Discretionary Warning: This blog features sensitive, often mature content such as fictional violence, yandere fiction, and dubious consent. Please use caution when proceeding.
A/N: Thank u sm anon who sent this in-- genius idea. Im so SAD because i feel like i DID NOT DO IT JUSTICE!! I just kinda... went with the flow. A weird flow. I am NoT a fan of this one but i spent so long writing it-- and im so tired :cc
TW: Manipulation, kidnapping, yandere/obsessive themes, unhealthy behaviors, breaking and entering/ burglary, overall dark themes
Word count: 2.5k
Summary: Its been a long night of working on Christmas Eve, and you get home to find someone has broken in. A strange man dressed up in a Santa suit has decided he’s going to kidnap you-- for one reason or another.
It was around 1:00 in the morning when you heard the stirring. The animalistic grunts, and loud clatter. Sounds of jingle bells accompanied it, along with a muffled ‘oomph.’
You mumbled under your breath, setting down your keys and bag. You were still stuck in your work uniform which was littered with stains and your own sweat from the day. Despite the colder weather outside, the restaurant you worked in had the temperature of an oven.
Your keys fell to the floor, rhythmically making a noise as a sound from your living room commenced. You grabbed the broom sitting against your wall, positioning it defensively.
"Damn raccoons..."
You muttered, poking around your belongings to look for any more of the feral creatures. Peeking around the hall you made slow movements. The handle of the broom stuck out, prepared to attack the beast in your living room.
Wringing your hands around the shaft, you prepared to strike. The damn beasts had tipped over your Christmas tree, which was somehow still plugged in. That must have been the jingling you heard falling.
Lights on the tree shined dimly across your floor, ornaments strewn all over the carpet. Thank goodness you were still wearing your shoes or else your feet would've been pricked on the hangers.
"C'mere you bastard!" You yelled, looking around for the trespassing animal.
Instead, sounds of struggle came from underneath your Christmas tree. From which, you could see a hand peeping out.
"What--"
Poking the hand with the broom handle, you watched the limb flinch. You reached for your phone in your back pocket, wondering which drunk from down the street got lost and broke into your house again.
But instead of an inebriated middle-aged man, an entirely different person popped up. He rolled out from under the tree, grabbing a Santa hat from the floor along the way. The person stood up with a jump, dusting himself off of fake pine needles and snow.
He let out a satisfied hum, adjusting his hat back on.
You, in turn, let out a loud scream and poked him in the stomach. The man must not have noticed you were there, because he began to scream as well, flinching as you continued to jab him with the broom.
"Stop hitting me!" He screamed, covering himself in defense.
"Why are you in my HOUSE!"
You noticed his clothes, which consisted of a Santa suit and beard. An odd get up for a robbery.
The man grabbed the edge of the broom, trying to rip it away from you. You struggled and fought him for it, jerking back and forth. But Santa got the upper hand and pulled it away from you with a hard shove.
You both stood silent for a moment, your hands out in front of you in defense. But seeing as he stopped, you saw a chance. As he tried to threaten you with the broom, eyes wide, you spun around. Bolting, you skidded toward the entrance, ornaments and pine needles making the floor slippery. The Santa yelled, running towards you with the broom in tow. You screamed out, feeling yourself fall as one foot tripped under a red ornament, and the other was in the hand of burglar Santa.
He came crashing down with you, broom nearly impaling your side. As you let out a loud grunt, Santa wasted no time. Throwing the broom, he grabbed your wrists to stop you from flailing. The adrenaline of falling was still in your veins until the man above you shook you out of it. He pinned down your hands and legs with his own, switching to cover your mouth as you tried to let out another scream.
“Quiet! Be--Quiet!”
He shushed you through the thick, fake beard that was slowly falling off. From underneath, you could see the sense of urgency he felt. But you didn’t have time to feel sorry for him. Instead, you struggled beneath, lifting your leg hard and fast to hit him in the groin.
At that, the man crawled off of you, onto the floor. You stumbled backward, trying to get back up-- your legs being mush from the fall.
He looked startled for a moment, face frozen in fear and agony. Letting out a loud, painful groan, the Santa balled up onto the floor, his hands tucked beneath him to cradle his crotch.
“I-- I” You didn’t know whether to apologize or to scream at him; after all, the man was an intruder. You paced for a moment, towards and away from him. “I’m sorry okay but why the hell are you in my house!”
He slowly got up, hands between his legs as he crouched.
“I’m here to help you..” He said, barely above a whisper. The Santa’s voice was strained as he began to regain his composure. Big huffs were let out with strain.
“Help me? By entering my house and knocking down my tree!?” You shouted, looking around for the broom.
“That was an accident..” He stood up completely and arched his back, cracking it as the red suit readjusted. “Honest. I thought you were asleep--”
“Thought I was--”
“Listen I know how it sounds. But really, I was trying to help!” He tried to take a step forward, covering his groin for protection, but you put out your hands to guard. “I swear, I just... Was trying to..”
“Trying to what? And why are you in that--” You motioned to his Santa suit and beard. “Weird get up?”
You were still hostile of the man, but he seemed a bit too dim to pull off a robbery. At least, not a successful one. The Santa became flustered, turning away so you couldn’t see his suit.
“I thought it would be romantic…” He mumbled, fidgeting.
“Rom-” You could hardly contain yourself. “Sir I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
You sigh, putting down your hands and moving towards him.
“No I’m not drunk! I--” He groaned, taking off the Santa hat to slick back his hair. “I’m just here to..”
“To?”
“To kidnap you!” The Santa grins, a mischievous look on his face mixed with childish happiness.
“To.. kidnap me?”
“Yes! Oh, it feels so good to say that out loud.” The Santa put his hat back on, fluffing off his suit and looking around the room.
“Ya see…” He pushes the tree, finding what he needs under it. “I’ve been watching you for a while... Well, more than a while I’d say.”
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Yeah! Well, some people would call it ‘stalking,’ but personally, I think it’s just watching from a distance.”
“You’ve been creeping on me.”
He saw the look on your face and frowned. “Well, when you put it that way you make me sound like a criminal.” He laughed a bit, pulling out rope from a red sack. “And I promise, I'm no criminal!”
He gave you a thumbs up, showing how large the gloves he wore were. “When I came in here earlier, I specifically avoided your underwear drawer and worn clothes! Even when I didn’t want to…”
You looked at him bewildered.
“You-- you’ve been in here before?!”
“Well… I had to figure out what you lived like before we moved in together of course…” He looked at you with a bit of guilt. “ And I only took... A little bit of your stuff..”
You buried your head in your hands, stuck between deciding whether this guy was a psycho maniac or just some confused man.
“But listen-- You can have it back once we get home.” He smiled, watching you move to sit down on the couch. “You can have all your things-- it might take me a while to move everything from in here though.”
“Wait wait, who said anything about moving in?”
He looked at you confused, moving to sit down next to you with the rope in hand.
“Well, obviously we have to live together, sweetie. That’s what couples do.” He chuckled a bit, putting a gloved hand over your cold one.
The way he said it, made it seem like the most obvious thing in the world.
“I see how hard you work,” He took off his glove, placing a warm hand back onto yours. “Every day all day, never stopping. But just recently, its started getting worse, more difficult, hasn’t it?”
He watched you. Letting the words sink in, you felt them defeat you. It was true; you were so, so tired.
“Oh look at you…You’ve got bags under your eyes, your hairs’ a mess. I’ve been observing you for months now, but you’ve never looked this exhausted.”
His voice was calm, benign. There was something alluring about it… maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t heard anyone talk to you that way for months now. But it made you want to listen more.
You frowned unintentionally, eyes watering without your consent. No, you couldn’t cry now, not in front of this man, someone who must idolize you from watching you for so long.
“C’mere.” He whispered, grabbing your hands into his lap and running circles over your skin. The Santa removed his hat and beard, watching you with a gentle gaze. You let out a small laugh, watching him struggle with the fake beard. He looked far different than you expected. He wasn’t a greying, drunken man. No, he was surprisingly young. Someone who definitely should not be in the neighborhood you lived in. His colorful hair and charming smile were almost unreal.
The man took the rope from beside him, facing your wrists upward. He began to wrap it around your hands, seemingly having no intention of leaving it there.
“This is me,” He says, focusing on tying the rope; it stings, but you're too engrossed in his words. “I’m always here, always around you. Such a small, suffocating thing. But I’m here.” He smiles, letting your fingers unconsciously curl around his. “And your hands… You. I’ve always been wrapped around because you’ve always been mine… only now, you can see it too.”
You try to tug your hands away, but the Santa-dressed man pulls back. He ties a knot around the rope and brings you back with the loose ends. He leans in along with you, watching your oh so curious and tired face.
You’re so close, you can hear his breathing, taste his breath of peppermint.
“I can give you everything you want,” He says, a pleading glint in his eyes. “Anything. Everything. All you have to say is that you’ll be mine. That you’ll let me… kidnap you.”
You stare back in awe, still unable to fully comprehend what he was asking for; why he was here.
“All you have to say is that you’ll come with me.” He whispers into your ear.
You take a moment to reply, still curious as to what he planned to do with your hands. His were shaking, gently caressing yours. They quickly grasped for yours, clutching hard onto your hands for support.
“And what if I say I won’t?” You ask.
At that, the man clenches hard onto your arms, pushing his face up quickly to kiss you. His soft, dry lips pressed against yours. He shut his eyes, with an almost painfully sad look.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to gag you.”
The man lets go of your mouth, leaving you agape and tiredly flustered. Somehow, you were less panicked than before, yet more self-conscious. The reassurance of his affection, the pain of his nails digging into your palm, the desperate look in his eyes when you showed opposition, it was enough to show you that he was utterly, and completely infatuated.
“Come on, I see the way they treat you. Do you really consider anybody your actual family?” He begins to grind his teeth, merely a few inches away from you. “The way they ignore your calls, the way you’re alone. Here. On Christmas Eve.”
He moves away and laughs, but it isn’t as kind and genuine as before. “ Me too. Us. We’ve both been abandoned on the one night that’s supposed to be about… what, celebrating?”
You look down, almost guilty. It’s true, you weren’t able to visit your family this Christmas. But rather, it was because of work. As soon as you told them, they hung up, telling you not to bother coming home again if you were just going to keep missing holidays. It hurt you to think about, and you had a real skill ignoring it. But now, that wasn’t working.
“Why does it matter… I’m not some guy dressed up as Santa who broke into someone else's house.” You said, going limp.
The man laughs. “You’re right about that, but that doesn’t matter. What does,” He grabs your tied-up hands, pulling out a piece of cloth. “Is that we can spend tonight together. You get the chance to be happy… with me.No one else.”
He fiddles with the cloth, looking up at you with mischief. “I know you’ve always wished for this… To be swept away. I’ve read it, in your little notebooks that you so happen to leave on your desk.” He clenches his jaw. “It’s like you’re leaving them there for me to find. So why aren’t you indulging yourself? Indulging in me?”
The intruder ties the ropes around your wrists tighter, bringing the cloth from his hands up to your eyes. You don’t resist, starting to fall for his words. He grabs you closer, unable to take his eyes off of you.
“Hey that… it hurts..” You groan,wrists burning.
“Awe, will a kiss make it feel better?” He jokes, making no adjustments to your restraints.
“You know you want me to kidnap you... Just calm down,” Caressing your arms, he moves to your mouth.
You began to grow nervous from his words, as they were no longer soothing. You looked away, but the man grabs your chin and grins. “I saw that look. Just now. It was a ‘yes’ wasn’t it. A yes to me taking you.” He scoffed, licking his lips and fixing the restraints.
‘But I’ve only just met you--”
Another piece of cloth is tied around you, gagging your mouth with ease. The fabric slips in like it’s meant to be there. You feel the man thumb your lip before giving you an open-mouthed kiss. With the gag in the way, you’re unable to move or recuperate, but that didn’t matter.
You’ve been made unable to see, speak, or move your arms. It worries you, but you’re too exhausted to think about escaping. The adrenaline from his intrusion had worn off, and now all you were, was a tired minimum wage worker, allowing yourself to be taken by this man. A man in a Santa suit. Someone who seems utterly delusional, but who reminds you of yourself.
The Santa intruder hoisted you up, tossing you over his shoulder. You heard him grunt, and a small chuckle. You allowed him to carry you, to stroke your thigh as he stepped over the fallen tree, out into the snow.
Ooof judge darling and head over heals criminal yandere🥴
No because bestie I WAS THINKING NEARLY THE SAME THING.
Ok ok but guard/warden darling though. You're stuck dealing with this asshole of an inmate, who causes problems JUST to get your attention. He distracts you, starts fights with other inmates, and specifically gets into solitary confinement just so you can be the one to deliver his food.
Maybe the other guards have figured out a system: if the inmate has you, they'll stop causing problems. Perfect setting! Except for you.
Just think: this criminal has nothing to lose. Their rights have been stripped away from them, stuck to rot in that jail cell for however long. Therefore, what's the harm in starting fights or escaping in the night just to scare you while on patrol? They'll come up from behind, frightening you as their arms clutch you painfully tight.
They're definitely the type to tease, using your title and better morals against you.
"Aw, so afraid? Aren't I supposed to be the one scared of you... you can't even look in my eyes."
"Do you like it when I grab you like this, so helpless despite the gun in your grasp..."
Aghh and especially the big buff types!! Someone covered in tattoos from head to toe, having all the other inmates wrapped around their finger. They'll convince the guards to leave you alone with them in the visitors room, just to...talk. bonus points if the other inmates are forced to leave you alone; even one glance towards your way will get them a harsh beating.
Not me listening to material girl and thinking about a yandere prompt...Literally-- I think this has become a problem.
But legit can you imagine, someone who’s utterly obsessed with gaining fame and money. They constantly rely on sugar daddies and mommies to buy them the newest bag or clothes. They’re famous on their own, but it’s just not enough. Think of the embodiment of greed.
They are incredibly materialistic, basing items as more important than human lives. You can bet your ass that they couldn’t give a damn about ethics or the global affect. No, they want everything; you can’t have everything under the sun AND morals. They are utterly self involved, obsessed with making the front page of every magazine, barely having to inch a finger to stay relevant. Fans love them, while the rich fear their recklessness.
And then here comes along their little darling: being so involved with themselves, its hard to imagine that a person like this would ever fall in love. Well, its not hard to imagine them becoming obsessed. Say their new infatuation was a far more powerful figure, a person higher them. If darling was wealthier, the yandere would most likely go after their money; its not hard to swoon others if you have good looks and charm, not to mention million dollar clothes and perfected plastic surgery.
So at first they’ll try to bewitch their darling, make them fall in love, just so the yandere can become a sugar baby, and steal money from right under their nose. But darling isn’t having it.
Unfortunately, such a persistent and greedy person wouldn’t give up that easily; they’ve been rejected time and time again, so this little slip up would mean nothing. Its only when darling stands their ground, does the famed yan grow annoyed.
At first it was about the money, but now, they’ve become obsessed with making darling their slave. They’ve charmed so many men and women in giving their possessions, but for some reason this oddity wasn’t falling for it. The yandere would grow obsessed, soon finding a stubborn love with their darling. It’s a hatefully passionate and one-sided love. They can’t help but fantasize about their sweetheart on their knees, begging for mercy, for the good graces and love from the yandere. It’s a sick and twisted kind of love, where they want both the approval and the respect from darling, but also want to break them.
If darling was of lower class, the yandere would most likely be drawn to physical features rather than money. If darling was unique, obtaining something no one else had, the yandere would grow infatuated. They have so much, from penthouses in Rome, to priceless artifacts as everyday tools. So this, their darling, would need to be a rare species. Another special collection piece, their darling would have to be something they see as something they don’t have. It wouldn’t be hard for the yandere at all; being of lower class, there was no worry that their darling would run away or find a form of protection. Thousands of security cameras and paid off policemen made sure of that.
No, it wouldn’t be hard at all; and they’d finally be able to dress up their sweet tart in all the expensive clothes, ravishing them, making them look as beautiful as everything else they own. Everyone is constantly fighting for the yandere’s attention, but having such a stubborn darling would make them crave that approval and submission from their love even more.
