. "ok class settle down." I hear a man say. ''i'm your teacher Mr. Mori, please ask me any questions you may have." He says calmly.

[After class]

I stepped out of class to get to lunch. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watch, I hoped I was being delusional and no one actually watching me during class.

The walked around the crowded hallway trying to get to the cafeteria. When someone suddenly dumped into me. I fall to the grown with the stranger now on top of me. I look up and see a familiar ginger haired man. 'IT'S THAT LEPRECHAUN FROM BEFORE, I guess that makes us even.' I think to myself.

"So- HEY IT'S YOU!" He yelled. "Umm sorry..." I shrugged. "You should be punk." He yelled. 'FUCKING KILL ME!!!' I screamed internally, praying that the ground would swallow me whole I can't stand dumping into the same person twice, 'maybe I should get my eyes checked' i thought to myself

"CHIBIIIII KUNNNNNN!" I hear a familiar man say. I look behind the leprechaun and see that Osamu guy walking towards us. "Oh~ and what are you doing here, y/n~"

To be continued...

Original source:

[animeyanderelover]

Anon asked: How would Dazai, Jouno (Bungo Stray Dogs), Gojo, Nanami and Choso be like as fathers?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, clinginess, paranoia, overprotective behavior, controlling behavior, manipulation, isolation, forced pregnancy

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

As fathers

Dazai Osamu

🤎There they are. His little twins. Chihiro with her wavy hair and chocolate brown eyes and Susumu with his looks clearly inherited from you. He has been utterly incapable of sitting still during birth, an almost overwhelming mixture of anticipation and anxiety keeping him from relaxing. So when after 18 hours of labor both babies are born without any complications, the fear he harbored finally disappears and makes space for joy and giddiness. And no, he is still not sitting still. No, now he starts swooning over you and the wrinkly infants you're holding in your arms. If you were hoping for peace and quiet after all the stress and pain, you're not getting it just yet. Instead you have him there, unable to keep his hands to himself as he keeps an asking how you're feeling and dotes on his babies. Only after the initial wave of euphoria slowly ebbs away does he manage to take a seat and act a bit more mature. At least until he starts begging that he wants to hold one of his babies too since you have been having them in your arms the entire time. He gets to hold Susumu for a few minutes and then he wants to hold Chihiro too, marveling at those tiny humans who are his.

🤎​The first few days that you are in the hospital and still recovering, Dazai seems to still be on a strange cloud of adrenaline and dopamine. It's only once you are discharged and he can take you home with the babies that it actually hits him. He's father. He's responsible for both newborns. It's strange. After all he has known this for the last 9 months already yet it feels so different now that Chihiro and Susumu are here. During the car ride home he grows rather contemplative, his eyes occasionally drifting to the rearview to see both of his children snoozing in their seats. To your relief the house is still clean when you step back inside. You feared that Dazai would go back to old habits during your stay in the hospital yet he has kept everything organised and tidy even whilst you were absent. Both of you lay the babies down in their cribs yet Dazai stays there, hovering over the wooden build and peeking down at them. It's rare for you to see him like this so you stay there too, unsure if you should leave him alone or not. It's Dazai who suggests that you should get some rest too, dismissing your silent worries. He just... needs some time to fully realise how much his life has just changed.

🤎​He visits Oda's grave a few weeks after the birth of his babies and there he reveals some things he hasn't been able to voice out himself. Ever since he has met you it has felt like he has found the one thing that has always been missing in his life and now he has his twins too. Finally he sympathises with Oda's outburst all those years ago that led to his ultimate death for Dazai now has children too. The mere thought of anyone threatening them would already be enough for him to shed his skin and reveal the beast that was so feared back in his Port Mafia days. Dazai likes to think that if his old friend would be happy for him and the life he has pieced together. Not all of it was always based on your mutual consent but finally he can tell himself that he has found his fulfillment in life and wholeheartedly believe it. He never knew just how happy a man could be by simply returning home and being met by the sight of his wife and two happy, little babies. He doesn't mind the messy diapers, the screams in the middle of the night or the mild vomiting that sullies the clothes he has been wearing in that moment. Because it's all worth it. This is the life in which he has finally found his happiness.

🤎​It takes a couple of weeks before Dazai eventually agrees to introduce the babies to his co-workers in the Agency. After all a few of them have been asking him for a while now if they could meet the babies Dazai so often gushes about. So one day he brings Chihiro, Susumu and you over to the office without any prior announcement. One can only imagine the chaos that has been going on before he steps in with two babies and the abrupt silence that smothers the room suddenly because no one wants to wake the babies up. Naomi is the first one to gush over both chubby infants, Izumi stands there silently with sparkling eyes whilst someone like Kunikida can only stare in mild shock. Dazai is a father and he has a hard time comprehending that for he is always left to deal with that man's impossible antics. When Susumu looks at Kunikida he suddenly starts crying, leaving the poor man awkwardly trying to cheer her up. Dazai on the other hand claims that his son has must have inherited trauma from him for all the times Kunkikida treated him poorly. Kunikida can only stand there with a twitching grin. The nickname "big, bad Kunkida" unfortunately sticks with him from that day on.

🤎​That tidiness that Dazai has seemed to develop during the pregnancy and after birth vanishes over the years. The children leave all sorts of toys laying around the house and he follows their example which leads to some serious scolding from your side whenever you step on something. He's incredibly playful with both of his twins. His goal in itself sounds simple. A happy and safe childhood. One has to remember that it is this supposedly simple thing that he was denied of so he lives somewhat vicariously through the experiences that he can provide his own children with. The shenanigans threaten to drive you up the wall at times as mischief seems to be an inherited trait for all of them. You cannot leave them out of your sight, especially when the four of you are outside. Both kids are at an age where they are hyperactive and they have a habit of running away as soon as they see something that awakes their curiosity. Chihiro and Susumu are obsessed with the Big Wheel at the amusement park and there was one time where you had to spend half an hour in a carriage with the three of them because both of them kept on wanting to go up again and again.

🤎​Time flies far too fast. That’s what he thinks as Chihiro and Susumu attend first grade in school. He gets sentimental during that phrase, often talks your ears off about how he still remembers when both of them were barely able to hold their heads up and now they’ll learn how to write and do maths. Whenever there is homework he constantly insists on helping even though his assistance is not really needed. He just wants to feel included somehow. It’s not uncommon for both kids to walk after school to the Detective Agency instead of back home and at one point everyone in the office starts storing food and snacks in the fridge in case Dazai’s kids decide to visit them randomly. Vengeance favors Kunikida though as he has grown to be Chihiro’s favorite person in office and Dazai has never forgiven his co-worker for stealing his daughter away from him. At least Susumu is still on his side. When both twins start developing abilities of their own around the same time, the Detective Agency plays an especially important role as they start teaching his children. Chihiro’s The Wind Up Bird and Susumu’s The Ocean's Of Wisdom. And just like that Dazai has all the reasons to be terrified.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️Jouno is out of his depth. Utterly and completely. Used to torture people for interrogation and taking life, now he has created one and is responsible for it. Hitomi is a factor he has never once thought would be part of his life. The same could be said for you though and now he has both. A reluctant wife and a child that neither of you planned yet strangely enough Jouno is unwilling to let go of both of you. Sure, he doesn't know how exactly he is supposed to act as a father for his daughter but neither do you know how to be a parent. He just loathes it when he senses the doubt that the people around him have as if they believe that he is going to be a terrible father who is going to abuse his daughter. Jouno has never believed that people would think of him as that low and it hurts the most when he knows that you share those fears. Sure, he has hurt you in the past but those were no sadistic punishments but harsh lectures for you to learn how to behave yourself better. Do you seriously think that he would treat his own daughter the same way? You have no answer for that but the silence would already be enough even if he wouldn't have such outstanding hearing.

♦️Who would have thought that his blindness would be a reason for his torment? Jouno has never felt any insecurity over his lack of vision yet Hitomi tests him in lots of ways. There aren't many people who get to see her as he exhibits a certain degree of possessive protectiveness over her. Yet those who do always have to make a comment of how cute she is or that she actually looks like him. What does that mean? He doesn't know and he never will. He will never see her hair that apparently is the same white with red tips as his or that she has your eyes. He doesn't even know what you look like. Sometimes he finds himself just standing over her crib, focusing on the sound of her little heartbeat and on her rhythmic breath with narrowed eyes. His index finger carefully tracing over her face, a tender touch even he is somewhat unfamiliar using, as he attempts to imagine what she might look like. The last thing he would do is ever admit that he is capable of such doubts that he fears would make him appear as far too weak. You have suspicions though, especially when that brief look of bitterness appears on his face whenever someone comments how cute Hitomi looks.

♦️There are aspects of parenting that Jouno doesn’t deal well with. The stinky diapers, the constant screaming and the vomiting are only some of them. Throughout his life he has dealt with blood and other disgusting bodily fluids yet having a baby who needs cleansing whenever she makes such a mess is different. After all he has only ever forced the information out of people and left the cleanup to others. Now he is the one who has to cater to such needs. It’s quite difficult and there are a lot of arguments the both of you get into. He is a Hunting Dog and not someone whose job it is to change stinky diapers and to deal with puke all over his uniform. It often ends terrible with you crying and screaming out of frustration, Hitomi crying due to the screaming and Jouno just storming out of the room. He has neither the time or the patience to deal with those piercing and shrill screams, especially with his sensitive hearing. Some part of him also recognises that in his current mood he would only fuel the argument. So he withdraws himself from the situation, vents out the frustration he is feeling before finally coming back after he has cooled off.

♦️As Hitomi is his daughter and he is a Hunting Dog, her childhood is differently shaped than those of other children. When she’s still a baby that isn’t anything he really gives much thought. It’s for her own safety and for the best. As she grows older though it becomes more apparent though even to him. She has to be always supervised and it is not that simple for her to visit amusement parks or zoos. You have to ask for allowance and aren’t even able to take her by yourself. Instead Jouno has to accompany the both of you or someone else when he doesn’t have the time. Hitomi notices that though she is too young to understand the big picture of it all so whenever she asks Jouno why someone has to constantly follow mommy and her the best answer he can give her is that it is for protection. Sometimes it pains him. She is far too young and innocent for any of this, stuck under the tight grip of the government solely because she’s his child. He’s actively praying that she won’t develop any abilities of her own for he knows that there is a likely chance that the higher-ups might coax her into joining the Hunting Dogs as well with all the gruesome training and dangerous missions.

♦️The other Hunting Dogs are essentially all aunts and uncles. A development that Jouno would have liked to avoid if it would have been possible but in that scenario he is helpless. On the other hand he knows that Hitomi often feels lonely. She has no real peers as she is primarily home-schooled and for that has no friends of her age. He has actually tried to ask if it would be possible to have her attend a normal school but he is met with tons of paperwork and reluctance. If someone were to find out of her parents and the school would be attacked, a lot of casualties would be risked after all. It is a simmering frustration he has to hold in and for the first time in his life he actually recognises how similar those arguments sound to his own justifications that he always used to give to you whenever you wanted to be let out of your isolation. It is what it is though as there is always a sense of defeatism that creeps up on him. This is just the reality since he is who he is and she is his daughter. A normal childhood was never an option. Teruko is as close as Hitomi ever gets to a playmate and surprisingly enough the Vice-Captain indulges her. She finds Hitomi stinking cute.

♦️Jouno gets better when Hitomi grows older. He looks afterwards back with some fondness on her newborn and toddler stage but there are a lot of things he isn’t going to miss. He’s not going to miss her blowing her diapers. He’s not going to miss her screams that nearly burst his eardrums a couple of times. He’s not going to miss the telltale signs of her rumbling stomach that had him rushing to the bathroom before she would throw up all over him and his clothes. In fact he started toilet training her from an early age on and the moment she actually learned it, he was genuinely proud. Emotionally speaking he’s obviously not exactly good. A child is irrational and upset over small and ridiculous things and often this gives him a headache because he has bigger problems to deal with almost every day. He is a harsh realist so it happens that he says something that quite literally crushes her dreams simply because he tells her that it’s impossible or that there will be a lot of struggles that she would have to go through to achieve it. Still, he wants her to be able to choose her own career without influence of the government so he works quite adamantly to at least give her that much freedom later on.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Now there is triple the menace in your life. You know as much when you witness the scene of Gojo holding both of his sons in his arms. Sora with his wet mop of white hair and Daichi with the same brilliant blue eyes. Both boys aren't just mini copies of Gojo after all as they indeed have some features inherited from you as well, making them just the most adorable mixture of both of their parents. That in itself has Gojo feel actually a sense of relief and joy for if they would have looked like him they would have only constantly been compared to him. No, instead their looks will remind everyone that they are your children as well. He's aware that pressure is still going to be applied as they carry his name but he has always known that he would do everything within his powers to give both of them a childhood that he could never enjoy. They won't be left to their own devices. They won't be targeted by any assassins. They won't just be mere tools. No, they will live their own lives and that without any of the pain and loneliness that he had to go through. Eventually both babies grow fussy within his own arms as they want to return to their mommy's side and he can't even be mad. He loves mommy very much too after all.

🩵​For all the mixed looks that Sora and Daichi have gotten, they and Gojo are still peas of the same pod. Even during their newborn stage that much is evident to you. You blame Gojo's genes and his influence for that as soon as both boys start mimicking him. From the bright grin that he always gives you to the fact that the first word that he actually teaches them isn't even "dada" but "mama". You are their most important person after all so he thinks that it is only fair that their first word should be just that. The clinginess is something that they too inherit from him. As soon as they learn how to use their hands, both of them are constantly grabbing onto you with their still clumsy grasp. Tiny palms patting over your face, grabbing your hair or clinging to your clothes the moment you try to lay them into their crib. To Gojo this is quite the adorable sight as he even joins and pinches your cheek. An action both boys soon mimic too. There is a phrase where both babies sleep in the same bed as Gojo and you simply because they constantly wake up in their crib otherwise. So instead of one big manchild clinging to you now there is one big manchild and two little babies clinging to you every night.

🩵​There are thousands of pictures he has within a few months all of you and the babies and eventually he buys a new phone just for pictures. You wish you were kidding but you are not. One time you get your hands on his phone and decide to delete a few of the pictures he made since they are basically identical to some others. He catches you in the act and is destroyed, claiming that each photo was different and unique. You were familiar with quite a bit of isolation when you became his lover and you expected something similar with the twins. That never comes true though as Gojo actually takes both of you outside a lot. The areas are less crowded of course as he wouldn't want to overwhelm his boys with too much stimulation but every week he puts both babies in their stroller and then he just walks with you through the streets and parks of Tokyo. He does a lot with the three of you even though neither Daichi or Sora can even crawl at this stage. The simple truth is that Gojo is scared though that due to his job as a sorcerer he might miss crucial moments so the moment he has time on his hand he uses all of it with you and his babies.

🩵​The moment that both boys have learned how to walk on their chubby legs there is indeed no denial that they are undoubtedly his. Three pairs of feet follow you around from that day on around the house wherever you go. Trouble makers, all of them. There is no sense of tidiness the moment both boys sleep in their own beds as the hundreds of toys that Satoru has bought them are scattered all across the room. To Gojo's greatest pride both boys inherit his sweet tooth and one of his fondest memories is when he introduced ice cream to them for the first time. He shall never forget the sight of both of their eyes widening when they tasted the sugary coldness for the first time and literally ripped the ice cream out of the cone, their grip surprisingly strong. From that day on it is his personal mission to introduce them to all sorts of sweets. At the very least they have inherited his metabolism. It is hard to hide your own sweets in the house though. One time both boys actually ate the sweets you had saved for yourself. Long story in short you got upset, the boys got sad and later that day they and Gojo returned with an entire basket of sweets all for you.

🩵​The Crane Game addiction is real the moment Satoru introduces both of them to the games. A lot of pocket money is blown on such machines, a luxury only afforded due to the fact that Satoru is rich. You do not see the appeal in it. Maybe because one time in the past your husband encouraged you to play a few machines as well only for you to return empty-handed whilst he carried bags of the stuff that he had won. Whether it's luck, skill or both is to this day unknown to you. Initially Daichi and Sora struggle as well but as soon as Gojo teaches them a few tricks they get better. Half of the stuff is for their own room and the other half is for you. At one point you don't even know where to put everything anymore. Unsurprisingly due to the shared sweet tooth between the three of them the boys love baking and Gojo does too. From fancy cakes to silly cupcakes with sprinkles, everything is tried at least once. It tastes delicious but you wish they would leave less of a mess every time they're finished. The stricter part of parenthood falls to you as Gojo indulges the boys in almost everything. Neither of the three can stand when you're mad at them though so they always do something silly to make you laugh.

🩵​Summer is both boys favorite season and that solely because that means that they can go to water parks and use their water guns. More than once they return completely drenched into the house and Gojo obviously participates in their shenanigans. For just wanting to be that extra annoying he always suffocates you in a hug when you look like you're about to complain, drenching your own clothes as well. Sometimes you participate too though, hunting them down with the garden hose. You always target Satoru's face on purpose. He is the smuggest father on earth when the boys attend school and receive tons of chocolates and letters every Valentine's Day. Obviously with his genes they would be every girl's dream. It is unlikely that he is going to let them attend a Jujutsu school later in life but Gojo does teach them how to use Cursed Energy so that they will be able to defend themselves against curses or other sorcerers who might come after them. He's not as idealistic as to believe that he can shield his sons from everything so it is important to him that both of them know how to fight and defend themselves and other people important to them.

Nanami Kento

💛​Nanami usually hates work but he finds himself working overtime for a certain period of time when both of you decide that you want to try for a child. When you are pregnant he tones it down and takea fewer and less dangerous missions. Once Kiyoko is born he quits his job completely. He has the money in his bank account and now he can dedicate all of his time to catering to you whilst you recover from birth as well as doting on his sweet daughter. Instead of slaying curses and receiving no gratitude from the higher-ups at all instead he now dedicates his time to change dirty diapers, soothe his daughter in the middle of the night when she starts acting cranky and stands up every morning with all the time on his hands to prepare a nice breakfast for you and himself. And Kento doesn't regret his choice at all. There's finally more to his life than standing up every morning, working and going to bed with the knowedge that he is ultimately only a little part in the greater scheme and someone that wouldn't be mourned for if he were to drop dead one day. Now he has a loving wife and the sweetest daughter and every night he can actually go to bed and feel genuinely fulfilled with his day.

💛​Once you return wo work Kento becomes a proper househusband. He cleans the house, buys the groceries and feeds Kiyoko the bottle every time she gets hungry. He takes her on walks in the stroller, buys himself some nice ice cream on the way back home and probably does some yoga as soon as he gets home before he starts preparing dinner for you. He's not splashing as much money as someone like Gojo would but the lifestyle he is able to afford is still much more luxurious compared to the average household. A couple of times you remark cheekily that it suits him whenever he walks in the morning into the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand whilst in his other arm he holds Kiyoko. The small smile he gives you is genuine without the tiredness you were familiar with when you first met him. His voice does wonders to soothe the baby whenever she is crying for no apparent reason. Usually he just needs to talk in a low and soothing tone to her and she quickly settles down and dozes off in his arms again. That's an effect that not even you have on Kiyoko and sometimes you are a bit grumpy about that. It's not like you can blame your daughter though.

💛​Nanami picks up a bit of work when both of you are expecting again and you instead stay home and look after Kiyoko. When her sisters Toru and Yuna are born, Nanami stops once again with going on missions. He's been nothing short of amazing even during his first time being a father with Kiyoko but now that he has had 3 years of experience, he excells in absolutely everything. He's only ever patient and gentle even if there is now double the amount of diapers and screams. As soon as you pick up work once more, he returns to a familiar daily life. Kiyoko has recently started attending a kindergarden so every morning he prepares her a little bento box and drops her off before he returns back home. He finishes the last bit of paperwork to finalise his purchase of the bigger car now that he needs space for three children before he takes his newborn twins on a walk outside. A lot of people are by now familiar with him and always greet him, always happy to see his face around. Occasionally when he has the time he helps around the neighbourhood. Just because he isn't officially a sorcerer anymore doesn't imply that he has stopped helping others altogether.

💛​He fixes broken machines, a skill that he somehow naturally picked up when becoming a father, and helps the elderly people with their groceries or when they struggle with modern technology. When there are curses around the neighbourhood, no matter how small they might be, Nanami always grabs his old tools and gets rid of them. He wouldn't want any of them to latch onto his daughters nor disturb the peaceful life that he has built for himself. Gojo sometimes pops up unannounced and the first time this happened Kento immediately slams the door shut right in front of him. It takes him a few moments of staring at the door and processing what he just saw before he opens it again. Kiyoko, Toru and Yuna love their self-proclaimed uncle though that is only because he bribes them with sweets and presents. Kento usually ensures that his children have a balanced diet so obviously he doesn't appreciate it when Gojo blows all of that and he has to hide all the candy that the other man has bought so that his three girls don't devour everything within one day. It is with utmost difficulty that he withstands three pairs of big, round eyes begging him for more candy.

💛​During a holiday in Malaysia Nanami and you have a happy accident because at the end of your holidays you find out that you are actually pregnant again. This wasn't planned like the previous pregnancies were but your husband is happy nonetheless. Gojo knows by now what is up when he receives a call from Nanami who asks for some quick way to earn money via some missions but normally the phone call is abruptly ended when he starts pestering whether or not he can visit soon again and be called when the child is born. With three girls already in the house and a fully integrated girl dad by now, somehow Nanami was almost expecting his fourth child to be another girl as well. Instead he is pleasantly surprised when you go into labor and hours later he holds his son in his arms. Akio's birth is much to Kiyoko's joy though because with two sisters already she has actually been hoping for a little brother during this pregnancy. You take it with much humor though, tell Nanami that at the very least he won't be the only man in the house anymore now that Akio is going to be there. Ironically enough Akio takes the most after you in terms of physical appearance.

💛​Kiyoko is by now old enough to attend school so every morning he prepares her school lunch. Recently she has been really getting into Ghibli movies so he actually attempts to theme her bento boxes around the movies and the characters. It's much appreciated from the kisses on the cheek that he receives. Recently she's been developing an interest for tennis as well so he buys her the rackets, a ball and starts practicing with her. Yuna and Toru attend kindergarden by now as well, leaving Nanami alone with Akio. Even the neighbours initially assume that his newest child is another girl when they spot him with the stroller. As a father who has raised three girls so far he must say that he notices some difference between raising a baby girl or raising a baby boy. Akio is much more attached to you as you are clearly the favorite parent between the two of you and this makes you very happy considering that Kiyoko, Toru and Yuno are all dad girls who cling to his legs almost all the time. Both of you agree though that from now on you are going to be more careful though as four children are a sweet number that both of you would like to keep.

Kamo Choso

🩸​Aiko is a baby that has been desperately wanted from Choso's side and you were forced to tag along with it. The moment she is born and starts crying, Choso is weeping. She's precious and cute and adorable and he swears that his heart is going to detonate when he carefully holds her in his arms. From the very first second that she is born, he is already fiercely protective. Being protective is just part of his nature but with her it is different. All of his brothers have already been out of any baby, toddler or child stage and he himself has never had an actual childhood. Sure, there are some memories of the host body that is now his own that he has access too but even that leaves him utterly unprepared for just how helpless his daughter actually is. The tiny thing has barely the strength to lift her own head, much less the strength to defend herself against all of the threats out there. The thought of anyone even daring to threaten his small baby has Choso often spiraling so instantly he clings to her. Far too weak, far too helpless, far too loved and precious. Despite the paranoia that he harbors to him to feels like he gets to fulfill the duties he has always been born for. Protecting those important to him.

🩸​His inexperience shows though and it is largely up to you to teach him how to do the daily tasks. He doesn't know how to change a diaper and panics, leading you to teach him how to do it as he watches with eager and wide eyes. He doesn't know how to prepare a bottle when you are unable to breastfeed Aiko so you explain to him where he can find the powder and how to prepare it. When there is neither a need for a change of diapers nor a bottle and he doesn't know why his baby cries, he just hovers over the crib with anxiously pursed lips. The separation anxiety increases. You are familiar with Choso's need to always cling to you but now there is another person he is unwilling to let go of so he insists on both of you to stay in his view. There are days where he carries the baby around with him and refuses to put her down, unwilling to let go of her as he carefully adjusts his hold on her every now and then. If you can't find Aiko in her crib, you know that Choso has her. Most of the time you find both of them in bed, baby snoozing away whilst Choso shields her with his body like some sort of mother cat. The moment he notices you he always asks for you to lay down too with him and Aiko.

🩸​He is very much selective with the people he lets close to his baby daughter. Yuji is pretty much the only one allowed to visit any time even unannounced. After all Yuji is Aiko's uncle and honestly a big help for you when Choso starts to get overbearing and overprotective. There are certain things you can only do when you have Yuji to convince Choso. One of those things is actually taking Aiko outside. Choso doesn't see the need in that for she is far too small and could get hurt or infected with pretty much anything out there. It's far easier to take your daughter outside when Yuji is there and tags along though even then Choso is hardly relaxed. No, instead he's right next to you with dark eyes darting back and forth as if expecting any moment for someone to jump out of the shadows and attack you or Aiko. That overprotective stubbornness is quite difficult during the first few weeks where Choso insists for you to rest and recover. He thinks he can take proper care of you but the truth is that there are still lots of things he is unfamiliar with and for that he needs your help. He just doesn't want to admit that to you as he is the one who should protect and help. Not the other way around.

🩸​He stops tying his hair up at one point. Aiko gets quite grabby when she is a few months old and his ponytails are just that inviting. There would be no use to tie them up any longer as she would have untied them only a few hours later anyways. He couldn't care any less though that his hair looks like a mess due to her constantly tugging at it. The sight of her with her big eyes focused on his face and her little fingers grabbing his hair is far too precious for him to even be remotely mad. That is only enhanced because she looks so very similar to you with your pretty eyes, your nose and your smile. That smile is going to be the end of him one day, filled with so much innocence he didn't even know was possible. Fatherhood hasn't taken away some of the creepiness Choso unintentionally exhibits every day. One of those most prominent traits is that he always wants to watch you when you breastfeed Aiko. The amount of times he has appeared right next to you to stare at the baby and you without a word often unnerves you a bit. Choso just finds it fascinating, the fact that you can feed the baby from your own body. A part of him finds it even desirable.

🩸​The moment she starts to get more mobile by crawling around, Choso is never far away. He stirs her away from all sharp edges, immediately snatches her when she gets remotely close to any stairs and keeps the doors to all rooms open so she doesn't bump against any closed doors. It's quite a sight though when he gets down on all fours and crawls around with her, especially when she crawls into spaces he wouldn't fit into at full height to quickly drag her out before she hurts herself. Once she starts learning how to walk it actually hits him hardly that she will eventually grow just like Yuji did. Already she is not the same person anymore when she was upon birth and that fills him with a piercing pain. Yuji is largely independent and you too were the same before Choso forced you into dependence due to his obsession. Aiko will eventually be the same, won't she? What if she thinks that one day she won't need her papa anymore? Already his mind starts spiraling as he panics at that thought. His hold on her doesn't loosen though as she clumsily tries to stand up on her own two feet. Once she manages to take her first few steps without his help, he feels that tugging pain together with warm pride.

🩸​Yuji starts teaching his niece lots of things the moment she is old enough. As embarrassing as it might be, Choso can't teach her how to ride a bike because he himself doesn't know how to ride one even though he has the memories of the process from his host. For that he also recalls all the times the body of his host fell and hurt himself in the process and that doesn't soothe his anxiety. Even when Aiko is fully equipped with a helmet and pads to protect her elbows and knees he is still very much unsure. You can see the way his fingers twitch and his body leans forward once she starts pedaling. Her balance is off the first few times and Choso is even quicker than Yuji to grab her bike and keep her from falling off even though he was further away. It's like that with a lot of things when it comes to Aiko, with him overwhelmingly anxious that she might suffer from even the smallest scratch. You dread even thinking about Choso is going to handle Aiko eventually visiting school. Kindergarden is already something he has not let her experience as he deemed her as far too young to be left supervised by someone who isn't him. He's going to have a hard time witnessing how she grows older.

[aghost-writer]

Between Pages

Ending: Y/N

This is a Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

Y/N knew she couldn’t let this happen. The past had crept back into her life, dragging with it the weight of memories she had buried for so long. Two years—two years of peace. She had carved out a life for herself, a life that belonged only to her. A life where no one knew her past, no one could touch the things she had worked so hard to forget.

But that voice, the one that had called her name in the market, had shattered the illusion of peace in an instant. The moment she heard it, her heart stopped, and her mind screamed in panic. She had tried so hard to run, to escape the shadows that had haunted her. She had thought that if she kept moving, kept hiding, the world would forget her. But she was wrong. She had been wrong all along. If one person remembered her, others might, too. If the past had found her once, it would find her again, and then what?

The weight of memory pressed down on her like an unbearable burden. She could feel it in every muscle, in every breath she took. The quiet life she had built was nothing more than a fragile construct, a delicate dream that was already slipping away. It didn’t matter that she had made peace with herself. It didn’t matter that she had found some semblance of stability. The story of her past wasn’t finished with her—no, she was finished with it.

It was time to end it once and for all.

Y/N had learned long ago that in order to survive, she had to erase every trace of herself from the world. The only way to ensure her solitude, the only way to truly be free, was to make herself disappear completely. The truth of who she was couldn’t exist in anyone’s memory. Not Ango’s. Not anyone’s. If she was going to survive, if she was going to escape the haunting ghosts of her past, she had to erase it all.

The sun was still low on the horizon when she gathered her things, slipping quietly out of her home. There was no time to waste, no room for hesitation. She moved swiftly through the streets, not looking back, her footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. The world was still asleep, oblivious to the choice she was about to make. There would be no turning back.

The path to the shrine was long, winding through dense forest, untouched by time or human interference. It was the perfect place for what she needed to do. A place where no one would find her, where no one could follow. It was a place of solitude, of peace—a place where the weight of her past could finally be burned away.

As she walked, the forest seemed to close in around her, the shadows growing deeper with every step she took. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the world holding its breath as if it knew what was about to unfold. Y/N kept her eyes fixed ahead, not daring to look at anything but the path before her. Her heart beat faster with every step, a frantic rhythm in her chest. She had to do this. She had no choice.

The shrine was nestled deep in the heart of the forest, hidden from the world by the ancient trees that surrounded it. It was a place of quiet reverence, a sacred site where the past and present seemed to meet in perfect harmony. There, resting within an old wooden box, lay a single sheet of kami—the divine paper that bound fate itself. It was the last remnant of her story, the one thing that anchored her existence in the memories of those she had left behind.

She had known about it for years, ever since she had first stumbled upon the shrine in her search for solitude. The kamiwas said to hold the power to sever the ties between the living and the dead, to erase one’s existence from the very fabric of time itself. If anyone could find it and use it, they could become a shadow in the world—nothing more than a forgotten memory.

It was the only way to escape. The only way to ensure that no one would ever remember her.

Y/N knelt before the shrine, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifted the brush. The ancient ink was still wet on the surface of the kami, the paper smooth beneath her fingertips. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but now that it was finally here, she felt a weight that threatened to crush her. Every fiber of her being wanted to run, wanted to escape the inevitable choice she was about to make. But she couldn’t. She had already made her decision.

Her hand steadied as she dipped the brush into the ink, the bristles gliding over the surface of the paper. Slowly, deliberately, she began to write.

"Y/N L/N was never known. She never existed in their hearts or minds. She was not remembered. She was free."

The words glowed softly as they appeared on the surface of the kami, the ink shifting as though it were alive. The brushstrokes seemed to carry a weight of their own, like the paper itself was pulling the words from her heart and into the world.

When the final stroke was complete, Y/N sat back on her heels, her breath steady as she gazed at the words. There was a strange sense of finality in them, a feeling that this was the end of something. She had written her own fate, carved her place in the world, and now it was time to let go.

With a deep breath, she lifted the kami and held it to the fire. The flames caught immediately, licking at the edges of the paper, consuming the words she had just written. The fire crackled, the heat rising as the paper burned, curling at the edges, turning to ash. The words faded into the air, leaving no trace behind, no remnants of the past. As the last embers died, so too did every trace of her existence.

She stood there, watching as the fire consumed everything she had been, the weight in her chest finally lifting. The forest seemed to breathe with her, the ancient trees watching in silence as the world shifted. For the first time in years, she felt free—utterly, completely free.

No one would remember her now. Not Ango. Not anyone.

And she would never be found.

Y/N turned away from the shrine, her steps light as she walked into the forest, her path now uncertain, her future unknown. She had erased herself from the world, but in doing so, she had finally become something new. Something untouchable.

She was free.

Y/N returned home with lighter steps than she had taken in years. The burden that had haunted her for so long—the heavy weight of memories and expectations—had finally lifted. The past, the shadow that clung to her every move, had been burned away with the kami. She had made her choice, and now, for the first time in what felt like forever, she could breathe freely.

Her home, once a sanctuary of quiet tension, felt different now. It was a space that belonged only to her, a place where the ghosts of her past could no longer reach her. The familiar scent of her modest abode—freshly baked bread, the faintest hint of lavender, and the comforting smell of old wood—settled into her senses. The space was warm, inviting, and, for the first time in a long while, it felt like home.

The days that followed were peaceful, almost unnervingly so. No one sought her out. There were no familiar faces turning in her direction, no questioning glances, no murmured whispers of recognition. She had disappeared from the world, and the world seemed content to leave her in peace. The streets she had once walked in constant vigilance now felt like a quiet, empty canvas. She was, as she had always wanted, invisible to the world.

The simple rhythms of daily life returned, and Y/N embraced them with quiet gratitude. Mornings by the window, watching the sun rise slowly over the town. Afternoons spent at the market, where she greeted the vendors with polite smiles, buying what she needed without lingering on small talk. The evenings were always the same—quiet, peaceful, and solitary, with nothing but the sound of crickets outside her window and the cool evening air drifting in.

There was comfort in the monotony. No more sudden interruptions, no more unexpected confrontations. She had carved out a routine that was as predictable as the passing seasons, and for a while, that was enough. It was all she had wanted—the kind of quiet life she had been yearning for, one where she could fade into the background, unnoticed, unbothered.

But, as the days passed, something strange began to stir inside her. It was subtle at first, a fleeting thought that she could almost ignore. Yet it persisted, creeping into her mind at the oddest moments. As she sat by the window in the early morning light, watching the birds flit between the branches of the trees, she would find herself thinking of things she hadn’t allowed herself to consider in years. A voice that once called her name. A touch that had lingered just a little too long. The quiet moments shared in the presence of someone who had seemed to know her, to see her in a way that no one else did.

At night, when she lay in bed with the room bathed in soft moonlight, the silence around her would sometimes become unbearable. She would close her eyes, willing herself to drift off to sleep, but then her mind would wander back to him—Ango. His face, his voice, the way he had looked at her with that quiet intensity. His presence that had filled her life in ways she hadn’t understood at the time, ways she was only now starting to acknowledge. He had been a constant in her world, whether she had wanted it or not. And now, there was nothing.

It wasn’t that she missed him. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. She didn’t want to need anyone, didn’t want to become dependent on something—or someone—that could disappear as easily as it had come into her life. Yet there was an undeniable ache in her chest when she remembered how his presence had made her feel—seen, understood, held. There had been a comfort in the way he had cared for her, a subtle reassurance that someone in this vast, chaotic world had been paying attention.

She couldn’t help but wonder, late at night, if he was still out there somewhere, still thinking of her, still waiting for her. But those thoughts were dangerous. She knew that. To indulge them would be to undo everything she had worked so hard for. It would mean letting her past creep back into her life, and she couldn’t allow that. Not again. She had chosen this life of solitude, this quiet existence without the burden of others’ expectations.

Still, the emptiness remained.

It was a hollow feeling, something she couldn’t shake, no matter how much she tried. It was like a quiet ache that settled in her bones, an ache she couldn’t name, but one that grew stronger with each passing day. She had convinced herself that this was what she wanted—that this was the only way to live, the only way to truly be free. Yet, deep down, a part of her longed for something more. For someone to fill the space she had so carefully carved out for herself. But that was a dangerous thought, one she didn’t dare entertain for long.

She reminded herself, over and over again, that this was her choice. No one had forced her into this life. She had chosen solitude, had chosen to erase herself from the world. She had made that decision with her own hands, and she would not regret it. Not now. Not ever.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the quiet continued to stretch on, she couldn’t help but feel the growing distance between herself and the world she had once been a part of. The friends she had known, the connections she had formed—they all felt like distant memories now. Faded echoes of a life she had abandoned. She was alone, and though she had once thought that solitude would be enough, it wasn’t.

There were no adventures anymore. No drama. No one to share a quiet meal with or to laugh with. No one to be there in the dark hours of the night, when the loneliness was almost too much to bear. She had become a ghost in her own life, fading away into the quiet corners of the world.

And in those moments, when the emptiness was too much to ignore, she would think back to that night. The night when Ango had stood in front of her, his dark eyes fixed on hers with that unwavering intensity. He had wanted her to need him, to let him in. And she had resisted. But now, as she lay in the quiet of her room, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. What if she had allowed herself to trust him? What if she had let him take care of her?

But those thoughts were fleeting, quickly silenced by the reality of her situation. She had chosen this. She had made her decision. And she would stick to it.

Still, the emptiness lingered. Quiet. Constant. Unspoken. It was the price she had paid for freedom.

It began with a dream.

It wasn’t a dream in the traditional sense, but more of a fleeting moment—a memory, half-formed and shrouded in mist. A laugh, bright and carefree, echoed in the recesses of her mind. The scent of pine and fresh mountain air brushed against her senses. Then, a hand—warm, familiar, and steady—gripped hers as they walked together, side by side, beneath the canopy of a distant forest.

She woke with a start, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her pulse racing. The dream was gone before she could grasp it fully, but the feeling lingered—like a trace of something she had lost, something that had once been hers. She sat in her bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, her mind trying to piece together the fragmented memory, but it slipped through her fingers, like water through a sieve.

The next day, as she passed by a small tea shop tucked between two narrow buildings, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her. The scent of warm tea and sweet pastries drifted from the shop, inviting and comforting. She stopped for a moment, staring at the wooden sign that hung above the door. It seemed familiar, the colors of the sign, the little trinkets that lined the window, the slight creak of the wooden frame as the door swung open. Had she been here before? She couldn’t remember.

A shiver ran down her spine, but she dismissed it quickly. It was nothing. Just a fleeting sensation, a trick of her mind.

But the feeling didn’t fade. In the days that followed, more dreams came—more memories that seemed to belong to someone else, someone she couldn’t quite place. In each dream, there was the same sense of warmth, the same reassuring presence, the same pull toward something—or someone—that she couldn’t reach. Each time she woke, the remnants of those dreams clung to her like cobwebs, and each time, she pushed them aside, refusing to acknowledge them.

She had chosen this life of solitude. She had erased herself from the world. No one should remember her. Not even herself.

But then, one evening, as the firelight flickered softly in her small home, casting shadows against the walls, she reached for a book on the shelf—one she had read countless times before. But when her fingers brushed against the spine and she opened the book, something stopped her.

The page she had opened to was unfamiliar. She had never read these words before, and yet, as her eyes scanned the lines, they felt painfully familiar.

"I have missed you… Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The world seemed to freeze around her as the words burned into her memory. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. How could this be? No one should remember her—not even herself.

The book slipped from her hands, falling to the floor with a quiet thud, but she didn’t hear it. Her mind was racing. Who had written this? How could it be possible?

For a long moment, she stood there in silence, the weight of the realization pressing down on her like a heavy stone. She had erased herself from the world, wiped herself from the minds of those who knew her, and she had done so willingly. It had been the only way to ensure her freedom, to escape from the life that had never truly been hers. She had wanted to be invisible, to live in peace without the constant pull of the past.

But now… Now, it felt as though the past was clawing its way back, dragging her into the memories she had tried so desperately to forget.

Her pulse quickened as panic set in. If she had erased herself from the world, how could this be happening? Why would these memories, these words, these feelings, still haunt her? Who was it who remembered her—who was it that had reached through the spell she had woven, through the barriers she had set up to protect herself?

The only answer she could find, the one that struck her with the force of a physical blow, was the one she had been avoiding all along.

She had erased herself from the world. But she had never erased herself from her own heart.

The realization was a knife, sharp and cutting, and it twisted deep within her chest. She had wanted freedom, she had craved peace, but in doing so, she had trapped herself in solitude. The world no longer remembered her, but she was still bound to the memories she had left behind, to the person she had once been. She could never escape that, could never fully sever the connection to her past, because it wasn’t just the world that she had erased from her life—it was herself.

The ache that had been slowly growing inside her now bloomed into something far more intense. It was a deep, gnawing emptiness, a hollow space inside her chest that no amount of solitude could fill. The more she tried to push it away, the more it seemed to grow, as if it had a life of its own. She was alone—not just in the world, but in herself.

With a rush of motion, she grabbed her coat and ran, not knowing where she was going, only knowing that she needed to find answers. The shrine deep in the forest—its ancient stone walls, its untouched stillness—was the only place that felt like it might hold the truth she sought. She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate; she just ran.

When she arrived, breathless and wide-eyed, she found that the ashes of the kami still lay undisturbed. The fire from the spell that had erased her from the world had long since died, but it hadn’t been disturbed. The kami, the divine paper that had once held the truth of her erasure, had been consumed completely, its magic woven into the fabric of her existence. It had worked.

Or so she thought.

It had worked. It had erased her from the world. But it hadn’t erased her from herself.

She sank to her knees in front of the shrine, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind reeling with the crushing weight of the truth. She had wanted freedom. She had wanted peace. But she had been too hasty, too eager to escape. And now, she was truly alone—not just in the world, but within her own soul.

The silence around her was deafening. She had sought to disappear, to leave everything behind, but in doing so, she had trapped herself in a cage of her own making.

And now, there was no way out.

No one would remember her. Not even herself. Except for the part of her that still longed for something more, for someone to fill the void she had created. But that too, was lost.

She was truly alone now.

For days, Y/N wandered, her feet moving without purpose. The familiar landscape had long since blurred into a monotony of unremarkable streets and endless horizons. She had spent so long running—believing that leaving it all behind would be the key to freedom. The memories of the past, the people, the story she had never truly belonged to—they would fade, she had convinced herself. It was the only way to be free.

But in the stillness of her isolation, in the silence of her self-imposed exile, Y/N realized that running had only severed the ties that had once anchored her to the world. She had removed herself from the fabric of her own existence, and in doing so, she had abandoned the very things that made her real.

It was as if the world had moved on without her, erasing her presence as easily as she had erased herself. For the first time, she felt the full weight of her choices. The emptiness that had been a quiet companion was now an unbearable presence, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

And then, one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, something stirred within her. A flicker of recognition. A shape in the distance that she couldn’t quite make out. At first, it was nothing—just the fleeting shadows of people going about their lives, moving through the crowds, their faces blurring together like a dream fading into oblivion.

But then, it happened again. A glimpse—just a flash of a silhouette, a familiar tilt of the head, a momentary flicker of recognition in someone’s eyes before their gaze shifted away, uninterested, as if she were nothing more than a passing stranger.

The pain hit her like a physical blow. It was sharp, raw, and utterly unexpected. She had anticipated the ache of loneliness, the hollow absence of being forgotten, but this—the knowledge that she had truly become invisible to those who once knew her—was something far worse. She had chosen this. She had wanted it. And yet, now that it was real, the truth was crushing.

To them, she was nothing. She was a ghost in her own life.

She wanted to cry out, to scream for someone to see her, to reach for her, to remember her. But she knew it was futile. They had forgotten. She had erased herself, and the world had followed suit. The faces in the crowd passed by her as if she were a mere shadow, a figment of their imagination. And no matter how desperately she wished it to be different, no matter how much she longed for some trace of connection, the reality was undeniable. She had vanished from their lives.

Y/N stood still in the middle of the bustling street, watching the world move on around her. The bustling noise of life seemed distant, almost alien. Her heart ached with an emptiness that she had never truly understood until now. The thing she had thought would bring her peace—freedom from the weight of the past, freedom from the expectations of others—had instead hollowed her out.

She had wanted to be forgotten, to disappear from the world, to leave behind the life that had never truly been hers. But in doing so, she had also erased herself from the memories of those she had cared for—those who had once loved her, fought beside her, and shared her joy and sorrow. Now, in the cold distance between herself and the world, she realized the truth: she didn’t want to be forgotten. She didn’t want to be a phantom drifting through the world, unseen and unheard.

With a sudden, almost desperate movement, she turned away from the crowd, walking quickly toward the river that ran through the heart of the town. The cool evening air wrapped around her, a quiet contrast to the chaos that swirled inside her chest. The water reflected the shimmering glow of the moon, its pale light casting ripples that danced in the current.

Standing on the bank, she closed her eyes and let the silence of the night settle over her. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting. For the first time in two years, she allowed herself to feel something. Hope. The quiet flicker of it—the thought that perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps, just as she had written herself away, she could write herself back.

The idea bloomed in her mind like a fragile flower, a promise whispered on the wind. She had erased herself from the world, but she could choose to return. She could choose to reclaim her place, to rebuild the connections she had broken. But this time, it wouldn’t be the same. She wouldn’t run.

Y/N’s heart beat faster as the realization settled in. She had spent so long running away, so long convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone. But now, she understood. The things she had feared—the attachments, the people, the story—were not chains to bind her. They were what made her whole. What made her human.

She wasn’t a ghost, drifting aimlessly through the world. She was Y/N L/N, and she had a place in this world, a place she could still find if she was brave enough to look for it.

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked at the river again. The moon was still there, a steady presence in the sky, its light undisturbed by the ripples on the water’s surface. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N smiled. It wasn’t a wide, joyful smile, but a small, quiet one—a smile full of possibility.

It was time to stop running.

Turning away from the river, Y/N began walking toward the future. She didn’t know what lay ahead, what challenges or joys awaited her, but she knew one thing: she would face them. She would face them with the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. Not truly. Not as long as she remembered who she was.

This time, she wouldn’t run.

This time, she would return.

And perhaps, just perhaps, she would find her place again in a world that had almost forgotten her.

[heliosunny]

badly craving for some Fyodor fics & your writing is good asf 😩 I would like to humbly request an arranged marriage au with Fyodor where the reader has a big fat crush on him but he finds their affection disgusting. After the wedding, they try to woo him and get him to fall for them but to no avail. Until one day he gets sooo sick of it and essentially yells at the reader to stop which causes them to lose all hope and start to secretly hate him because he's actually cruel. On the other hand, Fyodor notice how the reader is not the same affectionate spouse anymore and gets uncomfortable. He realizes how he has become fond of their tenderness of him. Basically, (yander-ish) Fyodor tries to win their love back after noticing how they're falling out of love with him.

(feel free to ignore this request, hope you have a wonderful day <33)

Bittersweet

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

The morning after your wedding should have been a dream. Instead, it was a cold, unfeeling reality.

You woke up early, your heart fluttering at the sight of your husband still asleep beside you. Fyodor Dostoevsky looked almost peaceful in his slumber, his dark lashes resting against pale skin, his lips slightly parted. You wanted to reach out, to brush a strand of his hair away from his face, but you refrained. He had barely tolerated your presence the day before; you doubted he would welcome your touch now.

Still, you couldn’t help but admire him, your heart aching with the depth of your affection. So, as the sun cast its first golden rays through the curtains, you slipped out of bed and set about preparing for the day. You instructed the servants to make his favorite tea (or at least what you had learned was his favorite), and you carefully arranged a breakfast tray, making sure everything was just right. You wanted this to be a good start.

When Fyodor finally emerged from the bedroom, his loose white shirt hanging carelessly off his frame, his eyes flicked toward you—and immediately away.

"Good morning, Fedya" you greeted with a hopeful smile, setting the tray down on the table. "I had breakfast prepared for you. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, but I made sure to—"

"Unnecessary" he interrupted flatly, walking past you without so much as a glance at your efforts.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you. We are married now, after all."

Fyodor turned to you then, "Yes, we are." He stepped closer, and for a brief, foolish moment, your heart leaped in anticipation. But then he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he murmured, "Try not to make a nuisance of yourself, dear spouse."

And with that, he pulled away, seating himself at the table without touching a single thing you had prepared.

Your chest tightened, but you swallowed the disappointment down, forcing yourself to remain composed. It was only the first morning. There would be other chances.

The rest of the morning was much the same.

You tried. You truly did.

After breakfast, you attempted to engage Fyodor in conversation, asking about his work, his interests—anything that might spark even the smallest hint of warmth. Each attempt was met with silence or vague, uninterested responses. His gaze barely lingered on you, his words clipped and dismissive.

By midday, you were accompanying him through the estate’s grand halls, trying to match his slow, measured steps. He had business to attend to, you knew that, but you had hoped he might spare you a moment—just a fleeting second of genuine attention.

Instead, he stopped in his tracks, exhaling a sigh of barely concealed irritation.

“Do you intend to follow me all day?”

“I only wished to spend time with you. We’re married now, aren’t we?”

Fyodor let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Ah. A dutiful spouse. How sweet.” He tilted his head, a mockery of affection glinting in his dark eyes. “You think that if you play the devoted partner, I will fall at your feet? That I will somehow return the affection you so desperately throw at me?”

Your heart sank. “That’s not—”

His presence, his words, his very existence—it was all razor-sharp, meant to cut you down.

“I find your affections revolting.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, and somehow, that made it worse. “A pitiful display of misplaced devotion. I agreed to this arrangement, but do not mistake compliance for desire.”

It was a knife to the chest.

He didn’t wait for a response. With a final, disinterested glance, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, leaving you standing there, hollow and trembling.

That night, you didn’t wait for him to return to bed. You didn’t linger by the door, hoping he would speak to you.

For the first time, doubt began to seep into the cracks of your foolish, hopeful heart.

Maybe love wasn’t something you could earn.

For a month, you tried.

You woke before him each morning, ensuring his tea was prepared exactly the way he liked it. He never drank it. You arranged quiet dinners, hoping to share a meal with him, but he rarely showed. On the rare nights he did, he barely acknowledged your presence.

You tried to touch him—just a brush of your fingers against his sleeve, a hesitant hand on his shoulder—but he recoiled each time, his eyes flashing with something between disgust and boredom.

Yet, you persisted.

Because you loved him.

Because you had convinced yourself that if you just showed him enough warmth, enough care, enough devotion, he would soften. That the walls around his heart would crack, even just a little, and he would see you.

But they never did.

And then, one evening, it all crumbled.

It had been a long day. Fyodor had returned home later than usual, his coat damp from the rain. Still, you greeted him at the door, reaching out instinctively to take his coat.

“Welcome home, Fedya” you murmured, offering him a small smile. “You must be tired.”

“And?”

“And… I thought perhaps we could spend some time together?”

“You never stop, do you?” he said, “This pitiful game of yours.”

“Game?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” He continued “A desperate, clumsy attempt to win my love. Do you think I don’t see it? Every lingering gaze, every pathetic offering of affection.”

Your hands trembled at your sides, but you forced yourself to stand your ground. “I just wanted us to be happy”

“You are a fool” he murmured, “Stop embarrassing yourself.”

It was then that something inside you shattered.

Something in your chest grew cold.

That night, for the first time, you did not wait for him to come to bed. You did not look for him in the halls or seek his company at breakfast. You no longer lingered in his presence, no longer tried to win a single scrap of his affection.

----

For the first time since the wedding, Fyodor felt… unburdened.

The mornings were quiet. He no longer had to brush off your eager greetings or ignore the tea you so carefully prepared. The nights were peaceful. You no longer waited for him, no longer tried to share hushed conversations as he undressed for bed.

Yes. This was better.

A week passed. Then another.

He still saw you, of course. You lived under the same roof. You still crossed paths in the grand halls of the estate, still shared the same dining table on occasion. But you no longer sought him out.

You were distant but polite, reserved but not cold. You still addressed him as "Fyodor" still fulfilled your duties as his spouse, but there was no warmth behind your words.

He had gotten what he wanted.

One evening, as he returned to the estate, he realized you no longer greeted him at the door. You used to wait for him, no matter how late, a soft smile on your lips. Now, you were nowhere to be seen.

The first time, he dismissed it. The second time, he noticed. The third time, he lingered in the entryway for a second too long, waiting for something—someone—that never came.

Then, it was the meals.

You used to insist on eating together, always trying to engage him in conversation. He had found it annoying, an intrusion into his silence. But now, you simply took your meals at a different time.

It was convenient, really. He no longer had to deal with your chatter.

And yet, when he sat alone at the grand dining table, his food untouched, he found himself staring at the empty seat across from him.

It was quiet.

He told himself he should be pleased. That this was what he had wanted all along.

But if that were true… why did he keep noticing your absence?

Fyodor didn’t have an answer.

And for the first time, the uncertainty unsettled him.

It happened over dinner.

For the first time in weeks, you and Fyodor sat at the same table. Not because you sought his company, but because it was simply convenient. A mere circumstance, nothing more.

You ate in silence, your gaze lowered, your movements graceful but detached. You did not speak unless necessary. You did not try to meet his eyes.

And Fyodor hated it. He hadn’t intended to say anything. He wasn’t sure why he cared. But as he watched you calmly cut your food, as if he were just another person sharing the space instead of your husband, the words left his lips before he could stop them.

“You no longer prepare meals for me.”

You didn’t pause, didn’t even flinch at his sudden remark. You simply finished chewing, set your fork down, and responded with quiet indifference.

“You never ate them.”

He hadn’t expected that response.

“You used to try regardless” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “You no longer do.”

This time, you did pause, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words.

Then, you shrugged.

“I suppose I grew tired of wasting my efforts.”

“You’re different.”

“I learned my place.”

For some reason, that did not sit well with him.

For some reason, he found himself watching you more closely as you returned to your meal, eating in the same quiet, unshaken manner.

For some reason, he didn’t like this calm, distant version of you.

You set your utensils down with deliberate care, wiping your mouth with a napkin before speaking.

"You don’t have to worry, Fyodor." You met his gaze, but there was no desperation, no lingering hope in your eyes anymore. Just something steady. "I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"That my presence is of little consequence to you." You leaned back slightly, your posture relaxed, as if you had long made peace with this truth. "You have your work, your plans—things far more important than indulging a foolish spouse’s affections."

His grip on the glass tightened, but he said nothing.

"You can focus on those things" you continued, "I won’t get in the way. I won’t bother you with unnecessary affections or expectations anymore." You glanced down at your plate before pushing it aside. "I’ll be here. Silently."

This should have been a victory.

This was what he had wanted—what he had forced you into. You were finally the ideal spouse. Quiet, undemanding. A presence that did not intrude upon his world.

Yet, as you sat there, distant but composed, something gnawed at him, something he couldn’t place.

It was unsettling.

He no longer understood you.

And he didn’t like that at all.

Days passed, and it only grew worse.

He found himself noticing the spaces you had left behind.

The library, where you once sat curled up in the corner, reading quietly as he worked, was empty now. The garden, where you used to walk, humming softly to yourself, now held only the sound of the wind. Even at night, the room felt colder.

---

It was at a gathering—one he had little interest in attending, but one that required his presence nonetheless. You had accompanied him, as expected, standing by his side as poised and composed as ever. But unlike before, there was no subtle shift toward him, no gentle touches, no warmth in your eyes when you addressed him.

You spoke with others, smiled at their words, laughed at their stories. Not in a way that was inappropriate, not in a way that brought disgrace to him, but in a way that made something in his chest coil unbearably tight.

Because it was a smile he had not seen in weeks.

Because it was warmth you had stopped giving him.

You were fine.

You were content in this new distance, unaffected by the void that had begun to gnaw at him.

It unsettled him.

More than that, it infuriated him.

He had expected bitterness. He had expected resentment. Those, he could have understood—controlled. But instead, you had done something far worse.

You had let him go.

You had truly accepted the reality he had forced upon you, had adjusted, had thrived without the need for his affection.

He was the only one suffering now.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

----

Fyodor had never asked for your assistance before.

Not when he was drowning in paperwork, not when his workload was unbearable, never. He was a man who preferred solitude, who functioned best in his own world without distractions.

Yet, tonight, he had called for you.

And so, you sat beside him in his study, your presence unobtrusive, your role simple—double-checking documents, ensuring nothing was overlooked. It was quiet work, but for the first time in weeks, conversation flowed easily between you.

You spoke of your days, of the things that occupied your time now that you no longer wasted it on him.

New books you had taken an interest in. The musicians who played in the town square. People you had met—acquaintances, staff, fleeting faces in the estate.

And him.

"The garden’s been lovely lately" you mused, absently flipping through a page. "All thanks to Mikhail."

His pen halted mid-stroke. Mikhail?

"The new gardener" you continued, unaware of the shift in the air. "He’s been doing wonderful work. The roses have never looked better."

"You seem fond of him."

"I suppose I am. He’s good at what he does. Very passionate about it." A small chuckle. "He talks about flowers the way some poets talk about love."

"And you enjoy such conversations?"

You only shrugged. "It’s interesting to listen to. He has a way of making the simplest things sound beautiful."

How… irritating.

A man who spoke of flowers as if they were poetry.

A man whose name had no business being spoken so fondly from your lips.

A man who had stolen your attention that had once belonged to Fyodor alone.

His gaze dropped back to his papers, but the words blurred, his thoughts elsewhere.

You had moved on.

You had let go.

And now, for the first time, Fyodor realized—

He did not want you to.

Mikhail disappeared without a trace.

One day, he was there—trimming the hedges, tending to the roses, greeting you with his easy smile. And the next, he was simply gone.

At first, you assumed he had left for personal reasons. Perhaps he had fallen ill, or maybe he had found a better opportunity elsewhere. But no one seemed to know.

The other staff whispered about it. His belongings were left untouched in the small quarters he had been provided. There was no resignation letter, no farewell, nothing.

It was as if he had simply vanished.

You tried not to think too much about it. People left all the time, didn’t they? There was no reason to assume the worst.

And yet, a strange unease settled in your chest.

Still, life moved on. The estate remained, the garden still needed tending. And when no one stepped in to fill the role, you did what you could.

At first, it was manageable. Watering the plants, plucking weeds—simple things. But soon, it became overwhelming.

Some flowers began to wither.

The roses that Mikhail had so carefully cultivated lost their vibrancy. The once-thriving vines grew untamed, the flower beds dulled, lifeless.

You needed a new gardener.

You had to hire one.

You mentioned it one evening, seated once again in Fyodor’s study as you absently flipped through a household ledger.

“I need to find someone new for the garden” you mused. “It’s been difficult keeping up with it alone.”

Fyodor barely glanced up from his work. “Is that so?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Some of the flowers have already started wilting. It’s a shame. The estate looks so much livelier when it’s well-maintained.”

A quiet hum from him. Nothing more.

“It’s strange, though. How Mikhail just disappeared like that.”

This time, his quill paused—just for a second.

“I suppose some people are simply unreliable” he murmured, dipping the quill into ink.

An odd feeling stirred in the back of your mind.

It was silly, wasn’t it? The thought that Fyodor—

No.

You shook it off. Ridiculous.

There was no reason to think he had anything to do with it.

Yet, as the days passed, as the flowers continued to wither, as the space Mikhail had once occupied remained empty, you couldn’t quite shake the thought.

And worse—though you did not yet realize it—Fyodor knew you couldn’t.

And he was waiting.

Waiting for you to understand.

That no matter how far you tried to move from him—

He would never let you go.

It started with the flowers.

No matter what you did, they wouldn’t bloom.

Some parts of the garden thrived as they always had, but a particular patch—right where Mikhail had once worked the most—remained barren. The soil was wrong, dense and damp in ways it shouldn’t have been.

One day, curiosity got the better of you.

You knelt down, gloved fingers sinking into the earth as you began to dig.

A few inches deep, the soil darkened. The smell turned foul, pungent.

Your fingers grazed something.

Something not stone. Not wood. Something soft.

You swallowed, heart pounding, and dug further—until a shape began to take form beneath your hands.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A hand.

Pale, lifeless, limp. The fingers were stiff, the nails caked with dried blood.

You jerked away, scrambling back, your vision blurring with disbelief, with horror. And as you sat there, trembling, staring at the thing that should not have been there, your mind whispered the truth before you could stop it—

Mikhail.

You should have screamed. But before the panic could fully seize you, before you could even process the implication of what you had just unearthed—

The bells in town rang. Loud. Urgent.

And the news spread like wildfire.

Another body. Another victim.

The serial killer had struck again.

Suddenly, all thoughts of Mikhail’s shallow grave were drowned beneath something bigger, something that seized the town in terror.

The killer had been targeting people in the area. And now, they had claimed yet another life.

The estate became a sanctuary, a place of safety. Servants whispered in fear, locking their doors at night, avoiding the streets unless absolutely necessary.

And Fyodor—Fyodor had never looked calmer.

One evening, as the news spread and the fear settled into every home, he turned to you, “You should stay close to me.”

“What?”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest of his chair. “It’s dangerous out there.”

You hesitated. Of course it was. That much was obvious.

You nodded.

And Fyodor smiled.

Because you had no idea, did you?

No idea that the real monster was sitting right in front of you.

And now, you had walked right into his arms.

At first, Fyodor simply remained close—never overbearing, never forceful, just there.

You didn’t even question it.

After all, it made sense, didn’t it? The town was in fear, a murderer lurking in the shadows, and you lived in a secluded estate. Of course, you would stay near him. Of course, you wouldn’t wander too far.

And Fyodor?

He played his role perfectly.

One evening, as you read by candlelight, a cold breeze drifted through the room. Without a word, Fyodor draped a shawl over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your skin just briefly before pulling away.

When you thanked him, he only gave a quiet hum, as if it was nothing.

Then, the meals.

He had never cared about your routines before, had never paid attention to whether you ate or not. But now, he would casually remind you.

“You’ve hardly touched your plate” he’d murmur during dinner, tilting his head slightly. “You should eat more.”

And when you did, he looked pleased.

Then, conversation.

You had spoken freely before, of course—but now, Fyodor engaged.

He listened intently when you spoke of your interests, made thoughtful remarks, even encouraged you to continue.

And perhaps it was just because you were lonely, because the house felt emptier, because the world outside was dangerous—

But you found yourself enjoying his company.

He simply filled the spaces that had once been empty.

And soon, without realizing it, you began to trust him again.

You laughed a little more around him. You lingered in his presence longer. You sought his thoughts on things you never would have before.

And Fyodor?

He watched.

He waited.

Because it was working.

You didn’t even realize, did you?

That he had pulled you back in.

That, piece by piece, you were becoming his again.

It was gradual—so gradual that you didn’t even notice.

Little by little, you returned to how you once were.

At first, it was just habit. You had always been warm, always been affectionate. And now that Fyodor was allowing it, even reciprocating in his own quiet way, it felt natural to fall back into those patterns.

You started making tea for him again.

Not because you expected anything, but because it felt right. Because he drank it now, without a word of complaint.

You sought his company more.

Not in the desperate, longing way you once had, but comfortably. You’d sit in his study, flipping through a book while he worked, just as you used to.

And most importantly—

You trusted him.

You felt safe with him.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with unseen horrors, and Fyodor was steady. Reliable. A pillar of protection in the growing storm.

Of course, you didn’t realize that it was he who had created the storm in the first place.

And Fyodor?

He knew better than to be careless.

Yes, you had come back to him—had settled back into his grasp—but he wasn’t a fool.

Affection was fickle. Trust was fragile.

And he had no intention of letting you slip away again.

So, he tightened his hold.

"You should stay in today" he murmured one morning, glancing toward the window. "I have a bad feeling about the town."

You hesitated—but he was rarely wrong, was he?

So you listened.

Then, it was the staff.

Servants who used to chat with you now avoided meeting your gaze, as if afraid of something unseen. People you once trusted left without a word.

Slowly, the house became his entirely.

And then, it was you.

One evening, as you prepared to retire to bed, Fyodor’s voice stopped you at the doorway.

"Come here."

You turned, confused, but something in his tone left no room for argument.

So you stepped closer, and he reached out, his cold fingers brushing over your wrist.

"You forgot your necklace" he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

You blinked. "I… I don’t remember taking it off."

He only smiled. "Perhaps you shouldn’t take it off at all."

You didn’t notice the way his fingers lingered against your skin.

Didn’t notice how pleased he looked when you nodded, murmuring, "Alright."

You didn’t see it—

The slow, delicate strings that bound you to him.

By the time you realized, it would be too late.

Because now, he had you.

And he would never, ever let you go.

[animeyanderetalker]

Hey! I read your post on your main account about yandere gojo wanting a baby and this thought came to my mind, what about yanderes with a darling who wants lots of kids? I'm interested about what yanderes would be into that (mainly from jujutsu kaisen, bungou stray dogs and Kuroshitsuji). If this sounds too much like a request feel free to delete this! Thanks!

Since you specifically said lots of children I actually had to think for a bit longer because whilst I have lots of characters in mind who would at one point in mind definitely impregnate their darling, all those characters have a limit since they wouldn’t want to share their darling too much.

Black Butler:

Dagger

Baby fever hits him hard at one point even though you would expect someone with his past to be more cautious about the aspect of raising a child so if his darling matches that energy it would only further solidify his delusions that you two are meant to be.

Ash Landers

He has permanent issues due to his own crippling insecurities but he wouldn’t deny his darling a wish as pure as this one. Truth be told, he has been fantasising about it a few times but has never dared to voice it out of fears to not be worthy enough until you reveal that you want children too.

Bungou Stray Dogs:

F. Scott Fitzgerald

If it comes to sheer resources alone he would be able to afford a little army of children and since you clearly wish to have lots of them with him, he would never deny you anything.

John Steinbeck

He strikes me as a rather simple lad who would love to have a bunch of sweet children to raise and cherish with you together.

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Geto Suguru

Only in a scenario where his darling is a sorcerer too in which case I actually believe that he would genuinely have a baby fever which is a complete flip from how I described him in the Pregnancy Hc’s on my main blog with a non-sorcerer darling and it really shows how discriminating he really is.

Kamo Choso

He’s a family man, you can literally not argue with that. Having loved ones to protect is his purpose as the oldest one but he turns that behavior up to 11 the moment he starts having his own family with you.

[n0cturnalcm]

Found you ❣️

Yandere Nikolai??

[stuffeddeer]

Nobody's hiring these days | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

"Honestly at this point I'd take a rejection. I'm begging for a rejection," you groan.

Dazai chuckles, hand moving up to push yours away, the phone that was covering his view of your face toppling to the side. "You wanna be rejected?"

You huff. Of course not. Glancing down, all your irritation melts away as you see your boyfriend's pretty face gazing up at you from your lap. He'd perched up here not long ago, having just gotten home from the agency and quickly raced over to sit beside you on the couch. Which, of course, quickly became lying on the couch and pleading with you to lie down alongside him.

"I just," you sigh, "it's weird to get no responses. I've started applying to part time work as well, places that are seeking help "desperately," and no one will email me back. Is my resume that shitty?" The last question comes out despondently, causing Dazai to frown. He never wants to see you sad.

"Your resume is perfect. It's all about you, after all," he grins.

Not responding to his lip service, your hand that had been holding your phone (and checking your email) just moments ago now runs through his hair. It's serene, being able to just enjoy a moment of peace and quiet with your boyfriend.

The two of you had such hectic jobs before you'd gotten fired from yours, meaning you usually spent time at home preparing for tomorrow. Being able to sit with him, fingers carding through his hair as he purrs like a cat... it's a dream come true.

Dazai's eyes flutter shut. Basking in the warmth of the setting sun's shine through the living room window onto him and your soothing fingers just oozes all the stress of today out of his system. This is all Dazai wanted for today - to spend time with his favorite person. Or maybe one of two, since Kunikida covered his lunch today.

The way things are now... Dazai would hate for them to change. "You could stop applying," he carefully speaks. It's sudden, breaking through the silence and serenity, but quiet and soft as well. "Just stay home. I can pamper you."

Stay home..? "No, that doesn't make sense. I should be out there in the world, making bread and grinding or whatever people say these days— "

"I can help with the grinding— "

"And when I head back out into the work force, they'll wonder why there's such a huge gap in my resume. I need to find work now." You don't even dignify Dazai's interruption with a response.

I mean, yeah, you're right - if you want to be technical with it... The job market is only getting harder to breach everyday and the longer you wait to get back out there, the harder it'll be. But Dazai didn't work his ass off to get you fired from one place just for you to crawl back to another.

"But what if you just didn't go back to work?" Dazai broaches. "Ever, I mean. I can take care of us, be the breadwinner. You used to be so stressed... it's nice seeing you make time for the things you've forgotten." 

Sitting up, Dazai maneuvers himself to face you on the couch, resting his knees into the cushions and placing his hands on top of them. "And I like coming home to see you, looking all cute and relaxed, smiling and waiting just for me. It was so sad when I'd come home to nothingness because you were working late."

The brunette is laying it on thick, for sure. But you've never expressed interest in being his cute stay-at-home partner, always emphasizing your want for "financial independence" or whatever. Dazai does look so cute, eyes wide and glistening, lips pouty. "Please consider it. I much prefer this for you," his calloused hands grasp at yours, sincerity in his expression.

Clicking your tongue in faux annoyance, you tug your hand from his. "Fine, for now. Just because no one has been responding to my applications."

Crumbling easily is one reaction to have. Dazai would rather you have remained steadfast, because he knows exactly what to say in response to skew this in his favor. Your quick agreement as you stood to vanish into the kitchen means that this is far from over. In a few days, you'll be back to sending out applications - and Dazai will have to be ready to continue blocking them.

Ugh, how tedious. But it's worth it to keep you at his side.

[suiana]

(Any yandere x gn reader)

He knew what he was doing when he told you no. He knew what he was doing when he forbid you to meet your friends. He knew what he was doing when he locked you in his house. He knew it was wrong. He knew. He knew he shouldn't do it. He always knew.

But oh... Why did it feel so good to have you all to himself? Why did it feel good to lock you in his house, him providing everything for you? Why did it feel absolutely amazing when you finally gave in and loved him back?

It shouldn't have felt so good. It really shouldn't, not when it was so wrong.

But it doesn't matter anymore. After all, he really only did it because he loved you. And he still does! He adores every aspect of you! Plus you love him back! So he supposes it's not so bad. I mean, you love him back, don't you? He only did it for you. So you understand, right?

Of course you do! You're his after all. All his. And you know better than to break his heart.

[yandere-sins]

Hi! Can we get a short story of Dazai being a Pleasure Dom, giving his bound and gagged darling multiple orgasms?

Anything this guy does is pleasureably terrifying isn't it? Thanks for requesting ♥

Warning for fem!darling

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Ah--! No...! No more!"

"It's only been like, what? Four times? Come on, you can take one more, darling."

"No--" you mewled, the sound getting stuck in your throat as you felt Dazai's fingers pushing back into your soaked cunt, forcing you to draw in your breath sharply. Everything between your legs felt raw and exhausted, pleading with you to give it a rest. But you couldn't since you weren't the one in control. "Not again! Please, not again!"

Your pleading did nothing to persuade Dazai to stop. Torturously slow, he slipped his middle finger inside, all the way up this knuckle, twisting and churning the juices inside you. After so many orgasms, it was hard to say where your insides started, and the mess ended, but he didn't seem to mind.

The last thing you wanted was to let your captor get you off again and again. Twisting in your restraints, your efforts and strength did nothing to budge the enforced handcuffs Dazai had produced that morning, taking advantage of your sleepiness to force your hands above your head so he'd have free range of your body. He'd been so nonchalant about it as well, slapping his thighs as he announced he'd send you to heaven before slathering his hands in lotion and going to town on you.

You couldn't even remember the order of assaults you endured. Hands, fingers, tongue. A little round vibrator that still made your pussy quiver from within, and then he started right up from the beginning. The massive bulge in his pants was undeniable, his cock twitching and straining to be released. Almost as if your pleasure gave back to Dazai as much as he was giving you. But you were thankful that he hadn't thought about using his cock to fill you up. Who knew if, after all of this deprivation, he could still control himself. But the threat remained.

"I really can't! I can't, no more!" you pleaded frantically, but instead of accepting your refusal, you jerked as Dazai's pointer finger snug inside. His hand clasped over your entrance, palm rubbing up and down your sex, wet and slimy from all the work he had done. His thumb was dangerously close to your clit. The poor thing was beyond disturbed, swollen, and abused. Every touch more would cause as much pain as it would pleasure, and you were ready for neither.

Your brain simply couldn't take it anymore. As if being abducted and held captive wasn't enough, this freak just kept coming up with new ways to torture you. If it wasn't drugs, it was forcing you to play house with him, and his newest idea of bliss: keeping you happy by fucking you out of your mind.

"I got to give you what you deserve, babe. Aren't you going to let me make you come again? Won't you be my good girl?"

"Hngh--! I'm not-- I'm not your good girl!"

"You sure are, can't you hear how wet you are for me?"

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as Dazai redirected your attention towards the sounds between your legs. All the squelching and popping as he fucked his fingers into your cunt was nauseating. He even slowed down deliberately, letting you hear every admission of wetness as he gradually pushed his fingers in, curling them upwards and spreading your pussy wide open. His doings were bad enough, but witnessing them with all your senses made it so much more despicable.

You just wanted him to stop, although you feared your hips started moving very hesitantly into his provocations, trying to feel more.

Groaning loudly, your head fell back as he applied pressure to your clit, rolling it beneath the tip of his thumb so the intensity would shift like a wave over it. As expected, every zap of pleasure was underlined by the burning pain of a tortured nerve. Yet, it elevated the stimulation even more. Dazai grinned at the torment written on your face, your writhing body only spurring him on more, which caused you to cry out louder in return. There was nothing you could be accused of to deserve this fate. You didn't even remember meeting your captor before he kidnapped you!

And yet, here you were, forcing your eyes to watch your own torture, hoping it would make a difference. It was easy to tune out, but you doubted you could take your mind off while you were hit by countless explosions of sensations every few seconds. Thus, you had to see. Had to witness the cocky grin playing on his lips, the lewd, obsessive darkness swirling in his eyes as Dazai watched you. And you also had to see him fisting your underwear in his free hand, bringing it up to his mouth and nose to take a whiff, dick twitching in his pants as he momentarily stopped his assault.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he sighed as you stared in horror. You didn't, and you didn't want to. However, it might have helped if you two had better understood each other. Regardless, looking into the mind of a psycho would not help your sanity, that much you were sure.

"Will you just stop, you freak!" you yelled at Dazai, drawing in one of your legs, ready to kick him into his stomach. However, faster than you could attack, Dazai had your foot in his hand, your wet panties smothered between his palm and your sole. His grip around the soft tissue of your foot was painfully tight while the fingers lodged in your cunt curled uncomfortably deep. You grit your teeth as best as possible, but eventually, you were forced to yield, releasing the strength from your leg and allowing him to put it down at his side again.

Immediately, Dazai unfurled his fingers inside you again, scissoring them apart for a little to ease the tension before resuming the fucking. You hated how powerless you were, pain threatening to overtake you almost every time you tried to fight. It was the same reason you couldn't resist him for the last four orgasms—he had ways to get his will, and you could only take so much before you'd go insane. You hated him! Hated, hated, hated him!

And yet you moaned and wound yourself like a bitch in heat.

"I don't appreciate you trying to kick me when I'm doing something so nice for you, sweetheart. Guess that means no more talking for you, pity," Dazai mused gloatingly, faking his regret as you arched your back against the attack on your pussy. It only caused more pressure to your clit, beautiful, delicious pressure with his fingers stirring up your inside and the vibrator making you want to scream.

"Wha--?" you managed to say before a soft fabric was slammed between your teeth, Dazai pressing it in deeper and deeper as you tried to spit it out. You struggled in your holds and fought against the gag, but Dazai kept his hand on top of your lips, nails scratching your skin when you tried to shake it off. Now, one hand clasped over your mouth and one on top of your pussy, he held complete control of your body.

Pushing his weight down on you, you were pinned to the mattress as Dazai picked up the speed. You screamed into the gag, the sounds barely as loud as the slobby cacophony from between your legs. Fluids were flying everywhere as Dazai pounded your pussy mercilessly, tears filling your eyes as the overstimulation reached its peak, vibrator, and finger working together in a cruel display of dominance until they finally achieved their goal.

Helplessly, you were pushed over the edge, the crash into overstimulated madness even longer and even more painful than the last four had been. Sound couldn't reach you, the world coming to a complete halt as if time came to a standstill and meaning left your body before everything bounced back, the pain and pleasure, everything at once and like a myriad of slaps all over your body. You were sure you were crying out into the silence of the apartment, but you couldn't hear yourself. Knew your heart was beating like crazy but you didn't even feel it.

Time simply passed, but it didn't register in your head.

When you finally began to see, hear, and feel again, your pussy was free from all the disturbances. Somewhere the little vibrator buzzed on the ground, possibly ejected with your orgasm, and Dazai sat by your head, his cock freed from its prison as he vigorously stroked it.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled, over and over, compliments raining down on you.

"You did so well! You were absolutely stunning! You are the best, I knew you wouldn't disappoint me! I love you so much! So, so much!"

And with a groan and no other warning, Dazai leaned forward, ripping the underwear he had used as a gag from your mouth before stuffing his cock between your lips. Your eyes widened, but it was already too late countless spurts of bitter, disgusting cum filled your mouth and throat. Your hands moved to grab his hips and push Dazai off you, but you were bitterly reminded of the handcuffs as you couldn't move, and his cock simply slid further and further down your throat.

Dazai's hips jerked with every spurt, he, himself, holding on to the wall behind the bed for his dear life as he mewled and groaned, his joy and your gulping the only sounds you could hear with your head straddled by his thighs. He had slipped into the position almost naturally. As if this had been a choreography you two had done countless times while you barely had enough air to stay conscious.

Finally, after what felt like agonizing minutes, Dazai looked down at you, finding your eyes between his legs, and grinned. A wide, boyish grin that made your blood freeze. For him, this was all a great experience and not the same torture you had endured.

"You did so well," he praised you. "Let me get you sorted, darling. I'll make sure to reward you well for today."

Lifting his hips, it felt like he was popping the plug from a bathtub, his cock moving out while the cum flushed down your throat. Once you were freed, you immediately began to cough, moving your head and getting slapped by the dripping cock hanging just above you, cum smearing everywhere. Dazai merely laughed, finally producing the key to the handcuffs and freeing you.

With your arms barely strong enough to hold themselves up on their own, you pushed him aside, crawling out from under him and away—as far as possible, preferably. But he followed—of course he did—while you coughed out your lungs, fluids getting everywhere.

Catching your face, Dazai helped wipe off the cum from your eyelids so you could see again, your glare not going unnoticed, but his mood was too good to ruin. Instead, he cupped your cheeks, wiping some leftovers from your lips and forcing his thumb between them and your teeth until he had you lick up the spill forcefully.

"I know it was a lot, baby," he muttered compassionately. "But you really did so well, what do you think? One more orgasm next time?"

"Fuck you!" you spat back, following it up with a mixture of spit and cum that landed directly on his cheek.

With a disappointed sigh, Dazai used one hand to swipe it off, licking it from his fingers without even a moment of hesitation. "That's too bad," he commented before his grin widened menacingly.

"Guess we are back to punishing you if you don't like taking your rewards like a good girl."