#yandere spaghetti

[dark-side-blog3]

if its ok can you please write general headcanons about yandere spaghetti? and your thoughts about him in this kind of setting as well if you dont mind. it’d be very entertaining to read it! especially from you

and also thanks a lot for your hard work! i’ve appreciated your writings since the second blog and I’ll definitely will be following and supporting you in the future

Thank you, anon; You're so polite!

Spoilers for Spaghettis voice lines and backstory.

+++++++++++++

Spaghetti portrays himself as a sadistic asshole, but after a little digging and some analysis... I think he pretends to be a sadistic category to hide that he's actually overprotective of his darling. He truly is that possessive, however-- and he doesn't attempt to hide it because he's delusional. This is acceptable behaviour in Spaghettis' mind, and it has to do with his backstory.

Specifically, I'm looking at how he talks to his Master. He seems so excited when you spare him the time of day, cheering when you show up, train him, assign him to lead a team of other foodsoul, and how his idle lines whine when you aren't paying him attention.

But Spaghetti also tries to assert his dominance by saying you're his toy, he's going to crush you, and you're nothing to him. Spaghetti callously uses those around him as tools to achieve his goals and "fulfill desires" as if he fancies himself some djinn or living monkey's paw.

The way Spaghetti acts and his backstory paints such an interesting picture. He knows that optimism is a fool's errand; that those kinds of people will spend their whole life walking blindly into the same traps over and over and will never figure out why it keeps happening to them. Realism is preying on the weak; only the cunning survive, by using the people around them as tools and toys.

And with a philosophy like that, who is to say you're spared from being used by him?

Spaghetti learned the hard way what happens when you care about others openly. The only way to keep someone near you is to have a designated power structure: The Master, and the toy. All nobles get to torment their toys, their toys have no right or ability to run away from their nobles, and the nobles can use anything at their disposal to make them stay.

This means, unlike last time, Spaghetti won't have to lose someone he cares about... So long as he claims ownership over you and makes it clear to everyone else that you are spoken for. You are his toy, and that means you can't ever leave. And as far as toys go, you'll be treated quite preciously... No one can harm you except Spaghetti, and your wounds are always tended to. You'll be told to take better care of yourself, scolded as he wraps bandages and rubs creams into everything new. You get to have your own room, you can maintain your own finances, you are allowed to lounge and schmooze in the restaurant's bar with Spaghetti after work is over, draped over each other as you focus on calculating your books-- you the restaurant, and Spaghetti managing his side-hustle as a wish granter with Borscht and a few other souls... It could almost be seen as domestic when your legs are tangled together, each enjoying a drink of choice and working in a silent tandem.

Of course, it's soured by the constant bullying. Spaghetti will call you his toy, and remind you he can crush you at any moment; usually by knocking you into a wall, pinning you to tables. Overwhelming you with his strength, but only enough to prove a point: If he chose to, he could kill you. And you should consider yourself very lucky that he only wants to keep you safe and subdued.

You're not allowed to develop a bruise he hasn't caused-- it causes him to freak out, and get defensive of you. But all the injuries he causes, well, that's to keep you close to him. If you're smart enough to pick up on the hidden meaning behind each scuffle is another thing... Spaghetti doesn't want it to be so obvious he cares for you, and his malicious sadism means he spends a lot of time messing with your head, sending you on exhausting tasks, and purposefully acting crueller to you when he has a small audience; anything too big and he'll be forced to stop, and if no ones watching Spaghetti prefers to tease and bully you gently, making it as clear as possible without demeaning himself that he wants to make you happy and affectionate with him.

And as much as Spaghetti thinks his lofty tone and aggression hide that he cares about you, it's very obvious. Spaghetti practically throws fits when you don't do what he wants, such as ignoring him or getting hurt by anyone other than him.

Spaghetti only throws you into danger so he can save you. Waiting and lurking just out of your sight until you're overwhelmed by the enemies Spaghetti insisted you face on your own, without a team, if you want the human-hating food souls to respect your authority. Boston Lobster would respect you if you proved yourself worthy, and things such as that... Taunting you until you get yourself in trouble. And then, Spaghetti swoops in to save you from whatever catastrophe he orchestrated.

It's a solid plan, to Spaghetti. To the outsider looking at the situation: Spaghetti has utter control over the Master of several foodsouls. This means, if he controls you, he's the one who really controls everything of yours-- including the restaurant, the work schedules, the money, the power is all his...

And in your eyes, there is the confusing light of a man who likes you, but can't stand you. He lounges with you in a dim room, and humiliates you when you attempt to go in public. Spaghetti huffs if you don't pay him any attention and whines that you wouldn't like it if he was so dismissive of you, and on the same day proceeds to forbid you from ruining the restaurant that's yours in name only.

It keeps you guessing. Does Spaghetti like you, is he just using you? And the less sure you are of where you stand next to him, the better.

Spaghetti loves you. He does. He knows he loves you, he knows he loves you more than he could ever bare to say. But if he keeps you at arms length-- and no further-- then no one can take you away, or use you against him.

And keeping you at arm's length means Spaghetti has to hold you in a painfully tight grip, so you don't slip away.

[speghettibone]

The eyes watch you, sinking, rising. Dark sights set over your chest, watching the evidence of your fragile life, how slow you breathe while so sweetly deep in slumber. Slowly, ever slowly in drifts closer, hand daring to reach out. Longing to feel the supple flesh of your ever warm body, it's chest tightens. Excitement? Anxiety? The long claw brushes the very edge of your cheek. Suddenly you're up, eyes snapping open like you heard a gunshot, the dark ceiling above you. The window letting in the gentle glow of night, leaving everything basket in a soothing blue undertone. A cold sweat dripping down your neck, for some reason goosebumps have risen over your arms and you heart beats wildly in your chest. A few seconds of your familiar room and you calm, there's nothing there, you probably just had a nightmare. You turn over on your back and pull the blanket over your head...just in case.

Always so cute, it thinks.

[cryptidofthekeys]

Ibis Paint Edition:

This is when I started to get the hang of brushes, layers, and etc-

The first drawing I did when I got the app:

TW: Blood for the next one

I'm actually REALLY proud of this one btw- I loved drawin Evil Pep to the uh Cuphead Game Over screen ...not good with rhymes or dialogue tho

TW: Blood and Gore

TW: Yandere Themes, Y/N's kidnapped essentially- (you cant see the details I dont think bc of the lighting which sucks- again I really wish I coulda uploaded the direct files themselves :/

I'm not super into Buckshot Roulette but this was fun to draw

I don't do sketches a lot tbh but I like this Peppino more as a sketch than a finished drawing

This was my first attempt at drawing Evil Peppino btw-

TW: Some blood on this next one

My SM OC, CC: (I need to make a DIGITAL art ref for him- but legit might make this my icon on the bird app ...not showing my art there tho bc too scary)

TW: Blood

And that's all I got! Well there WAS one drawing that was nearly finished and also some animations that I would love to show but ...t-trying to post videos is h e l l so for now- my animations will be mostly unavailable

[melody-chan333]

This is based on one of my Pizza Tower headcanons

[anonymousegeek]

Ok, tumblr.

How do we feel about Yan!Peppino?

A yan!peppino x reader oneshot I made

And some traditional doodles (WARNING: BLOOD AND KNIFE)

[luckygetolover]

media literacy challenge go!!!!! oh no, someones already failed :(

[sunflwryu]

mhm, we actually ended up finishing the saga in less than a year- is it a good ending? well.....mc did develop stockholm syndrome so maybe not, but all parties involved are happy so there's not much that can be done 🤷 that's a good point though like why high school? i haven't gotten into college yet (still need to take the entrance exam next week) but i'm sure it's more fun than plain old hs

well, both our blogs are less than a year old, i think? (well, at time of publishing, of course.) but good ending, no one else had to be hurt and everyone lives together happily ever after.

college...can be fun. it really depends. if i spent it the way i wanted, it would've been a lot of fun. i wasn't able to drive so i couldn't really go around places and a whole whirlwind of stuff happened at the time. the only sucky thing about college itself is the homework and all the group projects and whatnot.

all i can say is if you can, use ratemyprofessor (a website where people submit anonymous ratings of professors). if you can choose your professors and classes. saved me many times from really difficult teachers, and the only times it wasn't good was when there was only one professor who taught that class i needed or the professor was new to teaching. that's all (not sure though how college works for you). but attend the on-campus activities if you can (and if they're free). i don't know. but yeah, i'm sure you'll enjoy it (apparently the cullens loved being boring).

imagine the dreamies + mc having walls of master's degree certificates. from math to politics to even the rarest major in the world. eventually they'll become nerds and save the earth when the sun gets too close (maybe).

[ddarker-dreams]

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun. 

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes. 

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way. 

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat. 

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore. 

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread. 

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do. 

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation. 

“Bored?” Feitan asks. 

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation. 

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—” 

He flicks your forehead, silencing you. 

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.” 

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression. 

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail. 

You’ve felt this before. 

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape. 

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute. 

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last. 

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey. 

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of— 

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?” 

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small. 

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?” 

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of. 

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak. 

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy. 

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long. 

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you. 

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets. 

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss. 

Especially those regarding you. 

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck. 

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. 

Almost. 

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders. 

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer. 

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.” 

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.” 

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.” 

“There’s more to take care of?” 

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.” 

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.” 

“Explains what, dear?” 

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?” 

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process. 

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand. 

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle. 

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him. 

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.” 

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you. 

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely. 

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.” 

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic. 

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without. 

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.” 

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.” 

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.” 

The aforementioned man grunts. 

Chrollo spares you a long, final look. 

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile. 

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P2]

[Series Link]

(Yandere x Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, xenophobia, hint to racism, explicit language, asshole male lead]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He knew your type. Quiet, agreeable, and a little bit of a pushover.

He didn't say it, but he had noticed your lack of reaction when Tahara revoked your right to the summer break. Truth was, he never paid attention to women like you when he was in college. The quiet ones who took things seriously as if they had something to lose, those were hard to get. He never bothered with those who were hard to get when there were plenty of other options. He liked the sunkissed  blondes who knew to dress up in white sundresses and spaghetti straps, those who knew to party on Saturday and yoga class on Sunday. They never put up a hard fight, just the right amount, and when he got bored so did they. In and out of his bedroom they whirled, whimsical and effortless. He never bothered to find out if they were smart or complicated, and if they tried to show him, he'd move on to the next. A part of him felt bad, but the encouraging jokes and nudges of his frat brothers overrode that twinge in his chest when he saw sad eyes following him down the campus walkway. It didn't matter, not if he got the liquor and summer yatch trips.

He also liked other types. Soft-spoken brunettes who listened to sad songs and doodled hearts onto his notes. Fierce raven-haired girls who knew to throw back shots and moved their bodies to the music. The rich exchange girls who, despite their attitudes, knew their ways around his body and submitted to his rhythm. He liked them all because he could consume them, so he said he support women. Those he didn't like, well, they were on their own.

So he didn't mind that you were older and reserved. True, he never bothered with women like you because he thought he could do without them, but now that he was in Tokyo all alone, he could see your values. So, he thought to look.

You were the serious type. Soft-spoken, patient, and reserved. You looked after yourself rather dilligently - your clothes fit well, and you smelled of subtle floral perfume. Your movement when you walked around the school were gentle but decisive - you knew what to do, and you did it quick, as if you always had something better to do. A part of him didn't like that. For why, he didn't interrogate. "Why" was never a questioned he bothered with, since he could do well for the first 22 years of his life without it. When someone always get what they want, they hardly ever want to know "why".

He knew he was brash and bold to ask you out for dinner, but he assumed you knew the implication. He was interested enough. You had a fine body, and you knew how to look good. "Late bloomer" was what he liked to call women like you, the type who took themselves too seriously in school, but then learnt how to be pretty in their latter years. They would know how to relax, to not be so uptight.

So there he sat in a booth at a restaurant downtown, waiting, a little impatient to see that you were late. Perhaps he was to blame to tell you to take your time and freshen up at home. He wondered if you would doll up. Where would you show your skin? Where would you shave? He liked it shaved. His fingers toyed with the small tea cup, tapping its side and running down the curve of its rim.

"Hi! Sorry for the wait... I was caught up with a phone call."

He looked up. There you were, smiling down at him. He shamelessly looked at your body, studying the way the nice dress pants accentuate your hip and ass. Then, as you sat down, he took notes of your off-shoulder top, then the blink of your earrings. You may tried to make it seem innocuous, but he could tell. You dressed up for him.

"Not at all! I just got here."

You kept your smile on. He didn't notice that it was manufactured. He was caught up watching you leaning forward, your fingers flipping over the menu. The way your cleavage was catching shadow captured his attention.

"So, how is Tokyo treating you?"

He didn't think you would speak first. You barely humored any small talks during the day, only giving him just enough.

"It's good, it's good", he mused, "I'm enjoying the new culture and people. It's all very new to me, so I'm excited."

You looked up at him now, your eyes narrowing as your smile widened.

"It's a great city. There's always something to look at. Do you ever miss your friends and family, though?"

He leaned in as well, closing the gap. He could see you flinch just barely as his fluffy black curls almost tickle your forehead.

"Well, of course. I miss my family a lot, especially my sister. She's applying for college soon, and I wish I could be there to support her, you know?"

"You have a sister?"

He was pleased to see you following the script so far. Girls were often intrigued by the fact that he had a sister - it means he grew up knowing how to be sensitive and protective. It was a reliable card to play.

"Yeah, we grew up quite close, you know. I still remember her crying like a baby when I left for college", he chuckled, "now it's her turn."

You laughed softly at that.

"Yeah... she must be so sad to see you go to Japan, right?"

He nods, his eyes flickering between your face and your neck, eager to peer right down your top. You must be wearing those stick-on nipple covers to rock a top like that.

"Oh, she was, but she's more excited to be independent in college. Too excited, to be honest. I had to warn her not to get in troubles."

"What kind of trouble?"

He found himself looking at your lips now. Your gentle voice and soft gaze managed to distract him. For a second, he found himself pausing to stare.

"Oh... alcohol, drugs, bad friends. You know the deal."

"Did you get into troubles in college, too?"

The simple question now seemed so implicative. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, and he saw that you looked. Your lashes flutterred for a second before your eyes met his.

Empty.

You were harder to read than he thought. Perhaps it was the age difference, he wondered, or the fact that your naturally composed attitude had sealed your attraction toward him. He never hit on an older woman before, so he supposed it was only natural that he couldn't catch your energy right away. Or were you secretly experienced? Three years seemed little to him at first, but he suddenly felt self-conscious at your still demeanor. You were still smiling and expectant, but in a different way than he imagined. You were yet to be doe-eyed, yet to melt when she heard about his bond with his sister. How many men had had their ways with you? Did you please them well? Did you moved and squirm under their touch? He felt himself heating up.

"Good afternoon, dear customers. May I take your order?"

He almost jumped. You didn't. Awkwardly pointing to the menu, he glanced at you who quickly said your orders. You seemed comfortable.

Did he lose his edge?

The waiter swiftly left. Lukas felt that the chemistry was disrupted. His keen eyes watched your form pulling back away from him, and he caught the faint perfume wafting his way. He decided to keep his posture forward, staying on the offensive side.

"I guess I did get into some troubles", he admitted, his hand instinctively rubbing the nape of his neck, as if to conceal what his clothes couldn't. His skin was warm to the touch.

"Well, what kind?"

He couldn't tell if you were interested. You were asking him lots of questions, even from the start. Did you want to know more about him?

"Oh, we were crazy. One time, a pledge covered himself in lighter fluid and lit himself on fire before jumping into the pool."

"Ah... so the typical frat bros stuff. I guess I've seen something like that at X. Uni", you nodded, your smile turning a bit cheeky.

He shifted even closer.

"Yeah, we were bad boys. Were you in a sorrority? Greek life is big at X."

You shook yout head slowly.

"No... It seemed very fun, but I guess I was too focused on other stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I was trying to keep my scholarship, so that took most of my time, I guess. I wasn't too involved with student life aside trom the school's art magazine."

"So you are a smartie?"

You hung your head humbly.

"I guess you could say that."

"So what did you do to blow off steam, then? Or were you at the library all day?"

He felt just a bit desperate trying to know you. He knew his bombarding questions were coming off a little strong, but he didn't want to feel exposed and insecure anymore. He had opened up, he thought it would be fair if you let him in a little. Wind down, be less uptight.

"I went to Ellum sometimes."

Ellum, the bar street. So you knew how to party after all. Maybe you did have experiences with men.

"Oh, me and my boys liked it there."

"For troubles?"

He laughed.

"For troubles, yeah. It'd be crazy if we met and never knew it."

"Well, it was all dark and loud in there. Maybe we did."

"Then it's fate."

He felt corny saying it, but the words slipped out anyway. His heart twisted when you laughed at that, your chest vibrating. You lifted your hand to cover your smile, and he saw a glimpse of ink as your top pulled against your shoulder. Tattoos, huh? He didn't peg you as the type to get them.

Seeing that it was his chance, he reached over to adjust the fabric, his fingertips lingering just a moment too long. He felt it, the electric as he felt your cool skin against his own. You were soft and smooth, like a nice spread of butter against crispy toast.

"Oh, my bad, I just saw your shirt falling off a little there."

Your laugh dwindled. You touched where he touched, your chest rising and lowering at a slower beat.

Lukas found himself feeling expectant.

"Ah, well, thank you", you said, your voice more relaxed now. That was a good sign.

The waiters came back with the orders and left just as hurriedly.

"I have a question", Lukas mused, somehow anxious to lose your attention when you reached for your utensils.

"Pray tell."

"What's the best food place that you've ever been in Tokyo?"

He winced internally. Corny and immature, that was what he was being. What a 17-year-old first date question that was.

"I'd say the unlabelled streetfood carts at the open-air markets", you said, your finger resting on your chin for a moment, "I like to go there if I ever have to stay late at work."

"You gotta show me sometimes, then. I love streetfood!"

He felt stupid clawing at any ways he could to compel your interest. You were right there, laughing at his jokes, asking about his family, paying attention to him. Yet somehow he still felt like you were distant, somewhere in an invisible fish bowl, and what he had said to you were muffled through the water and glass.

"Of course, I'd be happy to. But let me know if you are allergic to anything, or if you are scared of seafood."

"Not at all", he confidently shook his head, "I went to Italy last summer, and the seafood was amazing!"

"Trip across Europe?"

"Trip across Europe", he nodded, "I'd say, Italy for best seafood, France for best wine, Germany for best beer, and Netherlands for the best, well, you know..."

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I see you like to travel."

"Oh, it changes my whole perspective. I really found myself, you know. It's like... I come back a whole different person. I think everyone should travel."

You gave him a strange look. Not a scowl nor a frown. A gentle squint of the eyes. It could be anything. He couldn't decide if he was being too boastful, or if he had said something wrong. Did you not like that? Maybe you hadn't been as well-travelled as he was, and what he said had come across as unrelatable.

"But of course, you know, if your money allows it. It doesn't cost as much as you think if you know how to budget."

The playful twinkle in your eyes told him that you were responding to him, and likely not negatively. Still, he felt more stupid adding on to what he said. He didn't know why, but he felt as though you were looking down on him.

Why would you look down on him?

Lukas may not realize it, but this was one of the rare occasions when he let the "why" bother him.

"Of course, travelling can be great. I haven't travelled much, but I imagine that when I have enough money, I would travel. I have a few places in mind."

"Where to?"

"For starter, Norway."

Weird answer.

"What's in Norway?"

"The aurora borealis."

He furrowed his brows.

"You want to see the northern light?"

"More than anything."

"It doesn't cost that much though."

"Yeah, but solo travelling costs more, I imagine."

"I can go with you."

He felt decidedly stupid and overconfident.

"Wouldn't that be something...", you commented, your eyes casting aside, "well, that's my top destination for sure."

You were growing cold again. Lukas couldn't for the life of him figure out where he was going wrong. Maybe you just weren't attracted to him, but that was unlikely. He knew how good he looked. He may have heard "sorry I have a boyfriend" and "I'm looking for something serious", but he couldn't think of a time when someone had admitted to him not being their type. Not even behind his back.

"Also, you seem to like to drink. Two out of the four places you mentioned was about alcohol."

He didn't expect you to pick up on the conversation. Maybe he simply had gotten into his head.

"Oh, I guess. I did drink a lot in college, but that's just what it was all about, you know?"

"About troubles, I know."

He felt his face growing hot.

"Right... well, I'd love to know what other Japanese drinks are like, too. I've tasted sake, but it was mild. I'm more of a beer and shots guy."

"Wine, too, right? In France."

You had not once lost your composure. He felt like he was squirming in his seat. He wanted to sleep with you, that was clear. He needed to know what it was like to get with someone older than him, even if it was a mere three years. What would you be like in bed? What did you learn from all the men from your past? The unphased facade, the tattoo, the way you maintained your calm upon his touch and his banter... you knew something he didn't. You had experienced things he hadn't.

"Right, that. Do you drink at all? Here, in Japan, I mean."

"Sometimes."

"Hey, it's a Friday night. Do you maybe want to grab a drink at a pub somewhere after this?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. He knew he was being brash and bold, but he couldn't help it. You were something he wanted to add to his collection.

Letting you mull over it, he watched your calm face.

"Sure...", you softly agreed, "but only for a little while."

"Something coming up tomorrow?"

Someone to see tomorrow?

Your blank eyes glimmered under the flourescent light for a second. He almost wanted to hold his breath.

"Just some personal affair in the afternoon."

There you go being elusive again. He thought he would have had you in his palm by now, but not yet. Maybe he didn't know your type.

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

I was inspired to draw this when Sebastian talked about Robin liking spaghetti and it kinda just randomly hit me that...

that's the way you're supposed to find out likes and dislikes lmaoooo

the text box is a little messy but as long as you don't zoom in, it's great! :D

ALSO ALSO

there are a lot of Yandere mods but isn't the FARMER more of a Yandere than anyone?

IMAGINE

a mod where YOU are the Yandere and the bachelor slowly realizes you know too much about what they like when they just met you and you're getting kinda stalkerish and you know where they are at all times and- ...oh no...

[yandereunsolved]

When you have the time, yandere chain reaction to reader wanting to help by making dishes from our world for them? Like pizza, breaded chicken, spaghetti, lasagna, grilled cheese sandwiches,ect. Dishes you don't see in hyrule ya know? Maybe they first got to cook for them when wild is too exhausted or sick to cook? Actually, I don't think they know how to make boiled eggs or popcorn. Be funny if reader invented popcorn for hyrule. Hope you have a great week

Okay, I love this. You too, anon! 𖹭 ( part 2 )

cw: a mention of them possibly crossing your boundaries (at the end)

We'll set the mood by saying The Chain has had an absolutely exhaustive day. They've had to fight off multiple monsters of varying varieties, and to top off the sundae of shit, you have the rotten cherry of all of you being pushed into another portal. You're soaked in things you don't even want to imagine; all of your yanderes are neglecting their health and trying to take care of you; and you are hangry. You end up snapping at them and then getting gaslit for about twenty minutes. 

That's when they learned about the wonderful world of ✨ human cuisine ✨ —peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, meat pies, puff puff, zapiekanka, etc...

You were on the edge of your seat, and Wild was exhausted, so you told them that if they left you alone for an hour, you'd cook for them. After a bit of convincing the more worried and overbearing yanderes, you finally got more than five feet away from them. That's when you cooked a dish from your homeland.

Let me tell you, you just fell into a deeper hole than you already were. They are already dependent on you for love, affection, and attention. Now, they want you to always cook meals for them. They are all trying to get the recipes for your favorite meals out of you so they can win your favor. Naturally, Wild has them outmatched in this sense, and none of them are happy about it.

Wild gets all of your attention when it comes to cooking things. You get to share recipes and learn from each other. Sometimes Sage is able to join since he has more refined cooking abilities, except his Zonai arm always acts up because it reacts to his suppressed yandere tendencies towards you. It's a weird quirk his arm has gotten into. He still isn't sure why. Everyone else in The Chain always tries to undermine Wild's cooking skills when you aren't around. 

It backfires when Wild gets to be the one to cuddle up to you, and he manipulates you by telling you how the others hate him. They hate him because he is different. They hate him because he has you. They hate him because he is everything they are not. It just all seems so vulnerable and raw. Why would you not believe him? Do you not trust him? Do you not love him?

Over all, they are fascinated, and it only feeds into their worship of you. They are enamored by the foods you have brought them. Any of them practically drops dead when you make one of your native snacks for just one of them. Oh my, you made it just for him? No one else. You must really love only that Link! Fierce is even willing to use his deity magic to get ingredients from your world for you. 

How did Fierce do this?

Does this mean he is able to get you home?

No, uh—his power is limited because of the mask. Something, something, a convincing lie to get you to stay and not question him. He is a deity, after all. He knows better than you.

They may crave your food, but there is one thing they long for more—you. How long will you be able to deprive them of your body before they take what is rightfully theirs?

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu

Well since you begged <3

TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

Truly, you don’t know how things got like this

Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon

Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you

The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you

If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help

But- that wouldn’t end well for you

He made that clear last time…

“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”

You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.

Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.

Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.

He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.

“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”

He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.

He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…

Before he showed you what he was like..

Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.

“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”

You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.

“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”

You lost track of how long you’d been here now

Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks

But it felt more like years

You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking

Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere

In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.

More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.

Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking

He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.

You hated that smile

“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”

He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.

You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.

So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.

“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”

His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.

“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”

Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.

“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”

Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.

Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.

Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..

“OW!”

Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.

What were you thinking?

Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.

“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”

He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.

“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”

Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.

“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.

You didn’t sleep that night

You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth

A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library

He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe

He was so sweet

He was so caring

….maybe in a twisted way he still was.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

How about strawhats with a reader who didn’t realise they ate a devil fruit, and they and the crew only realise when either they discover their ability or they start to drown when they accidentally fall (or get thrown by an enemy) overboard? (Tried to leave the devil fruit ability either up to you, or have the ask in a way that you didn’t have to create a devil fruit 😅)

I finally found a way to work this old ask into a request! Sorry to whoever sent it in originally, I just could not come up with a plot for it until I got this one. Apologies for there being little to no yandere content here.

You Are What You Eat

Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.8k words

Loud growls echoed through the forest. Not the deafening roars of a predator about to rip you apart, no, but the rumbling of a deprived stomach demanding sustenance.

You really shouldn’t have taken off into the woods without grabbing a snack first, but you couldn’t help it. After days of being at sea, you were eager to explore the new island you’d stopped at. Robin said you all would need to split up to find the ruins she was looking for, so you took initiative and threw yourself into adventure the second the ship was close enough for you to be able to make the jump.

Thus far, you’d had no luck. You hadn’t even stumbled across an abandoned pathway or ancient tools. It’s hard to believe this island had ever been populated at some point. Maybe this wasn’t the right one?

At this point you weren’t even really looking for ruins, you just wanted something to eat. Unfortunately, this search was having similar results. Nothing. It appears all the fruit trees on this island are still in a flowering stage, and you didn’t know enough about foraging to be taking your chances on root vegetables in the ground. Restaurants were obviously out of the question, much to your chagrin.

There was some rustling in the tree above you. Your head snaps up to assess the situation, only for something to nail you right in the face. Your knees buckle and you fall on your ass, cradling your face after the blow. 

Cracking open an eye, you try to find who just assaulted you, but you were definitely here alone. Looking at the ground, you discover what your assailant really was. A fruit.

Pain is forgotten instantly as you snatch up the strange looking fruit. It’s a light blue color and reminds you of a ball of yarn with the way the skin is textured. You have zero clue as to what kind of fruit it’s supposed to be, but as your stomach growls even louder, you can’t find it in you to care.

Using your shirt to wipe it off to the best of your ability, you take a bite as you get back on your feet. Your face scrunches up instantly. The taste… isn’t great, but it’s not the worst either. If you had to describe it you would say it tastes like an uncooked spaghetti squash. The real problem is the texture. It’s completely stringy on the inside, making you feel like you’re eating a wet clump of yarn.

But… beggars can’t be choosers. You’re starving, and you don’t want to let it go to waste either, so you power through it. As you’re choking down the last bite, a chill runs down your spine, making every nerve light up in a tingling sensation. Then, as quickly as the feeling began, it disappeared.

Weird. Whatever.

“(Y/N)! Where are you?!” Luffy’s voice cut through the thick woods.

Finally! You were starting to wonder how you’d gone so long without running into anyone else. Running towards the sound of his voice, you call back to him, “Over here!”

It’s not long before he comes into view, along with the rest of the crew. Luffy grins and runs to meet you halfway, “Why’d you run off so quick? I wanted to go with you!” He lifts you up into his arms and spins you around gleefully.

“Did you? Sorry, I thought we were all gonna split up,” you scratch at the back of your head and wonder if you misheard.

“We were, but then we found the ruins Robin was looking for straight away, so we’ve just been looking for you this whole time!”

Mortification washes over you immediately and you hang your head in shame, “You’ve got to be kidding me! I ran right past it, didn’t I?”

“You sure did! Pretty dumb, huh? Zoro didn’t even get as lost as you did!” Luffy set you down, smiling the whole time while he mocked you.

“Watch it!” You swatted at him, not that he particularly cared or even reacted to it. 

“Now that you’re done being lost, we really need to get going before it gets any later,” Nami was tapping her foot impatiently, no doubt itching to find the treasure rumored to be hidden there.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Let’s go!” You wanted to move on from this blunder as quickly as possible, thank you very much. There were a few chuckles from the group as you marched on ahead, but they mercifully didn’t tease you about it anymore.

“Are you hungry? You ran off before I could hand you your lunch,” Sanji sidled up next to you, offering a sweet smile while extending the masterfully packed bento towards you. The cook shot a dirty look over his shoulder to your captain, “Don’t worry, I made sure that he couldn’t get his hands on it.”

You’re sure you missed a battle of epic proportions over your unclaimed lunch. Happily taking it into your own hands, you waste no time cracking it open and digging in as you walk, “Thank you, Sanji! You’re the best!” He puffed up in pride at your compliment, assuring you that it was no problem.

It wasn’t long into the trek when you all came upon a wide but shallow river. It wasn’t so deep that you would need to swim to cross it, but it would be enough to pose a problem for your devil fruit possessing companions.

This wasn’t a big deal, everyone knew the drill. Those that couldn’t get in the water would pair off with someone who could to carry them across. Robin was perched up on one of Franky’s shoulders, much to Sanji’s heartbreak. Luffy latched onto Zoro and was telling him to hurry up and get going so they could all see the ruins.

That just left Chopper, who hurried over to you with his arms up. You were his preferred method of transportation in situations like this. Stuffing your now empty lunch box into your bag, you scoop up the reindeer and place him on your shoulders.

Without any additional fanfare, everyone starts wading through the water. At its deepest, it comes up to your waist. Trudging through waist deep water does naturally take a bit of effort, but this felt much harder than usual. Exhausting even. Your head was swimming and you didn’t even realize you’d stopped until Chopper spoke up.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He leaned forward to try and see your face better, but you could hardly even register what he was saying to you, much less respond to it. Your silence must have bothered him, and he started to panic, “Guys wait! (Y/N) isn’t looking too good!”

That was the last thing you heard before collapsing into the rushing river. Logically, you knew you should be freaking out. You were underwater and had dropped Chopper in with you, you know you should be flying into action, but you weren’t. You felt listless. Like a puppet whose strings just got cut. The world around you was rapidly fading to black and you felt powerless to do anything about it.

Just before you could fully pass out, arms lock around your torso and wrench you out of the water. You coughed and gasped for breath. The relief of getting your head above water was palpable, but you still felt weak.

You were carried to the other side and gently sat down against a tree by a very concerned Sanji. His hands were clamped onto your upper arms and his eyes raked over your body looking for literally anything that could explain what just happened, “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Everyone else was crowding around you, too. Chopper wiggled his way to the front, fur still wet from his unplanned dive. Despite that, though, he was in doctor mode, “Give them some space, we need to figure out what happened!” 

While he was checking your pulse and breathing, you found it in you to speak again, “I’m sorry about that, didn’t mean to drop you. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Were you already not feeling well? It’s not like you to just collapse like that.”

“I felt just fine until I got in the river. Did anyone else feel weird after getting in the water?” You asked. Maybe there was something in it that makes people sick?

Everyone shrugged off the question, saying that they all felt fine. Chopper wasn’t happy with the lack of any answer for why this happened. Making a quick decision, he stands up and announces that he’s going to take you back to the ship for now.

“No, I’m fine! Give me a minute, and I’ll be good to go, I swear!” You try to plead your case, but no one entertains it.

“You don’t need to force yourself to go on, I’ll help you and Chopper get back to the ship,” Sanji held out his hand to help you to your feet. Reluctantly, you accept the help and wait for him to pull. 

He does, but you don’t move. Your hands are still joined together, but your arm is… oh god.

Several things happen at once. Sanji looks down and sees a bunch of blue strings connecting your now disembodied hand to the rest of your arm. Sanji screams at the sight, Chopper faints, Usopp is just straight up gone, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“What is wrong with your arm?!” Nami shrieks, looking about as nauseated as you felt.

“I don’t know!”

“Did you eat a devil fruit recently and not tell us?” Robin was the most outwardly calm, but was still visibly disturbed by the turn of events.

“No? How would that- Wait. Hang on. I might have,” everything suddenly clicks in your mind. The out of place fruit, the weird feeling you had after eating it, the water, and now this. You absolutely ate a devil fruit and didn’t even realize it.

“What do you mean ‘you might have’?” Everyone shouts in unison.

“Well, you see, it’s a funny story. You’re gonna laugh,” the unamused expressions on their faces told you otherwise. You continued, “While I was off on my own, I got really hungry. Then I got hit in the head by a weird fruit, so I decided to eat it.”

“You ate a random weird looking fruit and didn’t think that MAYBE you should mention that to us???” Nami looked like she wanted to throttle you right about now.

“... Yes?”

Nami exploded and started laying into you for your transgression, and you were helpless and just had to take it. Until you felt a weird tugging sensation from your arm. Looking over, you see Luffy experimentally poking his hand through your strings with a look of wonder on his face.

“Luffy, get out of there!” Sanji yells while trying to kick him away. 

This devil fruit thing is going to take some getting used to.

[melody-chan333]

I dare any of you to draw Pizzahead finally kidnapping Peppino (bc I headcanon that Pizzahead is a yandere for Peppino), go!

[mrpuzzlessimp420]

Mario Simulator (Joke Fic)

Chapter 2

Warnings: Mention of Lobotomy, Blackmailing, Kidnapping, Plotting Murder (none of these are taken seriously)

Ships: Marware, SMG34, BatteryAcid (Mr Puzzles x Orange Juice)-Mentioned

An idea popped into Mario's head, quite surprising as he probably didn't have any braincells left.

A very... unique idea.

You see, there was something actually... unnormal about Mario.

He was what you would call...

A yandere.

Now Mario wasn't your Ayano Aishi "I've never felt ANY emotions before Senpai!" yandere, he was your "though emotionally stunted still had emotions" yandere.

His entire life he had never felt strong emotions before which wasn't questioned by literally anyone as they just thought it was just because he was you know Mario or because he had been implied to be lobotomized in that one episode.

It also wasn't questioned when he started acting coo-coo crazy over Mr Puzzles as they just cracked it up to just be Mario being Mario.

So hiding this fact about himself from others was as easy as forcing your friends to kiss for a tiktok trend.

But like any yandere (insert-literally-any-character) fanfic, Mario had some roadblocks that stopped him from being with his one and only true loves...

Rivals.

Now Mario was used to having rivals, love related or not but Orange Juice was a special case.

Unlike the others, Orange Juice was actually dating Mr Puzzles which meant that if he just straight up murdered him, Mr Puzzles would be depressed, wear grey/black hoodies all the time and be emo and Mario couldn't have that! Being emo was the greatest sin of humanity!

He'd had to think of a plan to get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up or for Orange Juice to be extremely toxic so when he goes to kill him, Puzzles wouldn't be a sad depressed babygirl!

Unluckily for him, Mario was a number 1 lazy boy and didn't want to go through all the effort of figuring something out so he thought of the next best option: get someone to figure it out for him!

Now how would be his unwilling victim?

Saiko?

No she has had to much character development that she would drop kick him into the sun if he asked her to revert back to the days she was crazily obsessing over Boopkins (really though, Boopkins??)

Luigi?

No he was weird in his own way that Mario didn't want to deal with.

SMG3?

Maybe.

He'd probably need some sort of blackmail though.

Luckily for Mario, he always kept a copy of SMG3's gay little diary on hand, just in case.

A loud rigging bell went that snapped Mario out of his thoughts, it was the end of break!

And he didn't get to eat his spaghetti-flavoured apple :(.

Moving on from that, Mario knew what his next move was. At lunch he would kidnap SMG3, blackmail him to make a plan that would get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up, force him to help in the actual plan himself and make him promise to never tell anyone about the situation ever.

Yeah that seemed like a solid plan, what could possibly go wrong?

The next two lessons went by like SMG4 and SMG3's will-they-won't-they relationship that will probably never be canonized because of half of the fandom's homophobicness and their insistence that their brothers.

Right as Mario was considering drowning a random girl in a bucket of full of acid because of how clingy she was being, the bell went signalling it was lunch.

He ran out of the classroom with no time to lose, not even caring that the teacher yelled at him that "the bell doesn't dismiss him, she does" or whatever that crap was.

After searching for what felt like weeks, he finally found SMG3 packing up his stuff in a classroom that was now empty. His face slightly smiling at a image on his emo skull phone.

It was now his chance!

Mario grabbed a black bag out of thin air and, without SMG3 noticing, put it on SMG3's head and tightened it.

Now all he needed to do was find a dark, empty room that no-one would dare walk near to.

The broom closet! (DID YOU GET THE BROOM CLOSET ENDING? THE BROOM CLOSET- The author is then choked to death because they referenced another piece of media)

Dragging SMG3's lifeless body that definitely was losing oxygen by the second and not at all trying to hide himself, waving to others whenever they passed who just chalked it up to be Mario being Mario. When he finally reached the broom closet, he dumped the poor man in it, locking himself and SMG3 inside.

After finding a chair that definitely looked out of place in a broom closet that only held brooms, he placed SMG3 on it and tied his hands behind the chair with some spare rope.

Realising he needed SMG3 to talk during this blackmailing, Mario finally took the black bag off of SMG3's head.

"What the hell Mario?" SMG3 shouted after panting for oxygen for 4 minutes straight, his voice not being heard from the outside as the closet was noise cancelling.

"Mario wants you do to something for him." Mario said sinisterly, which was hard to tell due to his voice only being voice clips.

"Hell no I'll do something for you! Last time I did so I was humiliated on the internet!" SMG3 argued, not wanting anything to do with Mario.

"Well.. Mario has your gay diary sooo.. :D" Mario said, grabbing the copy of SMG3's notebook out of his skirt that has pockets.

SMG3 immediately freezed up, a pink blush spreading around his checks.

"Y-you wouldn't leak that would you?" SMG3 asked, sounding extremely nervous. No one could see his deepest and darkest thoughts and know about his massive crush on SMG4.

"I won't if you do this for me.." Mario stated as menacingly as he could, leaning down to SMG3.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife...

"Fine... I'll do it..." He said, giving in to Mario's demands.

"Yippeee!!" Mario squeaked, though he was sad he didn't get to use his brand new cringe memes machine to torture SMG3 with but he could use it at another time.

"What do you want me to do then? Make spaghetti for you? Force me to a dumb challenge? Humiliate myself on camera?" SMG3 asked.

"Help me commit murder." Mario said blankly.

"Yeah sure why not." SMG3 stated, he selled bombs on the black market for a living, murder wasn't that extreme that he wouldn't do it. "Who is it and what's the plan?"

"Actually I wanted you to make a plan for me" Mario rubbed the back of his head, pulling a silly face while doing so.

"Of course you did.." He said, not surprised at all.

"Well to be honest, I need your help to get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up so I can go kill Orange Juice." Mario stated, extremely casually.

"Honestly wouldn't take you for a yandere type of guy"

"The author's friend thought it be funny."

"Well, I've already thought of some ideas so let's plan this!"

30 minutes later and they had already made a Plan A, a Plan B for if it goes wrong, a Plan C etc. Now all they needed to do was set it into motion...

(part 3 coming whenever I feel like it babieee-)

[volpe-kitsune-red]

Can your version of vampires eat regular food too or is it just blood, cause all i can imagine is reader waking up as a vampire and being less upset at the whole yandere thing and more upset at the fact they cant eat bread anymore

In my world vampires are technically able to ingest food but it would have the same nutritional value as eating cardboard. Their bodies are unable to process anything other than blood. Normal food even tastes bitter and disgusting to them unless it's meat, in that case they might somewhat enjoy it.

The consequences of eating regular food aren't severe but can go anywhere from mild stomach pain and nausea to being bedridden for a couple of days, all depending on the amount of food eaten and how much time has passed since they were human (if they ever were, vampires can reproduce and generate full vampires even tho it's rare).

So yes, I imagine some readers would be very upset with Lynx.

"How dare you deprive me of life's greatest pleasures??"

Lynx: "I understand you're upset darling but I will allow you to go out sometimes if you behave, and I'm sure I can offer you something just as pleasurable as soon as-"

"No you dumbass! I am talking about food. How am I supposed to wake up in the morning without the promise of a nice slice of bread? How can I survive the rest of eternity without tasting spaghetti ever again..."

Lynx: "... I don't see the issue."

"Of course you don't. You blood suckers could never understand."