Can we get yandere!reader x Mortal Kombat guys, please?
yandere is one of my guilty pleasure type tropes ngl 🫠 i fucking love reading yandere shit
Pairings: Mortal Kombat Kharacters x Yandere!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, graphic violence, gore, torture, dark themes, yandere themes, captivity/kidnapping, physical torture, psychological abuse, obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic relationship dynamics, murder, blood play, knife play, coercion, manipulation, dehumanization, stalking themes, idk there's probably a shitton more I'm forgetting
A/N: i was gonna do liu kang but i was lowkey frying my own brain doing these three
Masterlist
Syzoth
You liked to think you had always been fair to Syzoth.
You gave him what he asked for, even if it was never much. Your time, your presence, your quiet reassurance. You never denied him those things. Not when he needed comfort, not when he needed space, not when he simply wanted someone there.
You loved being with him.
Your voice was always soft when you spoke to him, always steady, always warm. A constant reminder that you would be there for him, that nothing would harm him as long as you were around. You guided him gently, always with his best interests at heart, making sure no one could bother him, belittle him, or so much as think about hurting him.
You protected him.
You cared for him.
So you couldn’t understand how he could do something like this.
He had made a “friend,” as he called it.
“A… friend?” you echoed softly.
He hummed happily, nodding.
“Yeah… they seemed really nice. Helpful, too.”
“And how did you meet this… friend?” you murmured.
“They’re friends with Ashrah—”
Of course they fucking are.
“—and she introduced us. They work together, I think.”
You let out a quiet hum, nodding slowly.
“Right… well… I’m glad you made a friend, baby,” you said, voice soft as you took a small step closer. Then, just as gently, your expression shifted into light concern.
“And you said they seemed nice?” you added, tilting your head slightly. “Are you sure?”
Syzoth blinked at you for a moment.
“…Yes? I mean… they’re friends with Ashrah, and she’s nice…” he mumbled.
You nodded slowly, thoughtful, your hands lifting to cradle his head. Your fingers slipped into his short hair, gently combing through it, nails lightly scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked.
“Maybe…” you murmured, voice soft. “But you have to remember that people aren’t always what they seem. Ashrah might be nice, but you also have to remember… she’s still a demon.”
Syzoth frowned at that.
“She’s getting better,” he insisted quietly. “She’s trying to purify her soul.”
You smiled again, soft and patient.
“Yes… by killing people with a sword she claims is purifying her,” you replied, almost thoughtfully. “I’m not saying she’s lying—she’s been nice so far.”
You hummed softly, fingers continuing their slow, soothing motions through his hair.
“I’m just saying… some people don’t have the best intentions at first.”
You caught it then—a small little flicker of doubt.
Small, but there.
He tried to push it away, you could see it.
“I’m sure she’s trying her best,” you added gently, tone falsely reassuring. “But I don’t think killing innocent people is a way to purify your soul.”
Your thumb brushed lightly against his temple.
“Do you, baby?”
Syzoth went quiet.
You felt it before he even spoke, the slight shift in him, the way his posture dipped just a little.
“…No,” he admitted after a moment, voice softer now. “I… guess not.”
You hummed softly before leaning in, pressing a small kiss to his lips.
“How about this…” you murmured, voice sweet. “I’ll go meet them with you? We can see how we feel, hmm?”
Syzoth hesitated for a moment, the doubt you planted still lingering in his expression. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Okay.”
“Good,” you smiled. “Just let me know when, baby.”
His lips curved into a shy smile as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
You returned it easily, already feeling the gears turning in your head.
It didn’t take long to find out who this little “friend” of his was.
You made sure of that.
You learned everything you could before having to meet them—where they worked, who they spent their time with, what they liked, what they didn’t.
And in the end?
They were… underwhelming.
Boring, even.
They worked. They socialized. They lived a painfully ordinary life with painfully ordinary people.
There was nothing remarkable about them. Nothing that made them stand out. Nothing that made them worthy of Syzoth’s attention.
Just another dull, insignificant human.
Nothing like your beautiful, misunderstood reptilian boyfriend.
You would make sure he saw that.
One way or another.
It didn’t take long to notice their habits, either. The way they wrinkled their nose at dirt, at greenery, at anything remotely wild. The way they spoke about nature with thinly veiled distaste.
And reptiles?
Worse.
They absolutely despised snakes and lizards.
You caught the comments they would murmur to themselves quietly, their lips twisting in disgust at the sight or thought of them.
Your lips curled slowly as you sat in the booth, watching, observing.
Perfect.
This would do just fine.
The hangout was set for a week later, giving you more than enough time to gather your thoughts and everything else you might need to ensure things went your way.
Syzoth checked in often, quietly asking if you were still willing to come. He always made sure to add that while he would love to have you there, he didn’t want to force you.
Each time, you reassured him gently.
After all, you were the one who suggested it—you were more than willing to go and prove him wrong right.
You had all chosen a small park tucked beside a quiet café, secluded enough to feel intimate, but public enough to keep things controlled.
They came rushing toward Syzoth.
You barely had time to react before they wrapped him in a warm, familiar embrace.
Your eyes narrowed instantly, pupils sharpening into thin slits for just a second, your smile stretching a little too wide—just enough to bare the edge of your teeth—before you smoothed it out again.
When they pulled away, Syzoth turned to you immediately, eyes bright, practically glowing with excitement as he reached for you.
“This is my mate, Y/n!” he said, voice warm, shyly proud as his arm slipped around your waist.
You leaned into him easily.
They blinked, confusion flickering across their face.
“Mate?”
“Oh—uh… my girlfriend,” Syzoth corrected quickly, offering an awkward, sheepish smile.
You stepped forward, extending your hand with a polite smile.
“Pleasure to meet you,” you murmured.
Your fingers wrapped around theirs firmly, maybe a little tighter than necessary. Their smile twitched at the tightness before pulling their hand back with a small, strained laugh, brushing it off like it was nothing.
The three of you settled into conversation soon after.
Mostly Syzoth and his friend talking, the two of them easing into a rhythm that made something sharp twist low in your chest.
You stayed composed.
Smiling politely when spoken to, nodding along, offering small comments here and there—just enough to remain present.
Just enough to remain perfect.
And then you tilted your head slightly, voice light.
“So…” you began gently, “what’s your favorite animal?”
They lit up at that.
“I adore cats,” they said with a fond sigh. “They’re such soft creatures… and they keep pests at bay,” they added with a small chuckle.
You echoed the words back, soft, curious.
“Pests at bay?”
“Ugh, yes,” they scoffed, rolling their eyes. “Those damn bugs that crawl all over the place. They’re disgusting, always leaving everything dirty. And those nasty little lizards too—they’re atrocious to look at.”
You raised a brow slightly, almost challenging. Beside you, Syzoth flinched at the disgust in their tone.
You leaned forward just a bit, feigning curiosity, gently encouraging them to keep going.
“You don’t like lizards?” you asked softly. “What’s wrong with them? They’re beautiful creatures.”
They looked at you like you’d said something absurd, lips curling in distaste. “There’s nothing beautiful about those things. They’re weird, nasty—those awful little scales and those beady eyes. It’s like they’re staring right through you, just waiting to eat you.” They shuddered. “Thank goodness there aren’t any huge ones. I’d rather kill myself than stand next to one.”
Syzoth went completely still beside you. The hurt was obvious, even with how hard he tried to hide it.
You narrowed your eyes slightly at his “friend,” a quiet disapproval settling over your expression.
“Well, I suppose it’s your loss for missing out on something so amazing,” you said lightly, giving a small shrug.
Before they could respond, you stood, gently cradling Syzoth’s face in your hands.
“Come on, sweetie,” you cooed softly, guiding his attention back to you. “I forgot we had a few things to take care of at home before nightfall.”
He nodded quietly, standing as well.
He barely spared his friend a glance, mumbling a quick farewell before slipping his hand into yours.
You led him away without resistance.
The walk back was quiet. You didn’t say anything, simply humming softly as your fingers intertwined with his, gently swinging your joined hands between you. A faint smile played on your lips.
Everything had gone exactly as planned.
When you got back to your shared home, Syzoth remained unusually quiet, clearly still thinking about what had happened earlier.
You continued humming softly to yourself for a moment before finally making your way over to him.
“Syzoth, baby?” you cooed, gently cradling his face once more, guiding his attention fully onto you.
Always you.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “You were right…”
You hummed sympathetically, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his, your presence warm and familiar, grounding.
“I know, baby. I tried to warn you,” you murmured sweetly. “I told you they aren’t always what they seem. It’s okay… I’ve got you. I would never hurt my baby.”
You nuzzled him once more before pulling him into a firm, almost possessive embrace, guiding his face into the crook of your neck.
Well then.
Case closed, you supposed.
Bi-Han
Bi-Han notices you.
He always has.
A persistent little thing, always just around the corner, following his every step, every movement, every breath. Hidden in the shadows, your eyes locked onto him, never once willing to look away.
You had never been forward with it.
Gods, Bi-Han doesn’t think he could have tolerated you if you were the clingy, delusional, begging type. But even then, your presence was always there.
Unmistakable, unshakeable.
He grunts softly to himself, his face tightening with mild annoyance as he rounds the corner, only to find you already there, bowing toward him.
“Grandmaster,” you murmur politely.
He squints at you, gaze dragging from head to toe in a slow, scrutinizing manner.
“You again,” he scoffs, voice cold, sharp with irritation.
You don’t flinch. Instead, you smile.
How lovely of him to recognize you.
Most would falter under that tone, bowing lower, apologizing profusely the moment he addressed them like that.
Not that you wouldn’t bow for him—you had, many times in fact—but you did it differently. With a pleased look on your face, with the giddiness of a well-behaved pup being rewarded.
“I was hoping to see you.”
“I was not,” he grumbled.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes tracing the sneer on his face as though he had said something interesting instead of dismissive.
“You do not mean that,” you muse softly.
Bi-Han stares at you for a moment, silence settling between you.
“You presume much.”
You shake your head gently.
“I simply understand you, is all.”
You say it like it’s a fact, like it has always been true.
Bi-Han smirks slightly, something dangerous flickering beneath it.
“Is that so? Perhaps your pathetic little brain will understand this then,” he mutters, stepping dangerously close. His fingers snap up to grip your jaw roughly, blunt nails digging into your skin.
“You are useless and incompetent. You lack discipline and skill. A pathetic excuse for a clan member. Leave. Do not follow me again,” he growls lowly, his grip tightening with every word, bruising your delicate skin.
A soft, stuttered sigh slips from your lips, your expression melting instead of breaking, heart-eyed at every degrading comment he throws your way.
Bi-Han scowls, irritation flashing across his face when it becomes clear his words have no effect on you. His grip tightens once more before he shoves you back, hands returning neatly behind his back as he looks at you with open disdain.
You let out a soft giggle as you stumble from the force, steadying yourself as you look up at him with a warm, adoring smile.
“Grandmaster,” you coo, “you know these tests do not work on me.”
His expression goes blank for a moment.
“…What?”
“You just want to see if I’ll stay,” you nod, as if the conclusion is obvious. “You push people away because they are weak and eventually leave. You need someone who can handle you at your worst.”
He stares at you, momentarily speechless, as if trying to understand how you could possibly arrive at such a conclusion.
“I won’t leave,” you continue, voice steady, unwavering in its devotion. “I’ll never abandon you. I’m not like them. You’ve been looking for someone like me… you’re just making sure I’m the right one.”
Bi-Han’s expression darkens.
“Stop talking.”
“Don’t worry,” you whisper with a small smile, “you’ll see soon enough. There’s no one else but me. You’ll come running to me sooner or later.”
The air around you sharpens, the temperature dropping drastically as the cold bites harshly at your skin.
“Leave.”
You bow once more, that same smile still resting on your lips.
“See you soon, Grandmaster,” you purr, before finally taking your leave.
Bi-Han stood there for a moment, replaying the encounter in his head.
There was something deeply unsettling about how unaffected you had been, how easily you accepted everything he threw at you, how you seemed to welcome it, even encourage it further.
The way you carried yourself so casually, brushing off his cruelty like it meant nothing, like it wasn’t rejection at all, like it was something else entirely.
And then there was what you said—how confidently you claimed he belonged to you and you to him.
You said it like it had already been decided and you were simply waiting for him to catch up.
Bi-Han let out a sharp sigh, rubbing at his temple as a headache began to form.
He would have to tread carefully from now on, especially with how delusional you were around him.
Although, it hardly mattered.
Careful or not, it wouldn’t change anything to you.
You would always be watching him.
Havik
The sound of muffled whimpers echoed through the room, panicked eyes darting from corner to corner in search of an escape, despite being tightly bound to a chair with metal chains.
A loud clang rang out, making them flinch violently as their gaze snapped toward you.
You stood nearby, muttering under your breath, shifting through the weapons laid out in front of you. Your movements were sharp, impatient, frustration evident in the tight set of your expression as you inspected each one with clear disapproval.
“No, no, no…” you growled under your breath. “S’not enough… need something… grr…”
They whimpered again, struggling uselessly against their restraints, the chains rattling loudly with each desperate movement. The noise grated on your nerves.
You clicked your tongue sharply before turning to face them.
You went eerily still, gaze dragging over them, slow and deliberate, studying them like they were nothing more than a subject laid out before you.
An experiment.
In a way, they were.
You were trying to figure out how to make them sing and what kind of sounds you could pull from them. What pitch. What tone.
How far you could push before they broke.
You began to move again, slow and unhurried, stalking forward as you lazily twirled a sickle in your hand, the rusted, mangled blade catching the dim light with each careless flick.
You tilt your head at the increase in muffled whimpers as you draw closer.
“Hmm? You trynna say somethin’?” you murmur.
You lean forward, brushing your finger lightly across their cheek, your lips curling faintly at the sharp flinch they give. Slowly, you tug the fabric gag down from their mouth.
“P-please… please l-let me go,” they rush out immediately, tears pooling in their eyes.
You roll your eyes.
“P-please, l-let me g-go,” you mock, voice dripping with disdain. “Jeez, is that how you plead for your life? That’s fucking pathetic. Try harder. Seriously.”
They break further, words tumbling over each other as they cry, desperation bleeding into every syllable.
“I—please, I—I don’t deserve this. Please, I’ve been good, I haven’t done anything wrong. J-just let me go, please…”
Your eyes narrow, irritation flickering as you idly spin the sickle in your grasp.
“You haven’t done anything wrong? You?” you snort, a dark smile spreading across your lips. “Oh, please. Now that’s funny.”
You tap the tip of the sickle against their cheek, almost like you’re patting a friend, the gesture laced with condescension, like you pity them for being so unbelievably stupid.
“You know what you did,” you whisper, voice almost sympathetic. “Should’ve thought a little harder before doing that.” You shrug lightly.
“N-no! I didn’t do anything! Please, please, I’m begging—I haven’t done anything wrong! I—I’m a boring person! All I do is go to school and—and stay at home w-with my cats. I—I have two! Binkie and Tomie!” they cry out in a rush.
You scrunch your nose in irritation, your hand coming up swiftly before striking across their face in one clean motion.
“Shut. Up. Ugh,” you mutter.
They go still, stunned, their frantic rambling cutting off instantly as they stare at you.
“You’re so damn noisy,” you grumble. “Got the fuckin’ yap master over here.”
Their mouth opens and closes a few times, like they want to speak but can’t quite force the words out.
A soft scrape pulls your attention away.
Your head snaps up, body going still as you listen.
The faint sound of the metal door closing echoes, followed by footsteps—slow, careless.
You huff, crossing your arms.
“Great…”
Your little captive seems to notice too, their eyes widening as their lips part.
“HELP! HELP, PLEASE, SHE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!” they scream.
You just stare at them.
Blank.
Unimpressed.
“Wow,” you mutter flatly. “You really are fucking stupid.”
A snicker pulls your attention away, your gaze snapping to the man leaning casually against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Shit, am I interrupting something?” he asks, eyes sweeping over the scene with open amusement.
You frown at him, clicking your tongue in annoyance.
“You’re not funny, Havik,” you scowl.
“I’m pretty fucking hilarious,” he shrugs.
You roll your eyes, attention drifting back to the nuisance in front of you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch them staring at Havik, confusion written all over their face—until recognition suddenly clicks.
“I—you…?” they whisper.
“Oh, hey,” Havik grins, giving them a lazy wave. “I remember you. You’re that chick who bumped into me earlier,” he muses.
You bristle immediately, your expression twisting into a sharp, ugly scowl.
“Told you I’d see you later,” he purrs at them.
Their eyes flick between you and him, wide with dawning realization as it finally sinks in why they’re here.
“I didn’t m-mean to…” they stammer, trembling, refusing to meet either of your gazes. “It was an a-accident, I promise! I tripped and h-he caught me.”
You tilt your head again, glaring down at them.
“Mmm… you tripped?” you hum. “What, needed an excuse so you could touch what’s mine? Nice try.”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“Christ—” you groan, patience snapping as you drive the sickle into their shoulder, a sharp scream tearing from their throat.
“Please! Please, I’m so—” they choke out, only to cry out again as you drag the blade across their face.
You scowl, lip curling in disgust.
“How fucking dare you touch what’s mine,” you sneer. “Putting your filthy fucking hands on him.”
You hook the sickle into their ribs, leaving it lodged there as you step away, grabbing a screwdriver without hesitation.
“Stupid. Fucking. Whore,” you hiss, driving the tool into them again and again.
Havik lets out a low whistle, leaning back with his arms raised, hands lacing behind his neck as he watches like it’s entertainment.
“Damn, you’re pent up,” he grins.
You shoot him a glare.
“Shut up. Look what you made me do,” you growl, still striking without pause.
“What I made you do? I didn’t do shit,” he scoffs, pointing at himself.
“Letting other bitches touch you, knowing you’re mine,” you snap, voice laced with irritation as you slam the screwdriver into their throat, cutting off their screams as blood begins to bubble past their lips.
Your hand moves without thought, grabbing a knife as you turn toward Havik, stalking closer with slow, deliberate steps.
You point the blade toward him, pressing it just beneath his throat.
“Mine. Do you understand?” you seethe, standing close, voice low and sharp. “You’re fucking mine. No one touches you, no one looks at you, no one even thinks about getting near you.”
Your voice drops further, thick with possession, your gaze wild as you drag the knife down his neck slowly, leaving a faint pink trail before pressing harder against his chest, the blade cutting into flesh.
Havik exhales sharply at the sting, his hands finding your waist as you dig the blade deeper.
“Fuuuck…”
“You think anyone can have you?” you murmur, beginning to carve into him, watching as blood starts to spill. “Think it’s that easy to walk away from me? Think I’d let you?”
A soft, unhinged laugh slips from your lips.
“Oh, baby…” you coo, tilting your head before sinking your teeth into his neck, breaking skin as blood fills your mouth. “Can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m never letting you go.”
“Shit…” Havik grunts, staring down at you, something dark and amused flickering in his expression. “Fuck, baby… wouldn’t dream of it. You’re mine too.”
“Good,” you murmur, satisfied.
You smile, letting the knife slip from your hand as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him close. His hands slip down to your thighs as he lifts you up without hesitation, dragging you up to wrap your legs around him.
“Remember that.”
