#yandere all for one x you

[acid-ixx]

ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

[yanderenightmare]

All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure. 

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time. 

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size. 

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[yandereunsolved]

Parental figure reader accidentally collecting all of the pathetic meow meow yandere nobles—

Yandere Aemond: "It is good to speak with you again. I-I... uhm... would you like to brush and braid my hair again? I-I only ask because you were so fond of doing it the first time." awkwardly holding a brush in his hand and looking at you like a child eagerly waiting for the approval of their guardian.

Yandere Aegon: "Apologies, brother. As the king, I request that they join me in the garden so that we may go over... plans." Just wants to cuddle them and needs a coverup.

Yandere Lucerys: "They promised to teach me how to tie different sailor knots! You even said that we could go explore the harbor, some beaches, and other stuff!"

Yandere Helaena: "Our bugs? You said you would help me catalog all of my new bugs in our special notebook. There is no possible way for the ink to meet the page and create words otherwise. You are the keeper of the parchment. The one who can hold a quill with far more skill than I."

Yandere Jacaerys sitting in the chair next to reader having been possessively by their side the entire day. "If it so pleases them, they should stay here with me. They have had such an exhausting week, and the morrow will be even busier for them."

Yandere Baela and Rhaena are allowed to cling onto reader because Jacaerys doesn't want to seem jealous of them in front of you.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YAN! BOSS : I would kill for you.

OVERWORKED! READER: With all due respect, I just need a fucking break (or paid vacation).

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

OMG, I just love your writing! Especially the yandere Big Brother shigaraki HCS! If your requests are still open, can I request Yandere Big Brother Shigaraki with his little sister being AFO's daughter and they used to be really close for years but one day He had thought she had died after some villain got her and there was not even a body left behind, but in truth, she had run away and joined UA. Some platonic headcanons of yandere Big Brother shigataki and yandere Father AFO about that?

Thank you! 🖤🖤🖤

Rebellion | Yandere AFO and Shigaraki Tomura

Rebelling in such a way is going to be hard beyond belief

Whether you do this in your youth or closer to your teens it’s a battle

That can’t be won without the hero specifically All Might’s intervention

But eventually they do it

Faking your death and making it seem believable enough for Shigaraki

But it sends him spiraling 

His old life and now you

He’s so consumed with grief he doesn’t pick up on AFO’s minor reaction

AFO is probably more than aware that you’re probably alive

Already planning to recapture you but it’s not a priority

He knows they won’t kill you

And he knows they’ll likely use you as bait

But he smiles with glee when he thinks about how tomura will react when he knows you are still alive

He recognizes his dear little sibling immediately

No birthmark or signature sound required

He’s already imagined and even generated what you would’ve looked like had you survived

If you revealed yourself during their siege on the united liberation front

You might have saved a few lives or made the death toll a beat higher

Gigantomachia recognizes you and immediately prepares to catch you if you appear in front of him

Showing up in front of the unfinished Shigaraki he barely computes that it’s you

He instructs the nomus to capture you safely while he focuses on Deku

With his newly awakened body he gains AFO’s relaxed visage

Which causes even more of a divide when in their little mind meld Tomura realizes he knew

“All these years…and you never thought to tell me!?”

Capturing you may not be an immediate priority because they both know the heroes wouldn’t do that

….but after what happened to Twice who can be sure

It’s only an issue if you’re providing  substantial support to the heroes with your own quirk

Then that is a rebellion neither of them are happy about 

[mynahx3]

One Moment Was All It Took

Helloo!! This is a blerp inspired by @envy-of-the-apple Yandere! Satoru Soulmate Headcanon. I wanted to write a little something inspired by it. Hope you enjoy! There will be more parts to the story, hehehehe >;3 This story will be dark!! MDNI** Warning to those that are uncomfortable with obsessive love, proceed at your own risk. Masterlist

Satoru never planned on coming to that cafe; it was a last minute option because his favorite was closed for renovations. It was the closest place on his way to Jujutsu Tech that made his morning strawberry croissant with coffee (more like a pound of sugar and milk). Now, he thought, as he walked, he couldn’t be happier with the detour. 

He stood to the side with the other people in the morning rush, each one waiting for their caffeine to start the day. Hearing his order number, he goes to get his food, still texting someone on his phone. While reaching for it, he came into contact with someone who was also not paying attention. The woman jumped when she felt another hand grab hers, looking up to see a tall man with white hair and a blindfold. She apologized to the man with an awkward laugh. Not thinking anything of the contact between them, but to him, it was a moment that changed his entire being. 

Looking at her with wide eyes after quickly removing his blindfold, he was taken aback. This was the only person who had evaded his Six Eyes and Limitless technique without even trying. She was just a nobody, albeit a cute one, a civilian with no cursed energy whatsoever. Time was slowing down for him. as he gazed at her in disbelief. He couldn't shake the feeling that their meeting was no mere coincidence. The realization left him both exhilarated and terrified at the same time, knowing that their fates were now intertwined in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. He'd heard stories about Jujutsu sorcerers finding their soulmates who were immune to their techniques, but he never believed them.

He was engrossed in their eyes; the steaming coffee was left untouched on the counter. She remained in place, clear as day. The rest of the world, with its blinding brightness and sheer detail, almost gave him a migraine. For once, he had to actually look at someone to see them—not just a mass of cursed energy and molecules; he truly saw them. Their face is a breath of fresh air for the man. 

“Sorry bout that.” She smiled, handing him his paper bag with his pastry. Their hands touched once more as he took it from her. The mere contact sent lightning down his spine from his fingers, and goosebumps formed along his arms. She was in casual attire, and her hands were soft and warm. “I thought I heard them call my number.” 

She's adorable. Gazing down at her with his usual endearing expression, he muses. 

“You’re fine.” He smiled, continuing to look over her, taking all of her in. His heart thumped loudly in his chest; he was scared she could hear it. 

She smiles softly and nods to him before returning to wait for her own food, believing their interaction had ended. Ignoring the way he watched her, she fidgeted with her sleeve from his intense gaze. To her relief , the barista called out her number a second later. She quickly grabbed her food and walked away, nodding him goodbye politely with a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. One that sent a shiver down his spine at the sight.

Satoru watched as she left, turning on his heel to go after the woman with haste, leaving his food behind. He wanted to know more about her. No, he needed to. Blood pumped in his veins as he ran behind her, easily moving through the crowd. Not one person was able to touch him, all except for her. Grabbing her hand, he turned her to him a bit roughly. This surprised her greatly, making her gasp in shock at him.

“You're really pretty. Would I be able to get your number?” Satoru asked, looking at the woman with anticipation, still holding her hand. He liked how her hand felt in his. With an awkward smile, she tries to take her hand back, pulling slightly to be free. He gives in, letting her hand fall back to her side. 

“Thank you, sir… You seem nice, but… I have a fiancé." She tells him, raising her left hand for him to see. On her ring finger was a pathetic, small stone with a silver band. Something he knew he could do better than a million times over. Still, he didn't relent, stepping closer to her.

"I can be better." He boldly stated this, stepping closer again. Her eyes widened in surprise at his audacity, unsure of how to respond to his persistence. The tension between them grew as she struggled to maintain her composure. Clearly nervous, she fiddled with her ring, pursing her lips together at the stranger.

"I appreciate the interest, but I have to respectfully decline." She told him, stepping back from him. The obvious discomfort seen in her eyes and body language made it clear that she was not interested in his advances. He visibly deflates at this, his jaw clenching at the rejection. Brows furrowing as he looked down at her.

"Don't you even want to get to know me?" His tone was teasing as he tilted his head, his blue eyes analyzing her. His hands were going into his pockets as he smiled down at her.

She shook her head, looking to the side as the busy commuters walked around them, making her more anxious as she fidgeted with her ring. A few people looked their way as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk, clearly annoyed by the obstruction.

"I'm sure you're a great guy, but I'm just not interested," she replied firmly. Looking back up at him, she gasped, not expecting him to be towering over her so quickly, having only looked away for a second. His intense gaze made her shake more, her gut telling her to run. She steps back slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. His large hand moved to cup her cheek, the other resting on her waist, a little too low for her liking.

"Cute." He smiles, revealing a row of perfectly straight teeth, his blue eyes wide. "I like a challenge," he added, sending a chill down her spine.

Frowning, she slapped his hand from her face and pushed him away, confident he wouldn't do anything else with the people surrounding them. Her patience ran thin at his insistence, despite her clear discomfort. She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze with defiance.

"I'm not interested," she stated firmly, hoping he would finally get the message and leave her alone.

"I don't like being told no." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I always get what I want," he whispered, causing her heart to race with fear. She took a step back, trying to maintain her composure and not show any sign of weakness in front of him.

"I suggest you respect my boundaries and leave me alone," she said, her voice small but firm. "I'm not someone you can manipulate or intimidate."

His smile faded slightly at her words, but he didn't back down.

"We'll see about that," he replied, his tone ominous. Turning on her heel, the woman left the stranger quickly, shaking her head at the weird encounter that made her feel uneasy. His eyes follow her form as she escapes into the sea of people, laughing a little at the sight. Whistling as he pulled out her ID and twirled it around his fingers, he took a look at her name and address.

"I'll see you real soon." Satoru smiled, tucking her ID into his pocket.

[valsdelulucorner]

What if the brothers broke out of their code pt.6

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

. . . . What happened?

Your head pounded as your vision tried to focus, something heavy was sat in your lap as loose fabric wrapped around your head. The room was too dark to see anything but you could feel eyes on you, their eyes on you.

Almost in a panic, you tried to stand up and get away but you couldn't move, your arms and legs were tied to a chair. From the feel of the chair alone, you could tell you were in the dinning room of your house but it didn't feel homey like it normally does, it felt.... aerie. You could feel your heart bursting out of your chest as their voices echoed around the room, your whole body flinching when you felt a hand on the back of your head.

"Oh you poor darling, your hair is messed up. Such a shame, you must be so sore" You could hear the 5th born pouting slightly though you couldn't tell if his words were genuine, you could only feel his hand caressing the bandage wrapped around your head. It wasn't a soft touch that you thought he had, maybe it was your anxiety of the situation you were in but his touch felt sinister.

Everything was pitch black so you couldn't see anything but you could feel them surrounding you like a predator with prey, this wasn't how they acted in the game. How did any of this happen, why did this happen?

"How...... wha-"

"Hush darling, save that pretty little voice of yours for later" Asmo caressed your lips to prevent you from asking further questions, a gloved hand tightening the ropes around your arms as your heart beat heavily in your ears.

"Stop this.... please" A whimper escaped your lips as rope dug into your wrists, finally able to see each brother as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. You couldn't see their features, just blank bodies but one thing stood out to you, their eyes. They were the only thing you make out on each brother as you watched them circle you, each having a different love sick expression in their eyes.

Was this your life now? Stuck with these demons keeping you captive in your own home? It cant end like this.... It wont end like this

I wont let it

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

tomorrows the last day of college so ill be able to pump out more work for you guys! I know i have been starving you guys for content but i hope this makes up for it

Remember, its all fun to read about until its not, don't romanticize or normalize this type of behavior

Other then that, this was fun to write, what should I do next?

[a-mint-bear]

Yandere Boy Types

The Stalker

● Knows everything about you. Your birthday, favorite color, animal, food? That's easy! Give him a hard one. He knows what shows you're watching lately, what you get for takeout, who you talk to every day. He even knows what you wrote about him in your journal. You're using a new toothpaste lately. He's taking notes.

● Has been in your place dozens of times, goes through your drawers and lays in your bed and sniffs your pillow. Maybe even some other stuff he can't mention in polite company... Sometimes you notice things out of place, maybe? Missing things too. Maybe it's just your imagination.

● You dismiss that feeling of someone watching you or following you, thinking you're just being paranoid. But he tends to show up when you go out. Isn't that just such a coincidence? You should totally come sit at his table at the coffee shop though, why not?

● Has lots of pictures of you. LOTS. You smiling for the camera, reading on the park bench, in line at your usual pharmacy, even some when you were pretty sure you were alone. Is that you sleeping?

The Actor

● Pretends to be whatever you need him to be to win you over. Maybe you like sporty guys? He did track and field in school and he's training for a marathon, you wanna join him for runs? Artsy guys your thing? He loves to paint, has for years! Shy boys are the cutest, right? He stutters and looks away when he sees you. He totally didn't mean to touch your hand just then, so sorry!

● You mentioned to a friend you like guys who like animals? Guess who just got a puppy! You like strawberries? They're his favorite! Wow, you have the same coffee order, what are the odds? He thought you liked it when guys paint their nails? Oh, you think that color would look better? He's already adding it to his cart.

● He can't remember what his favorite song used to be, he's been listening to that band you're into lately. What kind of cake does he like? Well, whatever you want him to like! That stuff isn't important anyway. Just tell him what you want him to be into, he'll love it!

● Doesn't understand why you don't just fall for him already, but he'll pretend as long as it takes. He'll be anyone you want him to be, he doesn't need anything or want anything if it's not to make you look his way. You don't feel the same way about him? That's okay! He can change! Just...tell him what you want!

The Loner

● On his own a lot for one reason or another, but when he met you, there was just something about you... Maybe it was a friendly smile you sent his way, or just how your hair looked. Maybe you were just there on a bad day. But whatever the reason, he can't seem to forget you.

● You're meeting up with friends? You should hang out with him instead. You have to get ready for work? A sick day never hurt anyone. And you deserve a day off. He would love it if you just spent every day with him. Just him.

● Sometimes his possessiveness is cute. He pouts when you answer your phone when you're together. He stares daggers at the overly-flirty cashier at the convenience store. He shoves the touchy-feely guy on the street off you and walks you home. Sometimes it's not so cute. He is convinced that your best guy friend is in love with you and it pisses him off. If anyone accidentally touches you he's up in their face. It's not you he doesn't trust. You're just too cute, of course everyone would want you like he does.

● He just wishes you didn't need anyone other than him. You're his whole world. Why can't you see he just wants to be with you all the time? Why won't you only look at him? Can't you see how much he loves you? There's no one else like you. You're it for him. No one else even comes close.

The Devotee

● Worships you. You are the light of his life, why he gets out of bed in the morning, his reason for being. His every waking thought is consumed by you. Every time he sees you, it's like a radiant light surrounds you. He can't look away.

● Adores you. You know who's so cute? You, of course! The way you move, all your little habits, the look in your eyes when you see him. He's never seen such a flawless human being. Everything you don't like about yourself is just one more thing he finds so charming about you. If you let him, he would never stop touching and kissing every inch of you.

● Would die for you. Just say the word. If you ever needed him to suffer for any reason, he wouldn't even hesitate. Yell at him, push him, shove him? It hurts, but that's okay! As long as he's near you, he's in heaven. If it made you happy, he'd do anything. He doesn't matter! All that matters is you.

● Would kill for you. That creep at the bar who gets a bit too handsy with you? Gone. That coworker who made you cry in the bathroom at work? Gone. Maybe that neighbor who looks at you just a bit too long on your walks? Gone. You and your best friend had a fight? Gone. No one appreciates you like he does. No one else deserves you!

[frickingnerd]

enemies to lovers with villain deku & a reader who's an one for all user

pairing: izuku midoriya / deku x gn!reader

tags: reader has one for all, izuku hates the reader, violence, kidnapping, mentions of torture, stalking, yandere vibes

you were so similar to izuku!

both of you were born quirkless and had acquired a quirk from someone else

he had gotten his from all for one, while you got your quirk from all might

izuku had looked up to all might his entire life, wishing he could be like him one day!

but he had given up on that dream, when he realized how cruel the world really was

and now here you were, having the same origins as him, yet you were lucky enough to get the quirk izuku had wished for his entire life!

you were trained by the man izuku had strived to be like as a child!

it wasn't fair! it should've been him and not you! you didn't know all might as well as he did! you hadn't been as big of a fan as he was!

there was this burning hatred in izuku. the kind of hate you can only feel for someone you once used to love more than anything else in the world

the same hate he felt for all might for not giving this quirk to him, he also felt for you. you were the one who took this from him! you stole his dream!

izuku swore that he would make you pay for this!

whenever the league was attacking class 1A, izuku threw the original plan aside and went to find you

he had learned so much about you. about your friends. your family. he knew you better than all of them combined!

and he knew what he needed to do to make you suffer!

during the usj attack, izuku was targeting you and your friends

the closer they were to you, the more he would hurt them. he'd break their legs, watching as they struggled to get up and defend themselves against him, without even standing a chance

he was standing in a pile of injured people, waiting for you to see him! he wanted you to know that he was the one who did this!

when you finally spotted him, the fighting started. but he wasn't too impressed by your quirk

really, this was supposed to be all might's quirk? you were breaking your arms just by touching him! he didn't even need to do anything!

during the summer camp, izuku finally managed to get his hands on you again, this time even taking you with him

he held you captive, cuffed to a chair as he had a little chat with you

it was there when he revealed to you who he was and how well he really knew you

that he despised you for stealing a quirk that should've belonged to him! and that he planned to make you suffer, just like you had made him suffer!

yet to his surprise, you smiled at him, instead of bursting into tears

you told him that you didn't believe he was really all that evil and for a moment, izuku felt like he was looking at another version of himself. one that continued to stay good. one that could've been a hero…

he should've hated you, but by that point, he was infatuated with you

he still wanted your quirk. and he still wanted to see you break!

but now a part of him was hoping that you would endure his torture just a little longer, so he could keep you close to him

you were a great hero. but seeing someone as pure and good as you break down and join his cause? now that's what he wanted to see~!

[darling-zain]

✮ ↳ The Show Must Go On ↰

♡ yandere! actor x gn reader♡

tw/cw: slight obsession, nothing too detailed

authors notes: first work and i wrote this in one sitting...it's okay we're fine ♥ also i may have based him off of myself and i will probably do that with a lot of my ocs! my bad i'm just a theater kid who likes to write

➼ yandere! Actor who first only knew you as one of the stagehands, always flitting back and forth behind the curtains.

➼ yandere! Actor who didn't even know your name until you got promoted to prop manager.

➼ yandere! Actor who never knew how every character that he played fell in love with someone at first glance, but as soon as you walked onto the stage and started giving out your orders, it was like the heavens had shone their light upon you and you only.

➼ yandere! Actor who was infatuated with everything about you. Your responsibility, your assured nature, the way you'd sternly correct him when he messed up his lines because he "should be reading off his script, not off my face".

➼ yandere! Actor who was always on top of his game, one of the best actors in his region, yet when you looked at him with your concentrated eyes it was like he was a rookie again.

➼ yandere! Actor who would be stuttering and tripping over his words on purpose just to get you to come up and read it with him, your warm body so close to his that he could almost taste the perfume you were wearing.

➼ yandere! Actor whose heart raced whenever you praised him, even a simple "good work today" would give him butterflies.

➼ yandere! Actor who knew that opening night was approaching, so he worked day and night to memorize his lines. The excited smile on your face when he was able to perform the whole dress rehearsal without flaw was something he'd never forget.

➼ yandere! Actor who, standing behind the curtain on the first day of their showing, suddenly started to shake. He's been in the industry so long that he forgot what it's like to have pre-show anxiety, and he doesn't even know how to deal with it. Suddenly, a warm hand is put on his shoulder.

"You're shaking." You point out, turning him around to face you. "Why? Are you feeling alright?" You place the back of your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're not warm, so you're not sick..." You think about it for a second, looking him in the eyes with a warm smile. "Are you...nervous?"

Aurelian doesn't speak, instead, he just nods. He's ashamed of you having to see him like this, the Aurelian Yavuz, getting jitters right before the opening night of one of his most popular shows.

"Hey, look at me." Your voice is soft, yet commanding, forcing him to look into your assuring eyes. You place both your hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly to help ground him.

"You've done this show countless times before, and we've read the script together so many times that it should be burned into your brain by now." He laughs slightly, a sign that your motivation is working.

"You're one of the best actors I've ever worked with, and one of the most dedicated as well. You've spent so many hours reading, fixing, and editing this performance so that it's just right and absolutely nothing could go wrong. Am I correct?"

He nods again, making you click your tongue.

"Use your words. Am I correct, yes or no?" Your firm tone makes it hard for him to disobey, especially when you look at him with those fierce eyes.

He gulps, taking a deep breath before responding.

"Yes, you're correct. I've done so much to make sure that this show is perfect, so I have no reason to be nervous." He stands up straighter and walks backstage, adjusting his costume in the mirror. "Plus, I know that you'll be watching, so everything will be okay~." He winks at you from the mirror, making you chuckle.

"Exactly. We behind the curtain will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, so all you have to do is go out there and do what you do best." The lights start to dim as the audience applauds. You pat him on the back and adjust his collar for him.

"The stage is yours, Auri." you nod at him as he takes a deep breath, walking out onto the large wooden stage to loud cheering. His voice booms through the stage, and soon enough, the show is over. The cast takes their final standing bow and walks back to their dressing rooms. Aurelius makes a beeline for the lighting booth where you are usually sitting; he bursts through the door backstage, only to find your seat empty.

"What...?" he looks around for any trace of you, but it's like you've disappeared. He takes a seat in your chair and waits for what seemed like hours to him because of how tired he was. 15 minutes after the show ends, he hears your voice from outside the door. he gets up to open the door, but as soon as he does, the door opens with a creak. There you are, standing in the doorway with a coffee in one hand and your bag in the other, looking up at him surprised.

"Auri, why haven't you changed? Everyone's already leaving, you should go too-"

"You weren't watching." He cuts you off, looking at you with cold, dead eyes.

You look at him confused, setting your bag down on the floor. "What are you-"

"Why weren't you watching?"

[teabutmakeitazure]

yan chrollo's eyes are mysterious.

you always feel them on you, yet you have not seen them on you even once. the feeling always strikes when you exist in the comfort of your own little bubble, either lounging on the bed or sofa or when you entertain yourself with a chore or book. sometimes it strikes even when chrollo is not there, his physical absence seemingly not sufficient to keep that feeling of watchful eyes at bay.

perhaps he is there. perhaps he has a way to watch you from all sides since you are never able to locate the source of the watchful gaze. it would be daft of you to think for even a second that he is not watching. whether he is home or not is irrelevant.

yet when he sits with you in front of the fireplace of the home you currently live in, you grow bold. the repercussions fail to squander your growing attitude at the lack of privacy, and upon the feeling the audacious intrusion of his hand up your ridiculously short skirt, you think of yourself as foolish.

you think of yourself as foolish but you think of yourself as carrying out a necessary duty, something that has lives at stake and carries the potential to change the world. your world.

thus, you strike.

you heave out a gentle sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, all familiar actions that alert chrollo of your inevitable misbehaviour. your eyes look up at him through your lashes and a finger teasingly runs over the forearm holding a book in hand. it's a dangerous game, to tease the beast currently sitting cuddled up next to you in front of a fire who holds the power to switch the comfort in your life for discomfort.

despite that, he smiles. he smiles and he peeks at you. he sees the look on your face, takes in the impatience and boldness and thinks God knows what of it and continues smiling only to flat out ignore you and simply turn a page (how infuriating).

the fingertip traces his forearm again, yet even upon receiving no response or reaction you remain indefatigable in your petty pursuit. ironically, he snaps when your finger lands on his thigh instead. the book is closed shut without a bookmark to save the page and a deep breath is taken in.

you think yourself to be in trouble, but chrollo simply pulls you even closer.

"you're being oddly touchy," he comments. his eyes are fixed onto the fire, yet you still feel his gaze when you look away.

unlike your own expectations, you voice your question without making small talk. it felt gruesome to push those words out of your mouth, but it happened, and you successfully asked him. chrollo, however, does not give you an answer.

the arm on your thigh travels up to your hip, the palm cupping the dip in your body while the thumb gently draws circles. the book that he placed onto his lap is picked up and gently placed onto the side table, yet you are not graced with an answer yet.

this is a test of some sort. you know it.

"do you really want to know?"

you nod immediately. he is not looking at you.

"the answer might not be something you would appreciate." suddenly, he shifts, and you are met with the grey eyes that have captivated you and held your attention for months. even though your heart skips a beat at the action, you cannot help but try your best to push away the hint of fear that creeps up your spine.

chrollo inquires about your decision again, and you resist the urge to look at his chest instead. gazing on his toned chest teasingly peeking out through an unbuttoned shirt is preferable to his eyes, yet you don't.

your nod is enough to allow chrollo to continue and give you the answer you've been pursuing for months, and when his lips part, your eyes widen at the same speed only to narrow in disappointment when he gives his answer.

"if i tell you, you'll get bored of me." with that, the book is picked up again, your head once again pushed to rest on his shoulder, and the page he left it on opened up once again.

your arguing ends in a loss as per usual. no matter. at least you have something to do until you get your answers.

[just-null]

Thinking….. thinking of yandere noritoshi

me too....

Noritoshi is suspicious of you at the worst of times. The same faint crease on his brow always appears when he's trying to hide being bothered by something.

This time? Because you've been focusing on your phone rather than him for a little bit too long...... He trusts you, of course he does! its just, he doesn't trust others. What if you end up talking with somebody for too long and they try whisking you away?

Obviously it's most likely nothing and you're enjoying your time doing who knows what on the phone that he's not allowed to check because you told him he couldn't no matter how many times he asked. Noritoshi still stares at your phone intensely when its sitting somewhere, itching to take a quick peek.. it'll be harmless, you don't even have to know!

Yet, his mind wanders to the possibility of getting caught. He'd rather spear arrows through his palm than be gazed at with disapproval by you. Its only natural to have privacy, he tells himself. So, begrudgingly, Noritoshi obeys and watches you on the stupid little phone.

The phone that contains a lot of mindless entertainment and important files. The same phone that holds a lot of personal information you keep to yourself. The same damn phone he's been itching to get his hands on ever since you began smiling at the device.

Why aren't you showing him what's so funny? Oh, right, because he could care less. All he cares about is that your attention is off of him and onto something else that could easily lead you to interact with someone else. It becomes too much and he acts emotionally, tilting the phone down and confronting you. It's not an accusation, just a question. Tell him he's wrong, he's almost begging you to tell him he's wrong. He just wants your attention again, so forgive him if he acts irrational. He'll make up for it, he promises.

Though, if you're alright with Noritoshi looking through your phone, his looming shadow over your shoulder will be a common occurrence every time you turn on your device. He might as well stop using his own with how much he likes holding onto yours. It's just to help you carry your things, of course. He's so gentlemanly isn't he? Go on, praise him!

[kiwisandpearls]

I’m sure this point has already been made to death, but I think a major reason as to why more…darker “x reader” fics are so prevalent and popular in certain spaces is because simply put… “x reader” fics, and by extension fanfiction and just general fiction, are probably one of the more healthy and safer ways for many irl readers and writers to navigate through their fantasies and/or traumas. Many of us recognize that our fantasies would be harmful to do irl, so we project it (?) through fiction.

[mothwingwritings]

Question?!💕 Okay anyways LOLZ!😂 What if Muhammad Ali Jr. meets Yujiro's daughter, and Baki faces Muhammad and finds out he already met his sister? How would Baki react when Muhammad comments some "things" about his sister appearance, and mannerisms? And also what would Yujiro think about all this mess? Would he get jealous or be amused?

Btw I LOVEEEE your Baki fanfics!💓

Mr. Ali Jr is going to get kicked in the dick SO HARD that man will either A. No longer have a dick, or B. Have a concave dick for the rest of his life as a reminder of how dumb he was to ever fuck with Baki's darling sister. :)

Joking aside though, I really feel like Baki would let him talk his shit and make his comments. Go ahead and whisper about how good (name)'s ass looks in those jeans, or talk about how nice your plush lips would feel around his cock. Make insinuations about how easy you seem, or snide little observations about the swing of your hips when you walk. The more shit he talks the more fun it will be for Baki to absolutely beat his sorry ass to a pulp in front of EVERYBODY. And guess what? When Ali Jr. is beat half to death, blubbering in unimaginable pain, it's going to be Baki that gets to go home with you and enjoy your company. And he intends to fully enjoy his time with you, being pampered and doted on for being your strong champion. <3

As for Yujiro... It's a mixed bag. Muhammad's father is one of the few people Yujiro truly respects, and as such, he doesn't treat Ali Jr with the disrespect and contempt he treats most people. I think he would be pretty amused with Ali's flirting, maybe even commend him on his good taste. But the moment he takes it a step too far and either asks you on serious date or (god forbid) tries to put his hands on you in some way, that boy will be knocked out so hard his ass won't know what hit him. Since he would want to at least try and avoid killing him, Yujiro will instead make sure to put him a coma so that he's out of the picture for a very long time. :)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

What if twst MC and OM MC are siblings? Like Obey Me MC is the older sibling

Om MC going to get their sibling back from Twisted Wonderland and needing to retrieve them from kidnappings and the like?

If you don't want to do this then that's fine

Obey Me Reader + TWST Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland & Yandere Obey Me

As siblings it’ll be difficult to reunite with each other

Considering you each have to deal with your respective adoring crowds

For OM Reader the problem with the brothers is the varied reactions this garners

Of course the brothers and everyone else in devildom understand 

They see how greatly you’ve helped the brothers cherish each other

So of course they’ll want to help you get your siblings

But return together to normal life?

Not without them

It truly is a game of persuasion with them

But don’t get cocky 

Lucifer, Barbatos, Satan, and Simeon are all on high alert

They’d love to help you reunite with your sibling!

Just not at the expense of the time they have with you

And even better they might even come to adore TWST Reader as well

You’re both so similar but so different

Both equally loveable for your respective strengths

Those in Twisted Wonderland are in for quite the battle

On TWST Reader’s side there’s so many more people to fight off

The simple prospect of you leaving is already a hot and dangerous topic

But now you want to leave for your sibling?

Not on their watch

As a collective they’re a whole lot colder about your desire to see your dear sibling

Why would you need them and their stinky demons you have the whole school eatting out the palm of your hand

That being said they aren’t weak against a bunch of demons either 

They do outnumber their little harem anyway

And they’ve got Malleus Draconia

If they didn’t think your sibling might have been crafty enough to give them the slip

They’d get them for you

But they just can’t risk it 

You already seem so eager to get the mirror to take you home 

You don’t need the distraction of your sibling by your side

It’s going to be a bloodbath that’s going to put all of their lives on the line

But they’d do anything for their loves

And hey if they’re so eager to fight each other you might get to be with your dear sibling while the groups battle it out

This may have birthed a disastrous idea... Record of Ragnarok but Obey Me vs Twisted Wonderland Maybe? 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[mynahx3]

One Moment Was All It Took Part 2

Here’s the part 2 of Soulmate Gojo based off of @envy-of-the-apple HC !!! Prob gonna have like 6 parts ngl lolol Hope everyone enjoys, might be able to get part 3 out by Mon if my schedule remains open.  Warning this chapter has non con touching, drugging, kidnapping, fighting w/ mentions of blood!! If this disturbs you please don’t read Next part with prob be spicy Masterlist

A couple weeks  have passed since that cafe incident, and it completely slipped your mind—something you laughed about with your fiance when you got home that day. He wasn't very amused, but you brushed it off as just a strange encounter. Your mind was preoccupied with the upcoming wedding in the coming months. The colorful sticky notes with wedding tasks covered the calendar on your fridge, each one a reminder of the preparations ahead, and a sense of giddiness filled you whenever you glanced at the detailed schedule.

You sit perched on a stool in your cozy kitchen, meticulously reviewing wedding preparations on your laptop. Your eyes stung slightly as you read the screen, a frown evident on your face, longing for your fiance's presence to assist you. He had to attend a sudden business trip that took him out of the country.

It was good news, meaning his boss began to trust him with more responsibilities, but it also meant you were left to handle the wedding planning on your own for the time being. You were pleased to see him advancing in his career, yet you also felt somewhat overwhelmed by the additional responsibilities you had to manage.

After stretching, you stand up to take a break when the doorbell rings. Confusion overwhelms you as you approach the door, peering through the peephole to find nobody there. You open the door, keeping the chain attached as you look around. No one was there. While closing the door, you notice a vase filled with beautiful flowers on your welcome mat. A smile blooms on your face at the sight of the flowers, and you bring them into your apartment.

The flowers looked expensive in a beautiful crystal vase with a note attached to the neck of it, trimmed with gold. It reads, "Thinking of you always, even from afar. S." Your heart swells with warmth as you assume it was your fiance's thoughtful gesture. Pulling out your phone, you decide to call them and thank them for the surprise. The line rings for a few seconds before he answers, his voice happy and excited to hear from you. Noise in the background, likely from his busy office.

"Well, aren't you the romantic?" You say this, admiring the flowers sitting in front of you. A bright smile on your face as you hold your phone to your ear.

"What did I do this time?" He asked with a laugh, not understanding what you meant. You chuckle at his confusion, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"The flowers you sent, silly," you reply, feeling the softness of the petals on your fingertips. "Thank you, baby."

The line is silent—so silent that you think the phone dropped. Just as you were about to hang up and call back, he spoke.

"Honey… I didn't send you anything." Your smile fades at his words, your heart sinking as you wonder who could have possibly sent such a thoughtful gift.

"I'm… I'm sure the delivery person just got the wrong apartment." You shrug, looking around it to see if there was anything else written on the card—the only piece of paper on it.

Turning it over, your heart drops, and you see your name written in the golden ink with a heart next to it. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the implications, but you choose to keep it to yourself. Not wanting to ruin his mood and throw him off during such an important meeting.

"I'll just ask the front desk if anyone asks about them; I'd hate for whoever sent them to be mad that it went to the wrong person." You laugh as you crumble the card up in your hand.

"Now I feel bad I didn't get that idea." Your fiance' laughs, your nerves easing a little at the sound. "Promise I'll do something way better, sweet cheeks."

The corny nickname makes you laugh and roll your eyes. Since your high school days, he had always been cheesy and overly romantic, qualities you cherished. In the years that you supported one another, you both experienced a great deal. Despite the difficulties, you both emerged stronger after transitioning from broke college students to starting careers together in Japan. At times, he couldn't express his love in the most conventional ways, but his efforts were always genuine and appreciated.

"I got to go, babe. Another meeting is about to start." He sighed, his coworkers shouting his name over the phone. "I love you; I'll be home in a few weeks."

"I love you too." You smile happily, hearing him give you kisses through the receiver before hanging up.

You're left to your own thoughts, the vase sitting pretty in front of you. Mind trying to figure out who must have sent them. Being the taken woman you were, you couldn't figure out who must have sent them, if not your fiance'. The mystery sender lingered in your mind for a bit. But you brush it off, moving on with your day, thinking maybe a family member or friend sent them. Going on with the rest of your day, a day filled with phone calls and scheduling, you forget about the bouquet sitting on your counter.

The flowers should have been the first clue, a warning sign of what was to come. Over time, you begin to feel uneasy, feeling constantly watched. Small things in your apartment were moved or went missing—things you know you didn't touch before leaving. Additional gifts mysteriously appeared on your doorstep, each accompanied by intricately detailed notes, intensifying in their personal nature.

Fury consumed you as you unwrapped another package, revealing a set of lacy lingerie in your size and favorite color. A note with it, written in the familiar handwriting, simply said, "For our special night." The realization hits you like a ton of bricks: someone has been in your home, watching your every move. Fear grips you as you realize the extent of the intrusion into your personal space. You burned that gift without a second thought; any other gift was sent to the trash.

Your nights were restless, alone in your apartment—or at least, you hoped you were alone. The feeling of being watched grew stronger, causing you to constantly look over your shoulder. You couldn't shake the feeling that someone was always nearby, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal themselves. The once innocent gifts and flowers now felt like a sinister presence in your life, leaving you on edge and paranoid. You had even gone to the police, informing them what was happening, but they said they couldn't do anything without concrete evidence of a threat. This only added to your growing sense of dread.

Walking home from lunch with your friends, you decided to detour to a park, needing a moment of solitude. Sitting on a bench, cherry blossoms fall around you, their delicate petals drifting to the ground like whispers of reassurance, offering a sense of peace and tranquility in the midst of your fear.

As you take deep breaths and enjoy the gentle wind tousling your hair, you fail to notice someone sitting beside you as you drift off in thought. A tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality with a jump. Looking at where it came from, your eyes widen in shock at the white haired man sitting next to you. It took a second before your mind recognized him; he was the man from the cafe. There was a smile on his face, perfect as you remembered, one that brought you an icy feeling down your spine. He tilted his head, holding a single flower to you, a ribbon tied to its stem.

"Fancy seeing you here." He grinned.

Feeling unsure of how to react, you stared at the man with bewilderment, your heart beating fast. You weren't stupid enough to trust him, frowning at his close proximity. His presence put you on edge, as memories of what he said weeks ago ran through your mind. Knowing he was the one behind the unsettling messages you have been receiving the last week. Pouting, he let the flower droop a little in his hand once he realized you wouldn't take it from him.

"Don't be like that." He sighed dramatically, dropping the flower to his side, eyeing your form.

His smile was charming, reminiscent of when you first met. His eyes twinkled mischievously over his sunglasses. Under different circumstances, you might have admitted that he was quite attractive. Now he only sent chills down your spine, especially with how comfortably he said your name, as if he had known you for years.

As your shoulders tense, you try to move away from him, but just like before, he grabs your wrist. Pulling you to sit back down with him. His grip was ironclad, unmoving as you writhed in a futile attempt to break free. Every detail of his eyes was sharp and intense, as if they were staring deep into your soul.

"You know I'm surprised; you were super easy to keep an eye on." His words dripped with chilling confidence, sending a jolt of fear through you and causing your heart to race even faster. "You should really pay more attention to your surroundings. You never know what monsters lurk out there, ready to eat up a cutie like you."

"What… what do you want?" You asked, your voice small, and your throat felt tight in fear. The grip on your wrist tightened as he leaned in closer.

"That doesn't matter right now," he said casually, his tone sending shivers down your spine. "Let's get to know each other a little."

He wraps his arm back around you, letting go of your wrist to bring your body closer to his. To anyone walking by, it would just look like a couple enjoying the spring weather together. Your body was rigid as he rubbed your shoulder a bit roughly, his cold fingers feeling your soft skin.

You wish you hadn't worn that dress today; its low neckline and thin straps gave him easy access to your skin. Goosebumps littered your arms as you tried to subtly move away from his touch. His grip tightened slightly, indicating his control over your movement. A sinking feeling in your stomach settled, and you knew you needed to get away.

"I don't want anything to do with you." You told him, wishing there wasn't a waver in your voice, wishing you stood stronger against him.

His entire energy and demeanor were intense, but there was a slight furrow in his brow at your words. It was gone as soon as you noticed it, and the same cocky grin was on his face the next second.

"Princess, I don't think you have a choice." His words sent a chill down your spine, filling you with fear at the core of your being.

Silently, he retrieved his phone and began scrolling through a series of photos. The photos displayed your family, friends, and your fiancé. Your loved ones are living their lives, oblivious to the danger they are in because of you. He even has pictures of you from the last week, going from you at work to you in your apartment in your private moments. Finally, he stops the slideshow, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

"Get where this is going?" He chuckles, edging even closer to make sure your thighs touch. "It was difficult to find any real dirt on your boy toy; he's a good guy. I will give him that, but... I know exactly how to make him disappear."

You nod slowly, feeling the lingering threat of danger in the air as you try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. His presence caused you to take short, panicked breaths. This is something he actually notices: a softer look in his eyes now while his hand moves to rub your thigh comfortingly. Your body stiffens as you feel the tip of his fingers tracing just below the hem of your dress.

"Gotta cut this short. Still have to prepare a few things real quick; I couldn't help but check in on my girl." He leans closer to kiss your cheek softly before pulling away.

You didn't respond, feeling too suffocated next to him. Your wide eyes focused on him; it seemed he wanted to be flush with you no matter how much you squirmed away. Fortunately, he doesn't prolong the moment, letting go of your shoulder and putting his hands on his knees.

"I'll come get you shortly; I don't want to keep you waiting too long." He says it playfully, winking as he puts a piece of gum in his mouth and smacks it noisily.

With that, he rises from the bench, looking down at you with a beaming smile, and turns to walk away. He disappears from sight, walking out of the park. This left you feeling worse than before as you wiped your cheek clean. Your gut feelings intensified, urging you to run.

When you got home, you immediately started packing, changing into a simple pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hurriedly packing a bag with the bare essentials, leaving a mess behind in your wake. You didn't know exactly what you would do, yet you had to get away. The urgency of the situation propelled you forward, heedless of consequences or sacrifices.

It was unbearable to see your stalker in real life—a smack in the face of the true danger you were in. Quickly, you texted your fiance', explaining you were going to stay with a friend for a few days. Once you finally explained to him the situation with the stalker, he called to discuss the next steps.

"You should've told me what was happening."

"I know… I didn't want to worry you. This meeting was important." Tears welled in your eyes, and the stress of everything came to a head. Confiding in him finally brought you comfort, but a part of you felt guilty for not telling him sooner.

"Not more important than you and your safety, I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered into the phone, wiping any stray tears from your face.

"I'll get the next flight out. Stay at your friend's place until I get there," he said firmly. "Keep your taser on you wherever you go. Be safe."

"I will, thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing he was on his way to be by your side. The thought of having him there to support you made the situation feel more manageable.

He quickly explained the stalker situation to his boss, secured the next available flight, and ended the call upon reaching the airport. The sun had long set, and the dark sky was beginning to fill with twinkling stars, visible through the windows.

On any other night, you would have enjoyed the starry night with a glass of wine and your favorite book, but now you ignore the view. Focus on packing up for your impromptu trip away from the comforts of your home. Once you finished packing, you moved a suitcase into the living room, ready to leave.

A sudden, hard knock at the door surprises you greatly, causing you to jump. It repeats after a moment; much harsher, the door shakes in its frame. Nervously, you move silently to see who it was. Through the peephole, you see that cursed head of snow white hair, his smile as wide as ever. Stepping back, your breath catching in your throat, and your legs turning to jelly as adrenaline surged through your veins. Your stalker was outside your apartment, banging on the door while calling out your name in a joyful tone.

As escape plans raced through your mind, the realization of being in a high-floor apartment without a fire escape sank in, presenting a daunting obstacle. Panic grips you as you frantically reach for your phone in the kitchen. Just as you go to grab it, a loud, crashing sound comes from behind.

Turning around, you see the front door on the floor with a crater in it, and your stalker is smiling menacingly at you. For a moment, you both freeze, a standoff of short going on. Without hesitation, you reach for a knife from the block on the counter behind you and hold it out in front. Despite your nerves, your hands didn't shake as you pointed the sharp knife at him, a cold stare on your face.

"Get the fuck out."

The man smiles at this, laughing a bit at your attempt to intimidate him. As he stepped forward to come closer to you, his finger traced over the countertops. At that moment, you instinctively step back from him, creating distance between you. You both circled the kitchen island cautiously while he slowly removed the bandages covering his eyes.

He put the bandages on the counter, his blue eyes watching your every move like a hawk. He pauses, smirking, his hand stopping just at your phone, then quickly picks it up and crushes it in his hand. Letting the phone fall to the counter in a broken mess, he looks at you with a wide grin.

"Now we can have some real fun."

The front door was behind him; you knew you had to risk running past him or deeper into your apartment. The latter wasn't the best idea since you would be trapped in a corner with no way out but to run you would have to risk getting caught by him. With a deep breath, you made a split-second decision to dart towards the door, hoping to make it out before he could react.

As you sprint to the front door, he easily catches you, wrapping strong arms around your waist. Knife still in hand, you try to swipe at him from behind, only earning you a twist of your arm. A sharp pain radiates through your arm as he twists it more into an awkward angle, making you yell in pain and drop it to the floor in a loud clang.

Pulling you closer, he easily holds you against him, not being phased by your kicking and screams. Securing an arm around your waist, his hand held both your wrists with ease. He leans in, burying his head in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, unsettling breath. The other hand goes over your mouth to muffle your screams. In retaliation, you managed to wiggle your face out, biting down hard on his hand, your tongue flooding with a coppery taste.

This didn't seem to phase him; his blood was dripping down your chin. The metallic tang of his blood is sickening you. Nevertheless, you continue to struggle in his arms, trying to elbow him to break free. A guttural moan escapes his lips as he plants small, chilling kisses on the skin of your neck, enjoying this moment. You feel trapped, like a rat in a snake's grip, desperate for a chance to escape.

"You're so soft." He whispers into your ear, tightening his grip over you, not budging as you dig your heel into his shins.

Teeth still clenched on his hand, digging deeper for him to let go. When he didn't respond you released your jaw, you threw your head back. You hit him square in the nose, eliciting a gasp of pain from him. Blood drips from his nose as he stumbles back, momentarily stunned. Seizing the opportunity, you push him away and run as fast as you can, your heart pounding in your chest.

You run towards the door, the gaping exit mocking you, so close yet so far. You don't make it much farther; he grabs your hair harshly and throws you to the ground. On the floor, you cough and gasp for air. The impact of your back on the hardwood knocked air out of your lungs. As you crawl away from him, trying to regain your breath, he stands in front of the only exit, looking over at you with a menacing grin.

"Here, I thought it would be easy; God, I fucking love this." He wipes his nose with his sleeve, smearing blood on his face. A demented look on his face tells you that he's enjoying this far too much. "As much as I want to continue, kind of on a time crunch, babe. I'm pretty sure your lovely neighbors have already called the police."

Saying this, he crouches down, pulling you to him by your ankle. You kick at him with your other foot, one connected to his chin, but he only laughs in response, dodging any more of your attempts to fight back.

"You're a feisty one, I like that," he chuckles, tightening his grip on your ankle as he begins to drag you closer. "You're not going anywhere."

Your heart races as you desperately search for a way out of this nightmare. Keeping a hold of you, he pulls out a syringe filled with mysterious liquid from his pocket. The sight makes your heart drop. In your shock, he stabs it roughly into your thigh, pushing the liquid in. As the drug takes effect, your vision blurs and your body goes limp, leaving you at his mercy.

"Sweet dreams." He takes you into his arms, watching you fall into unconsciousness. The last thing you hear before blacking out is his sinister chuckle echoing in your ears

Hope you enjoyed lovelies! Likes/ reblogs are appreciated &lt;3 pls no repost