#yandere reader x bsd

[heliosunny]

I've read a manhwa with the plot of MC being in a marriage of convenience with the ML in their first life and they work hard to make it work/feel like an actual marriage but the guy didn't give it much thought so they died and in their second life, the MC just decided to not focus on the guy but that somehow attracted the guy's attention

So that premise with Mydei (or Phainon, I just thought it suited Mydei more) where in reader's first life they had loved him and dedicated their whole being to him but they end up dying so in their second life they were more confrontational and willing to potentially piss off Mydei but that just had the opposite effect on him.

Bonus I guess if he remembers what reader did after a certain time and makes him fall harder (or go full on yan route idm)

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

[Artist]

You had loved him once.

It was a quiet, steady love, the kind built on careful devotion rather than reckless passion. A love that manifested in the way you always reached for his hand in public, in the way you made him pomegranate juice exactly as he liked it, in the way you handled every social obligation so he wouldn’t have to. A love that, despite being arranged, had been genuine on your part.

Mydei, however, had never given you much thought.

Your marriage had been one of convenience, a political arrangement that benefited both parties, nothing more. You knew that. You had known it from the start. But knowing didn’t stop you from hoping, didn’t stop you from trying to be someone he could come to love.

Yet you had tried.

You learned his preferences. You shielded him from trivial nuisances. You defended him against enemies in court. You ensured his home was warm when he returned, even if he never cared whether you were there waiting or not. You gave him everything you had to offer, even as your own needs went unnoticed, unfulfilled.

And then, one day, you died.

It was an illness, slow but inevitable. The kind that ate away at you little by little until there was nothing left to give. You had fought to stay by his side, to live long enough for him to notice you, to care. But as you lay on your deathbed, your body weak, your breath shallow, Mydei had stood beside you with the same unreadable expression he always wore.

“It’s unfortunate” he had said, his voice calm. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

He hadn’t held your hand. Hadn’t begged you to stay. Hadn’t even asked if you were afraid. And so you died, alone in a marriage that had never truly been shared.

But then, against all reason, you awoke again.

A second life. A second chance.

And this time, you wouldn’t waste it on him.

----

The first time you met Mydei again in your new life, he had the same detached expression, but this time, you weren’t the same.

“Oh. It’s you.” he said, mildly surprised.

You stared at him, deadpan. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback. In your past life, you would have smiled softly, eager to please. Now, you met his gaze with all the warmth of an ice sculpture.

“You seem different.” he noted, as though observing the weather.

“Yes, well, dying does that to a person.” You crossed your arms. “But don’t worry, I’m not here to cater to your every whim anymore. I have better things to do.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a reaction so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t known him so well. It was funny. For the first time, Mydei found himself unsure of how to proceed.

Days turned to weeks, and you continued to avoid him as much as possible. When you couldn’t, you treated him with polite indifference.

“Here, I brought you tea.”

Mydei raised a brow. “Tea?”

“I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” You sipped your own drink with a smirk, watching as he hesitated before taking a sip. No more pomegranate juice, but you made no move to correct it. Let him suffer.

He gave you a long, unreadable look, then quietly finished the tea anyway.

You weren’t sure when it started, but Mydei began seeking you out more often. Not for anything important, just small, meaningless interactions that, in your first life, he would have ignored entirely.

“You’re busy” he observed one day, watching you pour over books in the library.

“You’re perceptive” you deadpanned, not looking up.

“I can help.”

You finally met his gaze, incredulous. “You? Help? With something that doesn’t benefit you?”

“I’m capable of generosity” he replied smoothly.

You scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the Empress of the Universe.”

To your growing unease, Mydei only chuckled, as if thoroughly enjoying the challenge you presented. If he had ignored your love in your past life, he now seemed intent on prying into your every thought in this one.

You weren’t sure which was worse.

What made it all the more complicated was that Mydei had no idea you had already lived and died once before. To him, this was just the first time you had ever looked at him with anything less than quiet admiration. And while he couldn’t understand what had changed, he was undeniably intrigued.

-----

The third prince’s birthday celebration was an unavoidable event. No matter how much you wanted to stay far away from Mydei, you were both expected to attend.

Dressed in formal attire, you entered the grand hall, carefully ignoring Mydei’s presence beside you.

As expected, the noble ladies flocked to him almost immediately, their voices sickly sweet.

“Mydei, you look as composed as ever” one simpered, lightly touching his sleeve. “Surely you must save a dance for me?”

“And me as well” another chimed in. “It’s not often we get to see you at these gatherings.”

You sipped your drink and turned away, uninterested.

Mydei, however, seemed less inclined to entertain them. His gaze flickered to you, watching your utter lack of reaction.

“You’re ignoring me” he murmured, stepping closer.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Congratulations, you’re learning.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Are you jealous?”

You turned to him at last, offering the driest look you could muster. “If I had a single grain of salt for every second I cared, I wouldn’t even be able to season a meal.”

He chuckled. And you had the distinct feeling Mydei wasn’t going to let you ignore him forever.

Sensing your chance to leave, you excused yourself quietly and slipped away. You navigated through the bustling crowd until you reached the gardens, where the young third prince stood alone, watching the lanterns flicker above. You wished him a happy birthday, exchanged brief pleasantries before excusing yourself, intent on leaving before anyone noticed. Unbeknownst to you, Mydei had followed—watching from the shadows as you spoke to the young prince with a warmth you had never once given him in this lifetime.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click as you stepped into your quarters, letting out a sigh of relief. The evening had been long. You had done your part, made an appearance, and now you could finally shed the pretense of civility and rest.

You barely had time to unfasten the heavy jewelry weighing on your ears before there was a knock at the door. Your brows furrowed. It was late. Too late for someone to be calling on you unless it was urgent.

Still, you already had a sinking feeling about who it was.

“Enter” you called, bracing yourself.

The door opened, and sure enough, Mydei stepped inside. His usually pristine attire was slightly disheveled, his coat unbuttoned at the collar. But what truly caught your attention was the way he moved, slower, more deliberate, as if something was weighing on him.

He had never been one to drink, and yet, something about him seemed... off.

You sighed. “It’s late, Mydei.”

“You left early” he countered, shutting the door behind him. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something quiet and simmering beneath the surface. “Without informing me.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to retire for the night” you replied dryly, turning away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“I saw you” Mydei interrupted.

You stilled. “Saw me?”

“With the third prince” he clarified, stepping closer. “In the gardens. You seemed… close.”

You exhaled through your nose. “He’s a child, Mydei. I was wishing him a happy birthday.”

“And yet, you looked at him with more warmth than you’ve ever spared me.”

You turned to face him then, brows arching. “Are you jealous?”

Mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied you. He took another step forward, invading your space, forcing you to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact.

“Would it matter if I was?” he asked at last.

You scoffed, stepping back. “No. Because it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mydei was a man of control. To be thrown off balance, to be met with resistance where he once found compliance, was undoubtedly foreign to him.

Good. Let him feel what you had felt all those years.

You turned away, signaling the conversation was over. “Go sleep, Mydei. We have nothing more to discuss.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a quiet chuckle, a sound devoid of humor. “You truly are different now.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t look back.

Because if you did, you might have noticed the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides. And you might have realized that Mydei was far from willing to let things be.

-----

Over the next few days, Mydei seemed to have an unusual amount of free time. His duties, which once kept him busy, were now seemingly cast aside. Wherever you went, he was there.

It started subtly: walking in step with you through the halls, his presence a quiet shadow. Then it grew bolder. Sitting beside you at meals, his knee brushing against yours and never pulling away. Standing behind you, fingertips grazing the small of your back under the guise of guiding you forward.

You would have ignored it, written it off as coincidence—if not for the way his touch lingered. The way he reached for your hand absentmindedly, as if it were second nature.

One evening, as you sat by the window, lost in thought, you felt it again, his hand, warm and steady, against your shoulder. A familiar presence, yet wholly unfamiliar in its intent.

“You’ve been avoiding me” Mydei murmured.

“I’ve been living my life” you corrected, not looking up.

His fingers curled slightly, almost as if to pull you closer, but he hesitated. “And yet, somehow, I find myself a part of it more than before.”

You turned to him then, meeting his gaze directly. “Perhaps you should ask yourself why that is.”

A smirk ghosted his lips, though his eyes held something heavier. “Oh, I have.”

You had tolerated it long enough. Mydei’s constant presence, his lingering touches, the way he hovered around you as if he had never been indifferent.

The final straw came when he followed you into the private study, an intimate space he had never once stepped foot in before. You slammed the book you were holding onto the table and turned to face him, irritation burning in your chest.

"Enough!" Your voice was firm, unwavering. "What exactly do you want from me, Mydei?"

He arched a brow, unfazed. "I would think that’s obvious."

You scoffed. "Obvious? You ignored me for years, treated our marriage as a mere obligation, and now—now you cling to my side like a shadow. Why?" Your breath hitched slightly, but you pushed forward. "Is it because I no longer chase after you? Because I finally see this marriage for what it is?"

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—something unreadable. He took a step closer, but you raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No" you said sharply. "No more. This ends now. I want a divorce."

For the first time since his sudden shift in behavior, Mydei’s expression darkened. "You don’t mean that."

"I do." You met his gaze head-on. "I refuse to stay shackled in a marriage that was never real."

He exhaled slowly, as if reining himself in. "And what makes you think I'll allow it?"

Your fingers clenched into fists. "Because it’s not your decision to make."

"You truly have changed."

You didn’t back down. "And I intend to keep it that way."

His eyes lingered on you, calculating, something darker stirring beneath the surface. Then, as if making a silent decision, he took another step forward.

"Then let's see how far you’re willing to go" he murmured.

-----

Determined to push him into agreeing, you invited Duke Laurent, a respected noble and someone with a clear interest in you, to visit. If Mydei would not agree to divorce out of reason, perhaps jealousy would make him let go.

Just as you began conversing with the duke, Mydei’s arm suddenly snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You stiffened at the public display of intimacy, something he had never once shown before. The duke’s expression remained polite, though there was clear tension in the air.

Mydei leaned in, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. "You think bringing another man here will make me release you?"

He turned his gaze to the duke, his expression composed but lethal. "You see, we are still very much married."

Before you could shove him away, he tilted your chin up and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of your lips, just enough to make the moment scandalous.

"Mydei—" You hissed, shoving at his chest, but his grip remained firm.

Then came his final blow, spoken with a smirk against your skin. "If you truly wish to fulfill the divorce, then surely, as tradition dictates, our marriage must bear an heir first. Otherwise, it would be incomplete."

The audacity of it, the sheer arrogance—

Fury surged through you. Without thinking, you leaned in and bit his shoulder, hard enough to make him tense, hard enough to leave a mark through his fine fabric. Just hoping it'll make him let you go. He inhaled sharply, but instead of anger, something else flickered in his gaze. Interest.

His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your waist. "How intriguing" he murmured, almost amused. "You’re becoming more and more fascinating."

You could only glare, breathless with anger, as he leaned in even closer. "I’ve decided—I shall never let you alone."

That night, Mydei made his final decision.

You found yourself restless, pacing in your chambers, feeling trapped in a game you never agreed to play. The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"Leave!" you ordered without looking up.

Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You asked for a divorce. I gave you my terms," he said smoothly. "But I have a better idea."

You turned, narrowing your eyes. "I don't care for your ideas, Mydei. I want my freedom."

"And I want you," he countered effortlessly, closing the distance between you. "So, it seems we are at an impasse."

He reached out, tracing a hand over your wrist. "You see, I’ve realized something," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. "I cannot let you go."

"Then you will have to learn."

"No" he whispered, leaning in "I will simply ensure that you never wish to leave."

This was no longer a battle of marriage or freedom.

This was war.

Then, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "If you try to run, I will find you. If you seek another, I will ruin them. And if you deny me..." His fingers trailed over your throat, "I will make sure you have nowhere to go but back to me."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Wouldn’t I?" The smirk on his face only triggered you more. "You forget, my dear, I am not a man who lets go of what is his. And you? You belong to me."

A slow, measured pause before he added, "So fight me if you must. Hate me, struggle, scream. But in the end, you will always return to me. I will make sure of it."

---

Another day passed. Nothing happened. Until-

You were sitting stiffly in your chambers, the weight of Mydei’s last words still pressing against your mind.

Mydei entered, once again without your consent.

A goblet sat before you, filled with deep crimson liquid—the rich, unmistakable hue of pomegranate juice. It was his favorite, something he drank often, something he had tried countless times to get you to enjoy.

“I had the servants prepare this just for you” Mydei said smoothly, swirling the liquid in his own goblet. “It would be such a shame if you ignored my gift.”

You hesitated, glancing at the drink. Something about his tone made you wary, but refusing would only stretch this moment further. You reached for the goblet, only for Mydei to intercept, his fingers ghosting over yours as he picked it up himself.

“Let me.”

His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly. Before you could react, the cool rim of the goblet pressed against your lips, the sweet aroma of pomegranate thick in the air. The moment the liquid touched your tongue, warmth flooded through your body. A strange, numbing sensation curled through your veins, heavy and inescapable. Your limbs felt sluggish, the world turning soft around the edges.

Your breath hitched as your body betrayed you, sinking against the silk sheets.

Through your hazy vision, you saw Mydei standing by the door, watching. His expression was unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Rest well, my dear”

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he moved closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek before he slid into the bed beside you. His arms wrapped around you, firm yet deceptively gentle, caging you against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and in your hazy state, resistance felt… unnecessary.

“You’ll understand soon” he whispered, his breath fanning against your ear. “You don’t need to fight anymore. Just listen to me.”

Your thoughts wavered, slipping further into a fog. Your body felt too heavy to move, your mind too sluggish to argue. His presence, once suffocating, now felt… inevitable.

Through the night, he held you close, his grip never loosening. Each time your thoughts stirred, his voice was there, murmuring soft reassurances, reinforcing his presence, reminding you he was always there.

By the time morning light crept through the curtains, your mind was no longer as sharp as before. The idea of pulling away seemed distant, unnecessary.

He was still here.

His arms remained locked around you, as if this was how it had always been. His breath, slow and even, ghosted against the side of your neck, warm yet oppressive.

“Awake already?” His voice was low, thick with the drowsiness of someone who had slept well.

You swallowed, trying to shift, only to realize just how intimately entangled the two of you were. One of his legs had hooked over yours, anchoring you beneath the weight of him. His fingers, idly tracing over the fabric of your nightclothes, stopped just at your wrist, where his hold subtly tightened.

You were trapped.

“I need to get up” you muttered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Mydei didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his arms curled around you more securely, pressing you deeper against his chest. “You don’t, actually,” he murmured. “Stay.”

Something in his voice made your stomach twist. There was no plea, no request, just the quiet certainty of a man who had already decided what would happen.

“I have things to do” you tried again, frustration slipping into your tone. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” Mydei interrupted lazily, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you properly. His hair was slightly tousled, falling over sharp eyes that gleamed with something unreadable. “You haven’t been well. I think it’s best if you rest today.”

“I feel fine” you lied, pushing against his chest.

He caught your wrist easily, his thumb pressing against the rapid beat of your pulse. “Do you?” His smile was slow, knowing. “You still look dazed. You’re warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were falling ill.”

Mydei had always been perceptive, dangerously so. And in this moment, with your thoughts still sluggish, you knew you were at a disadvantage.

“Mydei,” you tried to keep your voice steady, “what did you do?���

His grip on your wrist didn’t waver, but his expression softened into something almost… fond.

“I’ve merely helped you see things clearly.” His fingers traced over your knuckles before he lifted your hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your palm. His lips curved against your skin. “You always try to run. You make things so difficult for yourself.”

“You drugged me.”

Mydei sighed, tilting his head as if mildly disappointed. “It was just a little something to help you relax. To stop you from making rash decisions.” He leaned in closer, his nose grazing against your cheek before his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t want to make any rash decisions, would you?”

A surge of unease coursed through you, your body screaming to move—to fight. But your limbs still felt leaden, and Mydei knew it. He had planned for it.

“I thought we had an agreement” you gritted out. “You can’t keep me here like this.”

“What do you mean by 'keep you'? You’re mine, my dear. You always have been.”

Your breath hitched as he finally released your wrist—only to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him properly.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

----

Visit [2] [2*]

[aionishoh]

driving hc

Is damn attractive whenever he drives, its probably just the way his hands take over the wheel in such a way that is dangerously handsome or the way he looks back whenever hes about to park. Whenever you're in the passenger, he always has hands on your thigh. If you're in the backseat, his hands still manage to find his way on your thighs while he checks if he's parking properly.

CYNO, alhaitham, diluc, childe, albedo, kazuha (g.i), scaramouche, blade, sampo, dan heng, sunday, MYDEI, DR. RATIO, ANAXAGORAS, geto, sukuna, ITOSHI SAE, aiku, reo, FYODOR, dazai, kunikida, + your faves!

CANNOT drive. Thats it. He has a drivers license but he cannot do things properly. When the two of you have free time, you usually give him driving lessons. And so far, you only have to pay for a broken pole, fourteen park benches and possibly a medical bill of someone. He does try his best! Even whenever you're busy, he tries driving on his own. Usually whenever its night and you're knocked out by sleep. Makes you wonder how he even got a license.

KAVEH, neuvillette, venti, xiao, KAEYA, imbibitor lunae, AVENTURINE, phainon, CAELUS, gallagher, BACHIRA, nagi, kaiser, sigma (bsd), + your faves!

[literatureloverx]

Random things BSD MEN would say to you / about you:

“The frills look very beautiful on you, мышка. You look like a divine being sprung from a scandalous rococo painting.”

—Fyodor Dostoevsky, age unknown, secretly drooling over his wife.

“I thought I was going to DIE without you, bella~! How could I let another second pass without your lovely presence blessed upon my very being?!”

—Dazai Osamu, 22, walked in on his girlfriend changing into another dress for the night because he couldn’t (didn’t want to) wait any longer.

“Damn. My girl is so hot.”

—Nakahara Chuuya, 22, the biggest fan of his girlfriend, dumbfounded by his lover’s beauty and currently trying to comprehend why his pants feel so tight.

“I brought you a gift! Would you like to guess what it is, dove?! Guess! What do I hold behind me?”

—Nikolai Gogol, 26, holding a bunch of white roses behind his cape, which he himself painted red with blood (his methods are questionable).

“I did not expect to see you here. What are you holding..? Oh….t—*dry silence*….thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, 20, trying to hide the soft blush creeping upon his cheeks and ears. He finds it thoughtful and endearing *cough cough* that you’ve prepared him a bento box.

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.

[0asisbliss]

Comfort is all you want. He gives you much more than that. He showed you that you all you needed mere physical affection. He’d kiss, hug, and smother you until stopped crying. It hurt him more than it would ever hurt you when you cried. Each tear that fell from your eyes were like a glass shattering every second you were sad.

YUUJI, YUTA, Gojo, Geto, Inumaki, NANAMI, Todo, Higuruma, (JJK) Luffy, ACE, ZORO, Law, Sanji, (OP) Ranpo, Dazai, Chuuya, (BSD) Aizawa, Shigiraki, (MHA) Chrollo, Phinks, NOBUNAGA, KURAPIKA, (HXH) or any of your other favs.

[angelic-ria]

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

omg beast dazai is literally so AGGHHHHHHHH

need him.

heheheehe ^ 3 ^

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yandere-sins]

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

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

Warning for fem!darling

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fromduck]

(Yandere Baby Daddy x Reader)

Tw: Murder, Brief mention of birth

A/N: the kids gender is up to you guys :P Also this was written in one hour sooo quality might not be there ˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ≀ˍ̮ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

-unedited-

————————

-The father of your child is an eccentric man.

-Tap dancing on the streets. Bringing you flowers and kisses that you vehemently avoid.

-Your child giggles at his silliness and you can tell he loves them too by the way his eyes soften.

-He brings gifts to you both, spoiling you two rotten.

-Though you wished he’d stop with the weekly proposals. Dramatically getting down on one knee and professing his undying love to you. Promising to sweep both you and your child off your feet. Off to a place where you all can finally live as a family.

-Your child watches with wide eyes, looking up to you, hopefully. You know they lounge to see the both of you together but there are reasons you refuse to marry him.

-The father of your child is a dangerous man.

-When you had been a naive younger woman, you’d fallen for his charms and his pretty lies. You’d watch him enamored with rose tinted lenses. Romanticizing everything he did.

-Little did you know that he’d been watching you for a long time.

-You had fallen into his arms, defenseless to his charms and he couldn’t have been more pleased.

-You were wrapped around his finger and he worshipped the ground you walked on.

-It was only until you got to see the rest of who he is, that you fell out of love. The part of himself that he hid from you.

-You never knew what he did for a living. The dangerous people he would meet secretly through deals, the death he surrounded himself with. The deaths that he caused.

-He always had such a lovely smile, who could blame you for thinking he was good. For being fooled into believing he was who you thought he’d be.

-Yes— at times he may be controlling or possessive of who you were seeing. And the times he’d have that murderous glint in his eyes whenever a man approached you.

-But those signs were easy to ignore when he’d make you forget.

-Then, he killed someone in front of you.

-Some thief— had put his hands on you, pressing a knife to your neck while demanding money from your lover.

-The thief had barely held you for a second before blood splattered on your soft cheek.

-Your lover- the loving man you had been used to seeing was gone. What was left was a murderous beast who had brutally thrown a small switchblade to the thief’s head.

-The small knife was deeply embedded in his head——between his eyes.

-You trembled placing a hand to your cheek, as the once living man dropped to his side—unmoving.

-Toned arms wrapped around your shocked form. He held you strongly, apologizing to you for putting you in that situation. Getting a handkerchief to wipe the blood from your face.

-“B-but….you killed him.”

-His warm eyes dimmed as he muttered, “he deserved it.”

-After that things changed, your lover got comfortable with hurting others in front of you.

-Even the tiniest glance in your direction had him ready to attack the other person.

-You kept quiet for a long time, no matter how much you wanted to speak out.

-It was then you started to see how normal the killing and the violence came to him. How unbothered he looked.

-Maybe it’d be you one day. Maybe he’d hurt you.

-You really should leave. You knew that.

-You loved him too much and you feared the consequences if you confronted him. You were stuck, unsure of what you should do.

-Then you found out you were pregnant. And the decision came easy to you.

-Your lover was an unpredictable man, you didn’t know if a child would be safe around him.

-So with a heavy heart, you wrote a letter and left it in your shared bedroom.

-With that, you tearfully ran away to a far away city. Away from the man you thought would keep you safe.

-You spent months working odd jobs to sustain you and your unborn child.

-Friends came naturally without the intimidating presence of your ex-lover. A supportive friend group of older women guided you through your pregnancy, many of them mothers themselves. They prepared you for motherhood with gentle words and encouraged you all the way.

-When you’d gone into labor, the hospital was full that night. None of your friends allowed to be with you while you went through with the excruciating pain alone.

-Tears welled up in your eyes. You’d never felt so alone at that moment.

-Then a large hand had enveloped yours and a familiar voice encouraged you to be strong.

-Tender lips pressed against your sweaty forehead and you held tight to the large hand.

-Through your blurry vision you could see the faint outline of the man you had left behind.

-Instead of seeing a disappointed or angry glare from him as you expected—- he only looked at you softly as he continued to encourage you to be strong.

-It was as if he knew why you ran away and chose to forgive you.

-He never left your side as you gave birth—only when you needed something to drink or to get a wet cloth to wipe you off your sweat would he do so. And he was very quick, not wanting to leave you alone with the doctors and nurses who helped you through the birthing process.

-Hours of excruciating pain and many thinly veiled threats from your lover to the hospital staff later—- and your baby was born.

-The child had the same coloring of your ex lover. The tuffs of hair the same as his as well as their eye color.Everything else was yours.

-The color of your skin, the shape of your lips, everything.

-You looked in awe at the wailing baby as your lover praised you with kisses to your cheek.

-You held the child close to your chest, your lover embracing you both.

-Too exhausted you fell asleep with your newborn in your arms. The last thing you heard was your lover whispering, “you both are mine.”

-Now five years later, you sit down in a park bench. Your child is giggling as they’re pushed by their father on a swing.

-He’s a good dad. Always showing up for your child. Both you know it’d be best if you married him.

-He looks back to wave at you. A grin on his face.

-You wave back.

-You both know it’s only a matter of time.

————————

Chrollo Lucilfer

Human Alastor

Non-Sorcerer Satoru Gojo

Osamu Dazai

Original Character

YOU DECIDE!

[stuffeddeer]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can help with the grinding— "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[suiana]

(Any yandere x gn reader)

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

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

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

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

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

[heliosunny]

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

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

Bittersweet

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the morning was much the same.

You tried. You truly did.

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

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

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

“Do you intend to follow me all day?”

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

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

Your heart sank. “That’s not—”

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

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

It was a knife to the chest.

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

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

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

Maybe love wasn’t something you could earn.

For a month, you tried.

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

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

Yet, you persisted.

Because you loved him.

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

But they never did.

And then, one evening, it all crumbled.

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

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

“And?”

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

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

“Game?”

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

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

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

It was then that something inside you shattered.

Something in your chest grew cold.

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

----

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

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

Yes. This was better.

A week passed. Then another.

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

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

He had gotten what he wanted.

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

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

Then, it was the meals.

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

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

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

It was quiet.

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

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

Fyodor didn’t have an answer.

And for the first time, the uncertainty unsettled him.

It happened over dinner.

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

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

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

“You no longer prepare meals for me.”

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

“You never ate them.”

He hadn’t expected that response.

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

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

Then, you shrugged.

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

“You’re different.”

“I learned my place.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Understand what?"

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

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

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

This should have been a victory.

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

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

It was unsettling.

He no longer understood you.

And he didn’t like that at all.

Days passed, and it only grew worse.

He found himself noticing the spaces you had left behind.

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

---

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

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

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

Because it was warmth you had stopped giving him.

You were fine.

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

It unsettled him.

More than that, it infuriated him.

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

You had let him go.

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

He was the only one suffering now.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

----

Fyodor had never asked for your assistance before.

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

Yet, tonight, he had called for you.

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

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

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

And him.

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

His pen halted mid-stroke. Mikhail?

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

"You seem fond of him."

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

"And you enjoy such conversations?"

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

How… irritating.

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

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

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

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

You had moved on.

You had let go.

And now, for the first time, Fyodor realized—

He did not want you to.

Mikhail disappeared without a trace.

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

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

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

It was as if he had simply vanished.

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

And yet, a strange unease settled in your chest.

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

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

Some flowers began to wither.

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

You needed a new gardener.

You had to hire one.

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

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

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

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

A quiet hum from him. Nothing more.

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

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

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

An odd feeling stirred in the back of your mind.

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

No.

You shook it off. Ridiculous.

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

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

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

And he was waiting.

Waiting for you to understand.

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

He would never let you go.

It started with the flowers.

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

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

One day, curiosity got the better of you.

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

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

Your fingers grazed something.

Something not stone. Not wood. Something soft.

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

Your breath caught in your throat.

A hand.

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

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

Mikhail.

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

The bells in town rang. Loud. Urgent.

And the news spread like wildfire.

Another body. Another victim.

The serial killer had struck again.

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

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

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

And Fyodor—Fyodor had never looked calmer.

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

“What?”

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

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

You nodded.

And Fyodor smiled.

Because you had no idea, did you?

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

And now, you had walked right into his arms.

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

You didn’t even question it.

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

And Fyodor?

He played his role perfectly.

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

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

Then, the meals.

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

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

And when you did, he looked pleased.

Then, conversation.

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

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

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

But you found yourself enjoying his company.

He simply filled the spaces that had once been empty.

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

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

And Fyodor?

He watched.

He waited.

Because it was working.

You didn’t even realize, did you?

That he had pulled you back in.

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

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

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

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

You started making tea for him again.

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

You sought his company more.

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

And most importantly—

You trusted him.

You felt safe with him.

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

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

And Fyodor?

He knew better than to be careless.

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

Affection was fickle. Trust was fragile.

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

So, he tightened his hold.

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

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

So you listened.

Then, it was the staff.

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

Slowly, the house became his entirely.

And then, it was you.

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

"Come here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t see it—

The slow, delicate strings that bound you to him.

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

Because now, he had you.

And he would never, ever let you go.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Yandere Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

Permission to repost was granted by the artist.

[ghostsy]

Stay

YANDERE x READER

WARNINGS: yandere, implied imprisonment, a lil angsty

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

“Don’t leave me.”

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

“I won’t.”

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

The whining was new, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.”

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

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

BNHA: Bakugou, Shinso, Todoroki Shoto

JJK: Yuta, Megumi

Blue Lock: Nagi, Rin

Haikyuu: Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo

BSD: Dazai, Chuuya

[newroseanna]

He loves your voice. Especially the way your beautiful screams rings throughout the entire house. He knew it was a good idea to get a property away from any form of civilisation. Only he could hear the sweet, sweet sounds you make while he snaps your legs in half. He told you this would happen if you tried to run away. Did you think he was bluffing? Try running away with two broken legs now. He'd love to see how far you'll get. Maybe next time, he will cut them off entirely aswell.

DAZAI, SCARAMOUCHE, CHILDE, SUKUNA, SHIGARAKI, MIKEY, IZANA, MUZAN, DOMUA.

[theanimeoftheblackbunnymask]

Can we just take a moment and acknowledge how much of a mind fuck it would be to be Dazai's darling during his Port Mafia days, and continuing to be his darling after he joins the ADA.

After writing for ADA! Dazai, I came to the realization how similar but different those two versions of Dazai are.

PM! Dazai is a lot more unhinged, manipulative, and apathetic towards his darling.

ADA! Dazai gives you suprising amount of freedom, but not PM! Dazai! This man will drag you everywhere with him, and he's forced you to witness some pretty traumatizing shit.

You once saw him brat a man half to death because they fucked up on a mission. Afterwards, his eyes remained dead and lifeless. His words completely contradicted his eyes, he'd joke and comfort you, but his eyes told another story. The lack of care, the lack of concern, the lack of life.

If you start off as PM! Dazai's darling, when he joins the ADA, it's like a complete tone shift. Suddenly you have so much freedom. You can have friends again, and have a job? But, since you were with PM! Dazai for so long, it's a complete mind fuck. You assume it's a joke, another one of his test, but no. He will genuinely let you go to the mall by yourself.

The sudden change in behavior will most likely cause yiu to have a panic attack in public. There has to be a trick somewhere, there has to be. You were so used to PM! Dazai, the Dazai that would pull at you hair and yell at you until you cried just for making a simple mistake, and then apologize and beg for you forgiveness afterwards, the Dazai that wouldn't let you be alone at all, the Dazai that would snap at random and make you pay the price, the Dazai that knew exactly what to say and do to make you feel or act a certain way.

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, stalking, manipulation, guilt-tripping, drugging, threats, isolation

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

S/o can travel between different worlds

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅​Atsushi is such a young and innocent soul, is he not? Though you may only be a few years older than him there is a considerate gap in knowledge between the two of you. It's not like he is dumb or anything but even he can see that you carry much more wisdom around than he possesses. It has him feeling stupid at times, he won't lie. Still, he holds on to the skills that he has in order to impress you somewhat. What Atsushi would hate the most would be to be a burden for you, someone who doesn't contribute anything to your life. His life needs to have a meaning for you after all and that is why he grabs the chance quickly when he notices that you are new in Yokohama. It's an opportunity to be useful, to impress, to bond with you. All things that Atsushi yearns to achieve as he is foolishly infatuated with you. The rose-tinted glasses that he wears when around you essentially blind him as he doesn't suspect a thing. It takes the likes of Dazai who suspects something when he too gets to meet you. His words of advice are met with Atsushi's denial though. A delusional obsession forbids to ruin the fantasy after all. Yet this is Dazai, his mentor and a man Atsushi knows to read people well.

🐅​Most hours of the day he spends ignoring Dazai's words as one look at your curious reactions is enough to melt his heart. Yet there always is this moment every day where he hears those kind words of caution echoing within his mind, threatening to crack the fantasy he has nurtured within his mind. It always visibly shakes him up. After all it is you he always clings to, asking you that you would never keep any grave secrets from him. His eyes are pleading for reassurance as much as his mouth does and it pains you to lie to him. What you see as a kindness for his feelings Atsushi eventually learns to view as a betrayal. His senses are much higher due to his ability to transform into a Tiger so he smells the deceit. As much as he might attempt to ignore what he so blatantly senses, eventually he cracks as the lies keep on piling up. You, who promised to never lie, have betrayed him. His heart has been broken and his trust just as much. He held on too tight to his delusional hopes and now he has gotten himself hurt. Desperate measurements are taken as he needs to know the truth now and the longer you elude your answers to him, the more the beast threatens to break out.

🐅​You are not one to play with fire though. When his grip tightens, his claws grow and the tears swim within his eyes you know to better. Initially Atsushi seems much more relieved as he has feared something far worse. The implications of your answer do not click until later where he finally realises it. You plan to leave this world too, don't you? Try to be as gentle as you can, no soothing words in the world could cure the damage that you have just inflicted. You search for a home and a place to belong to and you have not found it in his world. He is not enough for you. That is all that Atsushi seems to hear and with that the demons that exist deep within him resurface. Old insecurities and the existential crisis of never being enough all burst out of him like an erupting volcano. What would he have to do to convince you to stay? What does he have to do to be enough? It is so unfair. In you he has found a meaning and a hope yet in your eyes he does not hold the same value. You may be able to escape from his hold and flee to another world. You'll always have to hold onto the knowledge that by doing so you leave boy and beast shattered behind, one in sorrow and one in rage.

Dazai Osamu

🤎​He just has a talent for picking up people who are lost, doesn't he? Well, perhaps peas of the same pod just attract each other. When Dazai finds you, it couldn't be more obvious that you have no idea where you are. Your nose buried in a paper map as you walk through the city and nearly bump into him. You just about manage to prevent that but looking at your pretty face, Dazai is almost a tad bit disappointed. Yet he knows when to use a chance to swoop in as the knight in shining armor as he instantly offers his assistance or else you would just stumble around the whole day. One hand washes the other though and if you don't agree to his request to die together he is going to get some meal out of this at the very least. Anything to see your gorgeous face for a bit longer really. As if fate has brought the two of you together, both of you actually find out over a cup of coffee that both of you live in the same neighbourhood. The coincidence of this is not something that flies over his head and Dazai notes amused that he might just come over for a visit. You wouldn't complain either to see such a handsome man more, replying with a charming grin equal to his own.

🤎​Oh, now you really have done it. Give him allowance and Dazai sees it through to keep his promise. It really is easy for the both of you to see each other as you constantly seek him out when you need help in finding a shop or a building. You'll never hear him complain though, in fact his heart is fluttering every time you do. You trust him and every time he requests if you're sure that you don't want to be his suicide partner you always give him that thoughtful smile. There's things that you still haven't found for yourself in life and things you need to keep on searching for. Dazai can identify with those words as he too has something that is missing within his life yet your approach seems to be different to his approach. It fascinates him, draws him closer to you as he wonders if you yearn for the same thing that he is longing for. Sometimes he has the feeling that he is looking into a mirror, especially since both of you are quite elusive when it comes to the past. He never gives you a clear answer and so do you, forcing him to keep on guessing and doubting. There is something that you're hiding, something about you that has never been quite normal. Dazai doesn't know what though and it silently torments him.

🤎​You cannot feed him those lies for he craves the truth. Feelings have blossomed long ago for him and your attraction for him has just recently started. This is something Dazai knows to abuse and use to his own advantage. If he truly means something to you, you won't keep the truth from him after all. So he guilt-trips you for you have already noticed his feelings for you too. He knows precisely where to target until you finally cave in and admit the truth to him. Ah, you search for a meaning within life? For a world where you can feel like you belong? The two of you are truly carved from the same wood. Dazai knows exactly how you feel. Perhaps it was indeed fate that brought the both of you together. His smile hides the calculating thoughts going on within, his mind racing with different scenarios and possibilities. The both of you could search for a connection together, no? In you he has already found what he is searching for so allow him to return the favor. What Dazai needs is time. Time to understand your ability better. Time to figure out how to bind you to him so that you may never leave for he's not sure if his abilities would work on your otherworldly ones.

Edogawa Ranpo

👓​What a strange way to bond this is for Ranpo and both of you are lost together. It is your mistake fo asking Ranpo of all people for direction though you do appreciate his honesty. After all he admits without one moment of hesitation that he too is in need of help. Since you are the first person who has approached him Ranpo names you the one who is now going to help him. Practice is the best way of learning though, that's at least how the saying goes. So the both of you blindly stumble through Yokohama together as you have to help him with essentially everything. If you wouldn't know better you would think that he is a child as he needs assistance with train tickets, bus tickets and you lose him almost a couple of times when he sees some delicious food. Both of you are clueless so you need hours until you have finally helped him to reach the Agency. You're tired and exhausted but at the very least you receive some sweets that he has bought on his way. You're not sure if you would like to meet Ranpo so soon again after that little drama but only a few days later your neighbourhood is witness of a crime that Ranpo is tasked with solving. That's how the both of you meet once more.

👓​His intelligence fascinates you and you're not shy of voicing that out loud. What an incredible ego boost for him. You do kindly decline his offer of showing you some of his favorite food stores as you have a vivid flashback of your first meeting. Still, both of you form a tight bond. The moment you give him your number he calls you whenever he gets lost. He doesn't even sound ashamed as he doesn't eevn give you a chance to decline. He calls you, tells you the current location he's at before he hangs up. Sometimes you wonder if he gets lost on purpose so that he has an excuse to call you and see you again. You always come and retrieve him though without a fail and as a small sign of gratitude and appreciation he buys you some of his favorite sweets. He still eats half of it anyways but he shares the other half with you! His sheer skills as a detective amaze you yet you are too aware of the risks that it poses as well. The moment Ranpo starts to get a bit too curious about you and your past you slowly start to pull away. An action that doesn't go unnoticed by him. After all he is clingy and demanding on top. That's why he puts his glasses on though the answer he deducts is something he did not expect.

👓​Perhaps if it would have been a gift just like all members of the Agency possess he wouldn't have found out. Ranpo's intelligence is solely his though and doesn't origin from a gift that some humans receive. Some pieces of the puzzle are still missing yet he has collected enough to know roughly what is going on. Some way and somehow he finds his way all by himself to your house though he comes hours too late than he initially planned. That normally cheeky behavior is gone and alarms you the moment you open the door. He marches in without an invitation, his glasses still on. That's how you can almost guess already what has led to this rare serious demeanor of his and your suspicions are confirmed soon after. There is no arrogance when he recounts everything that he has found out but what is almost immediate is his demand for you to not travel to the next world. It isn't that childish stubbornness you are familiar with by now and his tone takes you slightly off-guard. Just in time for him to grab your wrist as if scared you'll disappear otherwise. He has no idea how to solve the problem that you have but if you stay he's sure that he can find the answer you are seeking. You just watch.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠​Chuuya may work for the Port Mafia but that doesn't mean that he will just ignore a damsel in distress when he finds one. That's how you find yourself saved by the orange-haired man in the middle of the night when a group of sketchy strangers suddenly surrounds you. The flatteries don't end there though as he even offers to drive you home. That offer soon turns into insistence when you attempt to politely decline and make the mistake of admitting that you're new to the city and for that have no idea where to even go. So you eventually find yourself giving in and just hopping in the car with him. He stays in the car and waits until he has seen you entering your apartment before Chuuya finally drives back home himself. It's only a small encounter though one he doesn't think he'll forget soon. Pretty soon the both of you meet once more as you have accepted a job in a bar he sometimes visits. It's quite flattering to find out that he still remembers you and is even able to recall your name. Both of you didn't have the chance to properly get to know each other the first time but that changes as you start chatting. The chemistry just seems to be right ad Chuuya orders drink after drink.

🟠​He wastes a lot more money on alcohol and drinks within your bar all to keep the conversation going. Soon you notice the signs he exhibits when he starts getting drunk. You only have good intentions in mind when you encourage him to order tea or a simple juice. A man's pride should not be underestimated though as he only orders more out of indignation until he is all but wasted. At the very least he's still giving you compliments even when there is more whisky than blood in his veins. Don't undermine him just because he tends to get wasted, Chuuya is not as oblivious as he might appear in such moments. He has noticed for a while now already that you are very careful whenever he asks you about your life before you moved to Yokohama. Initially he might have thought that you were playing hard to get which in return only made him more curious but now he has realised that this is not it. Otherwise you wouldn't constantly change the topic or hurry over to other customers in the bar whenever he asks you those questions. It's not unusual for him to meet people who hide their past though ususally that means that they are being threatened or have committed something horrible.

🟠​Both options are something he doesn't hope to be true for you. How is his mind supposed to rest if you never tell him though? There's nothing he can go with to either confirm or dismiss those creeping suspicions. Not even his position helps him as there is absolutely nothing he can dig up about you. In fact the many mysteries surrounding you only heighten his paranoia. Why can't he find anything about your past? You must be lying to him. Ultimately it is you who actually finds out his secret first as you are at the wrong place at the wrong time. You flee quickly from the scene yet you do not try to run when he visits your bar hours after it's closed. You've been waiting for him after all. Then and there you finally admit to him your own big secret as well. On the one hand Chuuya is revealed that none of his initial fears were proven to be true but his paranoia is far from gone. After all the threat of you leaving is still real and it pains him to hear that you search for a place to stay and to belong to. Has he not given that to you? Give him a chance and he will change your mind! The time is ticking for you could leave any moment, abandoning him and robbing him of his own sense of belonging.

Tachihara Michizo

🔩​Bloody, bruised but still with a smug and arrogant grin on his face. That's how you meet Tachihara for the first time as he gloats in the face of his beaten enemies. That grin vanishes for a moment when he spots you as he has been so caught up in the thrill of beating someone up that he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. For one moment he considers if he should eliminate you for no one was supposed to see him. Your reaction is much quicker than his though as you walk over with strange determination and ask him if you can tend to his injuries. This is the last thing that he was expecting out of your mouth and your fearlessness stuns him. Enough for you to drag him away from the beaten bodies, successfully keeping him from murdering anyone whilst you are watching. When he snaps out of his state of shock he protests and refuses to come with you. It would be utterly humiliating for him after all. Does he look like he needs anyone to nurse him back to health? You do not reply. No, in fact you just give him a long and hard stare that causes him to flush uncomfortably. When you continue walking, still holding onto him, he follows you begrudgingly.

🔩​That silent stare of yours serves wonders to reign back his rash impulses. You do not attack with fists and violence but with words and pointed looks that are often enough to quickly have him flush in embarrassment. Tachihara honestly would have thought that he would have reacted much more outraged and angry for being belittled yet he doesn't feel that way. Because you actually care. Whenever there was a fight and he has any lasting bruises or injuries you always express your concern. He's not too fond of the butterflies erupting within his stomach whenever you look at him with those warm and worried eyes but his feelings are an effective leash that holds him back. Somehow he becomes your personal guard dog, especially when he finds out that you're new to town. The Port Mafia has to be kept away from you and the Hunting Dogs shouldn't find out about you either. Double the pressure that puts a strain on him. The beginning of his own obsession only worsens his condition. Tachihara is ashamed, wonders if his brother would have sunk that low in his position. His advices grow more demanding as he wants you to listen to him yet you do not.

🔩​All he wants to do is guarantee your safety yet you ignore his words. How dare you to lecture him if you are no better? At one point it all gets too much and he accidentally snaps at you, his rage and frustration getting the better of him. Mortified would be the best way to describe his feelings when he calms down. He wants to apologise yet you cut him off. Instead you decide to tell him something about yourself, specifically your own abilities. He doesn't know where you plan to go with that sudden switch of the conversation but that confusion is quickly forgotten when you reveal to him your powers. You do not elaborate any further, neither deny or confirm it when he asks you if you aren't even from this world and plan to leave it one day. No, you leave him hanging in the dark as you have revealed more to him than you have ever before. The final push that has Tachihara spiraling. You may be annoying and he may not be too fond of the feelings you have awakened within him but you still mean a lot to him. You have no right to even consider leaving him after what you have done to him. You have made him that obsessed! Own up to it, you hear him!

Sigma

☁️​Somehow Sigma just knows that you mean trouble the moment he spots you within the Sky Casino. He can't quite put his finger around it yet there is a gut feeling that he has when he looks at you, especially once your eyes meet his. You have noticed him staring after all though you don't know why, only tilting your head curiously and arching one of your eyebrows. From the very first day you cause quite a bit of commotion. Not one single loss as luck seems to be on your side. Some of his customers accuse you of cheating, even criticise Sigma when he worriedly walks over due to the sudden heated shouting. This Casino is his life so the spike of anxiety is understandable even if he remains as calm as he can be. Still, he is not assertive enough and you notice with displeasure. That's how you step in, your gaze piercing and your very presence untouchable and domineering. A soft voice that mutters such belittling words as you observe the customer as if they were but a child throwing a tantrum. You properly humiliate them until they decide to flee the scene. Only then do you turn around to look at Sigma, remarking that he should carry himself with more confidence before you too leave.

☁️​You handle business almost better than he does, only deepening Sigma's insecurities. This is his Sky Casino after all yet you behave more like the owner than he does at times. Sigma notes that you have quite a bit of a gambling addiction yet you lose so rarely that it honestly doesn't matter. That's why so little people at one point agree to gamble with you. The sight of you sitting lonely at the bar breaks his heart a bit though so to ensure that his customer is happy with the service he agrees to play with you though both of you agree to not bet anything of value. There's little that Sigma knows about you, something that bugs him as he always sees it through to know everything about his customers so over card games and poker he often attempts to get to know you better. Your answers leave him with more questions though, riddles that he doesn't seem to quite understand. That stresses him out more than it should as it is almost a challenge to his abilities as the owner of the Sky Casino. He desperately tries to read you yet the only one who is getting read is him. How can you do that? How can you read him so accurately whilst remaining such a mystery to him?

☁️​In any attempts to understand you better, Sigma falls too deeply until he is unable to crawl back out. He is helplessly obsessed yet still none the wiser. By now he has realised that you have no plans to ever answer his questions so he decides to do something far too reckless. He gambles with a higher stake. His position as the owner of the Sky Casino if you win and your secrets if he wins. The intrigued smile on your face scares and captivates him simultaneously as you let him choose the game both of you will be playing. Perhaps he understands the appeal of gambling just a bit more afterwards, an unknown rush he has never felt before as he plays so very differently than normally. That's why he wins. There is only a satisfied smirk on your face as you uphold your part and finally tell him what he has always wanted to know. Your words resonate with him. He understands that struggle. Yet there is one decisive difference. In you Sigma has found an answer but you haven't found that answer in him. He needs you to feel complete. But how do you feel about him? What do you need? What can he do? Sigma will do anything if it means that you will stay in this world. That you will stay with him. Please don't leave him.