I’m feeling indulgent so I’m gonna indulge myself. Tw: hypnosis mentioned, cannibalism in a sex way, mention of cooking human, violence. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. I’m normal about him ok
Imagining my beautiful wife having been brought down into a subspace so deep I can convince him he’s dead, hypnotized or drugged or just so deep, his breath slow and shallow, he’s almost sleeping, looking up at me with such hazy periwinkle eyes. Mumbling to him about how I’ll cook and eat him, watching his breath shudder and muscles twitch beneath my hand as I grope at his most tender cuts. Getting a nice aromatic lotion to massage into his ‘corpse’, telling him I’m seasoning his body, the pleasant herbal scent mixing with the sweet notes of his natural smell. I’m sure he’d make cute little groans, too dead to let his moans out properly, in such bliss as I massage each weary ache from his corpse. I wanna sink my teeth into his supple flesh and rend the meat from his bones. I want to crack his ribs open to watch the beat of his heart.
Who is he? A gentle soul who takes care of your every need so long as you supply him. Is he...your boyfriend or something else?
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Introduction story
-Undead Passion𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ ྀིྀ : A strange man comforts you.
-Undead Passion𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ ྀིྀ pt. 2 : Perhaps not as gentle as he seems.
-Undead Passion𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ ྀིྀ pt. 3 (Final) : There is still so much you don't know.
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Smutt 😚
-Daring To Bed The Deceased...? : Another day in the life of this...pampering situationship. You service him, and well, the mysterious vampire does the rest.
-Oc Kink List (What Are They Into...?? 😛) ft. The other boys
Who is he? Your childishly stoic charge has you in mind for betrothal, but you're only a knight. Is his palm the one you want to fall into?
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Introduction story
-𖠂 Under A Watchful Eye ✶⋆.˚ : You're a soldier recently assigned to your infamous prince. It seems he's far more enticing than you had anticipated...
-𖠂 Under A Watchful Eye ✶⋆.˚ pt. 2 : Your crush on the prince seems to have worked out in your favor, but will it be a romantic relationship that you're able to pursue?
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Smutt 😚
-Blood, Guts and Sex Isn't That Just Sweet? : Your prince is known to have quite the odd temper, though when in your den, he's sickeningly sweet. You...really shouldn't feel this aroused at the sight of his carnage.
-Oc Kink List (What Are They Into...?? 😛) ft. The other boys
Yandere HCs cannons for what he does before he's "officially" with you.
(I fucks with this HEAVY)
He's a very religious man, although no one that's ever met him would suspect so. He's religious in a different kind of way. He doesn't worship Yeshua or Jehovah. He doesn't worship at the altar of some man in the sky. He believes only fully and completely in the one being that he could ever put any sort of faith or hope in. That being is you.
For you, he's a zealot, he's crazed, he's religious, he's disciplined, he's your disciple. A decision of devotion. He was born to be the consecrated talisman of your divinity. He believes that he was created to be and to make the doctrine of your will and to act upon it with the full force of his flesh, his might, and his mind.
To everyone who sees him and thinks he's just one of those men, quiet, hardworking, behind the scenes. The kind of man that can be successful and everyone can admire it, but no one really understands the depth of it. No one understands his what or why. They only know that he comes and goes as he pleases. No one understands or could fathom the obscene vows, to the many people of the church, sacrilegiousand blasphemous, he makes altars in your name. He enacts rituals in your honor. He prepares a place for you within every moment and inch of his life. He talks to you aloud, even when he's alone, as if you were there, as if his imagination was created purely for the manifested idea of you.
He prepares a place for you in his home. He buys the kind of socks you would wear, the kinds of undergarments, the kind of hand soap, the face soap, and the night creams you would keep in your nightstand, along with a water decanter, a beautifully dark, handcrafted glass. He buys a beautiful Victorian lamp that you would rave about: the craftsmanship, the detail, the links, and the love he has to have gotten it for you.
He decorates the nightstand the way he imagines you would. He organizes the drawers and their contents, putting little knickknacks and trinkets. They change throughout the weeks because he always wonders what a woman puts in her nightstand. He wonders what you would want in there. He wonders if he can grant himself the ideas so that one day, when you're finally home, he'll have something to impress you with, because he knows you, because he knows, because it's his divine responsibility.
He buys dishes, ceramics, and china that he believes you would want:
- An egg cobbler he sourced from some old woman's estate in the Cotswolds
- Jam jars and cookie bins
- Cake pans that one day you might use
He wonders what kind of forks you would like to hold, whether you would want wood-carved, copper, or fine metal. He wonders what you would like to rest your utensils against. He wonders if you like to drink out of mugs, if you like the sharp cut of a wine glass or a champagne flute against your lips. He wonders if you like bowls or plates more. He wonders what size and shape of spoons you like.
He wonders how you like your ice cream: if you like it hard as a puck or if you like to watch it slow, coming down towards room temperature to where you can mix it in a bowl. He wants to know if you add toppings or if you like it straight from the pint. He wants to know all of your favorite flavors, and he imagines scooping it out for you and bringing it to you on the couch.
He acts out what he thinks it'll be like sitting down next to you on this big refurbished couch he spent a fortune on, sitting in front of the TV watching shows he thinks you might possibly like. He only watches a few episodes or part of each movie because he wants to have the full experience for the first time with you.
He has a beautiful throw blanket draped over his legs which he's run his fingers through a hundred times, hoping that you'll like the way it feels against your skin.
He learned how to cook. Before, he had a dream of you. You're still a man on his own. He knew how to make a basic meal: an oven-roasted chicken with general seasoning, cooked carrots, eggs, rice, nothing of great value or sustenance, nothing with a vast flavor profile or robustness. Now, after finally having his ultimate dream, his ultimate desires, his ultimate destiny manifested within his life, he now finds the need to be a savant of the culinary arts. To be able to perfect recipes from around the world. You deserve a cultured man. A man who can cook for you, who can sustain you, who can fulfill you and feed your soul. He learned how to make the most flavorful fowl, the most incredible oven-roasted lamb. He learned how to make the most delicious, hearty stews and the best sourdough bread. He even learns how to churn his own butter for you. He becomes a wine connoisseur just to understand the flavor profiles to pair perfectly with the meals he's prepared for you. He's willing to buy parts of vineyards in faraway countries just so that he can have your name printed upon the most delicious wine bottles in the valley. He cleans in a way that he imagines you would approve of: on hands and knees, scrubbing away at baseboards, training his eyes up the walls to make sure there's no speck in sight, buying the most sleek, silent automated cleaning devices to make sure that there's never an uncomfortable crumb on the floor. Hey, spritzes the air with the most natural organic fragrances, never any parabens or sulfates. Only the most single-source, origin-based, unrefined ingredients. He only spritzes the air with things he knows he would feel confident gulping from the air.
For his skin, he only uses products he would never feel ashamed to touch or to let glide across your own bodice: only the most natural, only the most sustainable, only the most unique. Scents of a man worthy of standing and sleeping next to you he only purchases the sense he imagines he would allow to engulf you, to surround you. The sense he imagines you breathing in deeply and humming in response to them, flooding your scents. He, only owns scents that he believes belongs to you.
He buys whatever hair products you've said you've used or ones he suspects you would. He buys all the best:
- combs and brushes
- hair picks
- partners
- diffusers
- curlers
- hair bands
- scrunchies
- silk scarves
- the most expensive silk hair bonnets
Anything and everything a goddess could ever dream of putting on her hair, he has provided, waiting for you in his home. Sitting there, he'll entwist the caps of some of them, if there isn't a plastic seal on them, just to smell them, just to imagine his nose pressed against the abundance of your hair. Deeply digesting the smell that is you.
He's been buying jewelry since the moment he knew you like the way it rings away on your fingers. Some women don't like jewelry; they're minimalist like that. He loves the way that he can weigh you down in the finest minerals this world has to offer. He invests in stocks, up on every carat of gold that suits your skin tone. On the platinum that's made to last. On the copper that is supposed to be a conduit of your divine energy. He invests in the silver that is supposed to embody the properties of the moon. He invests in the citrine, the aquamarine, the lab and natural diamonds. The ones sourced from the old world in the industrial age, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds from places many people don't know the names ofSouth Sea Pearls and Carved Ivory.
He collects books. He reads, reads, and reads. He always imagines the weight of your head on his lap, grounding him into the sofa. He imagines brushing your face, your collarbones, and your navel with one hand while holding the work of someone's mind in the other, tracing your lips and your eyelids, smiling down at you, reading the words of love and wisdom over you and into your ear.
Reader is a scavenger and finds Atlas while looking for cool stuff. Atlas is mostly functional but powered down since being abandoned.
Reader looks all the ways to get Atlas turned back on, and thats how they get redirected to Martin, who reader asks for help or redirection to somewhere where they can recharge Atlas.
The whole time, Martin tries to fuck Atlas up to stay with reader but Atlas is on battery saving mode so he can actually turn on from time to time. But he saves up those chances to either gawk at reader or fight off Martin.
Love love loveee this crossover! I remember once posting about which guys were the strongest and Atlas and Martin were pretty much toe to toe, so their interactions would be priceless.
If reader stays around Martin just like in the main story, I’m sure he wouldn’t see Atlas as much of a threat to begin with, because he can’t possibly fathom that a human can fall deeply in love with an android. He has the logic that a real person can’t lose against an object. But when he realizes that Altas has much more autonomy and self-awareness than normal androids, he starts to worry, especially when he sees how possessive and manipulative Atlas is.
On Atlas’s side, he’d automatically sense that Martin is a threat, not just because he can microanalyse every movement and so understands that this man is a trained hunter, but also because he can clearly see his interest in the reader. Also, I feel like he’d be more sturdy and with a bit of repairs could stay on for long periods of time.
At first and just like you said, they’d tried to both sabotage each other in secret, since the last thing they wants to disturb/shock their darling. Martin would try to show reader that Atlas is more manipulative than they think, while Atlas would try to expose Martin’s bounty hunter job.
But yay, this would 100% end up with both of them trying to kill each other… 😅(except if the power of polyamory can pierce through their yandere tendencies)
･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･
“Thanks again for keeping a watch on Atlas, I promise I won’t take too long!”
“It’s really no problem, I’m glad I can help.”
Giving both of the men one last wave as you hurried out the door, you were oblivious of the tension that would appear the second you’d turn your back. Martin didn’t turn to face the broken android sitting down at his table as he spoke.
“Next time they leave you with me, you won’t be so lucky Clanker.” He muttered through a gritted smile.
Atlas' eyes stayed closed as his soft, yet glitchy voice rang out.
“You truly are an ignorant human if you think there won’t be repercussions if you lay your hands on me.” The android glanced up at him as a chilling smile grazed his lips, “I’m not like those other electronics you so oh sloppily sabotage to keep them here.”
I'm a little loser freak myself, and I just love the fact that a man loves every gross thing about me. Anyway :
Yandere who is in love with your body odor. I think some of us like the way we smell, even when we don't smell great, but having a yandere that loves your smell
If you've been outside and you're sweating, you just went to the gym and you're sweating, or a warm hole in your sweating. He just loves the way that you smell and you think it's disgusting and disturbing, but you also kind of like how you don't have to be ashamed of it because he is obsessed.
You just came in. You're sweating. You think you stink and you need to take a shower. This dog is quite literally pressing up against you, sniffing you, pressing his body against you, groping you.
"Baby, no! I need to shower, get off me."
He shakes his head, "Nuh-uh. Smells so good."
He wraps his arms around you, lifting up your arms above your head, holding, tilting his head over your underarm and smelling you. The literal whiffs of you
It would be humiliating if it weren't for the fact that he is the one being a downright disgusting dog.
It becomes even more disturbing when he literally licks you and says your sweat tastes good.
Having a man that is absolutely obsessed with texting you. I imagine a big, successful man, the last man in the world Anyone would expect to be texting voice messages, spam texting, sending video texts. Every time you open a new text message app (Instagram, WhatsApp, or even Apple messages), there's always something from him, I swear.
- If he's going for a walk, he's sending you a video of himself.
- If he's cooking, he's sending you a video of himself.
- If he's taking a cold plunge, he's sending you a video of himself.
- If he's in the sauna, he's sending you a video of himself.
- If he's in the shower, he is literally propping up his phone in the case he specifically bought as a waterproof phone case so he could take videos of himself in the shower putting on shampoo.
If he's driving, he's setting himself up for a facetime with you.
He calls, he texts, he spams, he sends you more messages Than people would have ever imagined.
"Baby, look at this flower I found."
No one would think the 6'5" beefcake is sending you videos of his breakfast.
Pathetic genius yandere! Having a genius be absolutely obsessed with you, he spent his entire life as an academic and engineer, building things that served the world, and it made him a fortune. During that time, once he met you, he realized that greater than all of his life's work was the life that he was creating with and for you. No one expects the multi-billion dollar man to have taken his wife's name, but he does, and he loves it.
pathetic genius yandere! "Well, I love my wife, and I love the name she was born with, and so why wouldn't I take her name?" . No one can really say much about it.
Of course, it makes headlines, but what are they going to do, argue with a billionaire? You know how people say that it's not about the money and that they don't care about the money? Well, he does. Not in the sense of how it relates to him, but in the way of how it relates to you:
- how he can buy you more
- how he can give you more
- how he can commission a half-a-billion-dollar yacht named after you
- how he can buy you the heritage jewels and gemstones of the world so that your family name can live on with a grand legacy
Pathetic genius yandere! He doesn't care about the name he was born with. That means nothing. He's built his entire life trying to be someone, to mean something. He didn't realize that the entire life he was building was meant to be given over to you entirely, completely, unabashedly.
Pathetic genius yandere! He's rich enough to fuck the patriarchy, and that's why he devotes himself to you. He has sit-down interviews with all of the top news networks, interviewers, et cetera. He has a sense of almost being ephemeral because he can exist in a realm above societal standards and expectations.
Pathetic genius yandere! He always considered himself agnostic on a good day, atheist as norm. He never believed in the concept or the theory or the doctrine that there's a man in the sky. Why would there be? He believed in science, and science said that women were the bearers of life, unless, of course, you were a seahorse.
Why would he subscribe to a notion as silly as the one that man created all life in the universe and was the judge of all life?
Pathetic genius yandere! When he met you, for the first time in his life, he felt his sense of religious enlightenment, zealotry, a need to be committed to something outside and above himself. When he met you, he knew that you were the altar at which he would bear himself, completely and render all of his resources to.
Pathetic genius yandere! he feels like a computer, and you're the coder. He'll figure out whatever needs to happen in order to make your desires become reality. You give him an input, and he'll show you output. You give him an order or command, and he'll show you what he can build from it. Every one of his actions is centered around you. Forever.
