#yes yandere

[dawnbreaaker]

After finishing the latest main story quest, I couldn't help but think about Gallagher and Sunday fighting over someone, just to get a scrap of attention from them.

Of course, their darling would be clueless - both men are incredibly cunning and intelligent, but not immune to the likes of their shared person of interest walking in on them having a rather.. tense moment.

Having to at least be civil while in the presence of their darling, when they want to be at eachother's throats with clever remarks and insults. Bitter glares shooting across the room, and unsaid words sitting unspoken on their tongues.

All to keep their prospective darling blissfully happy and unaware - all for a chance to hold them in their arms, all for themselves.

This is absolutely unfinished and needs some work, but if any of you big brain writers want to use this for anything, go ahead! @ me so I can eat up your writing :>

As always, reblogs are always appreciated!

[myeagleexpert]

A story about the director and Grim, who are very close friends <3

Translation from fan to fan, all credits go to the appropriate artist, see the source in the pin below:https://br.pinterest.com/pin/902690319055568233/

Who else wants to see Grim's final form? but…. What cost would this have?

[beloved-blaiddyd]

Yandere prince!Al Haitham/(little mermaid)Merfolk!Reader

aphotic: a sea witch grants you a dangerous wish. it affects your lover.

@xianyoon (ty so much for the event, this is a fun prompt ^^)

[frogchiro]

Hrrrnnn thinking about boy next door!Kyle who is the absolute sweetheart of the neighbourhood, the kind whom old ladies praise after he led them across the street and all the mothers want their daughters to end up with him or at least with someone like him.

But he has eyes on only one person, you! You were childhood friends, always together, always playing in the garden together and spending time and even now that you're both in college didn't stop or put a damper on your friendship! Even better, you two somehow got even closer because you just couldn't help but slowly fall for Kyle's big, beautiful eyes, how they softened every time he saw you, his lips that stretched wide whenever you called out to him, not to mention his obvious charm and charisma and his goodhearted nature...Oh if you only knew.

Boy next door!Kyle who is obsessed with for many years now to the point of almost insanity. You're perfect in every aspect to him; your smile, your soft voice, how sweet you are and how you're genuinely the best person he ever met...But that attracted trouble.

He stalked your social media, he took photos of you whenever he couls just so he could look at the in the privacy of his own room and touch hinself to them, moaning your name out and imagining you bouncing on his dick, calling out to him in your sweet voice, but after the deed his mood always soured. He knew that he was far from being the only one who felt for you this way, and he always had to do something about them.

Like that jock in high school, Connor was his name. Up and coming sports star, the golden boy of the football team and the known school casanova who changed his girls every week and it just happened that his flavor of the week was you. Even after multiple times you shot him down politely, he still insisted. And insisted. And insisted until it clearly made you uncomfortable and Kyle couldn't have that right?

What a shame that the same month poor Connor had a incident which basically made him say goodbye to any sports carreer in the future. Pity. But Kyle was so happy! No one made his girl upset. No one.

[gojonanami]

thinking about yakuza!gojo and yakuza!geto whose families have both issued proposals to your own yakuza family. and the two aren't very interested in marriage -- until you've gathered them both up and threaten them to convince their families to rescind the proposals. and suddenly, they're very interested in you.

and now you have two yakuza heirs fighting over who gets to marry you.

[after-witch]

Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You're on your period, and your captor sits you down for a very special talk.

Word count: 1500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader has their period, misogyny, lots of period talk, L being a weirdo

It’s rare that you let your kidnapper see you squirm. Mostly because he’s admitting to enjoying the sight of you fidgeting on the couch or bed; apparently, all of your little body tics in such stressful moments are just absolutely fascinating.

So, whenever possible, you make your body sit (almost) perfectly still. You keep your face neutral. You bite back responses, swallow insults, and wait until you’re alone in the bathroom to cry. (Though you have speculated he may have a camera in there, despite the lack of proof, and his cagey denial.)

It works, most of the time. 

Except for now--for several reasons.

One being, you’re on your period. 

It’s not something you looked forward to pre-kidnapping, and it’s something that you dread intensely, post-kidnapping. Sitting in front of your captor while you bleed into one of the standard-issue pads you found in the bathroom--the thin, generic kind that are often stocked at public bathrooms--is certainly not the highlight of your day.

Two, and two is the primary reason for the way your body is currently shifting on the chair: L, your kidnapper, the person you hate most in the world, has presented you with a tray of assorted period products. Pads, of several sizes and materials. Tampons, the same. Period underwear. And a silicone menstrual cup, fresh out of a plastic wrapper.

Behind this tray, he sits on his own chair, knees pulled up, a small smile on his face.

He gnaws on the end of his thumb and looks at you with something akin to gleeful hope, and you’d like nothing more than to punch him in the face.

“Well?” He asks, voice lilting. “Aren’t you going to ask why I put these here?”

You’d like to ask him where he gets the nerve. But that would only feed his ego, you think. So you breathe in and out through your nose, slowly, carefully. You flex your fingertips and press your hands together on your lap.

“Why,” you say, slowly, carefully neutral, “do you have a tray full of period products in front of me?”

L beams. “Glad you asked!” He gestures across the tray, like you haven’t been staring at it for what feels like five full minutes. “I’ve been monitoring your last seven menstrual cycles--your menstrual bleeding cycles, in particular--and I have come to the conclusion…”

He leans forward, eyes wide, eager. “… that you are not adequately handling your period every month.”

You have put up with a lot of things during your months of captivity. The loss of freedom, of course. The lack of autonomy. L’s incessant, creepy staring. His tendency towards over-analyzing you. His love for mental games that leave you wanting to tear your hair out.

But this?

This is too much. Too far. 

Especially right now, with the awkward feeling of blood pressing between yourself and the pad, and a dull ache of cramps sitting low in your belly.

The snort that comes out of your nose would be fire, if it reflected how angry you’re getting.

“And how, exactly, am I not--handling my period adequately every month?” Even though you know he’ll get some special entertainment from your mockery, you can’t bite it back.

L grins again. “I’m happy to tell you my conclusions.” He reaches over to a side table, and retrieves a stack of papers. Your eyes go wide. No way. No fucking way. He didn’t--

He did.

He taps the stack of papers on the tray in front of him.

“I’ve calculated that during your active menstrual bleeding,  you are 57% more irritable than on days without bleeding. Although there are many ways to reduce your stress hormones during these days, you refuse to do anything except mope around.”

Your mouth opens, lips sticking to your teeth, but he puts up a hand before you can tell him that being fucking kidnapped is the reason you’re “moping around.”

“And yes, I have taken into account your�� unhappiness with your current situation. While that should account for certain levels of your stress hormones, it doesn’t account for all of them, nor does it negate the distinct rise in your stress levels on these specific days.”

Your eye twitches. It actually twitches. 

“What else,” you bite out, teeth grinding, “have you calculated in that report of yours?”

He tilts his head, still smiling. He might look cute, if you didn’t want to knock his teeth out.

“Would you really like to know more? I don’t want to bore you. Ah, but if you insist…” He flips through the pages, until he lands on something he’d apparently love to share. “I’ve also discovered that your current pad use is simply inadequate for the flow and consistency of your menstrual bleeding.”

He can’t be serious. Nope. He can’t be. You must be dreaming. 

“Stop,” you mutter, cheeks blazing hot, chest almost equally so. “Just--”

“I think this is important,” he says, blinking innocently at you. “I’ve noticed that you’ve stained your clothing--undergarments included--several times, and when Watari had the sheets laundered, we spotted some--”

Nope. You’re not doing this. 

You stand up, body shaking, skin hot and flushed with embarrassment. 

“I’m not having this conversation,” you say, voice stilted, teeth grinding on the inside of your cheek to keep you from screaming. “This is weird.  You are weird.” Your hand points at him, vaguely, accusingly, but you drop it without fanfare. 

His smile tilts into the smallest of pout.

“It’s not weird to be concerned with your inadequate usage of menstrual products. That’s why I’ve arranged some samples for you,” he says simply enough. “So you can see which menstrual product is best suited to your size and flow. Personally,” he adds, looking down at the tray with mild fascination, “I’m interested to see if the overnight pads are really more absorbent than the daytime heavy flow. Shall we conduct an experiment to compare?”

“No!” The words come out practically shrieked, and you grab one of the cushions from the sofa and hug it close. Calm yourself, you think. Calm down. Don’t let him see you get mad. It’s what he wants. It’s probably the entire reason for all this---well, this. 

“I don’t need you to tell me what products to use. Or how to manage my stress. Or--whatever else it is you have in there.”

L pulls out another sheet of paper. “Well, I have also considered the effectiveness of your using microwaved towels versus a proper heating pad--which you could ask me for, but haven’t--and--”

It’s your turn to raise your hand and, to your surprise, he stops talking. 

“I’ve had my period every month since I was 11.” The inside of your cheek hurts--there will be a blister, and blood, soon enough. “You really, really think I don’t know how to handle my own period?” 

Maybe this is your attempt at giving him an out--a chance to apologize for being so unbelievably awful.To admit he’s wrong, in some small measure. Your hands tighten around the pillow, in hope--in anticipation?

His eyebrow raises; there’s a quirk of a smile on his lips. 

“That’s the strangest thing about all this. I calculated that you’ve had…” And the bastard actually recites the estimated number of periods you’ve had since you started puberty. “… in your life.” He taps the paper in front of him with one short, gnawed-on fingernail. “You really should have had a more logical plan for this by now.” 

The cushion bonks off the side of his head with unsatisfying softness, and you stalk away, intent on going into the only room in the house where you get any semblance of privacy--the bathroom.

“I forgive you,” he calls out, even as you walk away. “I know you’re only overreacting with this level of aggression due to the elevated level of hormones in your bloodstream!”

You can hear the smile in his voice as you slam the bathroom door. The mirror rattles. Your breath comes out in awful huffs, and angry tears prick at your eyes. Stupid asshole. Smarmy bastard. It’s like there’s no part of your life he won’t dissect, won’t turn impossibly irritating, and he’s just--

Your eyes land on the box of pads you’d found on the day of your first period here. It was a larger, plain brown box with a bar-code in it--he probably got it from some bulk place, hence the low quality.

Only now… 

The box is empty. There are no more pads, thin, shitty as they were. And you know you’re about to be finished with the current pad resting in your underwear from the feel of it. 

There’s a soft, playful knock on the door. He knew--he must have known the whole time it was empty. Probably knew you’d wind up storming off in here, too. 

“Did you decide which of these you liked best?” Even with his voice muffled by the door, the sticky self-assurance rings loud and clear. “I’m guessing you’ll need them sooner rather than later…”

Before you start looking for any object you might throw in his direction if he opens the door, he calls out again--

"If you've chosen the menstrual cup and you're worried about the insertion process, I watched the tutorial video and it's really very--"

You don't hear what he says in the end over your own muffled shriek into the nearest towel.

[ditzyfrog]

Simp? who? Me? Psh!—

I'm worse than the yanderes at this point... that's my self insert. I'm cringe but I am free ♡

Character belongs to @fantasia-kitt

(I feel embarrassed tagging u bc I feel like I'm running up to my parents to show them what I did- skshihvj)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodle. I think sabo ends up looking a bit insane whenever I draw him because I never want to get rid of his round bug eyes

[throwaway-yandere]

"I Got Reincarnated..." (Yandere SAGAU Otome Isekai!Diluc/Reader) Common Route now available!!!

No need to download! It's a web-based game that should work on mobile too.

The art and overall story are made by yours truly while the OST is created by our beloved @naraven. There are currently 2 CGs and 2 OSTs available, and depending on the reception I might continue beyond the common route since I already have most sprites done <3

This is something I had been pondering about making for a while since my blog has reached it's 2nd year mark so I made this under 3 days. I love you all. Thank you for sticking around. Here's the link to the game. I hope you enjoy it <3.

For context, please read this fic first!

Characters currently present in this short chapter:

Captain Dainsleif, Diluc Ragnvindr, Waitress Alice & Rosaria, Chief Albedo, Prince ???????, Lord Kamisato, and Justice Ajax.

Description:

Greetings, I am Diluc Ragnvindr.  Welcome to Southern Gaciea. Unlike the North, East, and the West, the South is a tourist spot for outsiders. It's a closed off country, so outlanders will need to submit their documents to the department of domestic affairs.  Perhaps you do not remember, but you've encountered many interesting individuals upon your arrival such as…   Captain Dainsleif, the famous Western knight turned retainer for both Prince Lumine and her missing brother, Prince Aether;   Lord Kamisato, the Eastern noble who controls Gaciean trade with just a flick of a wrist;   Chief Albedo, the Head of Domestic Affairs and Chief Alchemist from unknown origins;   Justice Ajax, the unreasonable Northern politician whom I often argue with;  …And, of course, Duke Ragnvindr, the Southern Head of Military Affairs. That would be me.   It's a shame you no longer remember much of our time together, (Y/n). I assure you, I can make you feel at home in this universe. But— you're not planning to leave South Gaciea soon, are you? ♥

Dev note: pssst, you might get some extra dialogue if you put these as your name (more will be added soon cuz that aint all my moots >:((( i need to code more efficiently smh.)

Shiro, Ven, Navina, Mei, Mochi, Ana

[lycheeloving]

wanted to write something for long covid awareness day, but it doesn't mention it by name (it's barely mentioned at all, tbh) so you can imagine it to be something else, I guess. continuation of this, kind of.

[harmonysanreads]

Yandere!Aventurine who proposes an irresistible offer to your debt-ridden father in a bustling casino. Should he win, he'll be forgiven of his liability. However, as the round skids to an end, your father is subjected to further humiliation as instead of money, Aventurine demands you as his prize.

[chikaras-garden]

I think Demonhead Damian would absolutely love to take care of his lover when she’s sick, even going as far as to do the cooking himself instead of relying on his servants (just in case someone tries to take advantage of your weakened state and poison you).

This one goes out to all the babes who apparently got sick over the holidays (I'm babes).

Something is wrong with your powers. Not in the sense that you’re a danger to those around you, no—but they are draining you more than usual, leaving you hopelessly fatigued and, well, sick.

So sick that you barely have the energy to lift your head when a pair of servants enter your room shadowed by Damian, who watches them like a hawk. 

When one of them sets a bowl on your nightstand, you eye it curiously. Blearily, you ask, “What is that?”

Damian gives you an incredulous look. “It is soup.”

The servants step back into the shadowy corners of the room, and it’s almost as if you’re alone with Damian when he sits on the edge of your bed, then pulls the bowl into his lap. 

“Red lentil soup. I made it myself,” he murmurs while presenting the spoon to your dry lips. You eagerly take what he feeds you, and it tastes so wonderful that you suddenly, painfully recall that it’s been too long since you ate anything.

“Why?” you husk, rubbing at your tired eyes for but a moment before Damian’s hand replaces yours, and he soothes your face with a warm cloth. 

And there’s that look again. “Because you are ill.”

“But we have servants—“

He silences you with a kiss on your forehead. “I trust no one around you when you are so weak, beloved. I barely trust myself.”

“Damian,” you whisper, suddenly breathless with something much more pleasant than your lingering cough. It isn’t that you doubted his ability to cook—you’re certain he can do anything he decides to do—but you’re surprised and touched that he would go to all that trouble, humbling himself in this way only for you.

“Hush,” he soothes. When he dips the spoon into the soup again, you catch the faintest hint of a shy smile on his lips. “Eat now, please. I need to ensure your strength returns.”

[yanderemommabean]

I hope you're doing okay! 💐

Also: not being able to take much of Choso's cock at all so he spends weeks "training" you with dildos that gradually get bigger and bigger until finally you can *probably* take all of him after a LOT of oral but he loves tasting your pussy so much you've already orgasmed on his tongue like 5 times until HE'S ready to have you on his cock

See, you know what I need to make me feel better. This is exactly what the doctor ordered. Choso would grip the back of your thighs so hard his finger prints would bruise you, holding your legs spread as he tongue fucks your hole for the umpteenth time just so you can try and take his massive size. He doesn't understand why you keep squirming away. Surely you know that's just going to hurt you, right? Just lay back and take deep breaths like you practiced! He's being as gentle as he possibly can, he promises!

-Mommabean (I need that man)

[just-null-cult]

IS THIS DAY 7 OF ASKING FOR UR NORITOSHI'S HAND IN MARRIAGE???

i lost count

congratulations on your new marriage!!

Noritoshi will absolutely accept your marriage proposal, no hesitation, but hes a man of order. Marriage is the greatest promise that comes with a bunch of unsaid rules. A perfect opportunity he can take advantage of and use to love you till his heart's content. (spoiler, he's insatiable)

You'll accept them all though right? Of course you will! The security and stability of you finally being his is what gets Noritoshi's heart beating impossibly fast. As for the requirement, don't worry about your answer. He'll keep it for both of you. You already accepted all his terms and conditions by proposing to him first.

Usually to any other form of affection, Noritoshi would fumble in a desperate attempt to sputter out a response, but this time it's different. He's been thinking about this moment since he fell for you. Initially, yes, you caught him off guard, he never assumed you'd be the one to propose first. Regardless, he's willing to adapt to get things back on track.

He's ecstatic but has to be quick on his feet. He wants all of you for forever, and wants you to know that. Wants you to accept that. You're going to be married after all so might as well continue your new life together with honesty! Not like you can escape from it. You're in too deep.

[mintymarabell]

Bad blood elder yautja who cares in his own way

Sort of yandere.

You hated him, doubted he could have any emotional feelings for anything or anyone.

It’d been a few months since you’ve been taken, maybe longer considering it’s hard to keep track of time in a different galaxy.

The elder had you near him at all times, perched on his lap, his arm, or just holding his hand. He never let you get away or leave his field of view.

It had only happened once, he had dragged you to a foreign planet (though they were all foreign) for a dinner party with another clan of bad bloods who desperately wanted to start a treaty.

Maybe you finally slipped away, the elder too caught up in conversation and his unnaturally warm hand finally slipped off your knee; giving you the opportunity.

Wondering the long hallways a Youngblood came out of nowhere. Clearly the younger yautja had too much to drink as he slurred and poked at your fleshy cheek, his claw sharp and leaving a slight scratch.

There was a distant clatter but you paid no mind, instead trying to now get away from the youngbloods iron grip he had on your wrist with the promise of a good lay though it was to himself he spoke.

You yelped slightly as he yanked you along just then his grip loosened greatly and he fell to the ground, green pooling at his head.

You didn’t get a chance to react before you were enveloped in a pair of arms, turned around to face the elder you slipped away from moments ago.

He never kneeled for anyone and yet he kneeled for you. It was a small noticeable thing. Kneeled to fix your lopsided necklace he gifted you. Kneeled to give you a skull of a beast that had taken him weeks to slay. Kneeled to check if your arm was okay after you fell on it and nearly gave him a heart attack. (He almost broke through the ships window when he seen it. Was the only and last time he let you go out by yourself.) Yet now once again he kneeled to you.

He didn’t say anything, he just pressed you close to him and rubbed your back as if you were the one needing comforting.

From that day forward he had changed.?

He no longer held your hand or arm as if you were gonna run but now as if you were gonna disappear.

His claws that used to always be sharp were now dull as if he’d filled them down.

At night, when he forced you to share a bed with him you’d never see him sleep. Before he’d just stare but now he always stare at you with a longing look he never used to do. It was as if he was slowly baring his heart to you.

One time you had woken up in the middle of the night randomly and as you glanced over he was finally asleep. His hand on your back still absentmindedly drew circles as if it had a mind of its own.

Maybe deep down, all this time he had cared for you.