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sunnypopoki · 7 months ago

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━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.1

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘎𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯… 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤��𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

P.2 / P.3

When you first saw him, you were left breathless.

That was years ago though, back when you were a teenager in high school who was only worried about the acne on your forehead and the 'F' you got in your math class. Now, you were preparing to head into college to become a psychiatrist.

You met Kieran as a freshman and started dating him months after. You weren't sure why you started dating him at first, you couldn't remember what he said that left your cheeks on fire, but the feeling next stopped.

Kieran grumbled curses under his breath as he heaved the last of the groceries through the door. His long black hair was messier than normal, tied into a low bun that curled strands around the nape of his neck. His tanned cheeks were red from the cold outside and a button on his shirt was popped open. Did he tousle a bear to get inside? He put the items on the counter and turned to face you.

"The groceries didn't want to come inside," he mumbled.

"You didn't give me a chance to help you carry them in."

His dark green eyes softened. He didn't look at anyone else the same way he did you. There was a time after you got married that you were afraid that he'd leave you because the two of you were yet to be intimate... but he didn't seem to care. You were glad he didn't care. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead.

There it was again. Breathless.

"But you've been working all day, Котик," he cooed, his Russian accent thick whenever he muttered the pet name he always used for you. "You deserve to rest."

All you wanted to do was melt into his arms. You couldn't deny that some part of you already was, sinking further into his embrace, eyes closed—but something was amiss.

Ever since high school, Kieran has been odd. He was a transfer student from London but he was born and raised in Russia, so he was always the popular kid in any class he was placed in. Even after he got in trouble multiple times for delinquent behavior. Sure, his behavior was better than what he was in high school and he was mature, but he was a lot more secretive now. So secretive that he refused to tell you where he went whenever he disappeared for "business trips" for days on end.

Now, you were a trusting wife, but you weren't naive. He worked as an editor for authors and yet he disappeared for days on end because of work? Even a baby could realize that was odd!

That wasn't the only thing though.

You've only been married to Kieran for six months but you were already starting to see signs that he wasn't entirely focused on the marriage anymore. Whenever his phone rang, he scrambled to pick it up before you had a chance to answer it for him. On the days you scheduled to go on dates together, he always arrived late with his clothes tousled about and his hair was undone. Late, late, late! He always seemed to be late for every activity the two of you scheduled together. Of course, he'd apologize over and over again, but the behavior never changed.

So maybe he did look at someone else the same way he did you. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Is he cheating on me?

It was a thought you never thought you'd have with Kieran. Whenever the two of you were dating in high school, he was loyal to a fault. You couldn't erase the memory of whenever a girl started smack-talking you and he yanked her hard so hard that a chunk of hair came from the roots. Even now, looking at him and being held by him, the thought felt distant. But it was there. That gnawing worry got worse and worse each time he got a call, text message, or left the house.

Well, who'd he be cheating on you with? He refused to have female friends in school because he always claimed that you were the only "woman" he wanted in his life. Of course, you didn't care if he had female friends or not, but you doubted it was someone the two of you knew from high school.

Your jaw clenched. Maybe he's bothered I haven't been intimate with him and he's been going to see someone?

The bitter taste worsened. Making out and slight touches wasn't the same as sex, you knew that, which is why you were so nervous to do it, even if it was with him. He never rushed you and he hadn't ever made comments about it. You listened to the thudding of his heart against his chest and pursed your lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask him if he was cheating on you. What if he said yes? What if he wasn't and left you because he thought you were a psycho? What if he lied and continued to cheat? Your hands scrunched up the fabric of his shirt as you hugged him tighter. You didn't want your first love to cause you heartbreak by something as revolting as cheating.

A cold hand pressed against your cheek. Kieran tilted your head back and his eyes flickered across your face. His brow creased in worry.

"Are you okay?"

No, not really. I'm worried you might be cheating on me.

But you couldn't say that.

"Yeah! I'm fine," you beamed and pulled him closer to you. "I just missed you, that's all. It was your day off but you've been out doing errands since this morning. You first went to the pharmacy to get our medicine, then the bank, then to get groceries... aren't you tired?"

He didn't look convinced. Then again, he'd known you since you were fourteen years old, so he knew how to read you like a book. His green eyes darkened momentarily and his teeth nipped at his bottom lip. His fingers traced lines above your cheekbone, jaw, and the shell of your ear.

"I'm sorry. I should have spent more time with you today."

"No, Kieran, what are you even saying? Errands need to be run so I'm appreciative that you did them," your hands fiddled at the button that came undone on his shirt. "That can't stop me from missing you though. I just feel as if you've been..."

His fingers stopped. "What?"

You regretted saying anything at all. You should have just said you missed him after a long day and went on with it, dragged him to the couch, and asked him to watch a movie with you. Your hands pulled away from his shirt and you saw the way his body tensed up like a spring. It wasn't too late to change the conversation. Maybe lie to him and say it was just a joke, that you weren't really worried. No, no, that'd be an asshole thing to do to your spouse, to make them worry you for nothing.

"(Y/N)?"

He never says your name unless he's serious or mad. Your eyes dragged back up to meet his and his jaw was clenched. He didn't look mad, he looked worried. Almost like you just punched him in the gut and he was doing his best to stay upright.

Why did he look like that? Based on all your rushing thoughts, worried about the possibility of him cheating on you, you were the one who was struggling.

"...I just feel as if you have been distant lately," you confessed with a tight smile, "but it's okay. I know you've been busy with work and I've been busy with getting ready for my upcoming lectures next week. I'm probably just being clingy again."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you were supposed to feel hurt that he said nothing or relieved, but you knew that he didn't buy a single thing you just said by the way he was looking at you. He wasn't moving from the position he had on you; hand on your cheek, tense jaw, stiff muscles, darkened gaze. He breathed slowly out through his nose and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.

You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes whenever he closed his mouth. Guilt.

Why does he feel guilty? you thought, dread creeping up your spine. Am I right? Is he cheating on me?

You blinked in surprise whenever he pulled you into him again. His nose nuzzled into your neck and you almost suffocated with how tight his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed little kisses against your neck and he breathed in deeply. For a split second, you almost forgot what you were so nervous about, you almost let the worry of him cheating on you slip from your mind.

"Котик, I'm sorry you've felt so lonely. I'll be able to spend more time with you soon. It's just... work, it gets in the way of so much. But I swear, I'll be able to hang out with you tomorrow without doing anything. I promise, okay?" he let go and cupped your cheeks, "me and you can do whatever you want to do for tonight. A date? I'll do it. Go to bed early? As long as you're in my arms. Anything."

Lies were best told with a sweet tongue. You weren't even sure if he meant well by telling you that, not whenever this wasn't the first time he'd promised something like this. In the end, he always got a call which caused him to leave the house for a couple hours (or sometimes a couple of days). You were used to it by now, so you only forced a smile and nodded. His face lit up.

"We can go ahead and watch a movie now if you want?"

You blinked. Now? He usually put things off whenever it came down to sitting down and watching something. You refrained from glancing at the clock. You wanted to spend time with him but you were already fearful of how much time you could before he was called away or got distracted with something. You couldn't remember the last time you sat down and watched something with him. Though, you supposed it was better than him not being there.

"And what movie do you want to watch?"

He grinned. "I believe I said whatever you want. Maybe we can watch a horror movie? So I can..." he twirled you around and hugged you from behind, "wrap my arms around you like this and protect you from evil. Hm?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "That sounds just like an excuse to hold me."

"I'm your husband, I don't need an excuse for something like that," he kissed your cheek. "truthfully, I adore it whenever you depend on me. That includes each time there's a jumpscare and you almost shit your pants each time."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don't get that scared."

"You cried when we watched The Haunting of Hill House together."

"Okay, there's a difference between a demon that you can't fight and some serial killer breaking into your house! I'd rather take the serial killer. Plus, that was years ago when it first came out and it was a sad show."

You didn't miss the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Maybe the term 'odd' wasn't the best way to describe him with the way he has been acting recently. After the two of you graduated high school, he started to get touchy about certain topics about crime. He always had a fascination with crime back when he was a teenager in high school, but the topic suddenly became grim for him whenever he got older.

You weren't sure why. Honestly, you've never asked. The topic wasn't something you'd be able to bring up with ease, especially when he tried to change the topic each time someone wanted to talk about true crime or the news with him. You remembered that he was worried when he found out you were going to school to become a therapist... worried that you'd get stuck with a patient who did bad things.

You didn't even want to get into how paranoid he was about the police. That was a different topic entirely.

"I find something real to be much more terrifying than a fictional ghost," he murmured.

"But demons could be real!"

There was a long pause. You felt his muscles churn around you, squeezing you tighter, refusing to let you go and he mumbled seriously. "Promise me that if anyone broke into our house and you had to pick between going with them or a demon, you'd go with the demon."

"What are you on about?" you deadpanned, "I thought were talking about movies, and Kieran, I doubt a scenario like that would ever happen."

"Promise me, (Y/N). Demon or not, you won't go with anyone who breaks into our house."

Your eyes narrowed. "Keiran, I don't have to promise you something that is common sense. I obviously won't be going with anyone who breaks into our house. You act like you think someone will."

He huffed and let go. The warmth of his embrace leaving left goosebumps all over your body. You didn't get a chance to say anything before he flashed a blinding smile, chuckling.

"I was just making sure. You've always been a daredevil, so I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't try and challenge anyone who barged into our house. I doubt anyone would break in anyway."

It was only natural that you didn't believe him. There were a lot of stories where people said that their partners changed after marriage, sometimes for the better or the worse, and you weren't sure if Kieran's change was good or bad. His paranoid nature only made it hard to believe that he wasn't cheating on you. He was clingy before he married you, but he was overly clingy and sweet now. Which was odd because he was often out of the house or on phone calls...

It was just, well, odd.

"Oh... okay then. Do you need help putting up the groceries before we watch a movie?"

"No need, Котик. You can prepare the movie for us to watch. Choose anything you want."

There was a game you played. Each time you noticed Kieran avoid looking you in the eye, you took three gulps of breath. It was mostly a game you played to calm yourself down from the rush of anxiety you felt each time he did. It left you wondering if you did something wrong, if you made him pissed and he didn't want to look at you anymore. Your lips curled into a frown.

He could just be watching a movie so I wouldn't complain about missing him.

You nodded silently and turned on your heel. It would be best to ignore that entire conversation happened. Worrying over his suspicious and paranoid behavior wouldn't change the fact that he was acting that way. You glanced at him one more time as he placed the milk into the fridge. Yeah. Don't worry about it. Just don't worry.

The living room was down the hallway to the left. The floorboards squealed at the weight and you sighed whenever you walked to the couch, picking up the remote and turning it on. The two of you didn't have a lot of streaming services so almost everything you watched was on Netflix. Your fingers tapped around and you absentmindedly scrolled through the list of movies.

You were tempted to throw on a movie that you already watched. However, it was supposed to be time spent together and you knew he'd get bored if you clicked something that he had already watched. You clicked a random scary movie. The name was confusing and it looked like a found-footage aesthetic, something about the catacombs under Paris and the philosopher's stone.

"I'm sure he hasn't watched this..."

"Watched what?"

You jumped whenever he clamped a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around on the sofa, Kieran was leaning over the back with a sly smirk on his face.

"Already scared?" he chuckled, "I have a gut feeling you're going to be clinging to me throughout this entire movie."

You pursed your lips. He already got all the groceries done that fast? You knew that he didn't like to waste time but he was insanely fast doing that. He massaged your shoulders whenever he noticed the frown you had, his smile growing wider by the second. He jumped over the back of the couch effortlessly and plopped down right beside you.

"Why are you frowning, my sweet Котик?"

"You got done way too fast with putting the groceries away" you squinted. "It's not normal."

He inhaled. There was a rasp in the back of his throat whenever he leaned forward, his breath tickling your skin. The air was knocked from your lungs whenever his gaze flickered to your lips and back up to yours. "Would you believe me if I told you that I have been craving to be close to you? Especially to kiss you..."

Heat crept up the back of your neck. All the worries you had melted away whenever he pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He wasn't avoiding your eyes, now he was staring so intently that you were afraid that you were going to become a puddle of goo in his arms. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

"Mm, can I kiss you?"

"...do you have to ask?"

He chuckled breathlessly, "Yes. It's polite."

"But you're my husband."

"Yes, I am."

His lips smashed against yours. Anything you wanted to say was thrown out the window whenever his hands gripped your waist and yanked your body against his. His hand brushed up your spine, up your neck, brushing over your hair and going to cup your face. His lips were cold and his nose was too, breath smelling like the mint gum he always seemed to chew. The hint of his cologne tickled your nose.

Your hands ran up his arms and you tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was still a ruffled mess from when he came in from outside. His hair was a knotted mess that needed to be brushed out, but that didn't stop your hands from tangling in the strands and tugging at them. A groan tore through his lips.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he whispered against your lips. "I don't want to stop kissing you now. Mmm, do we have to watch the movie? I want to give you more kisses."

You almost agreed. "...But the movie is already waiting to be played."

He licked his teeth and his hands ran up and down your back. He swallowed and you noticed the dip of his adam's apple, his eyes staring at your lips again. "Of course, we should watch the movie, but..."

"But what?"

"Can I kiss you even more after the movie?"

The fire in your cheeks felt like your skin was melting off. There were times when it felt like you were in high school again, getting all flustered because of his needy nature. Ever since you have known him he has always been the type to enjoy kisses. Even something as chaste as a peck on the forehead, he was a sucker for it. Whenever the two of you first started dating, he'd get so red each time you kissed his cheek, stammering over nothing and quickly kissing your cheek back and scurrying away.

Now look at him. He was pulling you in, begging for more, kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen. He even kissed you like that on your wedding day. His entire family was whooping and cheering after that, and your few family members who attended frowned. You remembered being embarrassed at the time... but you were glad that something like that didn't change.

"Very well. You can kiss me all you want after the movie. Don't try and sneak some in while we are watching, because then you won't focus on the movie at all," you mumbled.

"You're flustered so easily, Котик," he grinned. He leaned into the couch and placed his arm around the back, fiddling with your sleeve as he rested his cheek against your head. "But fineeee. I guess I'll obey your orders for now."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It only took you a couple of seconds for you to get comfortable and curl into his side, shuffling to find the remote as he tugged a blanket over you both. You never got an answer on if he watched it before or not but by the way his eyes were glued to the screen whenever you clicked play, you assumed not.

Time became a blur. Now and again he'd comment on the movie or just something toward you, but his arm never moved from its spot behind you. He curled his legs up on the couch and mumbled complaints under his breath whenever he saw the characters do something stupid.

You started to forget your anxieties. Even just for a short while, it was nice to relax with him and to feel him close without having to worry about him leaving to go on some 'business trip'. You were focusing on him too much to even care about the movie. The way his lips formed a thin line whenever he was annoyed, his rapid blinking each time something shocking happened, bouncing his leg up and down.

It was impossible to not love him.

He noticed you staring. His cheeks turned a little pink. "What?"

"Nothing."

His ego would explode if you told him you were staring at him just because he was fun to watch. Hearing his endless teasing wasn't something you were in the mood to hear, so you just feigned looking back at the movie to watch it. His eyes burned into the side of your head for a second long before he looked back to the screen.

You glanced back at him. He was sucked into the TV again. He chewed on the edge of his knuckle and you let your eyes wander. You stared at the tattoos that peeked out from under his collar and sleeve. All those colorful tattoos were hidden away. He had some of them before you met him, which you always found surprising that he had tattoos at such a young age, but he just said "It ran in the family".

It was addicting to trace your fingers over them. Kieran liked laying around shirtless whenever it was summer. You always used to visit his old apartment to sit with him and let him read his books while you doodled on his arms and called them 'new tattoos' while you colored in his blank tattoos. Butterflies fluttered whenever you remembered the way he smiled at you each time you drew on him.

He had so many tattoos that you weren't sure how many he had. Some were in Russian, but a lot of them were creatures from folklore and mythology. Like Baba Yaga, who came from Slavic Folklore, which was tattooed on his right hip. You always used to doodle accessories onto her face.

"Котик, are you going to continue staring at me or are you going to watch the movie?"

You quickly avoided his gaze and looked at the TV. "I am watching the movie."

"Surreee."

Everything was fine for a while. A while, you said, because it didn't take long for all that built-up hope and affection to come back down from its high. Soon enough you'd be feeling the withdrawal. You were in the middle of watching the characters climb through a tunnel of bones whenever a phone started to ring loudly. It bounced off the walls and jarred Kieran out of his trance.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Your smile fell. Kieran cursed.

The arm slung around your shoulder tensed, his hand curling into a fist that turned his knuckles white. His jaw flexed, and the phone rang for a couple more seconds before he moved from the couch and grabbed his phone from the cushion.

It was bad luck. You were convinced that you were cursed with bad luck. A sour taste bubbled in your chest and coated your tongue. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you shut the TV off completely as that swell of expectation came back. The remote was tossed to the side and the blanket slipped to the floor.

You caught a glimpse of the phone screen before he answered it. UNKNOWN. Of course, it was another random number that he didn't have saved to his contacts. You clutched the blanket in your lap and a lump formed in your throat. Seriously? Why were you going to cry? You knew that he wouldn't be focused on you forever. It also wasn't like you knew he was cheating on you, you had no proof, it was just a suspicion. But that didn't stop the familiar sting of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You knew it was a lie whenever he promised to spend the rest of the day with you, you weren't sure why you let your hopes get up. But it still hurt.

He pressed the device to his ear and snapped.

"What?"

Just who was it that made him sound like that? You've never heard him sound so hateful, so nasty, to just some random caller on the phone. That meant he knew who was calling him even when the number popped up. The random person he didn't have saved in his phone. Someone he possibly didn't want to be linked to.

Thousands of questions tumbled through your mind. Kieran wasn't interested in men, so if he was cheating, it wasn't a man... unless he was interested in men and hasn't told you? He has a lot of male friends. No, no, having friends of any gender doesn't just mean that you'll sleep with them or have a second life with them behind your partner. So if it was a woman... where would he have met her? Maybe it was a client and he was editing her book?

He did read a lot of articles. There was always the possibility that it was a writer of those, right? Wait—

I'm not being a good wife right now, you thought. Your nails picked at your cuticles. I'm just assuming things without any proof. Am I being like one of those psychotic, obsessive wives? Is there something wrong with me? What if I'm the issue?

Your bottom lip wobbled. You clamped your teeth on it to keep Kieran from noticing.

He started to pace and ramble around the room in Russian. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone, mostly to himself in frustration, as his hand was placed on his hip and he cursed under his breath. There were many times in your life when you wished you knew Russian; when you first met him, to impress him, to have conversations with him, to learn his culture and language... now you were more concerned if he was frustrated about a girl or not.

The only Russian word you knew that he actively said around you was 'Котик', a Russian term of endearment meant for a lover which meant "kitten" or "kitty". You didn't need to jump leaps to guess what it meant even if it was a somewhat cheesy term to use (at least in your opinion), but you never argued, since he has called you it since the two of you were teenagers.

"I thought I told you to—"

Kieran cut himself off quickly whenever he realized you were still in the room with him. He dragged the phone away from his ear and his eyes snapped to you, his face falling into despair whenever he noticed the TV was off and you were staring up at him. Another broken promise. Another lie. Another phone call he just had to pick up, that he couldn't ignore for one night. Just how many more broken promises were you going to take before you finally asked him why he couldn't keep them?

Damn it. You really wanted to cry.

Even if it wasn't him cheating on you, even if it was work, some part of you wished that he included you in it as well. You were aware that you weren't supposed to be in every single part of his life. The two of you were supposed to be comfortable in the relationship, not joined at the hip breathing down each other's necks.

You just didn't get it. It wasn't like 'work' was going to straight up kill him if he didn't answer the phone for one night!

Kieran didn't know what to do. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you with so many open emotions on his face that you couldn't read all of them. But he knew what he had done. He picked up the phone and that alone was enough to break a promise, even if he hadn't left the house. Yet. You knew how it worked—he always left the house after late phone calls like this. You were slowly starting to get used to the feeling of falling asleep without him there. And some mornings, he wasn't in bed either, only a note left on the counter with breakfast he made.

His shoulders sank. "Котик, I... uhm, I need to take this phone call real quick so I'm going to step into the other room, okay? I'll be right back though and me and you can finish the movie—"

Liar.

"Uhm... I think I'm just going to go to bed. I'm starting to feel tired anyway. Uh, make sure to lock the door behind you whenever you go out."

He always did. You weren't sure why you were reminding him.

Deep down, some part of you wanted him to feel guilty. It was that small whisper of hope that if he felt guilty then maybe he'd start changing things for the better, to start telling you why he was so secretive, and to start sleeping in your bed again. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Sure, some nights he did fall asleep in your bed. But some nights weren't most nights, and most nights weren't every night.

I miss a man who's right in front of me.

His entire expression crumpled. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, watching as you got up and threw the blanket the two of you were sharing back on the couch. Oh how badly he looked like he wanted to say something. And how badly you felt about yourself whenever you saw his expression, because seeing him feel guilty didn't bring satisfaction, it only made your heart hurt more.

"(Y/N), I—"

"It's okay," you flashed a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

If he'd be there tomorrow morning.

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you turned on your heel and scurried to the bedroom. The house which you picked with him seven months ago now felt cold and lonely compared to the warm idea you had when you first saw it. Tears sprung forth whenever you closed the door behind you, choking into your elbow as you did your best to muffle the small sobs that let your lips. You couldn't hear him anymore or the muffled rambling over the phone.

The room was dark. The floorboards were ice cold and you didn't bother to brush your teeth, wash your face, or change into pajamas before you crawled under the covers and hid.

Emotions were a complicated thing. You hated how they felt and how it was so hard to understand them. All you wanted was for Kieran to come to you and have a conversation about what was going on, but now you were dreading that he would because you didn't want him to see that you were crying. He always got so panicked whenever you cried. Always brushing away your tears, cooing sweet things in your ear, kissing your face and neck anywhere he could.

Which made you wish he did see you cry.

See? Emotions were complicated.

You don't know how long you laid in bed. You only heard the whir and popping of heat rushing through the vents, warming up the room until you were toasty under the thick blankets. There were times when you swore you heard a shout from the other room, muffled and something you couldn't understand, but then it was gone. Possibly a figment of your imagination, maybe it was Kieran shouting over the phone.

Your day started with a good start. Then everything deescalated in a whirlwind of emotions that you didn't know how to control. All the suspicions you had about Kieran were becoming worse and worse.

If he is cheating on me, you thought. What would I do?

The idea of divorcing him left your heart aching. Ever since you started dating him, you've never wanted to leave him, but cheating would mean you'd have to. While you loved him, you didn't love him enough to stay if he was living some second life with another woman. You gnawed on the edge of your thumb and curled your legs up to your chest.

If you divorced him, you'd have to find somewhere cheap to stay where you could still go to college and not sleep in the streets. No way your parents would let you stay with them until you got back onto your feet, they didn't like you marrying Kieran in the first place because of his delinquent behavior in school and the fact he wasn't going to college. They'd probably tell you 'I told you so' and let you rot.

The part-time job you had now wasn't enough to live in a decent apartment. The two of you lived on the outskirts of the city, you wouldn't be able to afford a good apartment in the city closest to campus so you would have to settle in one of the apartment complexes near the beat-down part of the city, where a lot of reports of trafficking and crime were made.

A shiver shot down your spine. While the apartments there weren't the cleanest or nicest, the issue of rampant crime was the most concerning. You'd have to buy a taser or pepper spray, something like that. Or learn martial arts? You'd have to find a teacher that wasn't expensive.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Guilt crashed into you like a barreling stampede of horses. Tears blurred your vision as you nuzzled into the pillow and whimpered, muttering soft apologies under your breath. You hated how your mind worked. One thought and you'd take it and run, not giving the chance for hope and optimism to spark. You had to remind yourself for the umpteenth time that you didn't have any proof that Kieran was cheating.

You were the bad one for treating him like he was whenever you didn't know. At least, that was what you believed. Other wives acted better than you. They trusted their partners, but here you were, already daydreaming about your life if Kieran was cheating on you. Just a was.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts.

The door creaked open and light poured into the dark. You stayed still under the blankets, face hidden away in the pillows to keep the sight of your tear-streaked face away from him. The floorboards creaked a little bit the bed shifted whenever you felt him sit down and lean across. His familiar touch grazed your cheek and traced the contours of your face. He sighed.

"Котик, are you awake?"

You didn't respond. Not this time.

He tugged the blankets down and there was another sigh. His fingers trailed farther downward and rubbed circles on your back and patterns that only he understood. He mumbled under his breath to himself. "She didn't change into something comfortable... not even the belt."

It took everything in your power to not move whenever his fingers fiddled with the metal clasp of your belt and he slipped them from the loops. He put the belt on the other side of the bed and the mattress shifted whenever he got closed, strands of his hair tickling your cheek whenever he leaned over. He pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"Ah fuck," he grumbled.

What is that supposed to mean?

Then there were more kisses; jaw, cheek, forehead, lips. He attacked you in kisses and every now and again he'd sigh and stop to trail his hands across your head or over your back. You could tell he refreshed his cologne. It was subtle but it was there, tickling your nose each time he moved to kiss another part of your face.

"Котик, if you're awake, I'll be back tomorrow evening and we can watch all the movies you want. I'm sorry I'm heading out again, but some people at work are being really stupid right now," he whispered against your ear. He kissed it tenderly. "I'll buy you your favorite ice cream on the way back home too. I know you'll be happy with that..."

There was a long pause. He didn't move.

"I love you."

Maybe he waited for you to respond, to say 'I love you' back, but you didn't. It wasn't that you didn't love him... god, the one reason why everything hurt so much was that you did, but you didn't dare to confess that you were pretending to sleep just to avoid talking to him. You didn't want Kieran to hear your voice cracking from crying. Especially since now, you knew he was leaving the house again.

You didn't believe him when he said it was work and you felt guilty that you didn't. He was an editor, he worked from home or his rented-out office, and it wasn't like he had people who worked underneath him.

"Котик, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered.

He didn't say anything else except for a lingering kiss on your temple before he got off the bed. The weight of his body leaving felt more familiar than him being there. Kieran blew a breath and muttered something in Russian before he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and you were left in the dark alone once more.

The emotions you felt earlier surged back up to the surface. Your nails bit into your palms and tears trickled down your cheeks and dropped onto the pillow. All you wanted was for him to get in bed with you, hold you, fall asleep, and still be there whenever you woke up the next morning.

So instead of facing them and bawling, you swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes. Sleeping it off was better than facing it. Soon enough, you'd find out what he was hiding and what this "work" meant. Your small cries were muffled as you did your best to fall asleep before you got too heavy into your thoughts and cried even harder.

Luckily for you, sadness was exhausting, and you crashed before the clock hit midnight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N ;

So you might have noticed the reader isn’t a Mary Sue or know it all. I tried to make her realistic, someone who’s insecure in her relationship, etc. So I hope that came across well. If you don’t like her, remember she’s human, she can change and develop in the story. She isn’t going to be perfect.

But anyway, did you enjoy this first chapter? You can also find it on my Wattpad and Quotev, which is listed on the top of my account. My discord server is also listed there! Remember to comment and heart if you enjoyed it.

[ Read P.2 ]

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ozzgin · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader

I've been plagued by this idea for a while, so let me know what you think! This is just the character introduction. Your new landlord is a Yakuza boss, and his scary looking underling has been tasked to deal with your tenant needs! Although he didn't expect you to be this cute. And you didn't expect him to be this unhinged.

Content: female reader, violence, mentions of stalking

[Part 2] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

This was the last straw.

You're angrily stuffing your suitcase with necessities before the moving company arrives. Each glimpse around the cramped apartment fills you with outrage, as you're still heavily shaken from the events of last night.

You first begun to suspect you might have a stalker when you found your outer lock with a fresh dent in it. You then picked a small scrap from the ground nearby and assumed it was leftover damage, but upon further inspection you discovered, disgusted, that it was part of your peephole. Someone must've fiddled with your door a fair amount. You tried to approach your immediate neighbors for help, but they either refused to answer your persistent knocks or downright scurried away when faced with your questions. They didn't want to deal with a foreigner.

You tried to put it behind you. The police advised you to be cautions, as there was nothing else they could do without concrete evidence. And thankfully, you had several peaceful weeks following the incident. Last night you were suddenly awakened by faint scratches coming from your balcony. You groggily got up and wondered if your recently added bird feeder was attracting nocturnal visitors. You got up without turning on the light, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious animal. As you pulled the drape, however, you were met with the large frame of a man plucking your laundry in a hurry.

A panicked scream erupted from the depths of your chest and you slapped the light switch, erratically searching for your phone. By the time you dialed emergency, the intruder had vanished. You were sobbing against the wall under the fake reassurances of the operator, eyeing the sliding door that had no lock. Had he wished, the masked man could've easily invited himself in. You were at the mercy of a lunatic and no one seemed to be impressed by your situation.

No more. Ideally you'd go back to your home country and forget about your plans to build yourself a life in Japan. What were you even thinking? A lonely girl, low on funds, signing a contract to be relocated across the ocean for work. You barely scraped the first months of a mandatory year.

You close your suitcase with a satisfying click and on your way out you wipe the table of all the newspaper clippings. You've been scanning the potential offers on the market. The ones within your budget, of course, which means you don't have to worry about being picky. Until you find a new place, your belongings can wait in storage. Dusty furniture is a better prospect than waking up with a pervert looming over you.

By the time the clock hits evening hours, you're sipping on your iced coffee with a defeated sigh. Most of the cheap apartments seem to be given to locals. Not outsiders like you. At least they spared you of the false hopes and curtly told you to not expect any call back, so you can swiftly move on to the next circled address. You pull out the crumbled sheet of paper from your pocket. Reading over your list of crossed out lines like this deflates you greatly. At the very bottom lies your final hope: the ad you'd stumbled upon this morning was too good to be true and the realtor was available for viewing at any time, so you're almost certain it's some sort of scam. Yet you can't afford to skip it, can you? You stand up, pat your jeans and take a deep breath in.

As you check your phone to confirm the location, you begin to doubt your decision. It's hard to believe no other potential renters have showed up. The apartment is in a convenient area, very close to public transport, at a great price, on what looks like a busy street. Isn't it the dream? So why? You glance around, examining the surroundings. The shops are bustling with people. You try to come up with possible explanations, when a deep voice startles you.

"You must be (Y/N), right? You sure are easy to spot."

You turn around to greet the person. Although the second you spot him, you take an unconscious step back. You'd expected a middle aged man dressed in formal attire with a shy bow and clumsy movements. The one standing before you resembles none of that. He's imposingly tall, with a muscular built and slicked back hair. You can discern the tattoos peeking out from under the rolled up sleeves. His face has multiple deep scars and you can only assume that the pale, discolored eye that's transfixed in one direction is a fake made of glass. One might call him handsome, if you're into the kind of appearance you see in documentaries about the mafia.

"Y-you're the landlord?" You stutter, immediately covering your mouth and regretting your lack of tact.

"Nuh uh, Boss sent me to deal with it." He flashes you a genuine grin, completely unperturbed by your offhanded implication. "I'm Daitou."

He continues towards the entrance and you follow behind, too awkward to back down now. He describes the living quarters with surprising enthusiasm. If you were to close your eyes and disregard his heavy Kansai accent, you could very well be convinced it's a professional real estate agent hard at work.

"Excuse me for asking, but..." Once he finishes his marketing presentation, you cannot help the increasing anxiety. "What's the catch?"

"Huh?"

"For something like this to be so cheap...and no one else being interested...may I be frank and ask what's wrong with it? Please understand, I just left my previous apartment because of a stalker. I don't want to be packing again anytime soon."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" He searches your gaze for a moment, before gasping as if remembering something. "Wait, you're a foreigner, so I guess you don't know. Ah, that explains it."

He lets out a hearty laugh, satisfied with his conclusion.

"You didn't notice anything strange outside?"

You ponder his question before slowly shaking your head in denial.

"Really? A bunch of heavily tattooed guys with family pins on their suits...This is a yakuza quarter. Our Family owns most businesses here. But lately we've had a lot of police on our backs, ya know? Bound to happen when the street is swarming with us. So Boss had this great idea - he's smart like that, ya know, I've never been the bright one - anyways, he suggested we rent some of our housing to regular civilians. Less suspicious that way."

He crosses his arms and nods to himself proudly.

"I myself think it's a great deal. You won't find anything cheaper for the kind of stuff you're getting. All you have to do is, you know, mind your business. If some weasel questions you, no Sir, you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious. That's all."

You can only stare wide eyed, somewhat taken aback by his honesty.

"Uh...Are you sure you were supposed to tell me all of this? I feel we're skipping some steps before admitting to organized crime."

Now it's his turn to consider your inquiry.

"Probably not, but I'm not good with words. You look like a smart girl, so I thought I won't sugarcoat it. I'm sure you already know that if you leave and rat us out I'll be throwing your chopped up remains in the nearby river. Or would you want to be shipped home instead? I'm a nice guy like that, hehe."

You return a crooked smile and purse your lips in the process. You'd rather not learn the percentage of truth in his humor anytime soon.

"You mentioned a stalker? I can guarantee you he won't follow here, miss. And if he's that dumb to wander on our turf, well, me and my guys always hang around the block. Leave him to me and I'll bring you his teeth in a box."

"I-...Why teeth of all the things?"

"Just easier to pull out, ya know." He winks and reaches for his back pocket, revealing an old pair of pliers with childish delight. "See, I'm a bit of a handyman, so I always have some tools on me."

Strangely enough, you're not as terrified as you would expect from someone in your shoes. Certainly your knees are weaker when compared to your pre-encounter state, but there's something about his demeanor that doesn't feel malicious or threatening. Like conversing with an old friend at a pub.

"Will I truly not get in trouble? You guys do your thing and I'm 100% not involved?"

"You have my word." And with that, as if closing the sale of his lifetime, he confidently slaps a stack of papers on the nearby counter and hands you a pen. "You already have my number, if anyone pisses you off just hit me up and I'll be at your service. Boss left everything to me."

No perverts and less of your monthly allowance going towards rent. Maybe it's your despair talking, but you've been persuaded nonetheless. You scribble your name in the designated field and shove the documents towards your new acquaintance.

"Pleasure doing business with you, miss (Y/N)." He cheerfully dangles the keys before dropping them in your hand and heads for the door.

"Oh, is shipping included in the rent?"

He stops and turns to you, mildly confused.

"You said if I mess up you'll ship my remains home. Do I pay for the postage myself, or is that part of the monthly tax?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

His eyes narrow in delight and you can tell he's greatly amused by your words.

"Nah, consider it a gift from me. Gotta treat a lady nice, 'specially if it's a pretty one like you."

And with that, you're alone again. You look around the room, trying to visualize your new home. It's already getting dark outside. Now that you've had the situation explained to you, you can definitely see what Daitou meant. There's the occasional police officer patrolling the street, and plenty of men dressed in similar fashion walking in small groups.

"And?"

Outside the building, a young man is leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth. He seems to have been waiting for Daitou.

"It's done. Some cute foreigner is moving in." He lifts an arm in a flexing motion, patting his bicep in a congratulatory manner. "Boss will be surprised, eh?"

"You're fucking with me."

"What? You wanna go back upstairs and check?" He responds, appalled. "Might've taken longer than expected, but I told ya I can manage!"

"Are you sure you didn't threaten her or something? I still don't know what Boss was thinking when he asked a nutcase like you to deal with the civvies."

"Hey hey hey, I may not be all fancy speaking like you or Kazuya, but I'm not dumb. Matter of fact, she already signed the papers."

"I never said you're dumb. Just batshit crazy." The young man sighs and flicks his cigarette butt away, stomping on it.

"Let's go and tell the others."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader

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allfearstofallto · 6 months ago

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Breaking up with Mafia! Childe is a nightmare. You've never met a man so insistent, so stubborn, so damn near depraved in the way he refuses to acknowledge that you no longer want to date him. It's almost psychotic, his actions and how he still treats you as if your his, even though you've long since cut things off with him. Or at least tried to.

He always shows up at your place, at your new job, or calls with a number that you don't know. Always finds a way to sneak his way back into your life, even when you so desperately try to push him out. That blue sports car will be parked out front and you'll feel all the blood drain from your body, a chill running up your spine.

Knuckles usually split and bleeding, bruises on his face, he wore a charming smile that spoke of an inherent sadism, parading his wounds like a trophy. He always smelled of the particular brand cigarettes he smoked, the ones that would hang from his lips while he waited for you. He'd put it out whenever he met your gaze though, against the wall or on the concrete pavement of the ground, claiming that you were much too pretty to smell like tobacco.

He always paid in cash and never told you what his job was, just danced around the topic with a dark chuckle that spoke a thousand words.

"I can afford you, can't I?" He'd ask, his tone playful, but there was a dark look in those hollow blue eyes that told you to pry no further.

When he opened his wallet, you'd see nothing but large, crisp bills. No cards or identification. Maybe a picture of you tucked into one of the pockets, one that you don't remember taking though.

He wasn't typically the type of guy you'd date. Physically he was. All playboy smiles and fluffy orange hair. Lean build and sultry voice. You felt pressured to give in to him, mostly because of his persistence. And even more pressured to stay.

"I'd never hurt you," he'd say as you tended to his bleeding lip, watching the way he barely winced as you dabbed the alcohol wipe to his wound. He just fell, he assured you.

A fall?

Right.

That's why he was holding your wrist with his hand. Clenching his long fingers so tightly around you, like you'd run away the second you let go. Insisting that you were safe with him and that nothing would ever harm you. When asked what he was keeping you safe from, he'd just give you a cheeky grin.

"My clumsiness," he hummed. His words had a scary amount of whimsical joy behind them as he placed his elbows on his knees, holding his head up with his hands, blue eyes looking at you in pure adoration as you continue to clean his wounds in a deafening silence. The only other sound being your rapidly beating heart.

AN: Had to get the idea out of my head!!!!

#maiistalking<3 #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe x you #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere male #yandere mafia #mafia au #tw yandere

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riniworld · 3 days ago

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be by my side

yandere! mafia member x fem!reader

warnings|| kinda suggestive, alcohol, violence x3, big warning for violence, injuries, guns/gunshoots, blood, hangover, throwing up, "kidnapping", crying, swearing, creepy men, foul language, insulting, not proofread!

reference|| you, pretty, she/her. i don't like to add this but my duty says i should !bitch one time!, lover.

a/n|| that's the longest freaking oneshot i have written, and it was supposed to be longer but i cut some parts into description.

"I'm dyinggg." veto whined for the millionth time, since he got stabbed he refused to leave your side,at night he went home with you and at work hours he sat in the back room of the bar, and whined all day, you checked him more than ten times already and his injury has gotten much better, but he just liked to complain!

you stormed inside the room angrily "stop whining! people are getting irritated and so am i!" you whisper-yelled at him.

but instead of acting like a mature adult, he pouted at you "but i am in pain! you should leave those sorry excuse for people and pay attention to your dear." he said childishly and tried to give you a puppy eyes, but his stare was too menacing for him to change it into pleasing one.

you stammer as you don't know what to reply to this, when you gave up coming with a comeback you flip him off "go to hell." you said in annoyance and went back to your work.

veto chuckled lowly "ah, she's too cute." he said in a dreamy tone.

your mood stayed sour as you continue to work, unlike everyday you werent in the mood to make small chitchat, in fact you served the drinks with quite aggression that made your customers a bit nervous.

you know it wasn't something to be that angry at, but you werent angry at his action, rather at yourself, how you can't kick him out, how you soften around him, you've been running from the reality for a lot of times, but deep down you feel like you're starting to...love him.

the day ended quickly, or your work did, because the customers went out early today and no one stayed until midnight, you just finished tidying and went to the backroom to check on veto, who you found was sleeping soundly like he didn't have any responsibility in the world.

you walk up to him and lean against the back of the sofa, you were planning on waking him up but got a little distracted looking at him, just a little.

"like what you see, pretty?" he suddenly said and opened one eyes looking at you, you let out a startled gasp and took a step back.

"you little-!"

veto laughed loudly and sat up "oh come on, pretty. you were admiring me werent you?" he asked teasing.

"no!, i was planning how to kill you in your sleep." you said in a mocking tone.

"I'd love to die by your hands" he gave you a wide smile, you just scoffed at him in respond.

"anyway, I'll go home now, if you want to go to yours or keep sticking at my ass." you were attempting to get out but veto stopped you "now? why not have a few drinks? i haven't drank in a while." he said in a pleading tone, and you had no choice but to sigh and accept because this boy has gotten on your soft side for a while now.

you don't know how it ended with you two finishing four bottles in raw, the topics flew and changed quickly, without you realizing you were quite tipsy.

you stood up to go back home, but as soon as you took a step you stumbled forward, thanks to veto's fast reaction he caught you before you fell down...okay maybe you're too tipsy.

"careful now, pretty, we don't want you to fall on your face do we?" veto teased, he was supporting you walk while you were walking clumsily, he'd have carried you if you didn't make a big deal out of it.

you lean more against him "you just...hold me right." your voice was thick as you spoke, it came half sleepy half drunk—like which made veto worry that you'll pass out on him "hey now pretty, are you tired?" he asked–surprisingly–gently. you nod slowly and he hook his arms around you "okay don't kick me." as soon as he said that he lift you up in bridal style, in his favor, you were too far gone to resist him.

he put you down gently on your bed, you were half awake and talked some nonsense on the way, it was amusing really, the first time he has seen you this vulnerable.

"good dreams, pretty." he whispered as he covered you with the blanket, as he was about to go he felt you tugging at his sleeves "can you stay?" you whispered "stay the night."

he sighed in hesitation "don't do this to me." his tone held a slight plea in it, yet he didn't make any step to move away. still clinging onto his sleeve you lift yourself up propping yourself with your elbow.

he let took a deep breath "you look so beautiful but you're drunk." he said with regret, he started pulling his hand away but you tightened your grip around him "not that much." you tugged him closer to you, and he easily sat down, his resistance crumbling entirely.

you sat up straight, you were close enough that you felt eachother's breath brush against your faces, you put your hand on his shoulder, sliding his jacket down a little "isn't it hot for a jacket?" veto nodded slowly, he looked like he was in haze, mind spiralling yet his body isn't listening.

when he felt you slid his jacket further down he held your wrist softly, stopping you "i don't want you to regret anything later." his eyes nearly tear up, he looked at you like he was begging.

you reached your other hand on his "veto, i swear i am conscious." you whispered.

he held the eye contact for a little while, until he relaxed a bit as he made sure that wasn't just the alcohol talking. he took your hand away from his jacket and put it on the bed, as he leaned down closer...

veto woke up at a loud sound of vehicles, but his annoyance vanished as he felt your body weight against him, he opened one eye and looked down at you smiling, with a satisfied grunt he turned to face you and embraced you tighter.

you felt uncomfortable at the tighteness which woke you up, you groan and push veto weakly "you're suffocating me." you murmur into his shoulder, he let out a short laugh and loosened his hold.

you two stayed like this for a few minutes, sinking in eachothers warmth, "you don't open the bar in the morning right?" he asked, you nod with a soft hum "what about you?" you looked up at him, "nothing, the boss gave me a break for my wound."

"so what do we do?" "i keep you all to myself."

these kind of nights has repeated again and again, it had emotion in it but never too clear for you, no one said what he felt or if this is just physical or it held a meaning to one another, each time you grew more used to him, maybe fell just a little more everytime, yet you couldn't just shake the doubt of whether veto feel the same.

sometimes his act—as annoying as it was—reassured you, he acted more clingy, more possessive, well sometimes its too much like scaring most of who order if he was there, and if he wasn't he'll call every half an hour, he even bought you a ring, it wasn't something serious, more of a "gift" as he said, you wore it everyday.

today was one of the days veto lingered around in, he had a glass in hand as he spoke smugly "so now i am in charge of the entire secret base." he took a sip and looked at you from the glass.

"and you're slacking here?" you raise and eyebrow, he simply shrug "i mean it doesn't need that much supervising." you shake your head with a sigh.

a man approached you with a sly grin, he took a seat two stools away from veto "hey gorgeous, give me the sweetest drink you have." he said flirtatiously.

veto forwned at the man's tone "don't you see she has a ring on her finger? speak properly." he said in frustration, the man looked at veto sideway, his eyebrow raised in and his nose wrinkled in a grimace, like he was be-littiling him, sensing that a fight might happen you interfere.

"if you want a drink simply ask, if you're here to flirt get out." you said coldly, the man's expression turned to anger at you "what a bitch." he said and walked away, veto moved to go behind him but you held him down "they do that, don't pay him any mind."

that night you two slept together again, mostly because veto was too annoyed as the scene replied in his mind over and over again, he'll cut his tongue out for this.

he was propping himself up with his elbow, while you were sleeping on your side, he was tracing mindless patterns on your bare arm while talking about random topics, suddenly his phone rang, he glanced quickly back at it and when he saw that it was orson who called he reached for his phone way too fast, which resulted in him falling down the bed as he answered the call.

you couldn't hear what the caller was saying, but veto looked quite the nervous mess, it didn't last long as he hung up, you let out the laugh you were holding about him falling down, he lift himself up and pouted at you "it isn't funny." he said as he sat at the bed again.

he brushed his hand through your hair "i have to go, boss was angry that i left the base." he said tenderly. "of course he would." you murmured. he leaned down and peck you on your lips "see you later, pretty."

the sand covered the air making it difficult to see or breath properly, and it would be worse if someone was injured here, veto can only imagine the stings this man who is kneeling in front of him is feeling, good he want him to suffer, no one dare to speak to you like that and go away with it.

"p-please sir!, i don't know what have i done we can speak it out!" the man begged, crawling back in fear, veto hasnt even put a bullet in him, it was just a few kicks and fists, what a coward!

but he might as well make him lose his dignity for something worth it. veto fired at his arm and the man let out a scream in agony while clinching his arm.

"that'll teach you to step away from someone who have a ring on their finger, preferably my lover." he said coldly, raising his gun up again and firing on his leg this time, a few drops of blood landed on his chin and down on his shirt. to satisfy his anger more he stepped on the mans injured leg, putting pressure on it making the man yell even louder that his vocal cords might explode.

he smiled as he was satisfied enough, he stepped away and walked to his car in the distance "cut his tongue out and then kill him, throw him to the dogs if you'd like." he told the men with him and got into his car.

veto entered his office at the casino with a quite sigh, he held a cloth in his hands wiping his face and what he can from his shirt off. he paused as he saw someone who was waiting for him, sitting cross legs on a chair that was facing the door.

"oh, took you long enough." the person said with a welcoming tone, yet it was all a facade, veto knows this man, he was persistent about something that he 'owe' him.

"what do you want?" he walked to the cahir behind the desk and sat down.

"I'm here for my rights."

"you have nothing with me, like what i said millions of times already, you came to a casino you have to expect losing in here."

"perhaps, that'll change your opinion." the man fiddled with his phone then turned it to veto, the phone played a live video that you were in working at the bar. veto felt his vines popping out, he jumped at the mna, holding him by the collar "you little-!"

"uh uh." the man moved the phone in front of his face "any move and she'll be dead." he whispered smugly.

reluctantly veto let go of him, without even thinking twice he went to the cabinet in his desk and got money from it, he threw it at the man's lap "there. your money, now leave her alone."

tha man eyes lighten up "see how easy it is? we wouldn't have to go to these lengths." he took the money and put then into his jacket's pocket inside, then he extended his arm to veto "happy working with you." he waited but veto only glared at him "okay." the man said nonchlantly and went out.

veto fell on his chair, letting out a heavy breath, the thought that being with him would make you a target to the people who has trouble with him didn't cross his mind before, and he'll burn to the ground before allowing anyone to touch you.

he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number, his heartbeat slowing down as he heard your voice from the other end of the line "hey, are you okay?" he asked.

"yeah, why?" you felt slightly uneasy at his why of speaking, it wasn't carefree or teasing like most times.

"nothing..just..something happened, don't worry about it." he hung up as soon as he said that, he put his head down on the table and exhalled deeply, he need to do something about this before it escalate.

it was three at the morning when you decided to return home, you didn't expect to see veto sitting at your doorstep, playing with tiny rocks, when he saw you his eyes lit up and he smiled for a split second before it quickly fell.

you walked closer to him as he stood up "since when have you been sitting here?"

he shrugged "maybe since eight o'clock.", you looked at him in shock but before you can say something he pushed you lightly toward the door "we need to talk open the door."

"about what?" you asked curiously, but still got your keys out to open the door. as soon as the lock clicked, he got inside and pulled you in with him.

"what's that thing you want to talk about so urgently?" you asked worriedly as he close the door behind you.

he was staring down with pressed lips, then he looked at you in a determined look "i..i don't want to-to do this anymore.." he glupped "i mean, be together."

"what?" you felt everything shatter around you, you swear that you heard your heart do as well "what do you mean you don't want to be together?" you felt a mix of anger and hurt, tried to suppress your tears but it was in vain as your eyes teared on its own "after i gave you EVERYTHING?!" you started to yell, getting closer to him "no-" "WAS IT ALL A GAME TO YOU!" he looked at you like he was in the same pain as you cut him off, he knew making excuses won't work now.

"every night we spent together" your voice broke—giving up to it all and just let the tears fall "every word you said-" "do you think its easy on me!" this time he cut you off with a yell, and he started to back you up against a wall "i love you, heck its not even love i am obsessed and it scare me and i should just go because its destroying me, then you opened a door and i am getting worse every. fucking. second. saying this is like i told someone to cut the oxygen off of me, not a minute goes by without you appearing in this stupid mind of mine, making me screw up, getting scolded by who i see a role model for me, yet it's all worth it because its you, I'd go to hell and back for you, crawl through the earth and downward-" he suddenly snapped, rambling all too quickly but you also had enough and so you before he just go on and on so you yelled "then don't be a coward!"

"you'd go to hell and back?" you scoffed "you can't even stay here, you cut this within a month!"

he's expression turned from desperation to anger and he clenched his hands into fists, to not say something stupid he just stormed off and left you alone in the doorway, you started crying as soon as he left, falling down on the ground and sobbing uncontrolably.

for the next two days, you lay in bed and cried yourself to sleep. veto wasn't any better, he kept track of your bar that you havent opened in two days and three hours by now, he started to get worried and self blamed, which he never had before as he is a prideful bastard.

you got a sudden surge of pettiness, he said he's obsessed? then lets see how much he is. you got dolled up late at night and went to his casino, wanting to dull the ache and agitate him. you got drunk pretty quickly, blasting it off and dancing with strangers, not caring with who or where.

veto was fidgeting with a die, throwing it over and over again when someone knocked on the door. veto gave permission to enter dully, not looking at who came in.

one of the staffs entered, he stood straight in a respectful way "sir, the girl that came last time is here tonight, you said to inform you if she came."

veto paused with the die in his hand "what?" he looked at the staff with wide eyes.

...he stormed toward you, pushing everyone aside, some of them feel down—the ones who were too spent to stand, his ears ringing in his head, burying the loud sound of music and the complaint of people, he didn't even pause when he saw you dancing out of your mind, instead he practically ran to you, shoving whoever was with you harder than how he was, meaning to injure them.

he grabbed your hand tightly "didn't i tell you to not come here?!" he whispered in anger, face too close to yours that he can smell the alcohol on you.

you wobbled in his grip, letying out half a laugh "oh look who decided to show" hic "up" you pointed at him "you-don't have a..say in...this." you talked slowly, gesturing to the place around.

having enough with your nonsense he picked you up on his shoulder, carrying you away, you kicked and punched at him, trying to get out of his grip, but he was too strong. soon you were in his car as he drove way too fast

again he carried you forcefully, but not to your house, to his, but you werent focused enough to worry about this, you were too busy kicking and fighting against him, but he didn't even flinch at you, and you don't know if you blacked out for a minute, but you found yourself on his bed being tied against the frame of it, even in your drunken state panic seeped through you and you attempted to pullyour hand away. it was too late for that.

"do you think by two sentences you're free to go fuck around?" he held your chin, squeezing your cheeks with his fingers "you're still mine, pretty, and what you did today was a bit stupid don't you think? so you'll stay here while i go deal with these hoes who couldn't keep their hands to themselves." his tone was eerily sweet as he leaned down and put a kiss on your forehead.

he left you alone screaming for him to free you, your mascara smudged down all over your cheeks, heels flying from your legs as you kicked the air.

the day came and you were too tired, your neck stiff from the position you were sitting in, and your voice was rough from all the screaming, he didn't return last night and you were left with a hangover. you have threw up two times from what you can remember. you have a fuzzy memory of him saying he'll do something to someone, but you can't recall what or who, you wonder what happened to the poor person who was unfortunate enough to be at his mercy.

on the other side, veto was sipping coffee in his office watching the news about multiple houses burning with its owners in a "mysterious" way, he smiled satisfactorily at the screen before turning it off. he looked at the side, seeing you through the small monitor that was set on his table, what would he do with you now?

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere mafia #yandere mafia x reader #yanderexreader

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blarshwritezz · 1 year ago

Note

Yanderr mafia boss x male reader prisoner, You are a rival of the mafia boss and your group was defeated by his group, thus becoming his prisoner.

Little did you know, he had lust for you and he decides that you will succumb to his desires whether you want to or not.

A new mafia boss coming right up! But no more new mafia bosses after this, guys. I know they're hot, but my masterlist will suffer also, changing it to leader to avoid confusion hope that's okay

Yandere Mafia Leader x Prisoner Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, noncon

How long has it been? For how many days have you been held captive here? You couldn't keep track. There weren't any windows or other ways to tell time in your damp cell.

You had to wonder if your comrades were doing alright. You weren't too close to most of them, but you were still worried. You hoped whatever they were going through wasn't much worse than what you were.

The leader of this mafia kept a constant watch on you. There was a single camera in your cell, which really wasn't strange, but you could often hear him right outside your door. He'd often come in and watch you "sleeping".

That was one of the more difficult things to do here; fall asleep. You really didn't struggle this much usually, but between the environment and the whole being watched thing, it wasn't easy.

You hoped you might finally get some rest tonight. Or...whatever time of day it was when you closed your eyes.

Your dreams almost came true...until they were crushed by the fact that you felt something choking you. You opened your eyes, taking only a few seconds to realize what was happening.

The leader was in here again, fucking your mouth! You tried to pull away, but he only gripped your hair and forced himself deeper down your throat.

He groaned as you gagged around his dick. It was almost enough to make him cum.

Oh who was he kidding? He didn't want to hold back. Not this time. With a few more thrusts, his seed was flowing down your throat.

He took both of your wrists in his hand as he pulled out, holding them tightly above your head. His free hand mover to roughly spread your legs apart.

"You're my new fuck toy, got that?" Without warning or preparation, he plunged into your ass with a pleasured groan. "I'll stop torturing you, long as you please me."

You didn't have a choice.

He was fucking you anyway, no care for how rough he was being. In fact, he seemed to like seeing you slightly in pain.

You couldn't get away, his grip on you was too tight. He smirked as you struggled, even though it was useless.

"Stop struggling so much or I'll just have to kill you, and fucking a corpse doesn't sound nearly as appealing."

He leaned down and started biting your neck, licking the blood clean as he did. He made sure the marks would be visible. You were his, everyone should know.

Despite knowing you shouldn't enjoy this, you couldn't stop the moans you made. You couldn't stop your cock from growing hard, twitching as it came closer to climax.

Finally, he slowed down, making you whine pathetically. "You want to cum? Think you deserve it? You just have to tell me you'll be mine. That your body belongs to me." He growled in your ear.

You couldn't! You refused, shaking your head.

"If you say so." He chuckled, pounding into you harder than before. Only to stop right as you were on the edge again.

And that became a cycle. He fucked you hard and stopped over and over until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. And of course, he couldn't be fair. While he denied you the right to cum over and over, he repeatedly filled your asshole with his seed. Over and over again until your insides were painted fully white.

All until you begged him for release. Saying anything for him to let you cum. Even that you and your body belonged to him.

"There's a good boy..." His hands released your now bruised legs and wrists, one moving to your nipple as the other made its way to your ass. In one swift motion, he pulled out and replaced his cock with his fingers. They curled in you, hitting all the right spots.

As his hands worked wonders on you, he took your cock unto his mouth and sucked you off. Pathetic as it was, it didn't take very long before you came. He moaned, the sound vibrating around your cock as he swallowed your cum.

"There we go. Not so difficult, right? And you get to cum like that whenever I want for the rest of your life~"

I think that one was pretty decent! or at least, I really hope so

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kryllia · 7 days ago

Text

Mine to Protect, Mine to Own Pt3

art from pinterest

yandere mafia classmate x reader pt3

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

The moon was high when you made the decision.

You couldn’t take the silence anymore the velvet trap of his estate, the way everyone looked at you like you already belonged. And worse, the way you’d started to feel like maybe… you did.

Maybe it was the way Nicolò touched you now gentle, reverent, his cold mask cracking whenever your fingers brushed his. Maybe it was the things he whispered in the dark, things he never said when the lights were on.

Or maybe it was the way your heart beat faster when he was near, not just in fear but in something dangerously close to want.

You hated yourself for it.

But you could use it.

You would.

Tonight.

You stood in front of the mirror in your new suite, his suite, wearing a silk nightgown Isabella had left in your closet. It clung to your body like water, soft as breath. Your hair, usually tied back, hung loose around your shoulders. Your skin glowed in the low candlelight.

You looked like someone else.

Someone in control.

You stepped quietly into Nicolò’s bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, black slacks riding low on his hips. His head was bowed, elbows on his knees, hands running through his hair. He looked exhausted. Vulnerable.

Perfect.

He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“I heard you pacing,” he murmured. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard, stepped closer.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you said. “Too much on my mind.”

He looked up.

And froze.

His eyes dragged down your body slow, stunned, hungry. For a moment, he didn’t breathe.

Then “Cara mia…”

You stepped between his knees, your hands settling on his shoulders.

He didn’t move. He just looked up at you like you were something sacred. Like he’d never been this close to salvation.

You bent slightly, your lips brushing his ear.

“Make it stop,” you whispered. “Make me forget where I am. Just for tonight.”

His breath hitched.

You leaned back, looked into his eyes, and for the first time, you meant it, at least a little. That scared you more than anything.

“I want you, Nicolò.”

That shattered whatever control he had left.

He surged up and kissed you, rough and needy, pulling you into his lap. His hands gripped your waist, your thighs, your face like he was afraid you’d vanish.

And for a while, you let yourself get lost in it. You kissed him back. You moaned when he whispered your name. You arched into him like you belonged there, like his bed was your home, like you’d never dream of leaving.

And when it was over, when his breathing slowed and his arm tightened protectively around you.

You waited.

Waited for his heartbeat to even out.

Waited for the rhythm of his breath to soften in sleep.

Then you slipped out of bed.

Barefoot, silent, you crept across the room, every step a betrayal.

You reached the hall. Slipped past the sleepy night guard, someone new, someone who didn’t know your patterns yet. You took the back stairwell, heart pounding, pulse wild.

And then.

You ran.

Out into the trees behind the estate.

Into the forest.

Free.

Time passed in fragments. Branches scratched your skin. Leaves clung to your feet. You didn’t care. You ran like your life depended on it because it did.

You didn’t know how long you were gone. An hour? More?

The forest seemed endless. Every turn looked the same. You began to panic.

What if I’m going in circles?

Then an engine. Distant. A road.

Relief surged through you.

You sprinted toward the sound, lungs burning, legs aching.

But then.

The barking started.

Your heart dropped.

The dogs.

You ran harder, pushing through branches, until the trees thinned and gravel crunched beneath your feet.

You’d made it to the roadside.

But not fast enough.

A sharp pain tore through your leg. You screamed.

A massive dog had latched onto your right calf, teeth sinking deep enough to bruise but not quite enough to tear flesh. You fell hard to the dirt, unable to move.

More barking. More growling. You twisted, tried to crawl.

“FERMA.”

A voice tore through the air like a gunshot.

Nicolò.

He stormed out of the treeline, coat flying behind him, his face twisted in something savage. His eyes locked on you, and you knew.

He had lost control.

“I trusted you!” he roared.

You flinched.

“I thought.....” His voice cracked as he approached. “I thought you were finally starting to see it. I thought you were smart enough to love me back.”

You tried to move your hands shaking, blood and sweat mixing but the pain made you cry out.

He didn’t stop.

“I loved you!” he screamed, chest heaving. “I love you. I saved you. And you throw that away for what? A few minutes of freedom?”

You looked up, tears blurring your vision. “You’re insane.”

He stopped just in front of you. His eyes usually so cold were burning now. With rage. With heartbreak.

“You think I wanted this?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You think I wanted to become my father?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond.

Because then he moved.

A flash of movement.

His boot came down not on the dog.

But on your left ankle.

CRACK.

You screamed. The pain was blinding. It shot through your leg like fire, raw and sharp and real.

You collapsed fully, shaking.

“I didn’t want to do that.” His voice trembled. He knelt beside you, cupping your face with one hand while the other still trembled with restraint. “But you wouldn’t stop. You kept running. I... I had to keep you safe.”

You sobbed, half in pain, half in horror. “Safe? SAFE?! You broke me!”

He winced.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, amore mio. I didn’t want to. But I had to. The world out there it’s worse. You don’t see it. I do.”

“I hate you.”

He swallowed. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t meant to let fall.

“You can hate me. I’ll still protect you.”

You cried harder, curling away, but he pulled you into his arms, cradling you like something precious. You wanted to bite, scream, claw but your body was done.

Then.

The cars.

Two sleek, black Rolls Royces rolled to a stop on the gravel. Their windows were dark, impossible to see through. They moved slowly, deliberately.

From each, two guards stepped out, dressed in black, silent, dangerous. The dogs backed away with whimpers as their handlers approached.

The taller guard nodded once. “Boss.”

Nicolò didn’t respond. He just gathered you gently into his arms.

You whimpered from the pain, head falling weakly against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe now.”

You barely felt the world shift as he carried you into the first car. As he settled you in the backseat, your eyes fluttered shut from the pain, the exhaustion, the fear.

The last thing you saw before everything faded.

Was Nicolò’s face, inches from yours.

And the last thing you heard.

“I’ll never let you go again.”

--------

@magicaldestinyharmony @rowanyaboats @elloredef @kawaii-moon-47 @wishtrest @kazeiyyuuu @ch1p0tl3 @hopingtoclearmedschool @mwasprettyasf @athena-roy @floresialwrld @theautisticwriter @mybones537 @gloriouschildpirate @loucyberv @taenosaurrr @gardenletter @cdooper @galaxyquirks2 @whiteoakoak @jupiternorth895 @rowanyaboats

Thank you very much for reading. This part was written only thanks to my anon. I also want to apologize for my inactivity, but I was traveling for a month and a half, and after I returned home, I had to deal with school for the next week, and then I had surgery. They removed a tumor from my breast, and it healed poorly, which is why I wasn't in the mood to write. I'm not telling you my diagnosis so that you will feel sorry for me, but so that you will be aware and practice breast self-examination. What I had was harmless, but I know girls my age who discovered this type of tumor late because they didn't practice self-examination, and one boy who didn't believe he had a tumor in his breast, and then it turned out to be cancer, and he didn't want to admit it for a long time. It's also worth mentioning that this was the second time I had this tumor; I first got it when I was only 13 years old. I'm just telling you this so that you can be careful and if you know that something is wrong with your body, please deal with it as soon as possible. Thank you for reading this long paragraph and please be careful on yourselves. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#yandere blog #yandere #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #Nicolò Dellabarca #yandere mafia boss #yandere mafia #yandere mafia x reader #yandere man x reader #mafia romance

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carnalcrows · 2 months ago

Text

Terms and Conditions Applied

pariring: gangster! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You're a single dad, drowning in debt, barely holding it together for your daughter. But when loan collectors come knocking a little too hard, you find out your debt belongs to someone far more dangerous: Felix Marino, the quiet but infamous head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world. He makes you a deal—your freedom, for a job. One job. But nothing is ever that simple in his world. Especially when you're not sure what terrifies you more: the blood on your hands, or the way Felix looks at you like you belong to him.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, explicit violence, blood and trauma aftermath, mild panic attack / dissociation, threats and coercion, organized crime themes, single parenthood under duress, mild sexual content, handjob (reader receiving), power imbalance, emotional manipulation, PTSD-like symptoms.

word count: 4.9k

The knocks came hard and fast.

They rattled the apartment door like gunfire—three hits, pause, two more, and a final slam that made the hinges groan. You froze mid-step, a half-unpacked grocery bag dangling from your fingers. Inside it, a bruised apple rolled to the floor.

Not again.

You scanned the room automatically, as if the act of tidying clutter might somehow soften the blow of reality. But the apartment was already bare. Sparse. Clean, in that way that says we don’t have much, but we’re trying.

A soft voice drifted from the hallway behind you. “Papa?”

You turned. There she was—your daughter. Four years old, hair mussed from a post-nap world, her favourite stuffed rabbit trailing from one hand. She rubbed her eyes with the other, blinking at you.

Your heart clenched.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said quietly. “Go back to your room, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“But who—”

“Just the mailman,” you lied, kneeling down to smooth her hair. “He’s loud today.”

She stared up at you for a beat longer than usual, as if her tiny brain could already tell something wasn’t quite right. Then she nodded solemnly and padded back down the hallway, the rabbit dragging behind her like a weary soldier.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

You straightened up, set the bag on the counter, and took a breath.

When you opened the door, the two men standing on the other side looked like they'd been born in leather jackets—one tall, one squat. Neither looked thrilled to be here, but they sure weren’t leaving empty-handed.

“Morning,” said the taller one, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Nice day, huh?”

You didn’t respond. He took that as agreement.

“Mr. [Last Name],” said the shorter one. “We’re here about the debt.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you also know your payment was due four days ago.”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m working extra shifts. I’m doing what I can.”

The taller man walked a slow circle around your living room, peering at the cheap furniture like it offended him. “A place like this, I’m surprised you haven’t sold the kid’s toys yet.”

Your jaw tensed. “She’s four.”

The shorter man clucked his tongue. “And if you don’t have something by Friday, you’re going to be explaining that to the Boss in person. You know how he feels about delays.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

They left without another word. The taller one flicked a crumpled cigarette onto your doormat and stomped it out as a parting gift.

You shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it with your eyes closed.

⋆｡°✩

The silence in the apartment returned slowly, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of small feet against tile.

“Papa?”

You opened your eyes and looked down. She was back, rabbit in hand.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She wrapped her little arms around your leg, hugging you as best she could. Her cheek pressed against your jeans. “You’re not sad?”

You knelt again and pulled her into your arms properly, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered into her hair. “Because I have you.”

⋆｡°✩

You made pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t your best work. The batter was too thin, the pan unevenly heated, and the only syrup left was the cheap, knockoff kind that smelled more like corn than maple. But she still grinned when you put the plate in front of her, legs swinging from the dining chair as she kicked at nothing in particular.

“Can I put peanut butter on it too?” she asked, already reaching for the jar.

“Only if you save a piece for Mr. Bun.”

“I always do,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it were some sacred pact between her and the stuffed rabbit.

You watched her eat, chewing slower than usual, trying to stall the moment. The kitchen light flickered overhead. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter seemed to grow by the day, and rent was due in less than a week. You didn’t know how you were going to pay off the collectors by Friday, let alone face the man behind them— the one they called their boss, in hushed, clipped tones.

A name you’d never heard until two weeks ago. A name that now haunted every idle moment.

You’d tried not to ask too many questions, but the way the others spoke about him made your skin crawl. Not loud, not showy — but dangerous. Not because of violence, but because of how controlled he was. And how rarely he needed to raise his voice to get things done.

You only owed him money because your original lender sold the debt off.

It wasn’t supposed to get this far.

“Papa?”

You blinked out of it. “Yeah, bug?”

She looked at you with peanut butter smeared on her chin. “Can we read the owl book again tonight?”

You smiled, even if it felt thin on your face. “Of course.”

⋆｡°✩

She fell asleep curled beside you on the couch, mid-sentence, head tucked against your arm. The copy of The Owl Who Wasn’t Afraid of the Dark lay open in your lap, thumb still pressed to the page.

You didn’t dare move her. Not yet.

The room was quiet now, except for the muffled hum of the hallway outside. You could still hear footsteps every now and then—neighbours coming home, doors opening and shutting. It was the kind of rundown apartment block where the walls had ears, but no one cared enough to listen.

You leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling, one hand gently smoothing your daughter’s hair.

Then came the buzz of your phone.

You fumbled for it quietly, careful not to wake her.

Unknown Number

You stared at it. A second buzz followed — a text.

[ The Boss would like a word. You’ll want to make yourself available.

Tomorrow. 10 PM. Zia’s Diner. Come alone. ]

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. Whoever sent it would already know you’d be there.

⋆｡°✩

Zia’s Diner looked like it hadn’t changed since the '80s. Flickering neon sign. Red leather booths dulled from wear. Grease-stained menus laminated so many times the corners curled like dying leaves. It was the kind of place that smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions no matter what time of day you walked in. The kind of place where someone like you belonged.

Someone like the one you owe money to? Not so much.

You got there ten minutes early. Sat in the back corner booth, facing the entrance like you’d seen people do in mob movies. Ridiculous, really — like knowing who sat where would make any of this easier.

The waitress came by once, chewing gum and offering you a tired, sceptical look. “You ordering, or you waiting?”

“Just coffee,” you muttered, and she poured you a cup without a word.

You kept checking the time.

10:00 PM sharp, the bell above the door jingled.

He didn’t walk in with an entourage. No theatrics. No broad-shouldered bodyguards or gaudy suits. Just a man in a black wool coat, collar turned up against the wind, dark hair swept back with the ease of someone who didn’t need to try.

He didn’t look like a loan shark. He looked like he could be an architect. Or maybe a violinist. His features were clean-cut but strangely gentle, like someone who hadn’t always belonged to a world like this.

And then he looked at you.

A quick once-over. Not judgmental. Just... observant.

He made his way over with unhurried steps, slid into the booth across from you, and removed his gloves one finger at a time. The silence stretched, thick and taut.

“I’m glad you came,” he said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but not performative. Not like someone trying to play a role. “I didn’t want this to become unpleasant.”

You swallowed hard. “I figured it already was.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was considering you. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You didn’t answer.

The waitress reappeared, looking more alert this time. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” he said, without looking at her. “Chamomile, if you have it.”

You blinked. Tea?

Once she left, he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re a difficult man to track down, considering you haven’t left your apartment in three days.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been with my daughter.”

“I know.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes now. Not softness — but interest. “She’s the one who likes the owl book, right?”

You stiffened. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I have people. They were concerned. It’s their job.”

“Concerned about what?”

He paused. Then: “About how a man ends up this deep in debt when he’s clearly not reckless.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because the worst part was— he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, resting his hands on the table. His fingers were long, elegant— with tattoos running across them.

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you,” he said calmly. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d have sent someone else.”

“So why did you call me here?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to answer. But then the tea arrived. He thanked the waitress with a quiet nod, waited until she was gone again.

And then he said:

“Because I don’t think you belong in this mess. And I’m interested in seeing how you get out of it.”

You stared at him, not sure if it was a trap. A test. Some kind of manipulation.

“Why?” you asked, voice quiet now. Honest.

He stirred a packet of honey into his tea. No rush. No tension. “You remind me of someone.”

That shut you up.

Not because you knew what it meant, but because of how he said it. Like it hurt to say. Like the memory was still raw, even if the delivery wasn’t.

He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s talk about your debt,” he said.

⋆｡°✩

You tried to read him. Failed.

Everything about him was composed — the measured way he spoke, the way he held his tea with both hands like it was a habit rather than a choice. His voice was quiet but sure, like he’d never once had to raise it to be heard.

He didn’t move like a man used to violence, but you knew better than to trust that.

“You said you wanted to talk about my debt,” you said after a beat, keeping your voice steady. “So talk.”

He gave a soft hum, almost amused. “Alright.”

From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a thin leather folio and opened it on the table. You caught your name on one of the papers. Your signature on another. A string of numbers you didn’t want to look too closely at.

“I assume you know how much you owe.”

You nodded once. “Too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” He tapped a finger against the paper, not unkindly. “You took out the first loan eighteen months ago. Medical bills, yes?”

You stiffened. “My daughter was in the hospital. Pneumonia. We didn’t have insurance.”

He nodded like he already knew, which he probably did.

“And the second loan,” he continued, “was for rent, food, and utilities. You were out of work.”

“My hours got cut,” you muttered.

“And the third?”

You looked away. “Funeral expenses.”

Silence settled again. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

He closed the folder gently and folded his hands on top of it. “There are… less generous men you could’ve borrowed from. Men who would’ve already left a message on your doorstep. Or through your window.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice in where the loans came from,” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just watched you like he’d been expecting that edge to come out eventually.

“You’re right,” he said. “You didn’t. But you have one now.”

That gave you pause. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back, eyes steady.

“It means I’m offering to restructure your debt. Reduce the interest. Extend the timeline. Provide resources, if you need them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t smile — but his mouth twitched, like he almost did.

“I told you. You remind me of someone.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t decide if this was some twisted act of pity or a long con. But you weren’t used to people giving you anything. Especially not someone with this much power—with hands that clean, a gaze that calm, and a reputation like his.

He took another sip of his tea.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, almost kindly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I want you to understand— I’m not doing this to trap you.”

“Then what do you want?”

His fingers paused on the edge of the cup.

“I want you to keep your daughter,” he said simply. “I want her to grow up safe. With her father.”

Something in your chest twisted. You looked down, jaw tight.

“That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve made it mine.”

You looked up again, and this time, there was no softness in your voice. “What do you get out of it?”

A longer pause.

He studied you, not like a man considering what to say, but like he was wondering how much you could handle. Like he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m not the villain you think I am,” he said finally. “But I’ve been one before. I know what it takes to get out.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands curled around your coffee cup, suddenly aware of the chipped ceramic, the cool air from the vents brushing your neck. A waitress refilled a glass of soda at another table. The world kept moving.

He stood slowly, gathering the folder and slipping it back into his coat.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said. “But I’ll have someone drop off the new terms tomorrow. Look them over. Think about your kid.”

He turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And think about who you want to be when she looks back on this.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩

You didn’t expect it to come in an envelope.

White. Thick. No return address.

It was on your doorstep when you got home from picking Nora up from daycare — tucked under the welcome mat like some dead thing left by a cat. You stared at it for a full minute before bending to pick it up, heart low in your chest.

She tugged on your sleeve. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, bug.” You smiled, but your voice didn’t rise with it. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

She slipped past you with a squeal, barreling into the apartment and tossing her little backpack onto the floor. You shut the door behind her, thumb tracing the edge of the envelope as you walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was already fading to that washed-out grey of too-late afternoons. You tore it open without ceremony.

Inside: four pages, paper thick enough to feel expensive. No header, no signature — but you recognised the same smooth, sparse formatting from the mans’s folder at Zia’s—the new terms.

You skimmed.

Then read slower.

Then stopped.

He was serious.

— Outstanding balance: reduced by 40%. — Interest: frozen, pending further review. — Monthly payments: deferred for 3 months. — Conditions:

That last part made your stomach twist.

1. You will be reachable at all times. 2. You will submit proof of employment weekly. 3. You will meet with Mr. Marino in person at a time and place of his choosing. Frequency: open. 4. You will not attempt to renegotiate through any party other than Mr. Marino himself. 5. You will not disappear.

Regards,

Felix Marino

That last line wasn’t underlined. But it didn’t need to be.

You sat down, the chair scraping across the tile.

It was clean. Too clean. He’d carved out the brutality and left behind something you could stomach — just enough rope to pull yourself up. Or hang yourself with.

In the distance, you heard Nora humming a song from her cartoons.

And you realised: you were already considering it.

⋆｡°✩

The house is quiet after Nora falls asleep, sprawled out in her tiny bed with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. You'd cleaned the chocolate from her face, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead like always. Pretended like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a folded letter in your coat pocket that felt like it weighed more than your whole damn life.

You sit at the kitchen table, hands steepled, staring down at it again.

Felix Marino’s terms are clear:

Six months of contracted work

Weekly check-ins at a private location downtown

No questions asked about the nature of the work.

No outside contact with “competing interests”

Nora is off-limits. Her name isn’t even mentioned.

That part almost makes it worse.

Because you don’t think Felix left her out of the contract out of kindness.

You think it’s because he sees her as yours. And what belongs to you, by extension, belongs to him now.

You grip the paper until the crease deepens. This is a deal with the devil, no matter how cleanly it’s written. Still, you’ve seen worse. You’ve lived worse. And if this means keeping Nora safe—keeping your home, your job, your sanity—then what choice do you really have?

You’ll meet his terms. But you won’t let him sink his claws in.

You won’t let him think he has you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. A message. Just a location, a time.

[ Tomorrow, 11 AM.

Wear something decent. ]

You stare at the screen for a while before flipping it over and standing up. You clean the counter. Rinse the mugs. Check the locks on the doors twice. It’s routine, but you do it slower tonight.

Just before bed, you peek in on Nora one more time.

Her tiny chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s drool on her pillow. You swallow the knot in your throat.

You hope to god she never has to know how close you came to losing everything.

⋆｡°✩

The address Felix gave leads to a storefront with blackout windows and no signage. Inside, it's cleaner than expected. Sleek. Minimal. You’re greeted by a man in a tailored suit who doesn’t ask your name — just waves you through with a nod like you’re already known here.

You are, apparently.

A hallway. A door. A quiet room with a view of the city skyline. Felix is seated behind a polished desk, flipping lazily through a folder.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “You came.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“Sure you did. You just didn’t like the alternatives.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. You sit, tense.

He finally lifts his gaze, eyes still unreadable. “How’s Nora?”

You narrow your eyes. “Fine. And she’s not part of this.”

“I never said she was.” He leans back, steepling his fingers. “Though you should know, this isn’t charity. You’ll work. I’ll watch. If I don’t like what I see, the terms change.”

“And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Felix says, smooth as silk. “And trust me — you don’t want that.”

There’s a pause. You hate how calm he is. Like this is all part of some carefully laid plan. Maybe it is.

“You always recruit desperate dads into your service?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You clench your jaw. “Why me?”

Felix shrugs, almost too casually. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter. You can feel it.

The way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s trying to find someone else in your face. Like you’re unfinished business.

You stand. “I’ll do what you asked. But keep the personal shit out of it.”

Felix watches you with that same unreadable gaze. “Whatever you say.”

But you can tell he’s already rewriting the rules.

⋆｡°✩

You’d expected something bloodier.

Maybe it was the envelope. Maybe it was Felix’s eyes, the way he looked at you like you were already halfway his. Or maybe it was just the way his name lingered like a shadow behind every line of those new “terms.” Whatever it was, you thought there’d be blood. Screaming. A pipe wrench. Something straight out of a bad movie.

Instead, you’re standing outside a warehouse that looks too clean to be dangerous, which somehow makes it worse.

You glance down at the slip of paper again. One name. One address. Gallo. That’s all he gave you. No instructions. No backup. Just the duffel bag in your hand and a phone in your pocket that vibrated exactly once with a location pin and then went dead silent.

You should walk away. You should. But you think of Nora. Think of the groceries on the table this morning — not from your wallet. Think of the sharp suits you saw at your building’s entrance yesterday. Men who didn’t belong there. Men who made eye contact just long enough to remind you that you were being watched.

So you step inside.

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, but it’s not busy either. The air smells like oil and dust, and the lights overhead buzz faintly with age. You follow the sound of metal scraping across concrete until you see him — mid-40s, thick arms, cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth like it’s permanent.

“You Gallo?” you ask.

He looks up, unimpressed. “Who’s asking?”

You don’t answer. Just unzip the duffel and pull out the envelope inside — thick, sealed, and marked with the same insignia that was embossed into Felix’s letterhead.

He snorts. “About time.”

You hand it over. He rips it open, eyes scanning quickly. You can’t see the paper, but whatever’s written on it makes his jaw twitch.

“I paid last week,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t move. Felix never said what to do after delivering the message. But you know better than to leave right away.

Gallo crumples the paper. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Then louder, “Tell Marino if he wants more outta me, he can come collect it himself.”

You exhale slowly. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

He steps forward, chest puffed. “No? Then how does it work, ragazzo di merda?”

There’s a tension now — heavy and tight, like the moment before thunder. You don’t flinch, even when he gets close enough for you to smell the smoke on his breath. But your fingers twitch.

This isn’t a test of violence. It’s a test of restraint.

And you’re not sure which you’re worse at.

He laughs like he’s already won. Then, just when the silence threatens to stretch too far, he spits — right at your shoes.

You move fast. Maybe too fast. You don’t pull the knife, don’t throw a punch, but your hands are around his throat in a blink, and you shove him back hard enough that he slams against a shelf with a clang. A box of screws topples somewhere behind him.

“Try it again,” you say, low and even. “See what happens.”

You don’t remember drawing the knife.

All you remember is the way the air changed — thick, metallic, sharp with panic. One moment, Gallo’s guys were just shouting, posturing like men with too much testosterone and not enough brains. The next one of them rushed you. Pulled a gun. A warning shot, maybe. But it grazed your arm, and that was all it took to tip something inside you.

The rest is a blur. Screaming. A crash. A warm spray across your face that wasn’t your own.

You’re not trained for this.

You’re not supposed to be the guy standing in a warehouse full of broken bones and gasping, bloodied men, clutching a blade that’s slippery in your hand. You were a barista three years ago. A father. A husband, once.

But right now, you’re just a wreck. Shaking, breath jagged, body slick with sweat and blood — most of it not yours. The knife hits the floor with a metallic clatter. Your legs feel like paper.

The phone in your pocket buzzes once.

A location pin.

No words.

Your hands are still trembling as you stumble out into the alley, back pressed to the cool brick wall as your knees threaten to buckle. You press your palm to the wound on your arm, but you can’t even tell if it’s deep. All you can feel is the adrenaline, burning like acid through your veins.

The car pulls up exactly two minutes later.

Sleek. Black. Expensive in the quiet, menacing kind of way.

The passenger door opens, and Felix is already waiting inside.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

Then you climb in, dragging the bloodied duffel with you. You don’t speak. You can’t.

He says nothing at first. Just watches. His gaze skims your face, your hands, the splotches on your shirt. His nostrils flare, faintly. His jaw clenches.

Then his voice comes, low and velvety.

“You did well.”

You flinch.

Well?

Is this what “well” looks like?

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but it all dies on your tongue. You feel like you're floating outside yourself, like your body isn’t quite yours. Like you're going to pass out.

Felix notices. Of course he does.

He leans in, slow and deliberate. His hand moves to your jaw— firm, and tilts your face toward him.

“You’re shaking.”

No shit. You laugh — a broken, awful sound that doesn’t feel real.

Felix hums, then shifts in his seat. The partition behind you slides up without a sound, cloaking the two of you in soft shadows.

“I told you I wanted to see what you could handle,” he murmurs. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I almost died,” you manage to whisper.

“Mm,” he says, thumb brushing along your cheek. “But you didn’t.”

You don’t realise your hands are clenched in your lap until he notices. He undoes your seatbelt. Leans down.

“I can help,” he says softly, fingers already trailing down your thigh. “Let me.”

You’re still bloodstained. You still feel sick. But your cock betrays you — twitching in your jeans under his touch like it doesn’t care that you’re half-feral from adrenaline and trauma.

He smiles faintly. Like he expected that.

“Poor thing,” Felix says, voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “All wound up. All that fear. All that pressure.”

His hand slides over the bulge in your pants, slow and possessive. Your breath catches.

“You’re shaking so much,” he murmurs. “You need to calm down. Just relax.”

You don’t. Can’t. But your hips twitch anyway.

Felix is patient. Cruel in his gentleness. His fingers undo your jeans with practised ease, and the second he wraps his hand around your cock— warm, firm, steady— you nearly choke on a gasp. The pleasure spikes sharply and fast, edged with guilt and something darker.

You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not here. Not after—

“Don’t think,” he says quietly. “Just feel.”

Your head hits the seat behind you. Your hands tremble uselessly in your lap as he strokes you—not fast, not slow, just right. His thumb circles the head on every upward pull, milking soft, breathless moans out of you.

“You’ve been good,” he whispers, voice like velvet steel. “Brave. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t know when that happened — when you became his. But it’s too late now. His hand keeps working you through it, coaxing you toward a high you didn’t ask for but can’t stop chasing. Heat pools low in your belly. Your eyes squeeze shut. You’re going to—

“Come for me,” he breathes, leaning in. “That’s it. Let go.”

And you do.

It rips out of you like a sob. Messy. Shuddering. You curl in on yourself as your body wracks with release, nerves flayed raw.

Felix doesn’t flinch at the mess. He just wipes his hand, then guides your head down to rest against his shoulder. You’re still panting, still dazed, blood drying on your clothes — and he strokes your hair like you’re something precious.

Like you're his favourite broken thing.

⋆｡°✩

You leave the bathroom light on.

Not because Nora’s scared of the dark anymore. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was three. It’s for you.

You’re the one who wakes up in cold sweats now. You’re the one who flinches at door hinges creaking and cars idling too long outside the window. You’re the one staring at the nursery monitor like something might crawl through it.

There’s no crying. Just the soft hum of static.

She’s curled up on her side, one arm flung above her head, mouth open in that completely unselfconscious way only kids manage. Her stuffed bear is trapped beneath her chest like a casualty, and you don’t dare move it. You don’t dare move anything.

You sit on the edge of your bed, clothes still crusted in spots with things you scrubbed off hours ago. You’re not sure how you’re still breathing. Or why you are.

Your hands shake. Not like before—this is quieter. Numb.

Your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. You don’t check it. You already know who it is.

You already know what he’ll say. Good work. I told you you could handle it. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a warning.

The monitor hisses softly, then goes silent. You keep watching it anyway.

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yandere-writer-momo · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere Head Canons: Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

Yandere Conman x Rich Married Fem Reader x Yandere ‘Neglectful Tycoon’ Husband

TW: Yandere themes, a man trying to get you to cheat, manipulation, neglectful husband, dark themes, and unhealthy relationship dynamics that should not be romanticized

Glen Magenta had always been a conniving individual since childhood. A natural born flirt who always got his way. Hell, he hardly ever heard the word no.

He was charismatic and romantic so it was easy for him to scam rich, lonely women trapped in loveless marriages. All he had to do was say pretty words and keep them company and he was able to drink the sweet nectar of their riches…

This time, he set his sights on the wife of a wealthy business tycoon named (your name). A delicate young woman with such sad eyes. She would be such easy prey… or so he thought

He introduced himself to her as Magnus Markley, a starving artist who has been utterly bewitched by her… but rather than fall instantaneously for his charms, she simply glanced at him like he was nothing. Was she not flattered by his good looks? By his sweet words and charming smile? How? She was known to be neglected by her husband in social circles.

(Your name) was the beautiful wife of Salvatore Urso. The wife Sal hardly gave any time to and yet she had no interest in an affair.

“I’m flattered, but I’m married.” Her soft voice replied to him as she showed that expensive ring that bordered on being gaudy. Magnus thought it was hideous… he never understood why the upper class had such awful taste, but at least Mister Urso had decent taste in his woman. (Your name) was going to be more difficult to catch than he thought… but he’d make the effort. After all, he enjoyed the hunt.

Glen truly committed to the character of Magnus Markley he created. He was a romantic and easily charmed (your name)’s closest friends in her social group. They were far easier to charm like his many conquests before (your name) yet she was the big fish he wanted… she would be the richest of any woman he’s seduced over the years. If Glen was able to capture her heart, he’d be set for life! He’d never have to work again… plus her husband was never around!

All Glen needed to do was work his way into her heart… even if he had to go through other women in order to do it. His greed had no bounds

Magnus was now often in the same circles (your name) ran with. She now saw him at every social gathering as he slowly wormed his way past her defenses by getting into her friend group to find out her hobbies. She enjoyed book club? He just joined to try to find inspiration for his art! She adored bird watching with the girls? Well, he was there to find an idea to paint!

Months went by into his plan. Hours of work went into his attempts to chip away at the walls around her heart and he finally made a crack… it seemed (your name) enjoyed having a genuine friend. Not that he was truly genuine.

(Your name) sat with him as they discussed books and music. Her sad face lit up warmly as she’d shyly talk of her interests. He’s never met a victim of his that was so cute.

He could see himself genuinely being with her. She was so sweet! How could someone be so sweet? Her husband was a fool for not being with her all the time!

The more he learned about her the more he began to falter with his goal. She was once a waitress at a restaurant before Sal married her? He never knew that… he had always thought she came from money since she was so prim and proper. Sal often bought her extravagant gifts? He had assumed her husband didn’t care much for her… but it seemed he did care. Sal cared far too much for his wife to the point it was terrifying.

(Your name) shared how most of her friends went missing after a while and that it was lonely, but her husband always cheered her up. That he’d take her to the best Italian restaurants each time and then he’d take her out on their balcony and make her limoncello to sip with him as they watched fireworks together.

It seemed he stumbled across a rabbit hole he should have never went down the more he learned. This young woman wasn’t a simple business tycoon’s wife… her husband was a part of the mob.

Glen couldn’t help but want to save her. She had no idea she was associated with the mob… that she was in danger!

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be selfish. He had enough to be able to relocate them to another country, he just had to convince her to flee… but he didn’t cover his tracks fast enough. Sal already caught wind of him.

Before he knew it, he was gagged and bound in a metal chair on the back of a ship on the sea. Cinder blocks were tied around each of his legs with heavy metal chains. Sal stood above him with a cigar in hand.

“I looked into you, Magnus or should I say… Glen.” Sal told the conman as he exhaled his cigar smoke. “Real piece of work, you are. Did you think I would let you try to take my wife?”

Glen gulped as Sal held up a pistol to him.

“I-I had no idea you cared so much for your wife-“

“Care for her?” Sal chuckled as his heavy accent dripped with venom, “I’m obsessed with her. She’s my darling wife and I’ll be damned if I let some schmuck get his greasy little fingers on her.”

Glen felt tears well up in his eyes. “Please, Sal. I’ll skip town, I’ll never talk to her again-“

“Yeah right, I found your little diary filled with love notes and your plan to convince her to run away with you.” Sal stood up with the gun still pointed. “Like hell I’d let you live. Rats like you need to be exterminated early.”

Glen felt tears roll down his face as Sal shoved the barrel into his mouth.

“Such a shame I have to get rid of another one of her friends, but she’ll be okay. I’m all amore mio needs.”

A gunshot rang out in the empty sea before a loud splash followed.

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yanderedrabbles · 8 months ago

Note

What would yandere mafia do if he seen yn with another guy?

Yandere Gangster - Jealousy

He's your driver for the day and his eyes keep slipping to the rear view mirror to watch you.

You've got your arms stretched out along the backrest, a slim cigar drooping from your fingers and your head tilted back. Everything about you exudes a quiet, deadly confidence that still frightens him, even after all this time.

"Take the I76 and turn off at the airport."

"Yes ma'am."

He expects to maybe exchange some cargo or hand something off to a mule. He doesn't expect you to be picking up a man.

And he sure as hell doesn't expect you to hug the guy.

You - the cold hearted, merciless mafia boss - have your arms draped around a man's neck. And worse even than that, you give him a kiss on the cheek.

He's too shocked to move and when you tell him to grab the man's luggage, he takes a second before he manages to follow you.

In the car, you offer the man a pull of your cigar. He can see the slight stain of your lipstick on the filter before the man leans forward and covers it with his own lips.

It feels as intimate as a kiss.

And it makes him want to bite the man's face off and tear his throat to ribbons with his teeth and feel blood run like water down his throat. Instead, he just clutches at the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and numb.

No matter how much he hates seeing you with anyone else, you're still his boss.

Whoever this man is, you wouldn't take kindly to him being hurt without your explicit orders. Because the one thing he hates more than this smug bastard is the thought of you being angry with him.

And so he drives you back home and has to hang onto the door like a lifeline when the man rests his hand on your waist.

You tell him to come back tomorrow morning and he spends the rest of the afternoon drinking, trying not to think about you and the stranger all alone together.

He gets into a bar fight and it's almost a relief to be throwing punches. When he washes the blood off his knuckles, he pictures the stranger's face breaking under his fists.

In the morning, you see the bruises on his face and suck your teeth in annoyance.

"Why'd you let them ruin your pretty face?"

"It was a lucky shot ma'am."

You push the hair out his eyes for a better look and shake your head.

"Be more careful next time."

His throat goes dry at your touch.

"Yes ma'am."

Your hand slips from his head down to the nape of his neck. Your hands are so warm, so soft, that he almost melts. And the way you hold him is borderline possessive, the way a dog holds a puppy by the scruff of its neck.

"I'm proud of you. You behaved very well around my brother yesterday."

"Your brother?"

He feels a rush of relief and under it, a slight sense of trepidation. Were you baiting him? You didn't mention anything about the stranger being your brother.

You smile that cold, calculating smile of yours.

"You didn't think he was my husband, did you?"

He feels blood rush to his face.

"N-no ma'am."

"Good." You squeeze his neck a little before pulling away.

"I'd hate for you to think I had a lover."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #reader insert #yandere scenarios #yandere drabbles #x reader #yandere oc #Soft yandere #Needy yandere #Yandere gangster #Yandere mafia

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darkbluekies · 2 days ago

Text

One by one

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: it was too easy to run away ... maybe because Silas has a plan to get you to come back by yourself ....

Warnings: yandere, feelings of isolation, mention of murder, anesthesia, everything in the oneshot is a bit more on the darker side, so prepare for that

Word count: 4.3k

It had been too easy, you realise in retrospect. It had been harder before. If none of Silas’s men or security alarm had caught you, Otto would have—the 90 pound male Doberman—but this time, you almost walked out the front door with ease.

You lean your chin in your hand. Something's wrong. Terribly wrong.

You glance down at your hands, trembling as you remove the wedding ring from your finger and putting it in your pocket. The moon above you seems to stare right at you. The playground is empty, which probably is for the best. You haven't been able to breathe inside, but going outside is dangerous.

“Here, I got you a soda”, your friend says as she returns from the corner shop.

You take it in your hands, mumbling a “thank you”. Your friend sits down beside you on the bench, glancing at you from time to time.

“Are you thinking about him?”

You nod.

“It'll be okay”, your friend says. “Somehow.”

“He'll be furious”, you mumble. “He always gets mad. But … something is different. I shouldn't have been able to leave that easy.”

“Don't think too much about it. It'll only make things worse.”

You've been home for a few days and with every day that passes, you're scared it'll be your last with your family. It always feels like someone's watching … because there is.

“Boss”, SIC says into his phone. “They removed their wedding ring.”

He's hidden by shadows, standing too far away for you to see. But he sees. Oh, how he sees you.

“What?” Silas asks, anger growing in his throat.

“Should I go over there?” SIC asks.

“No. Don't. Come back.”

“Uh, are you sure? They might not be here long.”

“Then hurry. I have another idea.”

SIC gives you one last glance before stepping onto his motorcycle. Silas waits for him outside his house, Otto by his side.

“Shouldn't someone watch them?” SIC asks.

“I’m going to send them a message”, Silas says.

“A message? Won't that hurt them?”

Silas rolls his eyes and holds up a note. “Not one of the messages. I'll put this in Otto's collar and you'll take him with you and go back. Send Otto forward, stay hidden. Y/N will recognise him and then understand that I am watching. If they follow what's on the note, go get them. If they decide not to, simply walk over and get Otto, but don’t say a word to them.”

“What? Why?”

“I'm not going to chase them this time. I'm going to bring them to me by removing what they left me for … and I'll start with that friend of theirs sitting beside them. One by one, until Y/N comes crawling begging for forgiveness.”

SIC smirks. “Gotcha.”

You’ve barely touched your soda when you hear the sound of panting.

“Oh, where did that come from?” your friend asks.

You turn your eyes up and feel how every nerve in your body snaps, like cords being cut. You could recognise that dog among hundreds.

“What the fuck”, you breathe out and on instinct crawl higher on the bench. “No, no, no no—”

“What is it?” your friend asks.

Otto wags his tail, more than happy to see you after a few days of being apart. He barks happily. Your eyes scan the horizon with blurry vision, panicky searching for him. He has found you. He’s here to take you back.

“You know this dog?” your friend asks with furrowed brows. “He seems to know you…”

“It’s … uh, it’s his dog.”

Your voice trembles more than it should. Your breath hitches as you sit down normally again, hands shakingly reaching out to pet Otto. He’s ecstatic, licking your hands and barking as if you’ve been apart for months. You can’t see Silas anywhere and decide to turn your eyes onto Otto.

“If you’re here … someone else is too”, you whisper shakingly.

“Should we leave?” your friend asks.

“No use … Otto runs faster than we do.”

“Does he bite?”

“If he’s instructed to.”

You notice a paper locked onto his collar and pull it out, almost drop it when you try to open it. The handwriting is intensely familiar. To your surprise, there’s only one sentence.

“Put your wedding ring back on your finger.”

You hesitate. That son of a bitch. He basically releases you, psyches you for days ,making you absolutely paranoid, and then sends forward the only thing in that damn household you like with a demand? Who does he think he is?

You crumpled the paper and throw it. If he wants to get you, he’ll have to come get you himself. You’re not a doll for him to play around with. Not the butt of his joke. He must stand somewhere in the shadows and watch you with that grin on his face. It’s all a joke to him, isn’t it? That’s why he let you leave. He’s toying with you. But you won’t entertain him.

Someone comes walking out of the shadows of the other side of the playground. Your entire body tenses, eyes widening. You expect it to be him, but it’s SIC. You’re not sure if that’s better.

“Here, boy”, SIC says and pats his thigh.

Your heart stops. Eyes never leaving him. Otto turns and runs to SIC, getting into work mode. Your friend seems less scared than you. She doesn’t know who this is. Or what he does. Doesn’t know how close to death she is right now. You wonder what she’d say if she knew that she was face to face with the right hand man of the country’s most dangerous man.

You meet SIC’s dark eyes for a second, before they flicker to your friend, then back.

“If that’s how you want it”, he says calmly. “You had a choice and you declined it.”

Wait what?

He turns and walks, Otto following him.

You’re not sure why, but you fly up from the bench, hurrying after.

“What are you talking about?” Your words come out way too quick. “What is he going to do?”

SIC doesn’t seem to notice you. Or he doesn’t care. Otto doesn’t look at you either.

“SIC!” you say, louder than intended. Your voice trembles. “Stop doing this! I’m fucking scared, don’t do that! I don’t want to play your game, I just want to be left alone!”

SIC looks at you, still walking.

“How hard can it be to put on a little ring?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Hm? You’re selfish and you’re childish. You think Silas will come running after you again? You don’t think he has better things to do than to chase after you like a goddamn toddler every fifteen minutes?”

“Fine, I’ll put on the ring! I’ll wear it.”

“Cute, but I don’t ask twice. You’ve made your choice.” He stops and turns to you. “We both know it wasn’t actually about the ring, right? And if that’s the case … why didn’t you put it on? Why be so selfish and let other people take your punishment?”

“SIC … please …”

“It's not me you have to beg.”

With that said, he leaves. You watch him disappear into the shadows, hear his car's engine tone out.

You realise you haven’t breathed in over a minute. On heavy legs you drag yourself back to the bench. The soda is since long forgotten. Your breathing comes out hectic, rushed. Frantic.

“Y/N, breathe”, your friend reminds you, holding one of her hands over your chest. “Let’s go to the cops, let’s—”

“That won’t work … oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Get up. We’re moving.”

The note lays scrambled on the ground. It was a test? “You had a choice and you declined it?” What the fuck did that mean? What have you declined? And what have you, in response, opened yourself up for?

Your head is spinning. SIC has seen tour friend. Actively turned his gaze to her. That split of a second was all he needed to memorise her.

“You have to leave.”

“Let’s go home, Y/N, you look unwell. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, I’m actually serious. You have to leave.”

Or is it better for her to stay where you can see her?

“Should I call someone?” your friend asks.

Who can you call? The cops? You want to laugh out loud. The second you call the cops, Silas men will know, because of course he has people working for him in the police force. Besides, your phone is back at Silas’s house and your friend's could easily be tracked.

“Let's go inside, at least”, your friend says. “It's getting chilly.”

“We're not going home.”

You're sure Silas already knows where you live, but it's the principle. Your friend takes you to the corner shop she got the sodas from. The bright fluorescent light hits your eyes. But the warmth from the heaters makes you relax slightly.

“I feel so selfish”, you say as you walk around the aisles with your hands in your pockets. “You have nothing to do with this, but he'll drag you into it …just because you're connected to me. Guilty by fucking association.”

“I'm not scared”, she answers softly.

You should be.

If only your friend knew who she had been standing eye to eye with. SIC is a machine, no remorse, no conscience. He could have killed her right then and there and not have cared that you were sitting half a meter away. He's not like Silas. Compared to him, Silas is almost humble. Almost.

“Silas has two dogs”, you mutter and pretend to look at a bag of chips. “Just that one of them happens to be a thirty-six year old narcissist. You met both tonight.”

“He gave me the creeps.”

“Silas insists that he's my brother-in-law, but I only see a dog following it’s owner.”

“Should we get rid of it? The ring?”

Your eyes dart to your friend, horrified at the mere suggestion.

“Are you insane?” you breathe out. “He already knows I've taken it off and that has put me in trouble. If I get rid of it, he'll kill me.”

“Would he?”

“Well, maybe not kill, but I don't want to figure out what he figures out. I tried to put it on, I begged SIC, but … he said it’s too late.” You bite your lip. “I think I've done something really bad. Every time I try to push back he finds a way to cage me in. Wouldn't surprise me if I become the third dog.”

“I think you need to rest, Y/N. Let's buy some snacks and go to my house and watch a movie, okay?”

You think of your parents back home. You should go to them, in case Silas shows up, but maybe he won't go there if you're not there.

You grab the bag of chips you pretended to look at and go to the counter. The woman behind smiles at you and scans the bag.

“That'll be three dollars”, she says.

You pick out your wallet and give her three one dollar cash. All taken from Silas's wallet. Your own bank card has been cut in two and if you get a new one he can track that too. Cash is the only safe way.

“Thank you”, the woman says.

“Have a good evening”, you mumble and grab the bag of chips.

“You too, Y/N.”

You freeze in place. Eyes widening. Suddenly the cashier's smile doesn't seem the least sweet anymore, even though it hasn't changed. You stumble backwards.

Run.

Your nails dig into your friend's arm and hurry out of the corner shop, heart hammering against your ribs.

“How did she know your name?” your friend asks.

“Fucking hell”, you hiss, running your free hand through your hand. “He's stationed them out! That woman works for him. He's put her there to keep track if I walk in! That asshole. She heard what I said about SIC!”

You hit your palm against your forehead, groaning.

“Jennifer messaged”, SIC says and walks into the office, phone in hand. “The one we put in the corner shop, you know? She messaged that Y/N and their friend walked in.”

“Well?” Silas asks and leans back. “What did they buy?”

“Chips.”

“Chips? Seriously?”

“She wrote that. Said that they're going home to the friend to watch a movie. Sour cream and onion, if you want to know the flavor. Kind of basic if you ask me but who am I to judge?”

Silas leans back in his chair. “So … Y/N both ignored my warning, crumpled the note, talked back and is now buying snacks to watch a movie? Seems to me like they're not the slightest worried. What a joke.”

“What do you want to do?”

Silas thinks for a moment, jaw burn. “They're going to their friend's house?”

“Yes, it seems like it.”

“So their own home is free?”

“I'd guess their parents are home.”

Silas stands up, pushing the chair back. “Let's pay them a visit. Grab Otto.”

You couldn't focus on the movie and ate chips on autopilot. Couldn’t even tell what the movie was about, but now that you’re lying on the mattress in your friend’s room, turned to the side, you feel how you wish you had watched the movie, forced yourself to enjoy it, just so that you could have kept your mind occupied, because now that everything is silent and dark … the thoughts come back. You sit up slowly, glancing towards your friend before picking out the ring from your pocket, admiring it in the moonlight. The engravement on the inside makes your stomach twist. In some way, you do like Silas. A part of you can’t deny that, but you know that staying with him means giving up all of your dreams and the life you’ve studied to get. If you stay with him, all your decisions becomes his. Your life, becomes his. You’re his accessory, his. When he’s not the mafia man that comes home bloody, he’s almost normal … and you’re terrified to let that part of him take you under.

I shouldn’t have been so naive to mess with Silas about the ring. Why was I so selfish to just … throw the note away? In front of SIC?

You know it was because of just needing to put a little stick in the wheel, just something to annoy him, to show that he can’t scare you into being his obedient little dog. A little rebellion to have something for yourself.

But you know how stupid that is.

You rest your head into your hands, groaning.

“Get out of my head”, you whisper pleadingly. “Please, please, please get out of my head.”

“We both know it wasn’t actually about the ring, right?” SIC had said when you had begged him to explain. “And if that’s the case … why didn’t you put it on? Why be so selfish and let other people take your punishment?”

You know how Silas functions by now. He’s like an explorer in a jungle, cutting down branches in the way to get to their target. He’s going to use people you love to get to you. But how? Is he going to search every house until he finds you and kill every time he won’t find you? Or kill when he finds you?

Suddenly the house doesn’t feel safe anymore. You’re just waiting for him to come and get you … and that’ll put your friend in danger. You sigh and get up from the mattress, grabbing your jacket. If he gets here and finds that you’re not here … maybe your friend will be safe? Or … maybe you’re not here to protect her …

He wants you, after all. If you’re not here, he might just move on to the next and leave them be.

You give your friend a small squeeze on her shoulder before slipping out of the dark house. Your mind contradicts itself again. How are you any more safe out there in the open darkness than in there behind locked doors? You stop in the middle of the road, the streetlights shining above you, lighting you up like spotlights at a trial. Should you go back?

You’ll risk her life. Her parents life.

Every step you take can be wrong and result in death. Tears fall down your cheeks as you run home. Your feet barely touch the ground. Every step hurts.

The house is quiet as you enter through the back door. You stop and frown, listen for sounds … or the lack of it.

“Mom?” you ask hesitantly. “Dad?”

Their lack of answering rips your heart out of your chest. He hadn’t started with your friend, of course not, he had started here … where your most cherished loved ones live. With your heart in your throat you run up the stairs to their bedroom. Two bodies are lying in bed, above the covers, without as much as a movement. You turn on the lights and see them lay there. Your eyes search for blood, for wounds, holes … but nothing. Instead, you see a note taped on the headboard. Before grabbing it, you feel for your mother’s pulse. Alive? With confusion mixed relief, you grab the paper.

“This is the second note I’m writing to you this evening. Don’t let it reach a third one. Since I love you more than I probably should at this moment, I will give you ONE last chance. Your parents are not dead—not yet, at least. Just some anesthesia … but it scared you, didn’t it? Made you think they were dead? How did that feel, Y/N? Was it worth it? Would your little adventure be worth losing both of you parents? This time, it was just a scare. Next time I WILL go through with it. And don’t think that by staying by your parents side will do any different. Your friends, your extended family, are all in my reach. You can’t protect everyone at the same time, can you? If you want all of this to stop, you know what you need to do — S.”

New sobs escape you. You crumple the paper and throw it to the side before shaking your mom and dad, pleading with them to wake up. When they don’t, you continue to sit at the bedside, filled with nothing. Emptiness had never felt so large, so filling, before.

“I knew something was up the second I left”, you say out into the room, almost as if you expect either mom or dad to answer. “I should have realised … but I’m pretty good at acting first and thinking later. I just wanted to get away, I never meant for anyone to get hurt … I just wanted to be free. We live one life … why should mine be wasted just because that man has decided that I should be his spouse? It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I have to be responsible for everyone around me. Their life shouldn’t have to be in danger because of me. I know I’m not technically responsible, that it’s Silas, but … somehow it feels like my fault. And I hate it …” Tears roll down your cheeks and you don’t try to stop them. “I hate that I have become dangerous and I hate that people can’t look at me without thinking of him. I just wanted to get away … go home … be the old me again … and I thought that if I remove his ring, I would be my old self again … stupid. It’s all so stupid!”

You rise from the bed, glaring towards the hallway, almost expecting to see someone standing there.

“If I don’t want anyone I love to die, I need to crawl back to him”, you hiss. “Be a good little doggy. I need to sacrifice my entire soul for everyone. The trolley problem, right? But fine. I’ll come crawling on my knees. I’ll do what it takes because I can’t let him hurt any of you. If the only power I have is to keep you safe … then I guess I’ll do it. My only resistance that I can’t be punished for.”

You tuck a blanket over your parents and quietly leave the house. You wrap your arms around your body and walk on heavy legs through the night once again. This time, you don’t stop at the end of the city. You keep on walking and walking and walking. It never ends.

Until you see his house. Black and modern, with lights in the windows. He’s still up. Waiting for you.

You’re not sure if you should knock or walk right in. You’re way too tired. Way too painful. Your hand trembles as you open the front door and stumble in. Head turning directly to your left, to the door to his office. Closed. Light shines beneath it. You walk over and knock, heart sinking down to your stomach.

“Yes?” Silas voice asks.

“I’m … I’m back”, you whisper.

You can hear his lips turn into a smile.

“Come in, little thing.”

You open the door, heavy eyes setting on him where he sits on the couch by the window. Not by his desk. He hasn’t been working. Only waiting. Expecting.

“Look at you”, he chuckles, leaning his head back against the wall, legs spread. “Quicker than I thought.”

You want to sit down. Your legs can’t hold you anymore. He can see the way your eyelids flutter in exhaustion and defeat and stands up, strolling over to you. His hand creeps up to your cheek, cupping it.

“Such a good little thing you are, aren’t you?” he mumbles. “You gathered all those brain cells in your head and came back.”

“Stop fucking saying that …”, you breathe out, shaking your head in exhaustion, anger flaring back into your bones. “Stop making it into a joke … it’s anything but …”

He caresses your cheek, voice becoming gentler. “I know. I know.”

He catches your tear with his finger before it reaches your skin.

“Now that we don't have to fight anymore, you should go to bed—”

“Fight?” you questioned. “Is that how you view this?”

“How else? You were mad at me and left and I got mad at you when you removed your ring. Show me your hand.”

You lift both hands. He touches the golden ring on your ring finger.

“Good”, he said. “That was all I wanted. If you’d have put on that ring, I wouldn’t have had to let you see that side of me … but you’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

“So I should just let you dictate my life as you please then?” you hiss without looking at him. “As long as I do what you say, I don’t have to worry you’re going to murder my loved ones?”

Silas’s black eyes hardened slightly.

“Do you even acknowledge how lucky you are being able to speak to me like that and still not get killed?” he asks.

“If you hurt any of them you knew I'd never forgive you. That's why you didn't. Because you wouldn't want to admit you did wrong, so you'd rather have it look like a kind gesture. It wasn't. None of it."

“Really? How about you stop staring into the wall and at least look at me when you're accusing me so I might believe you're actually serious.”

You look at him. He scans your face for a few seconds before scoffing. He takes a step closer, until he can reach down and whisper in your ear. You stand perfectly still.

“You pretend to hate me”, he whispers, breath fanning your ear. “But we both know that's not true.”

“I hate this. Whatever you're doing now.”

“That's fine with me, because you're not supposed to see this side. As long as you behave … you don't have to.”

Behave. The words make you scoff.

“Let’s get you to bed now”, Silas says. “We will talk more in the morning … and while you sleep, I’ll figure out appropriate consequences for this dumb act.”

Before you can protest, he bends down and lifts you over his shoulder. You don’t even bother fighting back. Why should you give him the delight of your struggle? You’ve already lost. You’re exhausted.

He might have won the battle, but you will win the war. Somehow.

Otto comes out of the dining room and barks happily at the sight of you. His tail wags and he hurries after you and Silas up the stairs to the second floor, jumps into the bed when you’re placed down. You lay still, staring to your side, refusing to acknowledge him. Silas removes your shoes, throwing them to the side and tucks you in, still in the same clothes you’ve been running around in.

“Rest”, he orders, his hand resting on your ankle for a moment. “You’re home now. Where you should be. No more running around or I will cuff you to the bed with Otto’s leash. You’re mine.”

The Doberman jumps up on the bed. Silas pets him once.

“Otto will make sure you’re still here when I come back. Now that I don’t have to wait for you anymore, I will get some actual work done. Sleep well, little thing, don’t ever do this shit again. I miss you too much, you know, and you’re not safe out there alone.”

He leans down and kisses your forehead before alkig over to the door.

"Oh, and next time you compare my best friend to a dog ...", Silas says, smirking slightly, "... maybe you want to make sure no one listens."

With that said, he chuckles and leaves the room. Otto lays down beside you and licks your face. You reach your hand to pet his fur. With a sigh, you rest your head back on the pillows, cursing quietly with your arms crossed over your chest. Next time you’ll succeed. Next time.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader

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d3stinyist1red · 11 months ago

Note

GIRLIE, YANDERE OLDER MAFIA BOSS!!(TAKE YOUR TIME IF YOU HAVE OTHER REQUESTSSSS!!💗)

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ʙᴏss x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan mafia boss who you work under, with him being your boss and your his right hand woman

yan mafia boss who treats you like you own him, following with whatever you say

yan mafia boss who doesnt like any medics touching him, wanting you to be one treating him

The medic was standing in front of him, clearly fearful for her life bc the man in front of her could kill her if she did the slight mistake. She tried to pat and help the wounds of the Mafia boss who smacked her hand away and huffed.

"Bring me my n/n, now." He said glaring at her as she quickly nodded, basically running to you. She told you about how he refused to let her help and touch him as you sighed. You rubbed your temple before nodding and smiling at her.

"Don't worry, Ill deal with him." You said politely, nodding at her before walking past her, going to the room where he was at. You opened the door and you saw the way his eyes lit up, and a grin landed on his usually nonchalant face. "Love!" He said, as you walked up to him.

"Why are always acting so stubborn to the medics? You know that they're there to help you, idiot." You said clearly irritated, making him pout and tilt his head. "But, I want you to help me!!...and have your hands all over my body..." He whined, grabbing your hand and resting it on his cheek, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes.

yan mafia boss who has to always be in constant contact with you

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

n/nnn

where are uuuuu

n/nnnnn

n/nnnn

...?

...

no reply?

Have other hoes?

YOU DO DONT YOU?!!!?!?!!?

i hate u.

You getting blocked.

dont talk to me. I know you hate me.

Okay, im going to kill my self.

...?

....

...

This is (yans name, yall could make sum up) cat, he just shot himself

do you love him

...

...?

baby you know that was all a prank

i love u

pls let me eat ur ass

i wanna slurp ur kitty so good that the only thing i could taste is u mami

(seen 1 min ago)

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

ur rlly gonna leave me on seen?

ur lucky i dont come and cream all over ur face rn

pls touch me

yan mafia boss who has his bodyguards protect you no matter where you go

"Okat sigma 1, hawk tuah, ohio go protect n/n, you better fucking protect her with your life, ya hear?!" He said to his bodygaurds aggressively, scowling them down as they shook in fear,....i think one of them peed their pants...erm!

yan mafia boss who is madly jealous, putting a bullet into anyone's head he sees as threat for your love.

yan mafia boss who when you arent around, he struggles to sleep. He tosses and turns, his mind racing with scenarios about what they might be doing or who they’re with. "is she with that ugly bitch from work again?! Is she with one of my bodyguards?! Is she cheating on me?!" He hiccuped through his sobs, biting on his nails, hair all messy from tossing and turning throughout his sleep

He often wakes up in a cold sweat, feeling empty without them next to him. If you spends the night somewhere else, he'll start spamming you on everything even roblox.. If you dont answer within 5 mins, he immediately sends his men to try to find you, and paces around his house, restless waiting for your reply. bruh u were js buying sum takis...

yan mafia boss who is your boss who favors you a little too much!!! <333

IM PROB GONNA UPDATE SOME MORE ON TUMBLR BUT IM STILL ON BREAK ON WATTPAD CUZ I LOST MY GOD DAMN PHONEEE

SORRY IF THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT RLLY KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR MAFIA BOSS YAN

#yandere x reader #yanderemalexreader #soft yandere #clingy yandere #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere x darling #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere #yandere mafia #destinys worksss<333

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ozzgin · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

Content: female reader, fluff

[Part 3] | [Part 5] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly.

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly.

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly.

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire.

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings.

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously.

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation.

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is.

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category.

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines.

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly.

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information.

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously.

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls.

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed.

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right.

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit.

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table.

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family."

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically.

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture.

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards.

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark.

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou.

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed.

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back.

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #yandere yakuza #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere original character #oc x reader #mafia x reader #yandere mafia

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kryllia · 4 months ago

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Mine to Protect, Mine to Own

art from pinterest

yandere mafia classmate x reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Nicolò Dellabarca had always been a mystery.

You weren’t close. You had only worked together on a class project once. He was efficient, quiet, and surprisingly attentive, but the partnership ended without much conversation.

Still, something always felt off about him.

He was cold with others but different around you. He never spoke unless necessary, yet his presence loomed over you like a shadow. Whenever you turned your head, you found his sharp blue eyes watching you, unreadable but focused.

At first, you ignored it.

Then, small things started happening.

One night, when you were leaving campus late, a stranger had followed you for a few blocks—until a black car pulled up, and the man suddenly disappeared. The next day, a few guys from your class who had been bothering you stopped showing up. And once, when you almost tripped on the stairs, Nicolò had been there, catching your arm before you even realized he was close.

"Careful."

His voice had been deep, steady. He had let go quickly, looking almost flustered.

You should have put the pieces together then.

But you didn’t—until the night you were taken.

It happened fast. A car pulled up. A group of men stepped out. Before you could scream, a hand covered your mouth.

You fought, kicking and struggling, but everything faded into darkness.

Your first thought upon waking was: This is too comfortable to be a basement.

A thick blanket covered you. A fireplace crackled nearby. The room smelled of expensive wood and something faintly floral.

For a second, you thought you were dreaming—until the door opened.

"Mom, what do you mean you have a surprise for me? It better not be another—"

The voice stopped.

You turned your head—and froze.

Nicolò.

His blue eyes went wide. His usual cold expression shattered, replaced by something you had never seen before: panic.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

"Mom..." His voice was sharp, but there was something almost desperate beneath it. "What did you do?"

From behind the door, a light, cheery voice replied.

"Oh, relax, sweetheart. I just helped you a little."

Nicolò let out a shaky breath. "This is not helping."

He turned back to you.

You met his gaze, your body rigid.

"...What the hell is going on?"

The door opened again, and a woman stepped inside.

She was beautiful—dark-haired, elegant, and radiating control. She held a glass of water and smiled at you as if you weren’t just kidnapped.

"You must be thirsty," she said, offering the glass.

You didn’t take it.

"Who are you?"

Her lips curled. "You can call me Isabella. I’m Nicolò’s mother."

Your stomach twisted.

"And why did your men kidnap me?"

She sighed as if this were a mild inconvenience. "Because my son is terrible at taking what he wants."

You turned to Nicolò, waiting for him to deny it.

He didn’t.

His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow.

You took a slow step back. "You let this happen?"

"I—I didn’t know—" He cut himself off, rubbing his face. "Mamma, why would you do this?"

Isabella chuckled. "Oh, Nicolò, don’t be so dramatic. You were never going to make the first move, so I gave you a little push."

You scoffed. "Push?! You kidnapped me!"

Isabella tilted her head. "And yet, you’re perfectly safe, aren’t you?"

Your blood ran cold.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Do you know how many people have been watching you? Waiting for you to be alone? Do you really think walking home alone at night was ever safe?"

You swallowed hard.

She smiled. "You needed to be taken, darling. If not by us, then by someone worse."

You clenched your fists. "That’s bullshit."

Nicolò finally spoke, his voice low. "It’s not."

Your chest tightened.

You turned to him, searching his face. "Then let me go."

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t answer.

Because you both knew the truth.

There was no leaving.

The Dellabarca estate was suffocatingly grand. Every hallway was lined with paintings, every door guarded.

And now, you were seated at an impossibly long dining table, facing the people who had stolen you.

Nicolò sat stiffly at the head of the table, shoulders tense. Across from him sat a man you had yet to meet.

Giovanni Dellabarca.

His father.

The room felt colder with him in it. His presence was overwhelming—calm, composed, and dangerous.

"So," Giovanni finally said, swirling his wine. "You have fire. I like that."

You set your fork down sharply. "I don’t care what you like."

Nicolò inhaled sharply beside you.

Giovanni smirked. "Feisty. Just like your mother, eh, Isabella?"

His wife chuckled. "Oh, absolutely. I see so much of myself in them."

Your stomach churned. "I am nothing like you."

Isabella smiled knowingly. "Oh, but you are." She leaned in slightly. "You think I wanted this life? That I chose it?"

You stilled.

"I hated Giovanni at first," she continued. "I fought, I screamed, I ran—but in the end, I understood."

She turned to her husband, her gaze softening. "Love in this world isn’t sweet. It’s fierce. It’s possession. And once you understand that..."

She looked back at you, her expression almost pitying.

"...it’s easier."

Your hands shook.

Giovanni exhaled, setting down his glass. "You’ll come around. She did."

Your skin burned with anger. "I am not her."

For a moment, Giovanni studied you.

Then—unexpectedly—he laughed.

Nicolò stiffened.

"You know," Giovanni mused, "when Isabella first entered my life, she hated me just as much as you hate my son now."

You clenched your fists. "Good."

His smirk didn’t falter.

"Yet, here we are."

Your blood ran cold.

Nicolò suddenly stood. "Enough."

Giovanni’s brow lifted. "Touched a nerve?"

Nicolò’s hands curled into fists. "They don’t need to hear this." His voice was sharp, controlled—but his eyes flickered with something desperate.

He turned to you, his voice lower. "Come on. I’ll take you back to your room."

You hesitated.

Then, without another word, you followed him out.

As soon as the door shut behind you, Nicolò let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his dark hair. His shoulders, always so rigid around his family, slumped slightly.

"Dio mio, that was a disaster."

You folded your arms. "That’s an understatement."

He turned to face you. For the first time since you woke up in this house, he looked directly at you—really looked at you. His piercing blue eyes, usually so cold, held something else now. Something desperate.

"...Are you okay?"

The words were so quiet, so gentle, they made your stomach twist.

You wanted to lash out. To scream at him. To tell him no, I am not okay, you psychotic bastard—your family kidnapped me!

But something about the way he was looking at you—like he was hurting just from seeing you upset—made your breath catch.

You clenched your fists. "...No. I’m not."

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides like he wanted to punch a wall—or worse, like he wanted to hold you but didn’t know if he was allowed.

"You—" His voice caught. He exhaled through his nose, composing himself before trying again. "You don’t understand."

Your eyes narrowed. "Understand what, Nicolò? That you let your mother steal me? That I’m being held hostage in your house?"

His expression twisted.

Then, before you could react, he moved.

Fast.

He was in front of you in an instant, his large frame towering over yours. One of his hands slammed against the door beside your head, caging you in. The other reached for your wrist, wrapping around it—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that you couldn’t pull away.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

His eyes, those sharp, ice-blue eyes, burned into yours.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice was low, rough, almost shaking. "You think I wanted them to touch you? To take you before I could—before I—"

He cut himself off, his breath ragged.

You swallowed hard. "Before you what, Nicolò?"

His fingers twitched against your wrist.

His lips parted like he was going to answer—but he hesitated. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight.

Then, quietly—so softly it sent a shiver down your spine—he whispered:

"Before I could make you mine."

Your stomach dropped.

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He could feel how fast your heart was racing. His expression darkened, something dangerously close to satisfaction flickering across his face.

"You don’t get it, cara mia." His voice was almost gentle now, a sick contrast to the possessiveness dripping from his words. "You were never safe outside. They were watching you. Waiting for an opportunity."

His free hand rose, his knuckles grazing your cheek.

"I was the only thing keeping you safe."

Your breath hitched.

His fingers trailed down to your jaw, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away.

"You hate me now," he murmured. "That’s fine. You can hate me all you want." His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate. "But you belong to me, whether you like it or not."

Your entire body tensed. "I belong to no one."

His expression flickered—hurt, frustration, something deeper—but it was gone in an instant. Instead, his lips curved into something that made your blood run cold.

A smirk.

"Say that again in a few months," he murmured, voice almost teasing. Almost sweet.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"We’ll see if you still believe that then."

And just like that, he let go.

You stumbled back, heart hammering, but he just straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders like nothing had happened.

His cold mask was back in place.

He turned away from you, walking toward the door.

"I’ll have someone bring you food," he said casually, as if he hadn’t just claimed you as his own. "Get some rest."

You gritted your teeth. "I’m not staying here."

Nicolò stopped.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he turned his head to the side—just enough for you to see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You don’t have a choice, amore."

And with that, he walked out, locking the door behind him.

This is inspirated by c.ai bot and it was made by @Strawberry_88

#yandere #yandere blog #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #kryllia talk #yandere mafia #mafia romance #mafia x reader #yandere mafia x reader #yandere mafia boss #yanderecore #yandere classmate #yandere classmate x reader #yandere boy x reader #yandere man x reader

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stargirllo · 4 months ago

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First oc eurhgeurgheurgh

Warnings? Mentions of violence, prostitution, drugs, uhh yandere behaviors?

I notice that this seems like pineconepie's story and I never intended for that to happen!

implied fem reader but you may ignore it as it is only mentioned once

You were a prostitute, street walker, whore, lady of the night, tramp, the names were endless and you weren't proud of your job..nobody who took part was except the perverted men and women that used your services.

You'd often stay in hotel lobbies during the night if they didn't immediately kick you out. One night, after working for a while you crashed at the Everett hotel, owned by Cedar Everett who apparently was a mafia boss. You couldn't care less, A lobby couch was a lobby couch despite the weird stares from the desk security.

After that night whenever you walked by the desk security always watched you through the window..embarrassing they probably thought you were a weirdo.. Who sleeps in a couch in a lobby? You ignored it most of the time though, too busy to care and too embarrassed to go back to attempt to sleep or try and explain.

a black SUV was parked outside once..very nice car in your humble opinion. The windows so tinted you could barley see through them, though you watched from an alleyway as Cedar Everett climbed out..holy shit! You quickly backed into an alley, not for any reason having to acquaint yourself with the scary man who ran the whole city.

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you walked deeper into the alley, hugging your leather jacket tight and trudging towards another hotel that didn't seem to care if you stayed in the lobby most nights. You looked back and noticed nobody there and shook of the feeling, maybe it was the air.

It'd been two weeks since you'd first seen cedar when things started showing up at hotel room doors if your clients ever got rooms. You were a little confused but the things were nice food, drinks, hair products, not just skimpy pieces of fabric but actual clothing.

Happened every time no matter what hotel you were staying at. You kept them all in a backpack you'd gotten, keeping it close at night to avoid others from stealing your things. Something you'd learned quickly during your first nights.

You'd decided to muscle up and go back to the Everett hotel, it has the nicest couches. You'd slowly walked in as a security guard came up..and oh god were they gonna kick you out? Much to your surprise he handed you a room key "i..have you mistaken me for someone else..?" You asked and he shook his head before stepping back.

Did he feel bad last time..well god that was embarrassing. You slowly walked over to the elevator and punched in the floor number, shifting from foot to foot as you waited and admiring the details of the elevator. Fancy people designed this..not for some street walker like you though.

You stepped out and searched for your room, unlocking it and admiring the sight. This room was huge! You set your bag down carefully and locked the hotel door, running over and collapsing in the cushy bed with a laugh.

Maybe this was the best night of your life in a while. You took some of the food out of your bag after showering and slowly ate some of it, still admiring the room. After a while you felt drowsy, laying down on the bed and falling asleep quickly.

You jolted awake as you heard the door open. You stared in shock at the man who was standing there..Cedar! You slowly crawled back in the bed and stared at the black haired man in a nice blouse and dress pants, diamond stud earrings in his ears and a soft smirk on his face.

"please don't hurt me" you muttered, though loud enough for him to hear apparently as his face turned into a frown. "Oh baby..why would I hurt a little kid?" He asked as he walked closer and you frowned.. Little kid? Excuse him you were a very grown adult.

"Im an adult..I'm literally a prostitute.." You muttered and he frowned even more "A little kid swept into s grown up job..poor thing" he muttered as he walked over and picked you up, not being phased by your flailing.

"it's okay sugar, dads here now" he muttered as he walked out, taking you to the elevator and to the garage for guests, shushing you in the hallways with a "others are sleeping honey, lets be nice" nice your ass this man just kid..abducted you!

He walked over to the same black SUV from weeks ago and climbed in. Well what the hall, your life wasn't gonna get any better but this was definitely making it worse!

#Lo's writing #yandere x reader #x reader #parental yandere #yandere behavior #forces infantilism #forced infantilization #forced infantilism #yandere mafia #platonic yandere #mafia boss #Oc: Ceder Everett

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bay-sil · 1 year ago

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𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊. 𝙱𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜..𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝-𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝙸𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚎𝚝-𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚕 𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚕𝚢.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕. "𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗" 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 "𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝙼𝚒𝚊" 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 "𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎" 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 "𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎?" 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 "𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎!"

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚑ook 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙰𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍'𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗

"𝙷𝚒, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚈/𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎?" 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 "𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎" 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. "𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎! 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚡𝚒 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢?" 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 "𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔" 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚜! 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?" 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎!

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎? 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘. 𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

"𝙸'𝚖 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕" 𝚈/𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚢𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 "𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢, 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝" 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚈/𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎.

𝙰𝚜 𝚈/𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚖𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏-𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. "𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚗" 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚈/𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛. "𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐" 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 "𝚈𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎?" 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙 "𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘, 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛" 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜

"𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛." 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍. "𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚊 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚊" 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎.

#yandere #x reader #x you #yn #yandere couple x reader #yandere mafia #yanderes #yanderes x reader #yandere poly #bay-sil

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