#yandere!killer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ozzgin · 4 months

Note

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

2K notes · View notes

bloodblanks · 1 year

Text

kinks

ft: eyeless jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

author's note: this fanfiction will contain explicit sexual content, including various kinks, fetishes, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

eyeless jack

biting.

the taste of human flesh is already something that jack likes, but even more so when it comes to your flesh specifically. it’s all about the way his teeth sink into the softness of your flesh, the taste of your blood flowing into his mouth; it’s all too delicious. however, there’s another darker side of him that relishes in the way you squirm against him, or the sound escaping your lips—the perfect concoction of pain and pleasure.

marking.

this comes alongside biting, but he enjoys owning you and branding you as his. either with the aforementioned bitemarks, or with hickeys—although he tends to bite during them, anyway—or by carving his name into you. that’s his favourite.

knifeplay.

technically, in his case it’d be scalpelplay. anyhow, he loves running his scalpel along the surface of your skin, tracing along the curvature of your body, or slicing thin lines and outlining your bone structure, especially your ribs.

bloodplay.

this goes hand in hand with knifeplay as well as biting. first and foremost, he relishes in the taste of your blood. it’s the closest he can get to tasting you without hurting you too much. however, he also likes to play with it. he’ll smear it across your skin, painting you with beautiful crimson, but he’ll also lap up your blood, then proceed to kiss you, making you taste yourself and then seeing the stains on your soft lips.

breeding.

there’s just something about him being a demon that gives him a primal urge to want to mate you, breed you, fill you with his seed and impregnate you.

creampies.

this branches off breeding, but his favourite place to cum is obviously inside you; he loves watching his cum drip out of you.

masky

dominance/submission.

frankly, tim is a freak. which will become more and more obvious as you read through this list. anyway. the most important thing for tim in terms of kinks is dominance. he wants to assert power and control over you and enforce that you’re his and his alone. he wants you to submit to him and know that you’ll do whatever he wants whenever he wants, whether you like it or not.

bondage.

tim loves bondage of all sorts. be it tying you up or using chains—he likes it all. it only adds to the power he has over you, considering you’re all tied up, helpless and at his whim. his particular favourite is chaining you to the wall, amongst others, such as tying your hands behind your back while he fucks you from behind. he loves seeing you struggle against your bindings to no avail, especially if he’s edging, overstimulating, or hurting you.

restraints.

closely related to bondage is restraints, such as gags, handcuffs, and blindfolds. they restrict or deprive you of something or another, and the simple fact that he can take that away from you, turns him on. he’s 50/50 on the gags, though, because on one hand he likes it when you can’t talk or even protest against anything he does, but on the other hand he loves hearing all the sounds you make.

edging.

he enjoys edging you, and he’ll really take it to the next level by having you restrained, unable to move or do anything to stop him as he fingers you and plays with your clit, maybe even going down on you or using a toy of some sort. whatever it is, he loves bringing you right to the brink of orgasm and then stopping just before. he’ll do it numerous times, over and over until you’re on the verge of tears and begging for him to please just let you cum.

begging.

the sound of you begging is nothing short of music to his ears. and that’s why he’ll make you do it so often. he’ll make you beg for him to fuck you, he’ll make you beg for him to let you cum, he’ll make you beg for pretty much each and every single bit of pleasure he gives you. he relishes in how powerful it makes him feel and it’s so hot for him to have you begging and pleading for him, desperate for him to allow you any pleasure at all. he loves knowing that it’s all fully dependant on him; he can control whether or not you feel good and just how good you feel. and there’s nothing you can say or do about it.

overstimulation.

when he’s finally satisfied with how desperate you are and how much you’ve pleaded for him, he’ll finally let you cum. and while it may feel good the first time he lets you, you know it’s only a matter of time before he does it again and again, until you’re once again begging and crying for him to stop, telling him that you’re too sensitive and it’s too much.

sadism/masochism.

tim not only likes to control whether or not you feel pleasure, but he also likes to do the same for pain. not only does he just like it by default, but it also closely ties into and relates to his other kinks.

spanking.

he likes spanking you. bending you over his lap and spanking you with his hand, or even a paddle or his belt. he loves making you count each and every strike, but not as much as he enjoys making you thank him for it. he likes it when you’re tied up the most so that he can watch you squirm yet unable to get away. he’ll also spank you during sex if you’re doing doggystyle. the sight of your pretty ass, nice and red with heat radiating off your cheeks, is delightful for him.

hair pulling.

tim will pull your hair, especially if he’s fucking you from behind. he also likes it when you’re giving him head, but one of his favourite scenarios is just having you bend over a counter, being able to tug your hair and make you arch your back for him as he thrusts into you.

slapping.

straight up, across the face. bonus points if it’s in combination with him pulling you up by the hair.

whipping.

most of the time, spanking, hairpulling and slapping is enough for him. however, on occasion, if he’s feeling particularly sadistic, he’ll whip you with his belt as well. he’ll use the leather for the rest of your body, but then the metal buckle for your ass.

knifeplay.

sometimes, he’ll even bring out his switchblade for a bit of fun, holding it to your throat or flicking it across your cheek lightly.

powerplay.

as mentioned, tim loves unbalanced power dynamics. this really shows itself in that he enjoys being fully, or at least mostly clothed while you’re naked. the power imbalance turns him on a lot.

pet play.

he isn’t particularly into pet play, but he indulges in some aspects of it, such as using a collar and leash on you. tim likes tugging you around with the leash, or pulling your head back, cutting off your oxygen supply while he fucks you from behind with it. he’ll also probably invest in a (human-sized, obviously) cage.

breathplay.

just like with all other aspects of sex for him, tim wants control, and what better control than having his hands wrapped around your neck?

degradation.

he’s not super heavy on this, but he’ll say things like, “who’s my slut?” or “who do you belong to?” in bed.

oral. (receiving)

tim doesn’t mind giving oral, but he likes receiving it far more. however, he isn’t satiated with a simple blow job. much like other activities, he’ll want your hands tied up behind your back, so that you can’t stop him while he has his hand wrapped in your hair, holding your head still as he brutally fucks your throat. you’d have to learn to take it, because he wouldn’t care if you were gagging or choking, it would only further arouse him if anything.

dacryphilia.

tim really gets off to you crying, whether it be from edging, overstimulation, pain, or even just when you tear up as his cock hits the back of your throat.

bonus: tim will spit into your mouth.

hoodie

corruption.

brian sees you as an angel. something pure, delicate, ethereal. while he has this nice, friendly, sweet demeanour, he knows himself that he is a monster deep down, a monster that wants nothing more than to corrupt that innocence of yours. he doesn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but he sure as hell wants to ruin you.

lingerie.

brian loves lingerie. he really likes the way the fabric clings tightly to your body, not enough to cover you but enough to accentuate your form, somehow making your already flawless body even better if that was even possible.

lace.

lingerie in general is nice, but what really gets him going is lace. white lace. not only does it look exquisite on you, it also complements your angel-like innocence, adding more flames to the fuel that is his corruption kink.

thigh highs.

technically, it doesn’t have to be thigh highs. while brian does particularly favour white thigh highs, he also likes other leggings/stockings/pantyhose, provided they’re white and sheer or with lace. he likes sheer, semi-translucent long socks, or even other items of clothing; it gives off the impression that he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be, which really turns him on. and of course, he appreciates lace socks, the ones that go up to your ankles or knees as well.

bonus points if you pair it with the lingerie.

skirts/dresses.

there’s something so feminine and delicate about skirts or dresses, especially if they’re well, white and/or with lace, that’s so sensual to him. not to mention it allows him easy access. he can just flip up your skirt or dress, seeing your cute lace panties underneath, proceed to push them aside and just fuck you…

praise.

brian will say things such as “you’re such a good girl,” “you’re taking me so well, angel,” along with incoherent ramblings of how precious and perfect you are.

oral. (giving)

he enjoys going down on you. he loves the way you taste and he gets off to your moans, the way you arch your back, the way you squirm against his face, the way your hands tangle in his hair, everything about it is just delightful for him.

ddlg.

more specifically, daddy kink. brian really likes being called daddy, and he will often call you nicknames such as ‘princess’ and ‘babygirl.’

sensory deprivation.

to be precise, blindfolds. it’s erotic, taking away your sight and leaving you in the dark, unknowing of what he plans to do next, oversensitive and gasping at his touch.

ticci toby

exhibitionism.

nothing gets toby more excited than fingering you in public, under the table at a dinner or somewhere else where people wouldn’t notice. he’ll fuck you in some alley or back of a building, a place that people shouldn’t generally notice but would depend on how well you can stifle your moans, how well you can hold back from making sounds so that nobody would know the indecency the two of you were up to. he loves how good and innocent you seem in public while at the same time, just between the two of you, you were dirty and spreading your legs for him.

degradation.

toby goes hard with the degradation. he’ll tell you things such as “you’re such a fucking slut,” “you’re my useless whore,” “you’re a worthless cumdump,” all the while he’s fucking you. he really likes the idea of using you, having you be his perfect little fucktoy, for him to do whatever he pleases with.

ps: if you beg him to use you, he’ll literally fall in love with you. no better words could come out of your mouth.

free use.

he likes having you at his disposal, ready for him whenever he wants.

begging.

there’s few things he likes more than listening to you beg; it’s just such a humiliating position for you to be in, and he loves pushing you to that point so that he can hear and relish in how pathetic you are for him.

experimentation!

first of all, toby likes a little bit of everything. spanking, choking, bondage, the list goes on. but most of all, he likes to experiment. toby loves trying new things in the bedroom all the time, be it new positions, unusual kinks, roleplay scenarios, he’ll do it all. he’s even happy to try switching roles every once in a while.

roleplay.

seriously, toby will try anything, and he loves roleplaying different scenarios with you just to switch things up.

anal.

this one relates to both experimentation and trying new things. why stick to one hole when you can have two?

toys.

his main interest is buttplugs, but he’ll enjoy using vibrators as well as other toys on you.

bonus: toby is a switch, as implied above. he’s more dominant than submissive, and if you don’t like to dominate, that’s perfectly fine with him and he doesn’t mind. however, he would be ecstatic to have you reverse the roles and tell him how much of a good boy he is.

jeff the killer

rough sex.

jeff likes it rough. he’s particularly into fucking you from behind, although his favourite position would be up against a wall. he likes it hard and rough and fast; being able to watch your curves bounce as he slams in and out of you, being able to feel your nails scratch against his back as you writhe in pleasure, and there’s nothing better than hearing you gasping and screaming his name.

knifeplay.

jeff likes knifeplay, however he’s different from jack. while he will sometimes run the blade along your skin, what he primarily likes to do is hold it to your neck during sex. he enjoys watching you tense up, as well as ultimately pressing the blade in ever so slightly just to draw a bit of blood while he orgasms inside you.

oral. (receiving)

jeff has nothing against giving oral, he’s not super into it but he’ll do it if you want him to. however, the real treat for him is receiving. he thoroughly enjoys having you suck his dick, feeling your pretty lips wrapped around it, struggling to take in his length. he likes pulling your hair during it, guiding you and bobbing your head up and down on his member. he enjoys having you start off nice and slow, maybe even teasing him a bit, but tease him enough and he’ll get impatient and quicken the pace. he likes when you swallow, especially if you open your mouth and show him before you do it.

bonus points if you make eye contact as you during all of this. oh, and he’ll literally love you forever if you deepthroat.

ben drowned

spanking.

ben isn’t that kinky. he’s happy browsing the front page of pornhub, essentially. he’s into things such as spanking—he’ll gladly bend you over his lap, or just spanking you while fucking you doggystyle. he prefers using hands, but sometimes he’ll bring out the paddle, too. he likes the ones that leave heart-shaped marks.

pet play.

ben is kind of your average gamer boy. he likes cat girls. it’s not really that much pet play, as much as it specifically cat girls, but whatever. he likes it when you wear a pair of cat ears as well as having a cat tail buttplug, although he’s not that into anal.

cosplay.

this goes along with the cat girl thing, but ben enjoys seeing you in cosplays. to be specific, maid outfits. he would be pleased with almost any cosplay, though. nurse outfits, schoolgirl uniforms, you name it, he probably likes it.

breathplay.

choking in general is nice for him; he likes the way your neck feels in his grip, so fragile and delicate. he likes the way your smaller hands instinctively grab onto his wrist, he finds it adorable. his favourite though? the bathtub. he likes fucking you over a bathtub, with you bent over the edge, your ass nicely on display for him, the water in the tub filled up until the very brim, and your pretty little head getting pushed under the water.

other than that, ben is relatively vanilla.

slenderman

tentacles.

slender loves using his tentacles on you. seriously though, tentacles are very versatile. not only can he fuck you with them, but he can also employ them as tools for bondage. he’ll wrap his tentacles around your wrists, binding your arms. he’ll use them to pull and then hold your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him to fuck you. his tentacles are strong, strong enough to lift you up, suspending you in midair while he fucks you. he thoroughly enjoys having a tentacle in your mouth, feeling your tongue, soft and wet swirl around it, sucking on it like you would his dick. he’ll relish in that while he has another tentacle pumping in and out of your cunt, and a third one filling up your ass. he loves having all three of your holes filled up at the same time; there’s no better way to know that you belong to him entirely. sometimes he’ll even slide two in the same hole, having one pump in while the other pulls out.

so that by default includes bondage, suspension, anal, and double penetration.

size kink.

he’s approximately two and a half metres tall, so it’s safe to say he towers over you, especially if you’re smaller. he enjoys pinning you down, taking your tiny wrists in his larger hands, lifting you up and sitting you on his cock because you’re so light, so tiny, so delicate. he just wants to stretch you out and fill you up with his length.

oral.

slender loves both giving and receiving oral. how can he resist watching you struggle to take in his length, your tiny hands on his thighs as you bob your head up and down on his dick, tearing up ever so slightly when it hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag? but of course, he loves pleasuring you as well, with his tongue, long and pointed and able to reach the entirety of your insides, all the while he has a tentacle playing with your clit, or sometimes just his hand.

dirty talk.

slender is able to communicate telepathically. that means he can say the nastiest, most unholy things to you while you’re out in public, without anyone noticing or even suspecting that anything was up. you’d have to pretend that everything is fine, while you’re out drinking coffee and he’s trying to get you all hot and bothered by telling you in detail how he would ravish you later that evening. another side of this is that he loves talking dirty in bed too, and you can hear and almost feel him speak inside your head all the while he’s pounding away at your insides.

breeding.

something about being a supernatural, inhuman being makes it so erotic for him to breed you, to impregnate you, to create a half-human baby with you. he just wants to fill you up with his seed over and over again until it’s leaking out of every hole of yours.

author’s note: i cannot believe i wrote this. i am a sinner. i am going to hell.

6K notes · View notes

yanderemommabean · 2 months

Text

My dearest butterfly,

I usually pride myself on having a way with words, never having my tongue tied, never having to stutter or stumble, and yet, with you, I find it hard to even breathe let alone speak. Ever since the day you stepped into my clinic, stepped into my life, I’ve found myself in a fog, never able to say what I feel, to speak with confidence, like without you I'm some sort of shell of myself.

As a doctor, I assumed I was ill, sick, perhaps coming down with something that would pass with rest and time. However, I found out the truth- I was sick of course, but nothing that would be cured with needles and antibiotics.

My dear butterfly, I have come to find out, my ailment is love sickness. As cutesy as that sounds, what I mean to say is- I'm utterly obsessed with you, and cannot rest or feel alive until I see you in my sight, or feel you by my side.

The fact I am blessed enough to touch you, to examine every area, intimate or not, to be trusted with your darkest medical secrets-It fuels me more than any other patient has. With you, curing you and your health just has more meaning to me, has more depth and humanity. You have that way about you, making me feel deeper than any human ever has, reaching my core and burrowing deep within the walls of my heart.

This letter is nothing but a love filled ramble, but one I simply had to write. I can no longer hide how I feel, how I crave. I don't expect you to know what to do with all of this information right away, so, I’ll give you a few good rules to go by while everything sets in and has time to process.

This is all true. I adore you, deeper than anyone could ever adore you, and more intense than any past lover could ever dream

I refuse to let you try and deny me. You can be coy, you can be shy, you can even need time and space, but you wont be with anyone else but me in the romantic sense. I’ll take whatever precautions I need to ensure this rule is followed.

I mean you absolutely no harm, however, as mentioned above, I’ll do what I must. Just sit back and take in what you need, but know, I’m utterly sick for you darling, there’s no way you can turn me away, be your attempts silly or desperate.

I’ll be sure to send this letter over the weekend to give you more time, but, if by chance the postal service messes up, a few days letting your mind wander at your work wouldn’t be awful either.

I’ll see you soon, my love. We’ll discuss this more in person, where my words are sharper than the pen I used, and my voice will convey just how serious I am about all of this.

All yours, only yours,

-Doctor Lee.

(-Mommabean, hope you liked!)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #my ocs #doctor lee my oc #dr lee my oc #yandere doctor #yandere serial killer #yandere oc #yandere letter #yandere male #yandere prompts #mommabean

421 notes · View notes

oct0bra1ns · 4 months

Note

Yandere killer offering cannibal y/n his victims?

Delicious Prey

pairing: Yandere serial killer x cannibal reader TW: gore, cannibalism, yanderes, violence against others, against self (from the yandere's side ) notes : My brain is so fried from physics i had to come out for my hiatus to breath, also, can you tell i was kind of inspired by dead plate? LOL Please let me know if you want me to add anymore tw to the tags please.<3

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

♡ Yandere Serial killer who's had his eyes on you for a very long time, who memorised your entire routine, waiting for the chance to strike, only for him to see you drag a body in from the back into the place you work.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who breaks in at night, curious to see what you did with the body, only to find it stuffed inside a freezer. It didn't take a genius to figure out you were making meals of the victims.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who applied to your restaurant, just so he could spend more time with you, he doesn't care what work you assign him, he'll gladly do it as long as he gets to hear your monotone 'Good job' or 'well done'.

♡ Yandere Serial killer plans a way to catch you in the act, to find something to hold over you so you can stay with him.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who's surprised when his plans quickly backfire on him when you pull out evidence of his crimes, threatening to leak it if he doesn't shut up and go back to work.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who makes a deal with you. He'll do all the dirty work and you can enjoy your passion of cooking. He'll bring you anyone however and whenever you like.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who presents everyone to criticises your dishes or restaurant as ingredients to use in your next dish.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who gets jealous when you eat someone in front of his. It's agitating to hear how well they cooked or how it's nice to chew on.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who presents a part of him as a meal during your anniversary, I mean, since he's become a part of you, the two of you are bound for life.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who flushes when he comes home covered in blood and you kiss the blood of, making a comment on how it tastes before tending to him.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who although is used to seeing you eat people, it not used to it himself, so when you first offer him a part of yourself, he's beyond honoured but at the same time, almost emptied his stomach the first time.

♡ Yandere Serial killer who learn your favourite dish and makes it for you on the daily, even if it meals he has to start getting risky with his victims. An offhand comment of imaginings how someone will taste end up with him bring them to you.

#octo answers #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere x reader #octo writes #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x willing reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere serial killer #tw cannibalism #tw blood

611 notes · View notes

obsessivevoidkitten · 10 months

Text

Have His Cake And Eat It Too

Male Serial Killer Yandere x Gender Neutral Immortal Reader (CW: Noncon, blood, violence, murder, death, cannibalism and reader forced into cannibalism, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, cursed immortal reader) Word Count: 500 (This is really bloody and dark compared to what I normally write, but it is also a drabble and does not contain the usual level of detail my other fics do, if you have played boyfriend to death and its sequel you may recognize some similarities between those characters and my Serial Killer Yandere, he is a bit of a mix between Strade, Ren, and Lawrence, though I still feel he is unique.)

Imagine there is a serial killer loose in your area. He finds people that meet his criteria, the specific personality and aesthetic that he desires in a partner, and he falls head over heels in love with them. He kidnaps them, doting on them, feeding them, clothing them, bathing them. But his love for them grows and grows. Serial Killer Yandere rapes them, forcing himself inside so he can feel them surround his cock. Serial Killer Yandere starts to cut them more and more, enjoying the sight of beautiful red blood on their otherwise flawless skin. But Serial Killer Yandere needs them to be a part of them. Serial Killer Yandere needs to be closer to them. Serial Killer Yandere really can’t help it, his love is just so strong. Serial Killer Yandere cuts them open and grips their heart, feeling it beat in his hand as they slowly bleed out. He consumes it, he held their very life in his hands and made it a part of him. But now he is alone again and needs a new darling. Serial Killer Yandere meets you for a date. You are exactly what he wants, even better than the ones that came before you. He kidnaps you like all the others after drugging your drink. You wake up with a chain on your ankle, dressed in delicate clothing. He dotes on you. He bathes you. He feeds you. He soothes you. He fucks you so hard just to see those beautiful tears stream down your face, the prettiest tears he has ever seen. Serial Killer Yandere loves you more and more, very quickly. Serial Killer Yandere can’t help himself, he knows he will miss you but he must be closer. His hand is in your chest, gripping your heart. Your blood leaves you as everything fades. You die. While you are dying he has never felt more in love, but once you are gone the familiar emptiness is quick to fill him. But you are not like the others. You don’t stay dead. In the morning when he comes to take care of your corpse and appreciate your beauty one last time before burying you with all the rest of his loves he sees that you are fine. You aren’t human. Not anymore. You were cursed to never be allowed to die hundreds of years ago. Serial Killer Yandere is shocked. He thinks he is losing it. Serial Killer Yandere kills you over and over, taking your heart for himself each time. You’re always back the next morning. Serial Killer Yandere becomes thrilled. Serial Killer Yandere force feeds you your own heart and shares it with you sometimes the day after he has killed you again. The curse transfers to him, and he discovers after dying due to an accident one day that he is unable to die. Now Serial Killer Yandere can have his cake and eat it too~ Forever <3

#yandere x reader #violent yandere #yandere boyfriend #gender neutral reader #male yandere x reader #My OCs #My OC Serial Killer Yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere drabble

1K notes · View notes

running-with-kn1ves · 5 months

Note

Can you do a yandere killer clown that has been following you all night on Halloween

A/N:I wrote this a long time ago and hated it at the time but it really wasn't as bad as I thought! Hope you all are having a wonderful 2024 :>

Synopsis: A suspicious "killer clown" has been stalking you on Halloween to your dismay. Is it really just a costume?

CW: murderous clown, clownery, slight in-depth stabbing(death), stalking, intimidation, general fear

Word count: 2.7k

“Nice costume, man!” The echoed memory rang hollow inside your bobbing head. “I bet the black helps hide all the blood, huh?”

At the time you mischievously brought a hand to your mouth, shielding it from the eyes of curious and terrified children who mersmerisingly watched you joke to the killer clown. The masked figure hovered in front of you, staring blankly from behind the blur of white and red. The figure didn’t move, didn’t alter to his dominant hand with the bloody knife that rested in his palm.

You were met with silence as your comment passed; dark, invisible eyes watched you through the small eye-slits of the clown’s mask. Its elaborate makeup donned diamonds under and above each eye hole, a spongy red nose covering the mask’s nostrils. Though, you could still hear whoever was underneath, breathing-- the air pushing against the silicone. Painted black lips covered the faint outline on the masks mouth, detailed to almost look feminine. However, the broad shoulders underneath the harlequin patterned suit made you think otherwise.

You gave an amused smile, letting the figure keep in-character as he watched you slowly pass. A whiff of reeking gore and thick blood came across you as you walked away; a thought of ‘maybe you should have honked the clown’s nose for good measure’ crossed your mind, but the smell made you think otherwise. If he was dedicated enough to cover himself in pigs blood, who knew what else he’d do to you to stay in character.

Your mind ran in circles as the heels of your feet ached, your subconscious desperate to know what you said that made it all go wrong, or what made it go too right with this costumed killer clown.

Because here you were, walking down your neighborhood’s sidewalk with flickering light posts barely brightening the road in front of you as you sped passed your front door for the third time. With a dirty hand mirror gripped in your sweaty palm, you faced it slightly below your shoulder, hoping it was low enough that the shadow behind you couldn’t see it. You caught a glimpse of the red-speckled plastic mask and dazzling crimson hair of the clown behind you. Shutting the pocket mirror immediately, you picked up your pace again for whatever time again that night-- you've lost count. But it didn’t matter, the masked freak always seemed to be just a lamp post away, gradually getting closer with a joyful pep in his step.

After your first interaction with him at a lame Halloween festival, you then saw him again at the gas station right across your friends’ street, and once more at that same friend's costume party. You thought it must've been a coincidence to see him inside the gas station, only witnessing the back of his crazy dyed hair that looked too attached to be a wig; talk about being dedicated to the bit. Maybe he gets paid for being a scare actor? You didn't know, you didn't get the chance to ask before he ran out at the sight of a police officer perusing the candy aisle. Too bad for him, it was only a prominent gay dressed up in a sexy uniform.

But there he was again that night, peeking behind your friend's bedroom window that you sat across from. Seeing him there nearly made you shriek, jumping up enough to spill your drink all over the guy next to you. When you tried to explain, the clown had disappeared, only to show up mere minutes later from the bathroom window while you tried to rub beer out of your costume.

Seeing him the second time was nearly as startling, but you managed to keep your reaction to a minimum, merely glaring at the bloodied clown from behind dark glass. You threw your cup at the window, hoping to scare him off or show that you weren’t worth fucking around with, but he… didn’t move. Through the tiny hole in the mouth of the mask, breath came through, just slightly fogging up the glass. How the hell did he get up here in the first place, weren’t you on the second floor??

You turned away, hoping to just turn the light off and that’d be the last you’d see of him; but a thump on the glass told you otherwise. Another thump, this time almost with a clinking crack. Your hand still resting on the lightswitch; you nonchalantly looked back to see a familiar knife jabbed against the window pane, small cracks growing as he twisted it further into the window. Your hope of giving an apathetic reaction to deter him did nothing, gloved hands coming up to squeakily draw a dark red line on the window.

A threat? Maybe he's trying to apologize? What was he going to write-- you wondered if it was worth even sticking around for. But instead of words, the red line was finished with another, creating a small, dripping misshapen heart on the bathroom window. You slammed down on the lightswitch and shut the door quickly at the sight, making your way down the stairs.

He had to be one of your friend’s frat-guy pals, someone who went out of their way to terrorize on the nights of halloween in unassuming grocery stores or parties like this one. Someone here at this party who was just fucking with you-- that’s just what it was.

But now, hours later on the dark pavement of a street that looked so unfamiliar at night, you were starting to second guess yourself. The sweet whistling of what could only be from the clown behind you grew louder, squeaky shoes mimicking your steps and seeming to pick up in pace. You did the same, nearly jogging as you saw something moving in the distance. It was oddly pale and hunched over, going faster than you could run.

It was a biker! Some random fucking guy on his bike at 2 in the morning! You assumed this was what people meant when miracles roamed the earth, waiting to be found.

“Hey!” You shouted, running towards the speedy white demon as you blocked the middle of the sidewalk, hoping the guy would see you waving at him. But his stare was blank, not focusing on you nor the sidewalk in front of him. All he did, was bike.

“HEY! Can you please help me--” a pair of white wireless earbuds were nestled deep in his ears, immune to your shouting. Once he came cycling up close, almost too close, you realized he wasn’t stopping. His eyes completely looked past you, swatting you away with a sweaty arm as you stumbled into the street after narrowly avoiding his bike.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, watching him ride away as you threw your hands in frustration. You stopped to watch as the clown stepped to the side to give the incoming biker a clear path. This guy was just going to go past like everything was fine, not paying attention to the person in distress right in front of him, OR the creepy ass harlequin clown he was approaching. You gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk again as you hoped maybe the new distraction would stop your bloody walking partner.

But a sudden thud against the sidewalk caught you off guard.

Did he really ride into the clown?

No, from behind you, the man’s bike laid twisted with spinning wheels in front of your hunched clown stalker. The man was grasping his side with one arm, having fallen on top of his bike as his hand shielded from above.

Well, that's kind of what he gets for biking at the witching hour. And for not helping someone in distress! Karma's a bitch.

You hadn't noticed where the gore-striken clown's weapon had landed during the whole ordeal, not even thinking of it until a wet 'shlink!' and violent howl was released. The biker held his raised wrist with a shaking cradle, looking up at the knife that was just pulled out of him.

And just as the knife was removed, it was slammed back in with great inertia and skilled positioning on the clown's part. A wretched sound left the biker's throat, along with the odd crunching that came with him being pushed farther down onto his minimalistic bike.

A great red gash split onto his forehead, leading to the knife's metal stem that seemed to make peace with its new home inside the biker's skull. One of his earbuds popped out, crashing onto the sidewalk as blood flecked into his left eye. He seemed to look at the fallen earpiece, no longer acknowledging the knife now pushed as far as it could stab.

The clown seemed to stand back, watching the creation of his short few motions. He let out a whistle similar to an animated sigh. Comically, he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, looking over at you.

Your feet began to shuffle backward, grating against the rubble on the road as your hands flew to your mouth with an intensity that made you lose breath.

The mask seemed to look at you with no emotion, blankly watching with a sad smile as the clown stood simply. With the silence of the street, the stillness of the wind, you could hear faint breaths from across the street. They were soon replaced by a muffled whistle beneath the plastic, the clown's eyes dark and unseeable behind it. But the tiniest speck of light, a teensy reflection from the streetlight showed the human eyes of someone…unpredictable.

He stopped, only to give a high-pitched whistle as he pulled his steel weapon out of its created hole and rammed the knife back into the cowering biker, this time his chest receiving the treatment. The clown pulled it out again, only to prepare in the same position, raking up the bikers chest with the blade once more. Each time, he whistled and heightened it to mimic the sound of the knife flying through the air, only to crash down into a body of meat. He stopped once the knife made a connection to the skin, only to begin again.

You stood in grotesque awe, mouth ajar as you tripped over the sidewalk's curb. If it wasnt clear already to your record-broken mind, you needed to leave, now. You knew the guy was a creep, someone wayy to into the “murderous killer clown” trope but now, shit was a little too real. You began to run, making your way around the rest of the block without a care of whether or not he chased after you, finding your home. You needed to get inside, somewhere with locked doors that would be a barrier too thick for him to cut down.

Sweat and tears blinded you as black road filled your vision, along with your dim phone screen. you pressed the all too familiar three numbers on your phone. A nine, and two ones.

You waited for the shrill gurgles and distant whistling to stop from behind you, to hear a human voice pickup from the screen against your ear; which thankfully came after about two consecutive rings.

“Hello!?” You unknowingly interrupted, hearing the end of an “your emergency?”

“Hi-- uh, some freak has been following me and,” You were cut off by a grating voice, one slightly deadened and distant.

"Now that's just being mean."

Your heart jumped as you ran, dread settling inside you as the voice hummed in disappointment.

In the distance you could see the familiar front porch of your home, only about five houses down.

"You've got..to be…kidding," you huffed out of breath, elongating your stride to look like a wild runner as you sprinted to your driveway.

"Clowns are universally beloved; maybe you're the freak; considering you picked me I'd say you already had questionable taste."

"How'd you-- but I called--" You huffed, yet the clown cut you off.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unattended in a room full of people…who knows when a devious comic of a murderer might strike! Especially one so handy in manipulating technology." You could practically hear the animated pose he struck along with the words. "So, having fun yet?"

You didn't answer, or rather couldn't from the lack of oxygen in your throat. All you could do was focus on running; but that's alright, because the freakshow on the other side talked enough for the both of you.

"We'll I hope so; in fact, you know I've chosen you to be my last man standing. My final girl," He paused for dramatic effect "My, surviving victim of tonight's excursion… you'll be a grand commemorating prize to bring back home, to be sure. You're just lucky that buddy boy back here took your place-- if he hadn't, I can't say I'd have been able to restrain myself enough to keep you alive until we got back home."

What the fuck was he going on about? What did it matter anyway, your sides were cramping so twistedly that it and your upcoming mailbox were all you could manage to concentrate on.

An infectious laugh cracked over the line, running from one ear through the other as you ran with your phone gripped tight. Looking down at your smudged screen, the caller ID read a simple “Unknown number.” You tried pressing the end call button, only for your screen to remain frozen. The caller screen almost looked like a screenshot, holding your phone captive as none of the buttons managed to work. The on/off button clicked and clicked, not altering the white screen.

“Ahh I can still see you running down there… trying to hang up on me while sprinting is hard, huh? Just make this easier and stop where you are, save me the trouble of having to play this hide and seek game for tonight. I promise if you make me play, I'll win."

You stop for a moment to catch your breath, turning around to see neon red hair in the distance and a black outline, the red diamonds on the clown's suit blending in. He still stood next to the fallen biker, holding something to his ear.

You wheezed out a laugh, throat beginning to close up.

"Oh yeah?... I'm halfway down the road, bitch! Once I get inside it's.. gonna be over for you. I don't, I don't know what the fuck this is-- but you're not gettin away with--with anything!" You held onto your knees, heaving into the phone as your chest burned. The silence on the other line was hardly noticeable as the sound of blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat drowned everything else out.

"...Don't say I didn't warn you, doll."

The phone without warning went dark, line cutting off as the caller screen went missing.

Through blurry eyes you saw the clown lower his hand that was once at his ear. With a short moment of stillness, he stared at you. That stillness, morphed almost automatically into a full-on run. The pitter patter of squeaky rubber shoes on the gravel was adrenaline-inducing, filling the silence of the dark street besides the heaving of yours and the clown's breath.

"Oh fuck…" you murmured, turning around to begin your sprint once more.

As long as you could reach the house first, open the door with your keys in time, lock the door-- you'd be fine. You didn't have another phone in the house, but you'd be fine-- you'd just, at least be safe. From him.

But speaking of keys, where were yours?

You ran your hands over and over the pockets in your clothes, feeling nothing but the scraps of empty candy wrappers in your pockets. Where the fuck were your keys?!?

Finally, the grace of your front door made its way directly in front of you, your exhausted legs running up the short porch steps. You hadn't given even one second to looking back at your fellow runner, panic of losing your keys and the upcoming door occupying your mind. You jiggled the door handle, banging against the door with your shoulder as you let out a panicked exhale.

You could hear him getting closer, hear the labored breathing and chaotic deep giggling muffled by silicone.

The sound of heavy shrill footsteps stopped-- but beside your rapid heaving, hot breath covered the side of your shoulder. Wet red locks touched your ear, a deep inhale came to grace the top of your matted hair.

Four fingers covered in a frilly, harlequin-patterned glove were thrusted in front of your face, jingling your precious keys in their grip.

"Looking for these?"

531 notes · View notes

intimidating-fettuccine · 16 days

Text

What drew some of them to you as yanderes

For Toby, it was your kindness. Toby in general has always wanted someone to fully accept him, but that is multiplied tenfold when he's a yandere. I think you two probably started out as friends, maybe naturally, or maybe he spotted you being especially kind in a park one day and orchestrated your entire friendship from the beginning. Regardless, once Toby spots you and decides you're the kind, loving individual he's been searching for, there's no getting away from him. He's the only one deserving of your kindness, and he'll make sure you understand that if it's the last thing he does. Even when he has to show you repeated unkindness in locking you away, injuring you on a regular basis, it's for your own good, and one day you'll understand that.

For Jeff, it was how docile you were. Yandere Jeff strives to constantly be in control of you and everything around you, and after witnessing you being particularly docile, regardless of the situation, his mind convinced him that he could do it, he could control you easily. Regardless of whether that is true or not, Jeff is one of the fastest moving creeps when it comes to abducting you as he moves on impulse, and you'll be in his clutches whether you'll be nice and docile for him or not. Unfortunately, it's not like it matters how you behave, as his control and anger issues can hardly ever be toned down or stopped, but you can certainly try your best to make life more bearable.

For Slender, on the opposite side, it was how confident you were. Slender wants a darling that can be conditioned into behaving, but also still retains a backbone. He doesn't want your spirit to wear down, no, he wants a fighter, someone to push back so he has a reason to constantly remind you of your place and the fact that it's below him. Whether it was how kind and excitable to those around you that you were, or how strong and resilient you appeared, the fact that you were clearly confident in who you are as a person drew him right into you. Of course, ever the master manipulator, Slender has no qualms in turning the tables in his favor and getting you to be his. He just hopes you'll put up a good enough fight while he does so, so make sure to keep him entertained.

For Helen, it was how strongly you shined in his eyes. Helen is the most reverent as a yandere, viewing you as a God he has to praise, rather than a human being he's keeping locked away. Everything about you just seems so holy to him, so absolutely perfect, so beautifully made, and something like that has to be protected. You're so precious and delicate, you have to be hidden away from the outside world so nothing can sully you or taint you. It's up to him as the only person who understands your true worth to keep you locked away and safe, where he can praise you every day and make sure that beautiful shine of yours never fades away.

For BEN, it was how entertaining you are. When BEN decides to lock you away and hold you prisoner to himself, he does so because he finds you so inexplicably entertaining. No matter how you react, no matter what you do, he just finds so much enjoyment and entertainment in every single thing you do. It doesn't matter if you hate him or if you love him, or if you decide to just ignore him altogether, he just can't stop getting a laugh out of the whole situation. He supposes he'll just have to keep you all to himself forever, that way he never has to miss out on any of those absolutely adorable reactions of yours when he holds you prisoner, when he destroys anything you once held dear, when he puts anyone interfering with him holding onto you in harm's way. You're just so cute it's laughable.

225 notes · View notes

strawsojuberry · 2 months

Text

#Kimi Ni Koisuru Satsujinki #the killer who loves you #male yandere #manga cap #manga panel #manga screencap #yandere male #manga caps #yandere boy #yanderecore #yandere

901 notes · View notes

suiana · 11 months

Note

Imagine if Darling was Yan! killer's victim and got away by pulling this off-

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvNzuaBJawx/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

🐄

"stop running away- mfgh?!"

after hastily slamming your lips on the killer who was chasing after you, your adrenaline only seemed to increase as he kissed back. passionate kissing as his knife drops, your initial plan of just simply throwing him off was thrown into the drain.

"hah... how bold...."

he mumbles in between kisses as his now bare hands slide up your shirt, sending tingles up your skin. every touch only adds more fear in you as you try your best to pull away only for the killer to pull you back and grind into you.

"oh no... we can't have you running away now~"

man you should've just gotten murdered. it would've been a far more merciful fate.

#suiana's sinners #🐄 anon #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere x reader #yandere killer #yandere killer x reader #gn reader #suiana brainrotting #suiana rambling

4K notes · View notes

cold-kitty · 3 months

Note

can I maybe request a willing (and maybe really affectionate) reader with the serial killer yandere? I love your writing!

Of course! Thank you by the way!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contains: Fluff, Stockholm Syndrome

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who expected you to be scared, pissed, just upset in general, so he made sure that he held you close while you were still unconscious so that he could savor what he thought would be the last moments of closeness with you.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who isn't surprised when you're scared, he expected it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who tries to make himself the least threatening as possible, nervously handing you a cute little teddy bear he found with shaking hands. and, to his surprise, you take it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches as you take hold of it with your own shaking hands, nervous for your reaction.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches you accept it, a shaky attempt at a smile twitching on your lips. he's relieved, to say the least.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who keeps getting you small gifts, happy that you're quickly becoming comfortable with him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who decides to risk it all one night.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who waits until a stormy night, one with lightning and thunder and all that, and he comes into your room. his voice shakes in fear as he asks you the million dollar question. "can I sleep with you tonight? I have a phobia of storms..."

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who almost lunges at you when you say he can, but he forces himself to stay calm and slowly climb into your bed.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who itches to snuggle up to you, fingers twitching with the want- the need -to hold you.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who jumps out of his skin when you say that he can get as close as he wants, how did you know!?

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who latches onto you like a baby monkey, spooning you as gently as he lets himself.*

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who notices how nonchalantly you act around him, and soon you're living with him as if he hadn't kidnapped you.

(BONUS: he doesn't care about spooning positions. you want to be the big spoon? hell yes. you want to be the little spoon? hell yes.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He is such a sweetheart <3 (he has committed ATROCITIES)

#yandere x reader #yandere x male darling #yandere x you #yandere #🐈‍⬛ answers #yandere murderer #yandere serial killer

810 notes · View notes

reareaotaku · 5 months

Text

Shut Up, Stu

Summary: Y/n accidentally killed Randy in front of [Stu] Ghostface, catching him off guard and you get away. Everyone thinks it was Ghostface who did it, but you're confronted when Stu accidentally slips that he knows. Characters: Yandere! Stu Macher x Fem! Reader x Yandere! Billy Loomis Tw: Blackmail, Murder, Death, Violence, Horror, Cheating Mentioned Probably going to have to make a Part 2, because there is no way this is complete. I did this months ago... Needed it out of drafts

Your feet slide on the bitter cold tiles; The freezing wet sensation of blood covering in between your toes. You could hear the click of the killer following you, but you couldn't look back. You held a sharp, serrated knife, blood dripping from the tip. You limped your way to an island counter, before pulling yourself together.

The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, which might be why when you heard Ghostface groan your name, you started swinging the knife. You just kept stabbing and stabbing, until the blood soaked your clothes. But you weren't standing over Ghostface. Infact, it was one of your friends, Randy Meeks.

You gasp, covering your mouth and you hear laughing. You look up at the serial killer. You had never thought you could kill someone; Why, you couldn't even kill a spider, even though they scared you.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Y/n," He laughs, as if he's telling a joke.

"It was an accident." You shook your head, "I didn't mean it," You bent over to Randy, putting your hand over his wound, "It was an accident-"

"An accident? An unexpected pregnancy is an accident."

You look down at your hands, which were covered in blood. You were going to have to get rid of your shirt and your pants. Oh god, you couldn't go to prison.... You push past Ghostface, who was much more preoccupied in your [Potential] murder victim than you.

-----

You were covered in blood as you walked the streets. You heard a honk and looked behind to see a red Mustang that's headlights were bright in your face. You held your body close as the car slowly pulled up to you. It was Billy.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Your body shook and you couldn't speak. You were still in shock from what you had done. Billy opens the door and motions for you to get in. You looked around, before realizing that maybe it would be better if you went with him instead of the sheriff.

"So?" He tilts his head, but you don't say anything.

What could you say? You had killed Randy?

"You seem shaken up." You feel his hand on your thigh, causing you to finally look at him. "Your blood?"

He stops the car, looking at you. It was dark and the only light was from inside his car.

"No, it's not. I did.... Something bad."

"You? Bad?" He laughs, "Yeah right. Little Miss Perfect Goody Toe Shoes? What'd you do? Accidentally step-"

"I killed Randy Meeks."

His eyes widen and mouth drops, before he slowly nods his head, "Okay.... Um, well- That was unexpected. Where is his body?"

"Stu's house."

"Okay," He taps the wheel, "It'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"I can't go to jail," You fiddle with your blood-soaked blouse. "I didn't mean to. Jail would kill me. God-"

"It's fine, Y/n. You're not going to jail. Don't worry about it."

"But-"

He grabs your shoulder, "Think of it as a favor."

-----

"And she just kept stabbing him."

Billy rolls his eyes, pulling on his sleeve. "So, what did you do with the body? He wasn't there."

"Hung him like a Christmas Light."

Billy chuckles, "She was walking the streets, terrified. Why didn't you stop her or something?"

"I was so shocked," Stu jumps on the bed, "I didn't think she could do something like that."

"Anyone can murder if pushed far enough."

----

You felt like all eyes were on you. Like everyone knew your dark secret. How could anyone live with such guilt? The guilt of death.

"Damn, what's got you wound up so tight, lil mama?"

You nearly jumped when the voice came out of nowhere, along with an arm swung around you. Stu pulled you in close and you can feel his breath on your neck.

"Nothing. Why would you think something's bothering me?"

"You just seem... on edge."

You turned towards the voice, seeing Sideny now walking by you. You shook your head, "It's fine. I'm fine."

Sidney didn't believe you, but she decided to not question it with everyone else around you.

----

Lunch was weird, without Randy having his arm wrapped around you, trying to flirt with you. How could you hurt him? Your mind was filled and you weren't listening to your friends. That was until you felt a hand grab you.

"Are you listening?"

Your eyes widened and you looked down at your hands, "Yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Randy was killed last night. He was found hanging in Stu's house."

You looked towards Stu, who shrugged, "Imagine my surprise coming home to that," He jokes, kissing Tatum, who pushes him off.

"I was surprised he was dead, but the guy was a jerk. Actually, I thought he was the one behind Ghostface," Tatum fiddles with her purse. "He didn't deserve to die, though."

"Yeah... He didn't," You frown and you could feel Billy's eyes on you, but he wasn't the only one looking at you.

----

The end of the day came to soon. You didn't know how anyone could just go on about their day with people being killed.... And Randy. Your gut twisted and you felt the icky feeling growing in your stomach.

A hand grabs you from behind, freaking you out. Before you can scream though, you're bombarded by Stu.

"What the hell, Stu. What's wrong with you."

"Damn, sorry babe. You seem so on edge."

You huff at the nickname. He had a girlfriend and here he was calling you babe. You didn't like it. "I'm not on edge."

"How about you come to my place? Just me and you."

"Your place? Alone?" You let out a muffled chuckle, "Yeah, right. Sounds like a great idea-"

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7."

"Wait what-"

He takes off and you are forced to shove down your concerns and arguments.

---

You had thought you would be alone with Stu, but thankfully someone else was there. Unfortunately, it was Billy. You felt like they were staring at you and a part of you wondered if they knew, but they couldn't know... Could they?

#scream #yandere scream #scream x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis imagine #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere billy loomis #yandere billy x reader #yandere billy loomis x reader #yandere killer x reader #yandere stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu x reader #yandere stu x reader #yandere stu macher x reader

437 notes · View notes

ozzgin · 13 days

Note

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere serial killer #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere art #doodle #my art #horror #obsessive love

970 notes · View notes