#yandere insert

[heartfullofleeches]

Puppy Hybrid Reader born and raised on a farm that moos in tribute of their childhood best friends + Carnis [Cow Hybrid Yan]. Puppy coded cow madly in love with a cow coded puppy.

Puppy Reader who lived on a dairy farm of the majority of their developing years surrounded and taken in by the four legged mammals their parents owned. Many a nights, the young puppy was found cuddled up with the herd- content and happy with their found family. It broke their little heart when their parents ship them off to the city, but a piece of home will forever reside in them.

Carnis, known for barking and howling at their former caretakers, takes an immediate liking to Darling. They're the funniest looking cow he's ever seen, but they're so friendly and kind who wouldn't fall head over heels for them?

"My parents tried to nip it in the bud when I was little, but making cow noises is kinda just like- soothing to me??? Reminds me of home and all my friends as a pup."

"I liked... when..when the doctors backed away.. when I growled at t-them. I was afraid of them s-so it felt good when they were scared o-of me. Does that make me... a bad person?"

"No way! You were just a pup trying to defend yourself- I totally get it!"

"Hehe... Woof! You make me a v-very happy puppy... cow... person... I'll bark real loud at anyone.. anyone who hurts you, okay?"

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a pipe-dreaming wannabe sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm so great, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[pyrodolls]

SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER

WARNINGS: stalking, obsessiveness, breaking and entering, nsfw, masochist yandere, overstimulation, thigh riding, bondage, male masturbation, unhealthy behavior, average yandere tendencies, male yandere oc (he’s very pathetic and perverted, it’s giving “step on me” energy.) gender neutral reader

A/N: heyyyyy guess who isn’t dead.. i literally open tumblr every 3 minutes i just haven’t been posting. but i’m hereeeee lol. here’s a random yandere oc post, sorry it’s not mortal kombat. (tbh i have faded away from my mk obsession and now i am obsessed with until dawn, the quarry, tlou, and rdr.)

part two here!

superfan! yandere boy that buys all of your merchandise and streams your music on loop 24/7. even while he sleeps.

superfan! yandere boy that commissions artists to draw you and him together in different styles. some of them may depict him on a cute date with you, and some are more explicit and depict you stepping on him or choking him.

superfan! yandere boy that sneaks into your concerts if he didn’t manage to buy a ticket. no matter how strong your security is, he will always manage to find a way in and pretend he's just a regular fan.

superfan! yandere boy that will even sneak onto your house and film you through your window for hours, and then he would go home and touch himself to the footage of you.

superfan! yandere boy that wants to buy meet-and-greet tickets to see you, and be able to feel your presence up close and be able to speak to you personally. but as much as he craves your attention, he knows he wouldn't be able to handle it and would crumble immediately the second you look him in the eyes.

superfan! yandere boy that pays people to stalk you and take pictures of you when he can't do it himself. especially ones when you have a wardrobe malfunction.

superfan! yandere boy that goes to sleep every night fantasizing and dreaming of you. his particular favorite wet dream is of you letting him ride your thigh, grinding against your skin as a desperate attempt to feel any friction on his cock. your hands would roam around his body as he relishes in your attention, no matter where you touch him. any small nudge or brush against his skin would set his heart on fire and oh no where'd his pants go-

superfan! yandere boy that thinks you could do no wrong. you said something offensive and got yourself cancelled? he is your number one defender and would be threatening your naysayers on the internet. he would even go as far as to learn to hack just so he could delete their accounts.

superfan! yandere boy that almost WANTS to get caught. he knows he wouldn't be able to handle your attention, so he avoids it, but a part of him wants to get caught and outed for his perverted, stalker ways. he wants to hear you cuss him out and degrade him. he wants to see the disgusted look on your face as he is exposed for everything he did. spit on him, kick him, treat him like vermin, he doesn't mind. he gets off on the thought of you punishing him. he has a particular fantasy where your punishment for him is by tying him up and overstimulating him until he is crying, whimpering, and almost fainting. but he would still beg for more. no matter how long it lasts. it could be a week long and he still wouldn't be satisfied.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Maid x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :)

Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Butler (side character) calls reader “Mistress”

Danger level: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡

Yandere!Maid who looks at the castle in front of him, then the flier in his hands, then the castle again. Unless there was a typo in the address, the job interview should be here. He hesitantly uses the bat shaped door knocker and waits...This place looks so creepy and ominous, was this a prank ? Was it to scare him? Seriously? Sigh…He has had enough of being treated like a fool. As he continues his descent into frustration, bitterness and self-pity, he doesn’t hear the door opening. Nor does he see the butler standing at the entrance until he hears a: “Sorry for the wait, my kind sir. Are you here for the housekeeper position?”.

Yandere!Maid who thinks the butler is telling him a load of bullshit. According to him, the owner of this place is a vampire in search of additional staff members. He resists the urge to scoff. Whatever, if the “mistress” wants to take part in some weird role-play, then so be it as long as he would get paid. The same guy tells him to “please take a seat” in the living room and that “mistress will come and attend to you in a moment”. Soon after his departure, the air shifts. Black particles float around until it materializes something, or rather someone. The poor boy's shock and confusion quickly turn into enchantment. Fuck, you are totally his type. This is bad, he can feel his face burning. “Shall we go to my office?”, you ask with a smile.

Yandere!Maid who hates you. Who hates the fact that your personality matches your looks. Who hates how much control you have over him. The other day, your...pet sneezed on him, so he needed another uniform. “It seems that I only have a female one left ”, you told him. “There is no way in hell I am wearing that”, he sneered. “But wouldn’t you look cute in it? Besides, it is either that or cleaning with your normal clothes on until your new uniform arrives here-” “Alright, shut up, just give me that”, he abruptly took the offending dress from your hands and went to change. Since that conversation, his work attire has fully transitioned to said maid outfit. Maybe he becomes a bit too proud of himself whenever he catches you staring at him. And maybe, just maybe he wants to give you a nice view by bending down and taking his time “to clean the table” whenever he knows you are behind him. He will never admit that though.

Yandere!Maid who, one day, demands asks you about your eating habits. As soon as you answer, something regarding animal blood, he turns oddly quiet. You are about to ask what is wrong, but then he surprises you by climbing into your lap. You watch him get comfortable and, with trembling hands, undo the first buttons of his dress. The cherry on top is him pulling on its collar a bit to show a silver of his chest. He now avoids eye contact as he waits for you to take the lead…You are still just looking at him, so, with a blush becoming darker, he snaps at you: “A-are you stupid or something ? Do you want me to spell it out-” “I am just enjoying the view”, you respond with a teasing smile. Before he can sputter more insults, you grip his chin and tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry gaze. “But if you insist…Thank you for the meal <3”

Yandere!Maid who has his face buried deep in his pillow while he tries to calm his flustered self down. After you finished drinking from him, he hurriedly got up and scurried to his room without so much as a word. The more he recalls the embarrassing noises he made in front of you, the more mortified he becomes. It was not his fault, it just felt really good and you even pulled him closer and tugged on his hair and-He whines and squirms in his bed as he feels his body turning hot again like that time. The action causes him to feel a sharp sting on his neck. He freezes. That is right. You marked him. You marked him. You marked him.

...

Don't drink from anyone else, ok?

[yandere-writer-momo]

Cleaning out my drafts and stumbled across this horror piece. Minors DNI please.

Yandere Head Canons: The Dollhouse Husband

Yandere Living Doll x GN Reader x One Sided Neglectful Toymaker Husband

TW: yandere themes, unhealthy relationship dynamics, obsession, neglectful husband, unhappy arranged marriage, murder, horror, and gore (mentioned)

His face was beautiful, just like your husband’s, yet he wasn’t your husband. No, this adonic doll was an imposter. A crude imitation of your distant beau. A creation your husband, Jonathan, made out of cruelty so you’d stop clinging to him and your desire for him to love you. A doll he crudely named Johnny. The nickname you affectionately called your emotionally constipated husband.

A marriage that was arranged since the two of you were young and yet your husband would not lie with you. No… he’d rather play with his toys. Jonathan told you he had made you this doll to play with so you’d leave him alone…

“What’s wrong dear?” A smooth voice whispered in your ear as lanky arms wrapped around your body to pull you closer to his. His skin felt like ice and you didn’t even feel a heartbeat… was this man undead? He wasn’t human, but you weren’t even sure if he was even living. “Is my appearance not to your liking? Your husband did his best to make me exactly in his image.”

“…” you frowned at his words, your words died off in your throat before they could even be uttered. How could you forget that your toy maker husband built you a living doll to be a crude imitation of him all because you expressed a desire for more attention. Yet it felt as if you were not worthy of having the real husband. Only this doll. A doll that would do anything you asked of it to an almost unhealthy degree.

Everywhere you want, Johnny followed. If you were in the garden, so was Johnny. If you were in the tub, Johnny would wash your hair and back for you. It didn’t matter that you were disinterested in this lifeless mockery of your husband, the doll would follow you.

“Dear? Do you not like me?” The doll asked once more as his porcelain arms wrapped around you tighter. His perfect face remained unmoved, but you swore his tenor voice sounded anxious. “I’m just as good as he is! I dote on you! I take care of you and your needs! I’m made as a perfect replica-“

“But you’re not my husband.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your eyes filled with sadness. “Your body is as cold as ice and you have no heartbeat… your presence does nothing but make me sink into a larger pit of loneliness.”

“So you desire warm skin and a heart?” The doll asked in a hushed tone. His glassy green eyes admired your form. “If I were to be more human… would you like me more?”

“…yes.” You just wanted the conversation to be over. To bury your head on your pillow and sob until you passed out from the loneliness and pity that consumed you. Were you that unloveable that your own husband gifted you a living doll?

If only you noticed the way Johnny rested his head on your shoulder as the cogs in his mind turned. You’d love him if he had skin and a heart? He’d do just that…

How were you to know that this doll would present you Jonathan’s heart the next day in a heart shaped box with a smile that could only be described as uncanny? Not to mention the porcelain white skin that was no doubt from your husband’s own face that rested on Johnny’s like a mask.

“I have the traits you desire… so won’t you like me now? I’m better than him in every way!” He shouted as he set the box down on the dining room table in front of you. He took his pointer fingers and curved the loose skin around his lips into a smile. “We can be happy here in our dollhouse! Please! Please say you like me now!”

You felt numb as the heart in front you leaked crimson all over the box. Perhaps… this was all your own doing due to your selfishness? Of begging to be loved all your life that only a living doll would pay you any mind?

You let out a shaky sigh before you gulped. The alive burned your throat like it was acid. Your gave a fake smile to Johnny who eagerly awaited the four words he longed to hear for his entire existence.

“I like you, Johnny.”

[mellowwillowy]

A Husband Duty (GN, NSFW)

Instead of another normal love making session, you ask him to do more to you (FIC, junkie reader, IMG., more in Husband...)

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Husband who just loves you so much that it turns into another worshipping session instead of fucking you raw without any condom on.

Yan! Husband who just eats you out / gives you head nonstop until you are overstimulated, the whole bed is wet with your cum and drool, his boxer drenched in cum as he ruts himself against the bed sheet.

Yan! Husband whose fingers teased the insides of your clenching hole, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll to the back. Yes, just loll out your tongue and he'll take it for granted with his mouth, sucking and licking it while he relishes in the way you whine.

Yan! Husband who will actually cum undone just from lapping up your sweet nectar, drinking it all like a thirsty man who is lost in the Sahara desert.

Yan! Husband who refuses any of your attempts in giving him head, nuh-uh, he wants to focus on you and you only. He is already wetting his boxer with his cum, what more do you want? Splatter it all over your face and hair? He'd be so fine with just your hole ♡

Yan! Husband whose cock twitches so much when it is only the tip that enters you, imagine the whole thing filling you full and deep, he is already shaking from the ejaculation, cumming deep inside you. Do you think he is done as a '5 second, take it or leave it?'

Yan! Husband who has a questionable way of ejaculating but his stamina is not to be doubted. He will pound himself deep into you while his sperm paints your insides white. Every time he pulls out, the cum would immediately pool out from your hole only to be refilled with another. (Honestly, as expected from someone inhumane)

Yan! Husband who will not stop kissing you, be it your face, lip, body, or anything as long as it's you. Can you imagine the amount of hickeys you'll be waking up to? These will surely show the servants and others just how cherished you are in his hand.

Yan! Husband who will coax more of your sweet moans, pushing your limit further with every session you have with him, yes, he will fuck you till the sun rises if you can accommodate to him. The idea of it makes his cock twitches again, he needs to be clamped tight by you.

Yan! Husband who will not stop abusing your sex, pleasuring you with his fingers as he gives you a second stimulation while he is still hammering his cock into you.

"W-why, why do you have so much c-cum, in you-!?"

"I don't know dear, maybe it's because of you. You are driving me nuts every day!"

Yulian is such a healthy man ^^ how much litter does he have left to fill you up? Ah, the bulge... it's so arousing to see your stomach bulging with his cock and cum.

Yan! Husband, the King of Aftercare, bathing you with the finest body care, roses floating while his face nuzzled up in your neck. Please, don't do anything you will regret, you don't want him to hammer his cock into you again, the whole bathtub might be his cum instead!

Yan! Husband who kisses you to sleep, letting you rest after hours of fucking you dumb. It seems like the euphoria is gone and he has regained his sanity, evident from how he's thinking how to cover all these hickeys and bite marks.

Yan! Husband who presses his lip to all those marks, kissing it better while occasionally licking some.

Maybe he shouldn't help you cover it after all.

[funnyexel]

loves you. hates them.

Rich!boyfriend who really isn’t your boyfriend but more of an arranged husband. He’s sweet and all but you think he’s a bit overbearing for someone you just met.

Rich!boyfriend who demands your free time, disregarding how tired you may be from working. Rich!boyfriend who hates how much you work and provide for your family, he realizes how soft and spineless you are when time comes for you to speak up for yourself.

Rich!boyfriend who’s intoxicated by the way you smile at him and the small touches you give him to express your gratitude for the excessive gifts. The way your eyes light up when you see him won’t ever get old to him. Rich!boyfriend who see’s the potential in you, even if your mother tells him otherwise.

Rich!boyfriend who is immediately consumed by disinterest whenever your mother and father want to speak with him. They have so much to say and critic about your life, yet, they rely on their young daughter to get them out of their financial burdens.

Rich!boyfriend who notices the behavioral change in your sister every time he comes around. The way she perks up when he enters the room, the difference in the way she dresses when she knows she’s going to see him versus when she doesn’t know. Rich!boyfriend who is disgusted by this and is even more repulsed when she tries to make a move on him. This pushes him to increase your time at his home and decrease the time you spend at your house. 

Manipulative!boyfriend who acts confused when you find your phone hidden away in his dresser drawer. Manipulative!boyfriend who forces you stay at his home for an extensive amount of time, convincing you that you are terribly sick from working so hard.

Manipulative!boyfriend who gives you a special type of medicine in your food so you stay sluggish and compliant. Manipulative!boyfriend who persuades you that the little white bottle he hides away is nothing and that you’re imagining things. 

Rich!boyfriend who assures you that you’ll feel better by the time the wedding rolls around.

Crazy!boyfriend who effectively got your family out your ear by smashing your phone to pieces and warning them that if they ever talked to you again, he’d do worse than cause a little car crash.

Did he forget to tell you that? 

Rich!boyfriend who lies assures you that he’ll find the people who T-boned your parents car.

more posts

a/n: I think my requests inbox might be broken, directly message if it doesn't go through or don't. I don't know how it works.

[2-dsimp]

Imagine being with a yandere dryad but you’re allergic to pollen.

Springtime, he gets his feelings hurt when you sneeze on his vines trying to feel on you as per usual.

And being the melodramatic flower king he is, decides to cry all heartbroken. As if you spat in his face and called him hateful slurs.

He’d trip over his roots in an attempt to hide himself away within his bark. Not before sneakily leaving seedlings in your pockets.

Since he’d always need to keep tabs on his darling even if he’s having a dramatic meltdown.

In the forest, folk would rush to take pictures of the famed sad willowy tree that resembles a man is weeping.

Since oddly enough, the said tree is only sighted during spring. And you were the cause of it.

Meanwhile, you just came back with some allergy pills, sighing as you reverted to being a tree hugger.

To coax him into reverting back to his humanoid state.

Saying the iconic phrase “It’s not you, it’s me Leafy—“ head ahh.

——-/———-

A/n: just a funny ramble I came up with since I’m basically allergic to everything green outside 💀

[hana-no-seiiki]

“H-huh?”

PATHETIC! YAN couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He expected you to sneer at him, insult him, degrade him, curse him out for being an obsessive freak.

but not this.

“See? You weren’t even listening properly! I mean seriously, why do you suck at this so much? Augh.” You pressed your feet on his face, keeping him from looking directly at you. “How am I supposed to feel secure as a darling if my yan couldn’t even reject an invite so that you could stalk me more?”

PATHETIC! YAN had no choice really. It was a meeting that his family had arranged. If he had said no, the least they would do was chew him out on it. It was painful being away from you, but now he was starting to think that maybe it was the right choice.

Though your foot being placed on his face was nice, it obscured the pout on yours. He attempted to move it outside only to get kicked square on the jaw.

“Ah ah ah. Don’t fucking move. If the universe won’t give me a good yan, then you can at least be a good toy.”

pathetic! yan and borderline abusive/bratty reader is infecting my brain. this is so tim drake x cv! reader coded im not apologizing

[gutghost]

Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?

It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.

It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.

That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.

Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?

bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.

"My love, my everything, oh please-"

"Dont."

Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.

A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.

"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."

Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.

"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"

You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.

"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."

They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.

"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"

You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so

"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"

Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.

Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?

Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.

They will have you be their's again.

that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.

[heartfullofleeches]

Pretty Things

Masochist Bully Yan + Creep Reader

-

"When I was younger, there was this teacher who kept a beautiful vase by the window."

The ghostly visage of its precise shape and size forms in your mind like the missing piece of a decade long puzzle as you mold your hands to those fuzzy measurements.

"About this big and tall. If my memory's correct, it was a gift from his mother. For some reason.... that made the itch I developed all the worse."

You couldn't sit still. An irration so severe you felt it scratching at the back of your throat, walls raw with your mind's screams to get it over with. To scratch the itch. All it would take is one push.

"Pretty things are made prettier by those who cherish them. The look on my teacher's face when we brought him little flowers from outside... Whatever he taught us that day was drowned out by the shattering of glass. It killed me to be in the same room as that vase. I knew that if I wanted to survive the year, one of us had to go."

You'll never forget the crunch of broken porcelain beneath your heels. Nor your teacher's cries.

"I like pretty things, Erin. I really do."

Your hands frame his face, fingertips brushing all of the handsome features anyone with working eyes would adore.

"You should stay away from me. Before I break you too."

Erin adhered to every word, but if you asked him if he understood - that was entirely different ballpark. Too many mixed signals for him to wrap his head around things. From the implications you considered him beautiful to your thumb fondly stroking the corners of his full lips. Threatening to stomp him into dust like a piece of fine art-

Are you really trying to push him away... or are you flirting with him?

"...Pft- Dumbass. If you wanted to ask me out, all you had to do was say so. "

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[rxmye]

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[suiana]

(implied killer harem x dark web organ seller gn! reader)

"i've killed for you. how many other people can say that?"

"...multiple, actually."

he stares at you, jaw wide as he swallows his saliva, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. he then holds up a decapitated head in front of you, blood still dripping, indicating that the kill was fresh.

"damn. so i guess you've received heads as gifts before too, then?"

"yes, unfortunately."

he shakes his head, shoulders slumping forward as he pouts.

"but... i haven't received a brain intact before so if you could please-"

you mumble as you reach your gloved hands out for the head, yanking it before walking back into your office. you then quickly walk out, face stoic as ever before giving him his reward.

"for your service you get one kiss. hope to see you again next time."

you plant a kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the depths of the dark room. the killer stands still, staring at where you once stood before touching the place where your lips had touched. he feels his cheeks heat up, heart racing as he plans on all the things he would do next to get your attention amongst the sea of other suitors.

"ah... i hope i land a date with them next time... "

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Salaryman x Reader

A/N: Art by @_chamuring on X/Twitter, artist of the Webtoon Special Civil Servant. If you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :)

Here is Part 2!

Danger level: ★ �� ★ ★ ★

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Yandere!Salaryman who is exhausted from this dull and pathetic job. He has been trying to climb the ladders for years, but it just keeps getting worse and worse and…

Yandere!Salaryman who has a burning hatred for the newbie aka you. “Oh! Congrats on the new promotion! I never have gotten one even though I have been rotting here for as long as I can remember, while you just came in last month”, he wants to tell you. Instead, he just offers you a strained smile and a small nod when you greet him in the morning.

Yandere!Salaryman who, one day, has to stay overtime with the newbie. As he diligently works on the numbers on his computer screen, he ignores your attempts at small talk, giving curt answers at best.

Yandere!Salaryman who finally snaps as you won’t leave him alone. He screams and shouts, emptying his heart out. Suddenly, he collapses on the floor and starts sobbing. He cries and cries for his pitiful self and miserable life, until it dies down to small sniffles. His face ends up being all red and puffy, his eyes all glossy and his lips settled into a pout. You can't help but find him cute.

Yandere!Salaryman who looks confused when you give him your handkerchief to dry his tears. He stays eerily quiet as you try to cheer him up, telling him that he shouldn’t ruin his pretty face like that. After offering your hand to help him stand up, you end this interaction with a small, empathetic pat on the shoulder and a “If you need anything, I got you”.

Yandere!Salaryman who, later that night, goes straight to bed. He can feel his face burn from embarrassment and maybe something else. Your words keep going on loop inside his head. Clutching the handkerchief close to his chest, a small whimper escapes him as he takes a whiff of it. You smell so good…He closes his eyes as he tries to recall your touch. Your hand was soft too…This is all making him dizzy.

Oh god, what did you do to him? And how was he going to face you at work tomorrow?