A look into yandere! Kanato's head...
Something like a story-ish scenario/analysis thingy in which I attempted to get into Kanato's point of view and describe a manipulation strategy he uses to get himself an obedient blood blag lover. I thought about you Kanato's-POV-story-anon while I wrote this. Will absolutely write more true stories in the style I use for my fanfic. This is something like a warm up for that. I wanted to see how good I understand Kanato's reasoning by now. And I tried to format it into something of an unspecific story arc. This is not what he does to Yui. That is because I have neither interest to tell the same story twice nor do I think that he would behave the same no matter the circumstances. How boring would that be? If I can come up with this stuff in one evening he better be able to do that too in a few centuries. Being boring is the only unforgivable crime here in storyland. So what happens if he doesn't get a bride handed that he didn't ask for but has to go on the hunt himself? What if he chooses you? One possibility I outline here.
CW: NSFW, 18+, descriptions of severe manipulation, emotional and physical abuse, gaslighting, physical violence, gore, explicit sexual content, bondage, and dubcon that can very well also be read as noncon. Beware. This is yandere Kanato. Okay? Be safe. Life goes on if you skip this post.
Kanato is a cruel sadist and he wants a fitting counterpart. Conditioning you to get off on pain alone is one of his favorite pastimes. The only thing even mlre important to him is that you are unable to leave. Emotionally, physically, however. You can never leave him once you are his. And he uses a multidimensional strategy to achieve that.
In the very beginning there is a tsuntsun getting to know each other-phase in which he pokes your ego with fun little degradations such as insults to your intellect, elegance and beauty as well as typical bullying like tripping you, shifting blame on you and pointing out your failures to others to humiliate you.
Soon you begin to seriously question your life choices and why the fuck you ever showed the slightest interest in him. Alternatively you are a poor sad fucking clown like papuru and get aroused.
Doesn't matter though. He wants to see pretty tears and he will find a thing you definetly do not like and do exactly that to you. Why? It makes him hard, that's why. Also he wants to make sure further investments will lead to returns. Can you love him despite getting his worst side? Do you actually get wet/hard from it as well? You poor sad fucking clown. The next step in his plan will seriously melt your brain.
You survived his mental torture games. A simple taste of his worst. You can handle a brick being threatened to be smacked into your face, great. But can you handle rotting from within from the sweetness he assaults you with next? That's right. To really fuck with your brain he will turn the game back on its head.
Manipulation time! You've proven your worth so far, you are resiliant and might turn out to become a toy that lasts a while. So instead of giving in to his base urge to snap your neck and swallow you whole at the first tender tear of delicious pathetic vulnerable weakness, he will ignore his pulsing hard on to lean forward and close you in a tight embrace.
Is this real? He was so cruel to you, why the compassion now? Of course it's not real you stupid idiot. It's just a manipulating gesture to exploit your vulnerable state and provide fake aftercare for a fake BDSM scene. What he did was abusing you, you didn't ask nor want to be treated like shit. But by closing his arms around you, petting your hair and gently running his fingers over your scalp he uses your raw state to once again violate your boundaries.
He has no right to touch you like that. In the beginning, before he began targeting you, you wished so much for this. But now after he hurt you so much, there is no sane way you still would allow that. And that is the point. He does it anyway and grooms you for future manipulation. So he showers you with sweetness. Gives you everything you dreamed of when you sneakily watched him in class.
A honeysweet chaste kiss to your cheek while he puts a strand of hair behind your ear. Another kiss, this time to your temple. Cold hands cupping your face and a low voice asking you politely to look him in the eyes so he can apologize. And when you can't, too ashamed and embarrassed, just going stiff and crying with fists balled in your lap, too afraid to move because you want to touch him so much but cannot bring yourself to. Because what if he lies to make fun of you even more and shatter you for good? But the alternative is just as scary. What if he is honest? What if he offers you... a genuine piece of him that you longed for so much? What would admitting you still somewhere deep down inside want this... Him? What would that say about you?
He's laughing inside, drooling all over himself while he watches all of these thoughts fighting a battle on your face before you finally look him in the eye. Coaxed by his hand painting silly patterns on your arm, then shoulder, then neck and finally lips while you half lean on him and half try to lean away. He coos to you that all is well. You are doing so fine, just let yourself go and relax, you earned it.
Earned? You faintly ask yourself. Was there ever an agreement for any of this? No of course not. He just plants that seed of fake equality in your mind. You are supposed to start believing you secretly agreed to be treated like dirt. That you asked for it and he so kindly indulged you. That enduring his assault was a game you had power in. But it's all a lie. You were attacked against your will. And his eyes roll back in his mind at this, he pants and claws at his chest to free himself of these way too tight clothes, he's so hot all over. So aroused by himself having power over you from doing barely anything at all. A hug and some sweetly murmured nothings is all it took for you to question yourself. You are already tripping before him. But he doesn't want you to fall yet. Because once you eventually do he wants nothing more than you to keep down on your knees willingly and beg him for further pain.
You're not there yet by a long shot. So he goes all in. If he kissed you now he could probably have you. He could fuck you right now and you wouldn't resist until the very end when his hands close around your neck to choke you relentlessly until you fade below him and your hole twitches tighter from your death throes. But what poor fun would that be?
If there is so much more to have by simply biting back his moans for now and removing his hands. Standing slowly and apologizing with a slight bow in the most polite manner. This creature of pride bows its head to you. But he's not presenting his neck to be slain. He's luring you close in your idiotic illusion that he is honestly submitting. And he makes that sacrifice just to get the chance to snap his fangs at you to tear you apart. He could do that anyway though. But there is more to it: the goal is to achieve getting you to a point at which you would beg for it.
What sweet submission lies in prey begging to be destroyed when the one they crawl before could very well gift them eternity? Throwing it all away, not only life but the chance of even more. For him! That is what he yearns for. To be wanted so badly, so desperately that you would do absolutely anything he tells you, endure anything he demands and the thought of letting your gaze wander would never occur to you.
So he retreats and lets you think for a while. You won't see him for days. Just those bittersweet memories replaying in your head. The feeling of his fingers on your hair and skin. Especially the way how unafraid he was to touch you so intimately. Like a lover he cradled you close, like a boyfriend soothing you after a stressful day. And just like that you trauma bond with your abuser in your muddy memories.
He looked so sad to see you in tears. For a second you held your breath, it looked like he prepared himself to kiss you!! Can you believe it?? So the presence you dreaded just a day before has irrevocably become your waking dream and nightmare in one. You sit in class and wonder: Just where is he? You walk home, you take a bath, you eat and crawl to bed and all the time it's just him reaching for your hand to hold you while you walk, press a kiss to your forehead while you soak in the tub, feed you a spoon of pudding for dessert, fucking you balls deep and whispering insults into your ear while he defiles you in your bed. All of your thoughts are invaded by him. And you begin to hate yourself. Contrary to his words you are no idiot. You feel that this is wrong.
And he knows it.
Next time you meet it will be when your daydreams began to fade a bit. Dwelling on things would have only hurt you and you can only fap so much on vague memory before you ban the clown back into its filthy den. Life has to go on. Getting over it is so hard. Especially when your opponent is a centuries old creature who's only goal and purpose in life is to seduce and kill.
*Bump*. Hm? You walked into something. Oh no, now your damn homework essay scattered all to the ground. Can you believe it? At some point you got so desperate for a mental break you actually started working on assignments.
And he knows that. He saw you in the library. He watched you through the shelves and trailed behind you soundlessly to monitor every flick of your hair, grasp of your hand and peek of your panties when you carelessly stretched to grab a book on the top shelf, not caring about your skirt riding up, thinking yourself utterly alone.
You damn idiot. He placed the book up there, he was the one giving you the idea for your essay in the first place. Just a few books and magazines strategically placed so you would see them and get an idea. And it was so easy to find out what would catch your interest. You like him and he studies himself well. He is perfectly aware what kind of people notice him. And which are the ones susceptible for being noticed in turn.
It also helps you only use like 3 different passwords for all of your social media accounts. And they are all so very easy to guess... human minds are so predictable after all. No matter how many centuries pass... ideas only get recycled. Lives repeat, faces get reborn.
He knows you so well already. And that's why he knows you will blush when he kneels to collect your scattered essay. How you will finger your skirt's hem shyly when he apologizes once more and insits to do so again and this time fully, in a way that actually makes things well between you again.
Will you go on a date with me? He asks.
What a question.
You cum hard to the thought of him again that night. And when you meet for milkshakes in the cat cafe he makes sure you get the super secret special that isn't even on the menu. And that you willfully ignore the cats because you are busy holding your sweaty palm as still as possible in his so that he won't break your touch.
He grants you a week of gentle kisses and a taste of lust when he strategically lets a high pitched moan slip each time you dare to get a bit bold. In the beginning he is the one that always initiates each gesture of initimacy. He takes your hand, he nuzzles against your neck and smiles against your skin after a sniff of your hidden warm blood underneath. Each time you say his name he places a gentle kiss to your lips as if to seal it there. Soon you notice that unsaid rule and test your luck a bit. And he plays along and chuckles to let you know you are both in on this secret. Only you two against the rest of the world.
You don't meet anyone else this week. In fact, you are to busy yearning each waking minute to even text back your closest friends. Each time you grab your phone he is writing you seconds later as if he just felt it somehow. This has totally nothing to do with the droopy Bunny plush he pushed into your arms as a parting gift the first day of dating. It totally doesn't look at you from dull button eyes to send all intel to its master.
7 days of heaven and he declares you his. On the eighth day you meet for cookies and tea. Then he hits you. Nothing prepared you and nothing happened to warrant it. You just sit happily at a table and listen to him speak about the benefits of royal jelly honey compared to less quality sweetening options when he decides between two sips of tea that he's waited long enough. Suffered long enough that is. Because waiting for you to trust is nothing but pain. Each second an opportunity for you to leave him all alone and run run away because you secretly hate him.
He too had dreams each night this week. Only he remembers your tears rolling like syrupy dollops from the plush hills of your cheeks. The salty crust defacing your mask of propriety. The way your knuckles clenched white around your skirt when he touched you the first time. Expecting violence. Fearing it. Begging silently for him to leave you alone - and then turning around completely. That whisper he placed on your pulse. The thrumming of your excited heart starting to match the strain in his pants when your confused brain mixed fear and want together. That first second of resignation. Of lust in pain.
He gave you plenty time to learn his touch brings pleasant feelings if you behave correctly. If you show him your desire to have him close. But not like a whore. Like a sweet doll that cums from rubbing their legs close in shame instead of spreading them for anyone. He wants to break you into the tiniest pieces to rearrange you like a suit he can wear against his skin, always inside you and at the same time suffocated by you in turn.
The first crack he places that day. Without warning he slaps your cheek. Your head flies to the side. It's a tremendous force of will he musters to not behead you in one srtike even after all this waiting. Or so he would credit himself. Not even your cheekbone cracked, it was merely a whiplike sting that shook you awake.
In horror you hold your face and stare at him with those giant betrayed eyes. What did you do? Surely you must have done Something really bad for him to do that. Have you hurt him somehow? See how you question yourself even though you are the one being hurt? Before you have any chance to ask what you did, he sniffs and presses enourmous tears from his eyes. They hang on his lashes like drops of nectar and lure you into one of many vicious traps. You feel bad, so bad. You want to hold him and tell him all is fine... even though he just hit your face without warning or reason. You too sniff through the pain in your cheek and heart. And then after blinking at you cutely and letting his tears fall freely, he pushes you to the ground and pins you in place. Right next to your ear he unleashes a string of accusations to strangle you with. You don't love me. You hate me. I saw you talking to other people like you talk to me, I can't stand it, I want you all for myself, do you know how you make me feel? Have you any idea? Why would you torture me like this? Why are you cruel to me? When I -
He's lying on top of you fully, you never felt him this near before and certainly not as intensely. You are so embarrassed, nothing of what he says is true but the pained crack in his voice, the whining and wet tears - they split you open. They make you believe you commited a great crime and deserve being cornered like this, it's only fair someone bad like you would get punished fairly for what they've done!
So when he again ends with the words: You don't love me! it feels like a gut punch. He's right, you don't. And yet. This past week... Maybe you do after all. How cruel of you to not thank him for all he did for you. How does he even put up with you if you leave him in the unclear like that? How detestable of you. So you say it. He wrenches it right from your heart with an iron grip.
But I love you, Kanato!
He's won.
Unknowingly you forged a contract. Whatever he does to you going forward will be his reciprocration of your confession. Your just desserts. It's what you get instead of an "I love you too".
You weren't ready. You might have even lied in your confusion and fear of hurting him. But it doesn't matter. And you will soon know that by heart.
He fucks you that day. And he makes it hurt. It's his present to you. That soreness of all your holes after, the faint bruises on your wrists and thighs where he held you down to get as deep as possible no matter how much you struggled on instinct when he began to fuck you to cum with no regards for your pleasure. He doesn't let you orgasm. Just when you get near he stops whatever he did and puts some distance between you two, only lightly kissing your lips. He wants you to yearn for him. To learn he could play with your body whatever way he wants to and unravel you in the shortest time.
But he won't make it that easy for you. He wants you to fall for him on another level. So he teases you with rough pounding, cums into you and kisses you so sweetly after to taste those sweet tears of denial.
Nothing of this is comprehensible to you. It seems like he just wants you so much that he can't help himself but bury his cock balls deep to fill and claim you inside out. His kisses feel like an apology for losing his control like that. But when you feel his grin and that suppressed rumble of a killed laugh in his chest you faintly realize... he's only mocking you. And the worst thing is... you like it. It's what you deserve after all, isn't it?
The following week is nothing but pain. He tests your limits by "accidentally" hurting you and getting more vicious and obvious over time. Oh you cut yourself on that splintered cup I gave you to make hot chocolate for us?
You little dumb thing, let me lick the wound to make it melt away. Oh? That is way deeper than it first looked. You can see the bone, how lovely, how cute! Let me lick it all the way down so it stays nice and clean. I always wanted to know how you taste there...fufu... ah? Nevermind me rambling I just adore you my doll, I wish I could eat you in one bite!
Slowly you get covered in nicks and purple bruises. Yet you fail to see how insane it is you just let him get away with hurting you. Each time a drop of blood swells from beneath your skin he squeals in true delight and kisses it away with kitten licks. His cheeks redden and his eyes fall half closed, sometimes he's so eager to get to you and caress your new wound his hair gets all tousled and falls into his eyes because he moved so quickly.
He moans quietly when you hiss at the sting of his tongue exploring your wound. Sometimes he seems to almost snap under the weight of himself holding back. He yearns to bite deep into you to widen the wound and look into you for real.
But for now instead he swallows and looks into your eyes with a slowly spreading grin that makes your heart race. The lust you see in him is terrifying. You doubt you could ever satisfy him. Will he ever let go of you once he first took a bite? Will he just simply tear you to pieces in a fit of murderous desire?
So you kiss him to seal his fangs away. And not once does he deny you. Until one day.... when he suddenly seems distant. He barely paid you any attention. Have you done something wrong again? Is he sulking perhaps? You want his attention but every time he just turns away.
Before you can think you've done it. IT. He won. Again. The knife cuts deeply into your palm. Ah!! Oh no. Such a dumb accident. You just wanted to cut some chocolate to melt for a drink... Liar Liar Liar. And he knows. He knows you did it to get attention. You hurt yourself for him. Another barrier destroyed. He knows that feeling that drove you to it so well, so intimately. He's done the same in his past after all... to get the attention from his most loved person.
So when he hurries to you this time to kiss your wound away he just can't help it. He has to. This is too much. Winning is such an euphoric feeling.
He just has to slide his hand into his pants and free himself to rut on you while he sinks his fangs deep into your neck. All the way until your pulsing vein strains against his gums. He doesn't even want to drink your blood right now. Just the feeling of your life laying between his teeth. Your absolute submission is what drives him to sling your arms around his back and growl to you to hold him close while he claims you. Blood on his back, blood down your neck, the cut in your hand matching the bite of acceptance he burns into your flesh. This one will scar, he will make sure of it. And your heart shall grow scabbed scars as well from the fervor of his broken sobs while he fucks you on the floor like an animal, using your blood for lube and cries his love for you over and over. Just when he is about to cum he leans back to stare into your eyes. He closes his hand over your mouth and nose and listens to your choking noises while you lose consciousness. I love you, I love you is what you hear over and over while you fade. Is it his voice or your own screaming in your head trying to convince you that this is okay, that there is nothing wrong happening at all. This is fine. I love you. I love you?
Only when you are limp beneath him he will allow himself to cum. Better get used to this feeling of loneliness while he can. One day you will be gone after all.
When you wake the next day it is in his bed. Tucked in all fluffy and perfectly safe. Your body may feel sore yet there is a pleasant buzz in your forehead. Everything looks so soft through your eyes. The sheets feel like silk and probably are. It's so warm and cozy like a cocoon. And the first thing you hear is the sound of plush lips pressing against your cheek. You blink and try to look his way but the world turns to the side. Moving eyes is no good idea, it makes you dizzy so you blink even more. He chuckles at this and it sounds like a cherub's giggle.
Open your mouth, my sweet doll. He says and pushes something cold and metal against your lips. You can't tell why but this scares you somehow. It's impossible for you to focus your eyes and suddenly you realize that this isn't normal, it's no simple sleepiness. Something is wrong. You can't see. It's all blurry.
Ahh... behave now, my doll, you don't like me when I'm upset, do you? Please open up now. He asks again, but there is a dark edge to his voice, a budding anger you more sense in the tingle down your spine than hear with your ears.
You can't move, you can't see and your panic seals your lips. He's determined though. A single slurp cuts through the silence and then he licks against your lips to make you open them. You want everything to be normal and sweet again so much, you cannot deny him. He wants to kiss you. That is nice isn't it? It's what lovers do, and that's what you are - right? So you grant him access willingly and he thanks you by spitting something thick, slimy and sickly sweet into your mouth. At least he seals your lips with a humming kiss afterwards. Whispers into your ear follow: Such a good doll you are. My perfect doll. You're taking it so well.
There's excitement in the way he says this. Anticipation.
Just moments pass and it begins to feel like someone slices you apart from the inside. Sharp pains travel from the tip of your tongue all the way deep down into your belly. It's like frost is blooming inside you, so incredibly cold that it almost feels like flames burning a happy trail of gasoline down your esophagus.
You choke out his name and try to reach for him. His signal to peel back the cozy blanked to reveal your naked body underneath. Shackled and bound at each bendable part of your body you lie completely helpless next to him. Your hands are cuffed to a harness that keeps you in place and trapped in the bed. And beneath the bondage your body tells a story of inhuman desires. Purple and red innumerable bite marks litter your body. Your veins are swollen and abused, your skin at its very limit. You didn't know it was possible to give skin so many different shades of color. He bound you naked and fairly comfortable. But moving even an inch is impossible.
You still don't feel a thing except the cold burning in your stomach. He seems to have given you some kind of painkiller or else you surely would be in agony. Just on cue he leans forward to speak directly into your ear. His eyelashes blink against your cheek while he speaks and one hand of his finds its way to lie on top of your stomach.
You were scratching my kissmarks so much I was afraid you would bleed out. So I bound you here. Are you happy? I know you are, you don't need to say a thing. Talking must still hurt a lot after you screamed so much I figure. So let's enjoy the silence together for a bit. I'm going to take such good care of you. You won't ever need to worry about anything. Just think about me. Only me.
While he whispers those words into your ear as if he was your caretaker after a huge accident and not the one who brought you to your sick bed in the first place, you slowly realize what he made you swallow before.
First it's that strange cold-heat splitting up to crawl into your fingers and toes. Then that tingling between your legs which makes his intent crystal clear.
He wants you to beg as your genitals swell painfully and you get wet between your legs beyond anything that would be normal and possible. He chuckles against your skin and runs his hands all the way down your body, shivers running behind to catch up with his touch.
I will teach to your body that all you ever need is me. I will break you to fit me perfectly. And you will beg me for it, am I clear?
He is. And you can't help but admit that this is insane but also... pleasant in a twisted way. When he licks between your legs and sucks you softly, then harder, until you can't bear the stimulation and buck against your restraints. And when he moans so shamelessly at your reactions. It's all is too much.
You cry and beg but he refuses to let you find release yet.
Can you tell what I gave you? He chuckles between licks suddenly. It comes out all moany and desperate, he's not asking for an answer, he wants to hear you GET it.
You shake your head at first and refuse to answer. You know it. You do. You know. You know. It's no simple aprodisiac, he would have no interest in that. It is also no complicated painkiller, no. No wonder elixir from Reiji's lab either.
It's him, him, him! Diluted in some syrup, just a single drop of death. But it spreads in your body to change you already, to etch that contract into your blood you signed weeks ago with a kiss.
And you cannot look down, you cannot admit you already understood what's happening.
You cannot admit you love him anyway. He won!
He's growing tired of this. Of you being indecisive like that. Are you rejecting him? Anger shoots through his veins. He rips those leather straps from your body with pure muscle strength. He forces you to sit up by gripping your hair.
Look. Look how much I love you. Look how much you want me.
His lips and chin glisten red. Blood drenched into silk. Everything wet and soiled by you. With you. He wasn't between your legs. He licked an open wound in your guts. There! Yes, there! Where he shoved in his whole arm arm into your body to feel your heart beating in his hand!
And the only way you are still alive is by the grace of his blood running through your veins. That single drop tethering you to un-life. You're bound together forever now. Aren't you happy? Happy to be broken and forced back to his side over and over again. Two in one forevermore.
Do you feel it? He asks. My heart racing from your blood and yours going quite from mine? My pretty, dumb doll, I love you so much.
Now come and love me too...
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