being alone on the streets while its dark is risky. especially when you have valuables! don't think your treasures are safe from her. world-infamous cat burgler CATVENOM. careful! she lurks in the shadows ready to strike. don't cry when your wallets get stolen!
꒰ summary ꒱; the blue lock boys meet you, who absolutely mogs the hell out of them and they either embarass themselves or just flat out fumble ૮꒰ “ . . ꒱ა
isagi spots you when you come up to him during a fan meet.
"so, you've been a fan for a while?" he starts, trying some small talk, finally glancing up from the jersey you'd requested his signature on, making eye contact with you. he knew it was from a collection sold a while ago, before he'd grown tons in popularity.
only to immediately avert his gaze back down because of how beautiful you are.
is it even right to be within 2 feet of you? he could swear a goddess just appeared before him.
"i am! i've been supporting you ever since..."
he could barely hear the array of words and compliments you were gushing anymore, too caught up on the sight of you.
he was imagining how pretty you'd look in his jersey, maybe getting married someday-
"...so yeah, i've been supporting you for a super long time! it feels so nice to finally meet you," you continued, snapping him out of his trance-like state of admiration.
"say, can i actually get your-" he's cut off before he can finish his sentence.
you were gently reminded by someone to keep moving along the line, leaving you waving back at isagi, leaving him in despair.
"-number..."
his first ever attempted shot and he got brutally blocked by his own security.
rin itoshi
you were rushing to be somewhere and happened to run into rin by chance.
you'd tripped over your shoelace and managing to land directly in front of him, wincing at the sharp pain shooting through your legs on impact.
he halted, careful to not step on you.
"ouchh, i'm so sorry!" you apologized profusely before actually meeting the gaze of the man standing above you.
it was rin itoshi.
your soul almost left your body right then and there, scrambling to back up to your feet, dusting off your pants.
"i am such a big fan."
he had no clue on how to respond.
first of all, you'd just tripped directly in front of him, then blinded him with your face card, and now you were stood in front of him like a soldier, acting unfazed, mentioning being a fan?
"your arm's bleeding," he stated, barely reacting, too focused on your perfect features.
"no it's not," you denied, determined to not embarass yourself in front of him.
he scoffed, reaching in his bag to fish out anything to stop the bleeding.
"shit, i'm gonna be late!" you panic, turning back around, running in the opposite direction.
his gaze follows your sudden movement.
he'd never admit it, to himself, but he was dissapointed he barely a conversation out of you.
maybe he just wanted an excuse to stare at your perfect features longer.
was he the fan or were you?
nagi seishiro
nagi's sitting on a swing in a playground, feet planted on the ground firmly, absolutely locked in on a mobile game he was playing.
you were there with your little sibling, having been forced to take them to play.
you weren't keen on refusing and risking upsetting your parents, so you'd simply gone along.
you strolled over to the swings, sitting on one beside another kid as you watched your little sibling terrorize the other children around, screaming on the slides.
it wasn't long before you noticed it in fact wasn't a little child next to you on the swings but nagi seishiro.
you gasped upon realizing.
"oh my gosh, are you nagi?"
he looked up briefly to nod, only to instantly glue his eyes onto the vibrant screen once more.
"i'm such a big fan!" you'd squeal, excitement radiating off of you.
he paused his game, doing a double take.
you were absolutely breathtaking.
the gentle breeze tousled your hair, framing your face perfectly, making you look like an angel.
was he dead? had you come to take him away?
"hellooo?" you raised your voice, tilting your head to the side, trying to catch his attention.
his phone nearly slipped from his grip, noting the close proximity between him and the beautiful woman beside.
"hi." he sat up, cheeks dusting a rosy tint, aware you most probably noticed him admiring you (it just looked like he was glaring at you because he held the straightest face throughout)
he sat there, stiff as a rock, unsure of what to do.
should he try make conversation? would you think he's weird?
"oh, i've gotta get home, it's getting pretty late!" you spoke up, waving as you walked back over to your little sibling, holding their hand on the way out.
and just like that, he'd lost his only chance of talking to you.
he'd tried to pull his focus back down to his game, only to see the large "you lost!" text across his screen, almost as if taunting him.
he grumbled in annoyance.
sae itoshi
sae's just about done with a morning run, sweat coating his toned biceps peeking through the tank top he had on.
he was stopped at a traffic light, waiting for the light to illuminate green.
unexpectedly, he felt a tap on his shoulder, tilting his head to the side reluctantly, not having enough motivation in him to deal with someone this bright and early in the morning-
oh.
"hi, i'm a big fan of you!" you exclaim, a bashful smile spread across your lips.
and just like that, he had to double take.
he paused, fully, turning to really face you now.
the sunlight filtered through the trees above, the glow accentuating every gorgeous feature.
"oh- thank you." he replies, voice gruff, unable to keep his eyes off of you.
"can we take a photo together, pleaseee?" you beg, batting your lashes up at him.
normally, he would've declared a curt 'i'm busy' and walked off, but how could he right now?
"sure."
you snap a photo with him, giggling like a highschool girl who'd just seen their crush smile at them in the hallways.
"thank you so much!" you grinned, looking back on the photo, unable to believe the situation was real.
to be honest, neither could he.
well, he too, wanted a photo with you now.
michael kaiser
you met kaiser at a fan meet, every word he spoke to you dripping in ego, not bothering to look up from the little plushie of him you'd requested he sign. he couldn't refrain from letting out a snort at the sight of it.
however, when he finally did look your way to return it, he was convinced he was hallucinating.
you were absolutely beautiful.
the type of girl he'd see in a movie and dream about for a day or two afterwards.
you were standing before him, smiling gleefully, faint blush on the apples of your cheeks.
"i'm such a big fan, thank you!" his hand grazed yours unnecessarily on purpose, holding your fingers still between his for a moment.
he inspected the acrylics you'd adorned your nails with, paying close attention to you now.
"pretty nails for a pretty girl," he remarks boldly, observing the subtle tremor of your hands in his grip, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.
you didn't get time to react, being prompted to move along the line by security.
"kaiser, don't try that again, you're well aware it isn't allowed."
"i know, but she was cute," he snickered, marvelling in the sight of your flushed face as you walked away.
alexis ness
ness met you in a library.
both of you ended up reaching for the same book, fingers rubbing against eachothers.
his eyes meet yours to apologize and they proceed to widen before he can even begin to.
your beauty was captivating.
he looked you up and down, trying to play it cool and not act like a loser. "i'm sorry about that, you can have the book-"
"wait, i'm a big fan!"
"o-oh yeah, me too," he blurts, too focused on your entrancing smile.
"you too?" you repeat, giggling, an eyebrow raised.
and goodness, you looked impossibly prettier while smiling.
he mentally face-palms, a breathless laugh escaping him, forcing his smile wider.
he starts another sentence, attempting to shoot his shot. "h-hey, we should-"
you hear one of your friends call out for you, waving at ness, leaving him and the book behind all alone.
he clutches the book tight in his palm, dissapointed in himself. (he managed to find you on instagram like a week after that)
bunny iglesias
you were busy with your shift at a cafe at the time, being motioned over to take his order
your jaw nearly dropped upon seeing who you were serving.
but he was equally as surprised.
pleasantly surprised.
you were drop-dead gorgeous, the type of woman he'd spot on the cover of a vogue magazine.
"oh my gosh, i'm a really big fan," you burst out with a sound of unadulterated surprise, unable to believe your eyes.
he noticed your grip trembling on the pen you held, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.
"thank you, cariño," he grins, basking in the admiration in your eyes.
"why's such a pretty lady like you working here, hm?" he questions, attempting to make some kind of move on you.
before you could respond, a waiter called out for you, leaving you forced to comply.
you sighed softly, giving him a sudden wave off as you walked off to attend to seperate matters.
bunny never got the chance to see you again after that (leaving him bummed out for the rest of the day)
hugo vivian
you'd bumped into him on the street due to the tears blurring your vision.
he held you steady to prevent you tripping and falling as you stumbled backwards.
he was mildly stunned at the tears streaming down your face, then he found himself taken further aback at how stunning you were.
even with your lashes wet and your nose red, you were the most gorgeous woman he'd laid eyes on.
you realized who it was you'd ran into, mood shifting right away.
"w-wait-" sniffle "i-i'm a huge fan." your voice wavered, struggling to compose yourself.
"is that so?" he murmurs, too focused on how ethereal you look before him.
he reaches out, thumb wiping excess tears pooling around the edges of your puffy eyes.
you stifle a shriek as he does so, cheeks flushing beet-red.
he sees no problem in his actions; he's simply trying to cheer up a beautiful girl.
"i actually- have to go-" you blurt out, offering him a smile on your pretty lips before you rushed off.
at least he got to see you smile, but he hadn't gotten the chance to ask for your number.
what a bummer, he thought to himself. you were far more captivating compared to any of the blank books he'd ever skimmed through in his life time.
You are the only child of the king and queen about to marry for the sake of the kingdom and it's future. You don't know your fiance well, he hasn't gone that out of his way to have time with you but you assume that's because he's so busy with his own royal duties. Soon, you'll marry him and leave your kingdom to sit in a throne alongside his. Hours away. You'll surely mourn your home greatly but hey, what can you do given your standing.
It's the day of your wedding and you find yourself less than excited as you do your own finishing touches. Your dress is pristine, fluffy with plenty of ribbons and lace, your makeup perfect, you latch a necklace and tie off a bow and give yourself a twirl in the mirror. The servants have given you the final few moments to yourself. Something about settling your nerves. You look like a swan. Will your future husband think so too? Will he think you're pretty? Will he even like you?
With a deep breath you make your way out.
But you never reach the ceremonial hall. The last anyone recalls seeing you is your maids. After that it's as if you've vanished entirely from the face of the earth. There's not a thing out of place in your dressing room and the window is open.
Could you have run away? No, you would never do that. You never disobeyed or refused your duties. Yet, that's the conclusion the nobles come to as they have no way of knowing just what happened. That you were taken.
Taken by a monster. A creature living deep in the highest cave in the mountains has stolen you away for himself. He's always remained in the shadows, ever since the first time he saw you, since he first fell in love with your beauty and kind nature, watching you grown and change as a person. He followed you everywhere he could, learned everything possible, and felt his heart yearned for nothing but you. Perhaps one might call it obsession but he would call it love. A creature like him, so lost and alone, had found his mate.
When he heard of your engagement he was broken. Were you giving your heart to someone else? After he'd become so content with his becoming bewitched by you did you dare cast him aside to whither and rot. To lick his wounds alone until he died having lost the part of his soul he'd finally found in you? And then he saw your fiance. He followed the man anytime he couldn't watch over you and he learned enough to sicken him.
Your fiance was a cruel man, rude and unjust, everything opposite of you, everything that would ruin and break you. And of course you had no clue seeing as he often left you alone in the preparations. How could someone abandon you like that? How could he parade around the city while leaving you to deal with everything? He witnessed enough to know that if he didn't do something to rescue you, then he'd be forced to watch your kind spirit dissolve as it was corrupted. He couldn't stand for that. He had already been planning some way to keep you from marrying the man but seeing his true colors made his desire for you stronger.
And then he overheard the conversation with your parents about the distance and it became dire. You couldn't leave. Not to another kingdom where he couldn't follow as he was bound to the mountains of your home. This is when he made the decision. There was no doubt in what he had to do. He had to save you. He could treat you so much better than that... scum. An angel like you deserved to be treated like glass. Like the rarest treasure. As that's what you were.
He watches you prepare for your wedding in silence. He sees the way you fidget with your dress and adjust your hair. You look beyond perfect and yet you keep doing it as if you need fixed. He could ensure you knew just how flawless you appeared. You don't look happy. He watches your brow pinch, even from his distance and the glass between you he sees the glossing of your eyes as you take in a deep breath and your maids take their leave.
His chance comes when you open the window for fresh air. He can whisk you away from all of it and make you the happiest. You'll be scared at first, surely, but that fear would be worth it in the end. He jumps into action the moment you head toward the door. With his size and speed, you're quick to subdue and within moments he is rushing back to his home with his beloved securely in his arms.
He can hardly contain himself from the mere act of holding you. He'd never touched you, only ever imagined how soft and warm you would be the day he finally did. The imagination doesn't do the real thing justice. Your skin burns against his slightly chilled skin, your breathing so soft as you sleep against his chest, and he finds himself struggling not to lose composure. He must get you home first. To the place you'll both be safe.
His claws indent your dress almost as a reminder of how fragile you are.
You're fast asleep and yet not a single hair is out of place.
The moment he enters his home you stir lightly with a grumble and nuzzle into his chest. It seems his magic is already wearing off. He brings you to the bed he's prepared just for you. It's made of the softest moss and flowers, with twisting vines up the wall behind it that meet the many shimmering crystals against the ceiling. The light sparkles against your skin as he lays you back until your head rests against the soft petals. His hands squeeze gently at your torso for just one final feel before he intends to step away for the remaining magic to wear off. He cannot help but succumb to his greed in the moment.
The creature mumbles against your forehead as his lips brush it in a soft kiss, "my sweet angel."
Only when he leans back to admire your face does he find that your eyes are wide open. Only then does he feel the tremble in your body that he mistook as his own nerves. You've been awake since the moment he entered the cave and took to pretending. Those big eyes, confused and a bit frightened, stare into his own in a silent plea as the lights make them glimmer like precious jewels. He watches your lips wobble as they part and a shaky exhale slips through. You don't blink, you don't speak, you hardly even breathe.
You're so very intoxicating that it makes him ache inside.
You're afraid to do so much as break eye contact with the strange creature hovering over you. He isn't human, you can tell that much, while his form is similar to that of one it's clear. His long hair slips over his shoulder and drapes like a waterfall against your cheek. You twitch involuntarily at the feeling and blink.
He wonders if you'll scream. Will you fight? Will you try and run from his love? Will you deny this strange new world he's bringing you into? Will you resist his world?
You feel at first as though you wish to cry. You're unnerved beyond belief and yet as your eyes trail his form, taking in his appearance, and as they peek around the room you find yourself in, you find yourself brought to content. Curiosity can override the fear as easily as water forces oil away.
"Don't be frightened," the monster speaks softly.
His voice calms your racing pulse considerably. It sounds so very sincere. Not like a man, or monster, wishing to bring you harm. His eyes are somehow simultaneously unsettling and gentle as he monitors you for a reaction.
His hands are still resting on your waist, one of which he slips loose to draw towards your face but he stops just short of touching you. He visibly notices when your breath hitches as the bodice of your dress shifts with your chest abruptly. His claws are less than an inch away from your cheek and he can feel the heat radiating from you. It's like a drug that he wishes to engorge yet he holds himself as still as possible. He won't force anything upon you. He wouldn't dare.
"I know you."
It's the first words that slip beyond your lips and yet it holds so much weight. He knows exactly what you mean by that. You've felt the eyes on you, gotten the uneasy chills in the castle halls at night, you had spent your life convincing yourself that it was pure paranoia. And now, here before you, is that creature of the night.
The monster feels his heart lurch at the sound of your small voice. Even more so at the revelation that you, his perfect mate, the keeper of his heart, knew he was there all those years. If that wasn't a sign that it's written in the stars, he didn't know what was. It makes him almost giddy.
His tail can't help but sway languidly behind him and the sudden movement draws your eyes.
You have no clue quite when the fear left your body, only that one moment it was there and the next it was fully replaced with other emotions.
The creature flexed his hand next to your face and asked, "may I?"
Your eyebrows pinch in apprehension. It nearly makes him chuckle with how cute it is.
"Offer me your trust, my flower. I can promise to never harm you. Nor shall I lay my hands upon you without it being your desire."
"You took me," you say it less as an accusation and more like a fact.
He huffs at the words though he knows he cannot deny them.
"I..." he takes in your eyes before allowing his gaze to trail elsewhere, finding interest in the jewels laced throughout your hair, "I had to. I couldn't let you marry that vermin."
His face contorts in clear distaste as he speaks of your fiance, "He's a terrible man. He would never cherish you the way you deserve. I couldn't bare to watch you become his."
You know you should be scared. You should try to run. You should wish to return home. Yet, none of those even cross your mind as he talks. There's a clear difference in the way he berates your fiance and praises you. You've never heard someone speak of you in the way he is. Never so kind, never so genuine, never sounding so true that even you believe it.
"Your soul deserves to be protected from such scum," he says, "such an angel's wings would be clipped by his claws."
Funny, given this monster has claws of his own that are still sitting a mere brush away from the apple of your cheek. When he sits there professing his love to you it's as if those claws don't matter. His voice is calling to you so softly. It's tugging your heart through your chest to his own. Despite it being laced with magic that influences your body in ways you can't quite comprehend, there's nothing other than his love that's making your head fuzzy. It clouds from the amount of purity pouring from him.
For the first time since waking, you move more than your eyes and lips. Slowly, careful to not startle him, your hand raises to meet his own. Your fingertips just barely brush the cool skin of his wrist and his eyes snap to it so fast you worry it's harmed him. But he doesn't speak and his tail only stops in its tracks, tense and vigilant. His eagerness isn't hidden one bit. Your fingers wrap around his wrist gently, as if he's the one made of fragile flesh that can easily wound.
You're touching him.
You're touching him.
You're touching him.
His monstrous heart beats erratically behind his ribs. Can you hear, he wonders.
You bring his hand that little bit closer to your face to allow him what he most desires in the moment. His claws gently run over your skin without so much as a pinch until he flattens his hand to cup your cheek. You suck in a deep breath as your face flushes a pretty shade. His thumb runs over the apple of your cheek in pure admiration. You're so soft. With the blood rushing through them it's extra warm and he wishes to collapse against you and worship every inch of your body until the end of eternity.
He figures though, that for now this will do. If this is all you will allow he will be content.
Your hand trails up his forearm nearly to his elbow where it settles. The monster dares give in to the slightest greed, he will savor every ounce of touch you allow him. His hand shifts slightly, thumb swiping across your bottom lip until it reaches the other side of your jaw.
Oh your lips are so plush, how he desires to kiss them.
The sensation as his hand slides over your jaw and rests along your throat leaves you with stuttering breath and goosebumps prickle down your arms where he can see. Where he can admire what he's doing to you with a simple touch.
You're sure you should be frightened at how easily he could crush your throat or rip it open.
You aren't.
His hand moves so slowly, claws only brushing you enough to tickle, down your throat and over your exposed collarbone. Your wedding gown allows him the perfect view of your bare chest. He can't hide the smile as you shiver. Or the groan that rises in his throat from your whimper.
Yandere! Raven is literally a hoarder. His nest isn't just a bed, it’s a pile of shiny shit he’s swiped, broken watch gears, gold chains, expensive silks. But you’re the "crown jewel." he legit obsesses over how your white feathers look against his dark-ass room. He’ll spend hours just staring at you, thinking about how you’re the only thing in his hoard that’s actually alive.
He’s way too smart for his own good. He doesn’t have to lock the door because he’ll just gaslight you into staying. "Oh, the wind is too high for a dove today, you'll break a wing," or he’ll "lose" your favorite things just so you have to ask him for help. He loves it when you’re confused because it means you have to rely on his "big raven brain" to fix it.
His gift-giving is lowkey scary. He doesn’t bring you flowers; he brings you stuff that makes you stay. He’ll bring you the specific berries you like from three towns over just so you realize no one else is gonna cater to you like he does. It’s a total power move wrapped in "I was thinking of you" vibes.
Yandere!Raven is a freak about your "purity." Since you’re a dove, he thinks you’re this fragile, innocent thing that the world is gonna "stain." he won’t even let you see a dead bug. he wants your entire life to be filtered through him so you think the outside world is way more terrifying than it actually is.
The mimicry thing is the worst part. He can copy voices perfectly. You’ll be in the kitchen and hear your mom calling your name from the balcony, but when you run out there, it’s just him sitting on the railing with a smirk. "Did you hear something? must be the wind, little bird. Stay inside where it's safe."
If you actually try to fly away, he snaps. He’s faster and way more aggressive in the air. He’ll dive-bomb you or force you into a landing that’s a little too rough, just to scare you. Then, once you’re back in the nest crying, he’ll act all "sweet" and preen your feathers for hours, whispering about how you "almost got hurt" and he's the only one who can protect you.
He loves the aesthetic of you two together. he’ll make you sit in front of a mirror while he brushes your white wings with his black-taloned fingers. he’ll literally whisper about how you’d look so "dirty" out in the real world without him to keep you clean. it’s super unsettling how much he focuses on the "black and white" contrast of your bodies.
Yandere!Raven is already planning the "forever." he talks about moving you both to an even more isolated cliffside or a hidden tower where "no one can bother us." he’s not just your "protector," he’s building a cage that’s so pretty you almost forget you can’t leave.
Yandere!Brothers live across the street and are presently the greatest menace you’re dealing with. It’s a handful of siblings - five? six of them? - who've taken a liking to you and won't stop competing about who gets to ask you out.
"That looks heavy," the youngest one will say, noticing you taking out the trash. "Let me do it for you."
"As if (Y/N) would need your help," an older man chimes in, shoving the first one aside. "I'm stronger, it'll take me less time."
A third suitor appears, grabbing the other two by the scruff of their necks.
"If we're taking strength, I'm the one who has a better chance with (Y/N)."
Two of them interlock in a sumo grasp. The youngest attempts to run towards you, but a fourth sibling pulls him back into the wrestling match. By the time they tire themselves out, you're already getting ready for bed.
You glance out of the window and observe their house. You can still hear their shouts involving you. One thing is clear: they must have one hell of a mother to deal with so many rascals at once.
yandere! childhood friend who has known you since you were tiny - before you learned how to tie your shoes, before you made friends, before anything mattered. It was always you and him.
yandere! childhood friend who remembers almost everything about you. the way you cried when you scraped your knee, the way you giggled when you pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, and the promise you made under the sunset that you'd "always stay together."
you definitely forgot. but he didn't.
yandere! childhood friend who smiles big when you greet him after so long, acting like nothing changed - like you didn't start to drift away, like you didn't replace him with new friends, new people, new memories that didn't include... him.
he hated that.
and he hates them.
yandere! childhood friend who watches from afar when you chuckle with others, fingers digging into his shirt, smile tight but eyes dark. why are you laughing and chatting with them? your supposed to do that with him. not them.
yandere! childhood friend who forces himself back into your life like its the most natural thing ever. offering to walk you home, buying you snacks, sitting next to you like he never left. like he still belongs here.
of course he does.
right...?
yandere! childhood friend who brings up old memories all the time. "Remember when we said we'll marry each other and have kids?" he smiles softly. "You promised, remember?"
he's joking.
actually, he isn't.
yandere! childhood friend who gets silent when you mention other people too much. he ask harmless questions about them, which you happily reply, not knowing hes memorizing every single detail.
yandere! childhood friend who starts popping up too much. like near your classes, outside your house, and even at your favorite coffee shop.
"You're so easy to find." he jokes lightly.
yandere! childhood friend who begins to notice when you get startled by his presence. when your smile and laugh doesn't reach your eyes. that's not supposed to happen. you're supposed to feel happy with him. that hurts him, you know that? pretending like that.
why are you acting like hes the one who changed?
yandere! childhood friend who gently grasps your hand one day, a bit tighty, and smiles desperately.
"Remember when you said we'll stay together? Forever?" he whispers.
SYNOPSIS the blue lock boys reacting to this tweet you put out on your main accidentally
STARRING isagi, rin, shidou, sae, bunny x f!chubby!reader
tw : ed!!! mentions of starving, comfort and fluffff
a/n : so hahahahahhahaa imightbelowkenuinelydelvingintothedeepdarkwatersofeatingdisorders haahahahahahhahaa ijustwannabeheld hahahahaha
isagi yoichi
you wake up to 47 missed calls from isagi and your notifications exploding.
he's already at your door at 7 a.m., still in training sweats, hair messy from running over after morning practice.
he doesn't even say hi — just pulls you into a crushing hug the second you open the door.
"why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" his voice is muffled against your shoulder, shaking a little.
"i thought… i thought we talked about everything. that friend? she's just chigiri's sister. i didn't even notice— fuck, i'm so stupid."
you mumble apologies, embarrassed, but he pulls back, cups your face, eyes intense like he's on the pitch reading an opponent's move.
"no starving. no skipping. we're eating breakfast right now. together. and you're telling me every time your brain does this shit so i can shut it down."
he kisses your forehead hard.
"i love every part of you. every. part. don't you dare try to change for anyone — especially not some random comparison."
he spends the whole day glued to you: cooking, forcing bites, soft forehead kisses every time you hesitate.
by night he's tweeting a vague "my girl is perfect, don't test me!!!!" with a pic of your intertwined hands — just in case it was those chronically online fuckers who made you insecure.
itoshi rin
rin sees it during cooldown stretches. his phone buzzes once — he ignores it. then the group chat (isagi + teammates, in his mind) starts spamming screenshots.
he goes dead silent for three hours. you get a single text: "come to my place. now."
when you arrive he's on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it's offended him.
"you think starving fixes anything?" voice flat, but his jaw is clenched so tight you see the muscle jump.
you blink in confusion before your eyes widen. stupid twitter update changed the logout settings! you try to explain — accident, private vent, insecurity flare-up — but he cuts you off.
"delete the tweet." pause. "no — don't. let everyone see how stupid it is." he stands, towers over you, and you're pouting, before he unexpectedly pulls you against his chest.
his heartbeat is racing under your ear.
"i'm yours. i chose you. not her. not anyone skinnier, taller, shorter whatever. if you starve, you're hurting what's mine. don't do that again."
he doesn't say "i love you" — he never does it easily — but he doesn't let go for the rest of the night.
makes you sit on his lap while he reviews match footage, hand firm on your thigh like an anchor. later, in bed, he murmurs against your neck: "next time you feel like that, wake me up. i'll remind you who you belong to until you believe it."
shidou ryusei
shidou retweets it immediately with "LMaOOOO baby nOOO 😭🔥" and a string of crying-laughing emojis + fire.
then calls you screaming-laughing: "yo you juSt Exposed your ed arc oN main? anD my ASShole friends are quoting it with thirst traPs of stupId skinny models Cuz — m gonna kill em."
he's at your place in under 30 minutes, bursting in with takeout bags from three different places: burgers, ramen, ice cream, onigiri — chaos food.
"starve? over my dead body." he shoves a fry in your mouth before you can protest. "look at me — i'm built like a goddamn tank and i eat like one too. you think im not gonna miss the way your ass jiggles every time i hit it or what :( i want my girl thick OK."
he pulls you onto the couch, straddles your hips reverse-style so you're facing him, and force-feeds you bites while ranting
by the end of the night he's live-tweeting (on a burner) "my gf tried to starve bc of some stick figure — joke's on her, i'm feeding her back to thicc status AYAYAY 🍔💪" with pics of you mid-bite, looking mortified but smiling.
he doesn't let you skip a single meal after that. ever.
itoshi sae
sae doesn't tweet. doesn't call. doesn't text.
he just… shows up at your apartment at 2 a.m. (he has a key you gave him "just in case").
you're half-asleep when the bedroom light flicks on. he's standing there in his coat, expression blank but eyes sharp.
"get up." voice low. "kitchen."
you follow, confused. he starts pulling ingredients — rice, eggs, veggies — and cooks silently. perfect tamagoyaki, miso soup, grilled fish. places it all in front of you.
"eat."
you stare. "sae—"
"eat." firmer. "then explain why my girlfriend thinks disappearing is an option because of someone irrelevant."
you break down mid-bite — the accidental post, the insecurity, how you thought he wouldn't see. he listens without interrupting, arms crossed.
when you're done he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.
"you're an idiot." softens immediately after. "but you're my idiot." corny ahh mf
he reaches across, tucks hair behind your ear. "i don't care about skinny. i care about you being healthy enough to keep up with me. on the pitch, in bed, in life."
he stays the night. feeds you the last bites himself.
in the morning he posts one story (rare for him): a photo of two empty plates and your hand in his, captioned simply "her."
no explanation. fans lose their minds. message received.
bunny iglesias
bunny's chilling after training when his phone pings — a mutual follower dms the screenshot with "bro your girl ok??"
he reads it once. twice. then bolts upright.
next thing you know your door's banging. you open to bunny in full kit still, hair sweaty, eyes wide and frantic.
"¿que cojones es esto?" (what the fuck is this?)
he holds up his phone, so baffled that his voice keeps switching between spanish and english. "starve? tomorrow? over a friend? mi amor, no."
he's on you in seconds — picks you up bridal-style, carries you to the couch like you weigh nothing (he's 191cm of pure muscle after all!)
"no. no no no." he sets you down gently but doesn't let go, cradles your face. "you think you're not enough? for me? poor ol' me?"
he presses kisses all over your face — forehead, cheeks, nose, lips — rapid-fire.
he pulls out his phone, films a quick video (in spanish at first, switches to english): "escuchen, todos — my girlfriend is perfect. if you make her feel less, we have problems. gracias." posts it publicly. EMBARRASSING AHH MF
then spends the night cooking paella from scratch ("real food, not starving food"), feeding you bites, whispering in your ear how beautiful you are, how lucky he is.
by morning he's got you laughing again — and a promise
The man, as grown as he was, was unbelievably clingy.
The same way lint stuck to your clothes, Hugo's presence remained tethered to you — an unforgivable force of attraction stubborn against all odds.
He clung to you, from daylight to daybreak, without a moments rest. Requiring abnormal amounts of physical contact to 'physically function' or whatever bullfuckery he blabbered on about.
The athlete followed you everywhere. Like a little duckling running on instinct to chase after its mother, Hugo was attached to your hip and unwilling to let go.
It was much worse when nature called you in the middle of the night.
Hugo absolutely refused to let you leave his embrace when you needed to take an urgent piss.
Throwing his thigh possessively over yours, locking you in place with his arms tight around your waist, and nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a goddamn house cat.
The city could be consumed in flames, and still, Hugo was against detaching himself from you. Going as far as whining into your hair about feeling cold and lonely, anything to convince you to stay and cuddle with him just a little while longer.
But alas, your needs took priority over his pathetic wailing.
And yet, even then, Hugo was right behind you. Standing by the bathroom door, arms crossed, foot tapping restlessly against the floorboards and expression contorted with impatience as you took 'way too long' to do your business.
Seriously! How the hell were you supposed to take a shit or piss in peace when he chimed in every two seconds to hurry up?
And if that wasn't bad enough, away-nights without him might've single-handedly taken the cake for being even worse.
What was finally supposed to be your time to relax without a koala latched onto you became a pipe dream.
The difference in time zones, that was meant to act as a natural divider between the two of you, was of no help. If anything, it quickly became your biggest nemesis.
Because how the hell were you supposed to sleep at peace when Hugo blew your phone up with his incessant whining at the heinous hour of three in the morning?
One moment you would be trying to fall asleep, and the next, Hugo's calling to ask if you would hypothetically love him had he been born a worm.
No amount of reassurance from you could satisfy him either, none. Which then led to him demanding that you stay on call with him and listen to his endless rambles on whatever book he recently read.
It quickly put you to sleep. And surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Hugo would remain on call all night till you woke up. It was a rather endearing habit he had, making sure that he was the last thing you saw before sleeping and the first thing you saw upon awakening.
Well, it was.
Until he then pouts and whines about you falling asleep on him.
But nothing— absolutely nothing, came close to the utter disaster he was when he trailed a phantom step behind you in the kitchen.
Arms bound around you, hanging low down on your hips and chin tucked snugly into your shoulder as his movements synched with yours.
Hugo's intense desire to melt into your proximity was just out of hand. Especially when he slumped his weight down on you, hindering your mobility which led to the nasty burn on his arm.
"Hugo! What are you going to do when I'm no longer alive?!"
He stilled at your unsolicited comment, blinking slowly at the way you bit your lip with evident guilt and fretted over the scalding burn blemishing his arm.
It didn't even hurt, well, maybe just a little bit… nonetheless, it really wasn't a big deal. At least not to him.
But… to see concern weave effortlessly in your contorted expression as you muttered curses under your breath at his lack of care, his heart could only soar with unbridled warmth.
Hugo pulled you in again, as he always did. Your fury going unheard in his moment of glee. And then, biting back the small smile that threatened to leave him, he pressed his nose against your jugular.
"You can't die before me, okay?"
Your heart rate hiccuped beneath his breathy whisper, a chain of goosebumps growing from the area of ghostly contact.
"You— you," you stumbled on your words as he pressed a chaste kiss above the skin now marred with your fluster.
"You stupid man!"
And in spite of your many scolding, in spite of it all, Hugo was a persistent stain that refused to budge under your whims. After all, he simply couldn't get enough of it— of you.
clingy hugo who loves your personal space… lwk this feels so basic 😭
@allieluvsh hope you did well on your exams! here's your reward nephew!
you and kaiser had been at it for what felt like hours now, making out on the couch like you were trying to eat eachother’s mouths off.
kaiser pulled away first, gazing into your eyes, “need you.” he whispered, barely giving you time to react before he began to tug the waistband of your sweats down.
but as soon as he did, there it was. your spongebob lucky drawls.
kaiser’s jaw fell open in a silent ‘o’ but nothing came out, he was just staring in shock.
“what the fuck?” he cursed, half-confused and half-offended. “no way you still wear this.” he gazed into spongebob’s stupid eyes painted on your crotch, scoffing.
“what? it’s spongebob. it’s tuff.” you bit back a giggle, kaiser felt offended how fucking spongebob was closer to your body than him.
he pulled your sweatpants back up before clearing his throat and getting up.
“i’m not having sex with spongebob.”
a/n: this is the smallest thing ive ever wrote pllsss 💔
2025-2026 — @reositos ★ don’t copy/modify/translate/repost to other sites. also don’t feed my work to ai.
just attached the draft for the criminal procedure essay like you asked—reworked the section on miranda rights based on your feedback from last office hours. let me know if it still needs more case citations or if i’m overcomplicating the exclusionary rule again
thanks for staying late to look it over again, you’re saving my gpa here!
tuesday lecture comes and you get there early this time. you sit in back row, legs crossed tight. he walks in five minutes before start wearing his usual black suit, sleeves already rolled. briefcase hits the podium hard. he doesn’t bother looking around before he starts.
“entrapment. page 231. we’re covering it today.”
he paces. voice low and tired like always. “entrapment defense requires government inducement that would cause a normally law-abiding person to commit the crime. it’s not just opportunity. it’s active persuasion, pressure, temptation that overrides free will.”
he stops, leaning on the podium. eyes scan the room slow looking at your section longer than others.
“consider seduction as a tactic. undercover officer poses as a romantic interest. they builds trust, uses flirtation, compliments, physical proximity, promises of intimacy. the target eventually agrees to sell drugs or whatever the crime is because the seduction makes refusal feel impossible. courts have ruled both ways. some say it’s legitimate police work. others say when it crosses into sexual manipulation it becomes entrapment per se.”
he keeps going, he describes cases. like how a female officer in a bar is wearing a low-cut dress touching the suspect’s arm. whispering how much she wants him. leading him to the deal. male officer doing the same to a female suspect. lingering looks, suggestive comments. “let me take care of you.” he lists factors courts weigh: intensity of the advances. repetition. whether the target initiated or resisted. how long the seduction lasted before the crime occurred.
the whole lecture his tone stays flat. no glances your way. he talks about “arousal as leverage” like it’s just another legal element. “when sexual desire is weaponized to lower inhibitions, the line between persuasion and coercion blurs. but the test remains objective: would the average person succumb?”
you feel his stare when he asks the question like he’s personally talking to you.
added the entrapment cases you referenced in lecture. focused on the seduction hypotheticals and court splits. let me know if the analysis is on track.
[your name]
(attachment: Entrapment_Analysis_Revised.pdf)
again, no reply.
thursday you spot him at the faculty coffee stand outside the law building. the line’s short and he’s in front. pays with exact change as he takes his black coffee. when he turns, your eyes meet. you’re three feet away. he pauses and looks straight through you. he doesn't bother acknowledging you, then he steps around you, walking away.
your hands shake holding your own cup.
friday night comes and you promise yourself that this will be your last attempt.
subject: entrapment follow-up questions – example attached
had a couple questions on the objective test for seduction-based entrapment. attached a quick example i wrote up to clarify my thinking. appreciate any notes.
thanks,
[your name]
(attachment: Seduction_Entrapment_Example.docx.)
saturday morning your inbox lights up.
subject: re: entrapment follow-up questions – example attached
you arrive at his office door at exactly 5:30 pm on monday, heart pounding like it's about to burst out of your chest. the law building is mostly empty this late–classes wrapped up hours ago, and the few lingering students are buried in the library or grabbing takeout from the food trucks outside. his door is cracked open, a sliver of warm lamplight spilling into the dim hallway. you knock lightly, his voice cuts through immediately.
"come in."
you push the door open, stepping inside. the office is what you'd expect from your professor.
stacks of case files on the desk, bookshelves crammed with legal tomes, a single window overlooking the campus quad. he's seated behind his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like always, exposing those forearms you've caught yourself staring at during lectures more times than you'd admit. his eyes flick up from a pile of papers, dark and unreadable, pinning you in place.
"close the door," he says, it’s not a request too. when you do, the click of the latch echoing too loudly in the quiet room. "lock it."
your fingers fumble on the knob, but you manage. when you turn back, he's already standing, rounding the desk with slow steps. he doesn't say anything at first, just leans against the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you. the silence stretches, it was awkward until you can't take it anymore.
"professor, i—about the attachments, they were accidents. i swear, i meant to send the essays, but my files got mixed up, and—"
"accidents," he repeats, he uncrosses his arms, picking up a folder from his desk—your emails printed out, you realize with a flush of heat to your face. he flips through them casually, as if reviewing a student's brief. "three times in one week. each one more... explicit than the last."
your cheeks burn. the first had been a simple nude, you in front of your mirror, lace panties and nothing else, snapped for your own confidence boost after a rough day. the second? you'd been bolder, sprawled on your bed, hand between your thighs, capturing the arch of your back. and the third... god, the third had been you on all fours, ass up, looking over your shoulder with a smirk that screamed invitation. you'd meant them for a situationship that fizzled out, but in your late-night haze of studying and scrolling, you'd attached the wrong files. or had you? the thought nags at you now, but you push it down.
"i didn't mean for you to see them," you whisper. his gaze drops to your lips, then lower, tracing the way your blouse clings to your curves under your cardigan, the skirt that's maybe an inch too short for a professional setting like this.
he sets the folder down, stepping closer. close enough that you can smell his cologne–too strong for your liking. "and yet, here we are." his hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up so you're forced to meet his eyes. they're darker now, pupils blown wide. "you didn't delete them. didn't send a frantic follow-up apologizing. just kept sending more."
before you can stammer another excuse, his thumb presses against your lower lip, parting it slightly. "on your knees."
you drop without thinking, carpet rough against your bare knees. he doesn't rush when unbuckles his belt, zipper dragged down loud in the quiet office. when he frees himself he's already hard, thick in his hand as he jerks himself watching your face the whole time.
"open."
he guides the head past your lips, you taste him as he slides deeper, filling your mouth inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. your eyes water instantly. he groans low, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other braced on the desk behind him.
"that's it," he mutters. "take it."
he starts to move slowly letting you adjust, then faster. shallow thrusts turn deeper, until he's fucking your throat in earnest. you gag around him, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin, but he doesn't stop. his grip tightens in your hair, holding you steady as he uses your mouth like it's his to take. every time you choke he pauses just long enough for you to breathe through your nose, then pushes back in, deeper, until your nose brushes his pelvis.
"look at me," he orders when your eyes flutter shut.
you force them open. his expression is almost detached but the way his hips continuously move faster betrays him. he's close. you can feel it in the way he twitches against your tongue, the way his breathing turns ragged. one more deep thrust and he holds himself there, releasing down your throat without a warning. you swallow reflexively, choking a little, but he doesn't pull out until he's finished, until you've taken every drop.
when he finally pulls out, a string of spit connects your swollen lips to the tip. he tucks himself away, zips up then he scoops you up by the waist like you weigh nothing. your legs dangle for a second before he sets you on the edge of his desk, papers crinkling under you. he pushes your thighs apart with his knee, settling between them, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place.
"touch yourself," he says quietly.
he wants you to what…?
heat floods your face anew. "w-what? here? that's... embarrassing."
his lips twitch into something almost like a smirk, he leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. "you weren't embarrassed when you sent those nudes. all sprawled out, hand between your legs, begging for attention." his fingers trail up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher, but stopping just short. "show me now or was that all an act?"
shame and desire twist in your gut, but your hand moves anyway, slipping under the lace of your panties. you're soaked already—from the way he used your mouth.. fingers glide over your clit, circling slow at first, and a soft whimper escapes you. he watches, unblinking, one hand still on your thigh.
you pick up speed, hips rocking into your touch, breaths coming faster. but it's not enough—his stare is too intense like he's analyzing you. "please," you whisper, free hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist, pinning it to the desk.
"no. keep going." his voice is low, commanding. "let me see you fall apart like in that second photo, that was my favorite one you know.”
your fingers start dipping lower, thrusting shallowly. the edge in you builds but just as you're teetering, he pulls your hand away. you whine in protest, but he silences you with a look.
"not yet." he drops to his knees then, surprising you, hands shoving your thighs wider. he drags your panties aside, not bothering to remove them, and leans in. his breath ghosts over you first, making you clench around nothing. then his mouth is on you—tongue warm and broad, licking a slow stripe from entrance to clit.
you gasp, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. he groans against you, he eats you out like he's starving. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as you squirm, the desk creaking under your shifting weight.
"hiromi—fuck," you moan, head falling back. he sucks your clit between his lips. one hand leaves your thigh, two fingers sliding inside you easily, curling to hit that spot that makes your vision blur. he pumps them in time with his tongue, building you back to the edge faster than before.
it crashes over you without warning, thighs clamping around his head as you come undone, crying out his name. he doesn't stop, lapping through it until you're oversensitive and shaking, pushing weakly at his shoulders.
only then does he pull back, lips shiny, eyes filled with satisfaction. he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then reaches between your legs again. he tugs your panties down your thighs, you lift your hips to help. he balls them in his fist, slips them into his pocket like a trophy.
"that's enough," he says stepping back.
you blink, still dazed, legs dangling off the desk. "what?"
"go home."
"but—" you start, voice small and wrecked, glancing down at the obvious bulge in his slacks. "you didn't—i want to—"
"i will." he steps closer one last time, brushes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "when i decide. you'll get an email when i want you back here.”
he leans in, lips brushing your ear. "and next time, wear something easier to take off."
he steps back, opens a drawer, pulls out a tissue packet and sets it on the desk beside you. then he sits again, picks up a pen, and starts marking papers like you aren't still perched there, dripping because of him.
you slide off the desk on unsteady legs, fix your skirt, wipe your face. he doesn't look up as you unlock the door and slip out into the hallway.
you still haven't processed what happened but you know you’re going to check your inbox obsessively from now on.
yandere gamer, who wakes up as the main character in the world of his favourite video game.
yandere gamer, who instead of following the plot, runs straight to the tyrant’s palace with nothing but the shitty starter equipment and the ragged clothes on his back.
yandere gamer, who begs you, the final boss, to take him in as a servant.
“please, i’ll do anything you want,” he pleads, staring up at you pathetically, kneeling at the foot of the dais where you lounge on your throne. “you don't even have to pay me, i just — i just need someplace to stay.”
he just needs to be with you.
you let out a loud, disbelieving scoff, turning to your chief advisor with an amused look. “are you sure this man — the one grovelling at my feet — is the very same man destined to kill me?”
“yes, your majesty,” the advisor replies easily. “i’ve already checked. he has the hero’s mark.”
humming thoughtfully, you sweep your gaze over his body. he shivers.
you notice.
a wicked, wicked smile stretches across your face, and the sheer brilliance of it captivates him wholly.
“tell me, hero,” you purr, “do you believe in prophecy?”
“i don’t,” he says quickly, desperately. “i really don’t — i didn’t even know magic was real until i —”
he’s silenced when you pull out a dagger from underneath your coat. you twirl it in your hand, tossing it up into the air and catching it gracefully. it glints in the light as you unsheath it, and he realises the handle is encrusted with jewels.
“a beauty, isn’t she?” you say, running your finger along the edge of the blade. “i could stab myself a thousand times over and still not shed a single drop of blood. but if it’s you...”
standing, you descend the steps until his face is mere inches away from your shoes. you are so close he can smell the scent of your cologne, so close he can see each individual gemstone woven into your clothes. if he only just reached out, he could touch —
you grab his hand roughly, wrapping his fingers around your dagger. he barely has the chance to react before you're yanking his arm, the dagger slashing you right across your cheek.
he jerks back out of pure instinct. stumbling to the ground, the dagger clattering to the floor.
you just — he just —
“your majesty!” your advisor cries.
his voice shakes. “why did you — your cheek —”
a droplet of scarlet red blood rolls down your face, dripping from the edge of your chin. there's a manic gleam in your eyes, and a satisfied grin on your face.
“you may not believe in prophecy, hero, but it is very, very real.”
body still trembling, he can only stare.
you're absolutely insane.
he loves it.
he loves you.
he can still feel the phantom warmth on his arm where your touch had been, and the tickle of the fur on your coat as it had brushed against him. he curses himself for not reacting sooner. you were right in front of him and he had done nothing —
you twirl on your heel, returning to your throne. your advisor uses a handkerchief to dab away the blood that stains your face, and envy takes the reigns in his mind. he clenches his fists tight.
that advisor is your most loyal servant, and the only person you trust in the entire world. he fights for you, a precursor battle before the climax, protecting you with his life.
yandere gamer always took pleasure in ripping him to shreds.
he regrets not being able to do that anymore. not if he wants to get into your good graces. but perhaps in the future...
“i suppose it would be a good idea to keep you alive,” you muse, largely to yourself. “it’ll be a hassle if the next hero is actually competent.”
he perks up ecstatically, completely disregarding your indirect insult. “thank you! thank you so much, i promise i won’t let you down.”
“hmm,” is all you reply with. you beckon him forward. “come here. i want to see your face.”
eagerly, he approaches the throne, only to yelp as you grab him, pulling him closer as if he weighed nothing. your hand comes to grasp his chin, your nails digging into his skin.
his mind goes blank.
you’re touching him. he’s sitting on your lap. your clothes are soft. your flesh is warm. he can smell you. he’s touching you. you’re real and you exist and you’re looking at him like he means something to —
“relax,” you murmur.
at your command, his body goes slack.
he sits there pliantly, nice and still for you as you inspect him as if he were nothing but an object to be had. you lean in even closer. your breath fans against his cheek.
he jolts, flushing a crimson red.
“tell me. why would a human want to serve a demon?”
your voice goes directly into his ear.
his brain shortcircuits.
“i — uhm — you —”
his lips part, but the words get stuck in his throat. millions of answers bubble up to the surface at once, but the one that comes out is —
“— i love you...!”
your brows draw.
he wants to shrivel up and die.
and then, you throw your head back and laugh. it bounces off the walls, echoing loud in his ears.
he’s starstruck. he’s never heard you laugh before. he knows all your lines by heart, like scripture etched into his soul. you’ve chuckled and scoffed and just about everything in between, but he’s never heard you truly laugh.
it’s... beautiful.
again. he wants to hear it again. he could drown in that sound and he would have no regrets. he —
“that means you’ll enjoy this, won’t you?”
you kiss him.
the noise that comes out of his mouth next can only be described as unholy. all rational thought is thrown to the winds. he melts into you, keening into your body, hands clutching onto your clothes.
you have a hand on his jaw, the other on his nape. you don’t so much as kiss him as devour him whole. you are a demon who consumes souls, and willingly, deliriously, he submits.
the world spins, his vision blurs. he knows nothing else but you. your scent. your taste. the thrum of your heart against his own.
more. he wants more. needs more.
he lets out a broken whine when you break apart, and he’s left panting, gasping for air with lungs that have forgotten how to breathe.
“[name], hah, i — ngh?!”
your eyes glow. your hands sear. magic wraps itself around his neck, squeezing and pulsing before settling solidly as a bejewelled collar.
gently, you ghost your fingers over his new accessory, brushing against his skin as you do.
he shudders.
you grin. it is not a kind one.
“the pact is complete, hero,” you drawl liltingly, half-lidded eyes glimmering with a sick sort of relish. “with this, you have forsaken your destiny. no god will watch over you now.”
he doesn’t need a god.
all he needs is you.
your thumb comes to wipe the saliva off of his bruised lips, with a gentleness that contrasts your tone completely. “the collar is imbued with my magic. one wrong move — one wrong thought, and you’ll be reduced to nothing but a husk of a human being.”
he nods, dazed, your words barely even registering in his head. he brings his fingers to graze the collar carefully, reverently. it’s cool to the touch, and almost weightless.
it’s embroidered with the crest of the imperial family, effectively marking him as yours.
if this is a dream, he prays he never wakes up.
“hu feng, arrange a room for the hero, and get him some new clothes as well,” you order. “i refuse to have a servant dressed like a peasant.”
the advisor dips his head. “yes, your majesty.”
he startles, whipping around to look at the man he had forgotten about entirely. the advisor doesn’t even spare him a passing glance, as if he is someone hardly worth noticing. he should feel offended, but all that he truly feels in the moment is a smug, smug glee.
he is the one in your lap, in your arms. he is the one who’s bound his soul to yours. and... he is the one who will win your affection in the end.
Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.
Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.
Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?
Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.
At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.
Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.
Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.
Спасибо
Thank you.
You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.
Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.
Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.
Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.
Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.
Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.
Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.
Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.
Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?
Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.
You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.
"I should be out there with them."
Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.
"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"
You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.
Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.
Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.
Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.
Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.
Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.
Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.
And he does, for the most part.
Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.
"I love you..."
Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.
Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.
Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.
Your neighbour is a single dad, a dragon hybrid but still, a single dad with a very chunky, giggly baby.
Standing in the elevator having a staring contest with the little plump baby is not how you'd planned to spend your evening, the little girl is sweet, cooing, gurgling, and giggling as she kicks her feet and swings her tail around, little horns sticking out from the mess of ginger hair already growing in on her head. Yet, here you are, pulling silly faces at her as her dad leans against the elevator wall, eyes closed slightly as the long ride up to your floor continues.
One little crawled hand reaches for you, ash grey scales cover her arms to about the elbow, holding a hand out she grabs your fingers tightly, laughing and shaking your arm as her dad finally opens his eyes. Looking between his smiling daughter and her death grip on your fingers, huffing a laugh as she reaches out to grab at her dad's arm, bumbling her baby way into getting the two of your to be hand in hand, clapping and babbling before slumping against her dad chest.
The warmth of her dad's chest seems to lull her back into a docile sleep, eyes slipping closed as you awkwardly hold hands with her dad. Pulling away as the elevator comes to a stop, stepping out and heading towards your door, only getting stopped when the sound of the very little baby dragon starts up, she's on the floor crawling towards you, determination set on her face even as she cries.
Her dad follows behind her, scooping her up and apologising as he tries to soothe the little girl, she's reaching for your hand again.
Apparently the fact that she opened her little eyes and you were still holding her dad's hand like she had made you wasn't good, in fact it was the end of the world. Awkwardly you take her dad's hand and watch as she stops crying, sniffling slightly before laughing at you. It seems for the time being you will just have to hold her dad's hand, hopefully whatever plans he had for the evening can accommodate an extra person.
Imagine you’re out on a Saturday night working, coming back from a botched pizza delivery where they skimped you on the tip when Yandere!Mafia Boss mistakes you for their new hire hacker and drags you inside HQ.
You’re a lil bit confused but one look at the coffee table filled with weapons displayed like they’re decorative center pieces and you figure maybe it’s best not to say anything.
Except suddenly they’re plopping you down in a chair and saying something about a test run to try out your skills. That’s when you finally break and calmly suggest that maybe they have the wrong person.
But Yan!Mafia Boss doesn’t even hear you as he stares at you with hearts in his eyes, letting out an empty laugh like you’d just told the most hilarious joke. From the moment he saw you idly standing by outside he knew you were the one, you had to be. His gut was never wrong.
So you really didn’t have much of a choice. They said something about hacking into a police station to free some of their guys but next thing you knew the computer was blaring loud, flashing red, and tell you your signal was being traced.
Yan!Mafia Boss didn’t seem as bothered by it as you were, simply asking what could’ve gone wrong.
“Sir, I just work at a Dominos,” you reply.
Yan!Mafia Boss throws his head back, releasing a hearty string of laughter. He claps you on the back so hard you jerk forward and sputter over your pleas for release.
“That's brilliant! Make sure to stick to that story when the police arrive,” he says through his laughter, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world now that he’s got you on his team.
Thinking about being Shinichiros Valentine and him giving you a chocolate heart box but when you open it, its just filled with empty wrappers because Mikey got to it first.
Nerd!Nanami who goes up to all his professors and begs and BEGS that if they ever end up partnering students in class- to kindly set him up with you. And they Iove their star student, of course they’re going to agree. Nerd!Nanami who blushes n’ fidgets with you the entire time that he’s seated next to you—while you’re just speechless and wondering whether you should start the project yourself. He does most of the work, of course (he insists, he just asks you to…sit in front of him so that he can stare at you the entire time). Nerd!Nanami who you find isn’t really stoic at all, like his reputation says- he blushes, he stutters, he vibrates with excitement the entire time he’s with you. The only thing is that you’ll have to be the one to ask him out because he might be good at a lot of things- but talking to you isn’t one (he faints once you ask him out).
you and isagi have been friends since childhood when you ran into him at the playground once when you were both just tiny toddlers, since then you guys have been glued to the hip and nothing, absolutely nothing could separate you two.
you come to his matches to watch him play. he comes to your rehearsals. you come over to his house for dinner alot (and his parents LOVE having you over) and he comes over to yours.
you guys also go out for late night convenience store runs where he pays (like the gentleman he is.)
he loves you, and you love him. though there is no denying the spark between you and him, crackling like a firework on the cusp of bursting.
today was no different than the other days, it was a hot summer afternoon with the sun directly overhead, you were sitting on the bleachers nursing a popsicle while watching isagi play on the pitch.
you liked watching him play, in his element. you could tell he had genuine love for the sport, and well, of course, you liked looking at his body but that’s different.
after the game, isagi ran over to you all sweaty and flushed. his jersey was dirt-stained, hair tousled and face mud-streaked yet he still looked nonetheless handsome.
“how was i down there?” he panted, grinning ear to ear. “awesome.” you fished a water bottle from your bag, handing it to isagi. he gladly took it and popped it open, taking large gulps.
you took a moment to just..take him in. the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp, the way his jersey clung to every ridge and cut of his abs. the way his hair was tousled so pretty, the flush on his face and the beads of sweat still dripping down his forehead and cheeks.
isagi downed the whole bottle in a matter of seconds. he crushed it with one fist, the veins of his wrist and hand popping just so. “thanks.” he smiled all boyish and warm, it made your heart flutter in your chest.
he gripped the hem of his jersey, lifting it up to wipe the sweat on his face and in turn flashing you with his smoldering abs. you were a victim, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his stomach and chest.
“you done ogling me so i can cover up again?” isagi’s voice broke you out of your reverie. your cheeks heated up like a furnace and you turned away a whole 180 degree and began speed walking away.
“hey wait!” isagi chased after you, but you were somehow faster than him despite him being an athlete. “leave me alone!” you call out, now almost sprinting.
“no!”
2025-2026 — @reositos ★ don’t copy/modify/translate/repost to other sites. also don’t feed my work to ai.
