#yan x reader

[jadeharts]

☆ ──꒰☁️꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚ TWISTED LIKE HEAVEN !

chapter. 0.01 beginning of the end

( YANDERE! TWISTED WONDERLAND X ISEKAI'D! READER )

☆ ──꒰summary꒱ ❞ You helped make a wildly successful Twisted Wonderland yandere dating sim as a joke. Now you're trapped inside it, and every bad ending that you admittedly had incomplete knowledge of, the ones that you and your friends wrote, is suddenly trying to become your reality.

inspo. twisted hearts, @wifishifey, re: zero, diabolik lovers and yandere simulator

masterlist xoxo ,,,, previously on Twisted Like Heaven

tags/warnings: yan! twst boys x gn!reader, eventual gore blood and violence, yandere actions, can be crack sometimes. wc. 3.1k

UPDATE! my laptop broke two days ago— nothing horrible— but i have to wait a little bit until amazon delivers the new parts. im sorry for the very temporary haitus :( currently writing on a spare

TWISTED LIKE HEAVEN !

Every Heart Has an Ending.

Darkness greeted you before anything else—a thick, suffocating void that swallowed up a light that had a chance of entering, an absolute void on all sides of you. Shadows bled into each other until the world became a formless abyss. And, to be fair, there was nothing else. You stood in the center of nowhere.

But how did this happen? Were you dreaming? It didn’t feel like a dream- no, no, this felt very much so real. But… how?

It wasn’t as if you’d performed some grand ritual or done anything extraordinary at all before sleep claimed you. Actually, it was quite the opposite, since hours earlier, you’d listlessly scrolled through your TikTok notifications on Twisted Like Heaven’s main account, sifting through comments about the new update—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should have summoned you to this place. Freshly graduated and rolling in money, your days blurred together in a haze of idleness and dissatisfaction, each moment more hollow than the last.

This place… You weren’t even sure if this was reality, and if this was happening, wherever you were wasn't a figment of your dream-like imagination– the drop in your stomach felt more real than wherever you were.

You took a step, and then another; your body felt like mush, almost like a really bad hangover that had you slow and groggy, and left you with a dull, aching pain that seemed to sit in every bone of your body.

You couldn’t think; you could barely move. Your steps were tiny, fractured, and it took all the strength in your body to move barely an inch from where you began. 

What. the. Fuck. Was. happening.

[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…] Welcome, Player.

Loading route data… Loading protagonist…

ERROR: “YUU” NOT FOUND

No protagonist found.

Attempting replacement. 

Reassigning narrative anchor…

…

What the hell does that mean?

…

….

[NARRATIVE INSTABILITY DETECTED]

[PROCEED: ENTITY RECOGNITION FAILURE]

[RESOLUTION: IMMEDIATE RECONSTRUCTION INITIATED] 

[SIDE CHARACTER ROLE: LOCKED]

What—

That’s it. Literally, your vision completely cut out, there was no more liminal space, no system updates. Just… nothing. It was eerie in a way, the calmness that settled in your chest, which felt like it shouldn't have been there, but was. It was peaceful; you had no control over it, yet you didn't care. You weren't thinking about your dream, or not-dream, or anything at all. It was all just nonexistent— like all your worries from before had evaporated.

…

This vague calm, of course, did not last long.

Immediately, confusion rushed through you. You could hear laughter; you could hear it, yet you couldn't see it. You couldn't see anything. There were footsteps, and then more, and people talking in some distant place– a place that you couldn't see, only hear— almost as if you were there with them, and yet, you weren't. No space was attached.

Where were you?

You blinked, and in that half a second, the inkiness in your gaze disappeared, and you saw it– the dots covering your eyes melted away, showing… a hallway? A big one, with green lanterns– not even lanterns– fire in places of torches; there were people dressed in strange uniforms,  and speaking things that you couldn't comprehend. 

Why did this feel so real? 

You blinked again, and thin, glitching lines cut across your vision for a split second before vanishing. Your body still barely responded. You couldn't move. You couldn't feel. You could only gaze numbly and watch.

An abrupt chill hit your body, like, really fucking cold. Sharp and immediate, it was like the air stabbed into your skin with tiny little bullets; you felt the flesh prickle, your body shook like it was covered in ice. You shifted your head slowly. It still ached to move, but not nearly as much as before. You pulled your arms in, instinctively wrapping yourself uselessly in your own feeble attempt at an embrace.  Why was it so cold in here?

 Your body finally began to catch up—still sluggish, stiff, and wrong– but you could now look around, no matter how aimlessly, and take your surroundings in. Girls and boys were rushing through the corridor like a stream; some looked happy, laughing with their friends— all of whom were wearing similar strange uniforms- and others resembled stone-faced students who just wanted to get to class.

You stared down into your hands for a moment, then around again.

You gaped at one of the large, mahogany doors, the intricate designs that ran down each one— the grey astragal that connected the two was large and ornate— just like everything else around you. You took in the stone-piled walls that surrounded each door that descended down the hallway; all four sides of you seemed to loom over your figure. You felt exceptionally small as your feet carried you forward. This was an expensive high school.

You scanned over the faces of the people again, but this time, your breathing stopped. For a fraction of a second, only a moment, everything halted. Foots ceased to move, mouths seemed to have been frozen mid-conversation, and for just the slightest moment, every single head in the hallway turned slightly towards you. Not watching, not exactly, but almost as if they were all collectively checking if you were there.

You took a step back. There was definitely something wrong in this place. Everything turned back to normal in just a second. 

SYSTEM CORRECTION: RESUME NORMAL ACTIVITY 

Everything resumed instantly, almost like nothing had happened. Footsteps carried on, and people chattered up once again, turning away from you completely. Except you saw it! Why were those words in front of you? Why couldn't anyone else see them?

You were so enraptured in your own- what would you even call it? Hallucination? Weird system talking to you? Whatever the fuck just happened, you were too overwhelmed and distraught, you missed the person next to you almost completely.

He was tall, blonde, handsome, even– and maybe you would’ve noticed that if you weren’t already in total shock. 

“Hey, you there, [Na–” his eyes glaze over. Silence. “Forget it.”

And then he walked away. Just completely stopped talking to you and walked away! Your heart felt like it might explode from the speed at which it hammered in your chest, and your breathing was shallow and ragged.

“Excuse me?” You breathe out.

He keeps walking.

You didn't even realize someone was walking right into you before it was too late… No, like, literally through you. They didn’t even flinch. No reaction or acknowledgement… it was almost as if you weren’t even physically rendered as an obstacle. You didn't know how to react. Why was there so much going on right now?

Another moment, and all the sounds of chatter drop; the scene shifts slightly back to how it was before, and all the lights around you go back to normal– like reality rewound for a second and then snapped back into place.

COMPENSATION COMPLETE. 

A sharp impact jolts your shoulder. It’s not violent enough to hurt properly, but enough to prove two things— whoever did that was an asshole, and the fact that you were physically here now.

“—Tch. Move.”

A tall figure brushes past you, adjusting his course at the last second like you were a random person he didn’t want to or need to give a second thought about.

You stagger half a step, but he pauses his footsteps, stopping vaguely. “…You there?”

The voice is low. Controlled. Annoyed, but not emotional in any real sense.

You look up at the male, momentarily regaining your senses. He’s tall. Dark hair falls onto his shoulders as you look into his sharp, steady eyes. Well-put-together in a way that felt intentional.

He studied you for a moment too long and you shrunk under his gaze. “…[Name]?”

For a second, nothing happened. There’s no system interruption and no error. Just the question hanging there. You hesitated before responding; you don’t trust your own voice enough not to sound shaky just yet.

“…Yeah.”

A pause. Then a faint exhale through his nose—almost a whistle, almost amusement, but not quite either.

“Lock in,” he says flatly. “Crewel’s going to have your ass for skipping the past few days.”

He starts walking again, like the conversation is already finished, like it was never important. And like you were never unstable to begin with.

Wait. Crewel–?

—————————————————————

Finally, finally, you gathered your bearings. 

This school was like a maze —no, this was worse than a maze. Mazes at least made sense if you stared at them long enough. This place just… repeated itself. You were completely and utterly lost, genuinely. How could a building have so many twists and turns, and why, by God, did everything look the same? Every time you passed a framed portrait, you swore—swore—it changed when you looked away. A blink too long and the face wasn’t the same anymore. A tilt of your head, and the eyes weren’t looking where they were before.

Or maybe you were just losing it. That felt equally as likely.

A sound brushed the edge of your hearing—almost laughter. Almost. The kind of noise you weren’t sure you were meant to notice.

You stopped walking for a second.

Nothing changed, not even a little bit. Shut up, brain, stop freaking yourself out here.

You were going to give up; this was just too much. Your head throbbed violently in the corner of your skull, an intense, buzzing static pounded in your ears, and your legs felt like wood being dragged through a current. Every step was just one moment closer to absolutely losing your shit. You couldn’t even find a bathroom properly, to throw up or cry; you didn’t know which, probably both; whatever way your body chose to betray you this time.

You closed your eyes and leaned back for a moment against the cool stone walls, taking a deep breath through your nose, the chilled air now calming you just slightly. People were beginning to disappear into their classes, while you remained. 

The air shifted, not dramatically, just something changed.

The hallway sound didn’t stop, exactly. It just… delayed. Just a half a second behind, like a lag, and the sound was catching up. A student brushed past you—and for the briefest moment, their steps didn’t echo. And then they did.

You slowly opened your eyes, barely peeking through your dry eyelids. The corridor was still full. Still normal, definitely still alive. Just off. You couldn't look at this shit anymore. No matter where you went, something abnormal would happen. A faint pressure pressed against your awareness; it wasn't a voice or a sound, it was almost like a notification, but inside your head?

[ROUTE ASSIGNMENT COMPLETE]

You were exhausted; you didn't want to keep walking, your eyes flickering closed as you breathed in the newly empty hallway. The air was suffocating, or maybe you were imagining that, too?

“…[Name].”

You flinched, opening your eyes at the sharp tone. Lord, it momentarily brought you back to high school when a teacher caught you skipping class. Eugh.

The corridor resumed like it once was before, like it had been released, much like the deep breath you had been holding in. The green lights flickered down the halls, the once-blurred signs on the doors returning to something more normal— and readable. You turned your gaze to the figure— a fluffy black-and-white striped coat draped over his arms caught your eye instantly; the red velvet behind it seemed luxurious, and definitely out of any teacher's pay grade in your world. A similarly dyed side cut, matching suit with a sleek red tie, and matching dark eyes with an unimpressed frown on his face.

Oh. Oh no…

Crewel didn’t move immediately. His gaze stayed on you a moment too long—sharp, assessing, like he was calculating how bad he wanted to whip you for your disrespect.

"Professor…" you sigh, barely meeting his eyes. What a mess.

“…Strange.”

You hesitate, fidgeting with the sleeve of your uniform. How did you get yourself into this shit? “Excuse me?”

His whip lowered slightly, not relaxed—just no longer needed for the moment. “No recorded attendance for the past seventy-two hours, and you finally decided my class is important enough to attend- is that right, [Name]?”

Silence.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if something on an invisible list wasn’t matching up. “And, in a gesture of your very apparent care for your academics, you arrive late."

Your stomach dropped. “I— I’m just lost, I was trying to find—”

“Enough.”

It was only one word, clean and final. But not angry, per se, more corrective than anything. He exhaled through his nose, like this was an inconvenience he had dealt with before. “…Your negligence is becoming intolerable.”

His eyes sharpened once again, making you feel small under his gaze. What is wrong with you, [Name]? He's just a teacher. Well, yeah, but this wasn't exactly a normal circumstance. Sigh… what to do..

“You will accompany me to class.” You knew that wasn't a question.

"Broaden your mind," he huffed. "And use your inner eye to see the future."

Your feet moved before you had time to fully process it. This situation just kept getting worse and worse, but your panic was caught in your throat. Crewel could see you, say your name, and even order you around like he would anyone else. At least now, for the first time since you got here, you weren't wandering.

"This way. You will face your punishment at a later time."

You let out a breath and follow after him, his fur coat waving dramatically as you enter the room behind him. The classroom itself was nice— and unfamiliar— potion bottles lined the sides of the room, and piles of books just beside them. The students were chatting loudly just like before any class; it was normal. The first and almost only normal thing, it felt, since you got here.

Well, jokes on you, because would you look at that! Every single seat was taken by one person or another. Great, your day just kept getting worse and worse by the minute.

Crewel strode over to the front of the classroom as you walked the front aisle slowly. You felt small and out of place, and you just wanted to go home. You glanced around one more time, making sure the only place left to sit was… right next to Floyd Leech and Epel Felmier. Why, oh why, did the universe hate you?

You took your seat slowly, noticing the bag on your shoulder for the first time in the entire past hour. Was that always there? Whatever, you sat down in your seat, keeping your head down in the slightest way.

[SIDE CHARACTER POSITION CONFIRMED]

You freeze, obviously, and groan internally.

Cool. Fantastic. Whatever the hell that means. Was this thing gonna keep popping up every time you do anything? Right, okay, side character, alright, you get it. You glanced around, praying for the love of everything good, not to have Floyd Leech notice you. The last thing you needed right now was that menace breathing down your neck, or worse, trying to squeeze you.

Nothing happened, thankfully; no one stares at the UI message or anything like that. Nothing glitched or exploded; it simply faded away. That almost feels worse, almost.

Crewel set down his books loudly and cleared his throat with an ehem!. The whole class went silent with impressive vigor, straightening themselves and looking towards the teacher— yeah, maybe Night Raven College was a bit different from high school after all.

"...Since some of you seem to believe punctuality is optional..." His eyes flicked toward you for half a second.

"...I trust no one will repeat today's display."

Hahaahahaahahah! Great! Awesome! Public humiliation in the first hour of the day! Ten out of ten, truly.

Okay, [Name], get a grip. Potion class. Easy. Lessons in Twisted are normal.

The lecture began, and you rolled your eyes and cried to yourself. You already finished high school! You'd already forgotten what a bore it was. Whatever. What choice do you have anyway?

The lesson dragged on, Crewel's voice droning on and on about some mystical plant(?) Really, you were more focused on doodling in your notebook than actually paying attention. You couldn't focus on some potion lesson even if you tried. To be fair, you'd been magically transported to Twisted Wonderland of all places, and honestly, that didn't seem like the worst possible thing. I mean, it could've been like Chainsaw Man or something. Now that would've been a nightmare.

Regardless, Crewel's voice droned on and on, which really only served as background noise to your inner turmoil. Yuu not found, huh? It was crazy, you still weren't completely positive you weren't hallucinating all this. But in some way or another, it really just felt like you were trapped in some unstable, potentially unfinished version of the game.

"Leech," Crewel called suddenly.

Floyd, who had spent the better part of the lesson absentmindedly spinning a glass stirring rod between your fingers, didn't even bother looking up.

"Hm?"

"If your attention has drifted so far from today's lesson that you believe yourself qualified to teach it," Crewel drawled, resting one hand atop his desk, "perhaps you'd like to explain the proper preparation of a Sea Witch's Bloom."

The classroom went silent.

Floyd blinked. "...Nope."

"Then kindly refrain from demonstrating to your classmates the remarkable hereditary talent of the Leech family to occupy space while contributing absolutely nothing."

Your pencil stopped moving.

No.

No fucking way.

Discord — #intro-build

papameatstoe: canon crewel isnt enough of a menace highk make him a bit meaner

coffeeoakname: LMFAO alr

papameatstoe: Make him sound like a total ass like a mr. hemlier in chem when he'd fuck with ppl for no reason

coffeeoakname: BRO DONT REMIND ME… the incident….

coffeeoakname: and yh bet i got u

"Then kindly refrain from demonstrating to your classmates the remarkable hereditary talent of the Leech family to occupy space while contributing absolutely nothing."

papameatstoe: OMG ID CRY

silverfish: POOR FLOYD DUDE THAT'S SO SCARY

coffeeoakname: dada crewel will be a dick

The memory vanished as quickly as it appeared, your heart dropping to your stomach in an instant. There was no way, right? You stared blankly at the front of the class.

"No…" You whispered under your breath.

That line was not written by Disney, it wasn't even in Twisted Wonderland. That was your line; you wrote that. Not inspired by it, not similar— literally word for word. A cold knot twisted itself inside your stomach. You could be sick right now.

If you were the one who wrote that, and Crewel just said it to Floyd, of all people. This was Twisted Like Heaven.

Also known as the unfinished build, the one with placeholder routes.

The one your friends had spent months stuffing with inside jokes, dialogue rewrites, hidden flags, and two hundred different ways to be killed, get other people murdered, kidnapped or imprisoned.

…

Oh, you were so unbelievably screwed.

The lecture resumed as it should have, and you stared blankly at the wooden desk in front of you. You couldn't even doodle anymore. The scratching of lead against paper filled the air as students took their notes, class clinked softly against tabletops, and behind you, Floyd laughed obnoxiously at something Epel muttered under his breath.

Everything continued exactly as it should, but your brain just refused to.

That wasn't canon. We changed that.

...We changed a lot of things.

Your fingers slowly tightened around your pencil. "...Shit."

How much had made it into the final build? How much had made it into the leaked build? How much had your friends written while you were asleep? Because you only handled parts of the dialogue!

The routes, the hidden endings, and the event flags.

Someone else had balanced affection values. Someone else had implemented bad endings.

Someone else had...

Your blood ran cold.

...I don't even know half this game.

Hai guys!! Ive been getting a lot of replies about the taglist, which I’m so glad you guys are liking the content! To make it easier for myself, there’s a taglist forum in my bio you can use, just to help me organize!! Love u guys🐰🐰

taglist; @rho-229

[chaepink]

Thinking about…

pretty boys whose favorite position is on their knees. tell them to kneel and they’re down with no hesitation, their eyes wide and puppy like as they stare up at you with such devotion. their hands are on their thighs, clenching and unclenching as they await your next order. honestly it’s both cute and pathetic how they listen to your orders so obediently. they’re so easy to train, so easy to order around, that you can’t help but make him do the simplest things just to watch him obey. make them stay kneeling for too long and they’ll let out quiet whines and whimpers because they just want to hear your voice commanding them. even better if you keep them on the ground as you walk around and do stuff in the room and they can only kneel and watch you practically ignore them. come back to them and make of him about how teary he is and how there’s already a damp spot on his crotch ❤️

Note: I missed these types of posts

[dumbstupidpiggy]

I'm free the rest of the day!!!! You know what that means?? time to spiral about yanderes!! Here's a fic I've had in my notes for so long based on @meo-eiru 's Yandere OC Elias, it's kind of a continuation for the fic I sent in Meru's asks.

Again I would like to reiterate any credits for the character of Elias and the art and the art of him belong to Meru, and if you want to check out her page, I HIGHLY recommend it. I cannot wait for the new game girl take as long as you need we're all PATIENTLY waiting

ALL her OC's are absolutely AMAZING 😮‍💨😮‍💨

TW: manipulation, sh, obsession, I wanna say codependency just because of Elias, it's a yandere story so use your own discretion idk but it's a lotta angst.

the storm inside

(elias x reader)

⸻

It’s raining.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book you’ve completely given up on reading. Instead you were just flipping the pages, listening to the clock tick on—

tick… tick… tick…

Like it’s counting down to something you can’t name, something you don’t want to face… but you can still feel it building.

Elias is in the kitchen humming to himself, the sound bouncing off the walls as he moves between counters, spoons clinking against mugs.

It would look like a sweet domestic scene to anyone else, a cozy night in while the outside world is dark and gray.

Warm, safe.

But you know better, and you would rather take the storm outside than spend another minute in this suffocating apartment.

You feel it in your chest first. A tightening, like the storm outside had somehow found a way to sneak inside your ribs. He’s watching. Always watching. You could be breathing, shifting your weight, turning a page, and he’d notice it all.

You’re the rabbit, frozen, sensing the wolf behind you.

You know you’re no match for him… he knows you’re no match for him. The game has been rigged from the very start, and all you can do is wait for him to pounce.

Just thinking about it feels like a weight has been placed on your chest.

Has it always felt like this? You wonder, was this really the same man you fell for?

No… no. Don’t be ridiculous, of course he’s the same man. You’re just in your head again…. that has to be it.

Your mind was gnawing at you, full of concerns that others would feel safe sharing with their partner. However, you know if you tried anything you said would be twisted to make you feel guilty.

When did all of this start feeling so heavy?

A sharp clink from the coffee table yanks you out of the spiral you found yourself in… Now all you can see is Elias. He’s there, holding a steaming mug just for you. His perfect, glowing face smiles at you.

The kind of smile that makes the world pause, the kind that seems like it’s just for you… because it is.

What are you thinking?

That he’s is plotting against you?

That he’s dangerous?

He loves you— Okay… he’s a little intense about it… okay! Very intense about it. But at least you know he meant it…

At least you know he’s still the same man who loves you so much it hurts him. Who values you— your thoughts, your words, like they’re gospel.

So what were you putting him on trial for? Loving you too much?

Wanting more would be greedy when he’s already giving you his everything.

His eyes catch yours, and for a second, the warmth feels like sunlight in winter. You reach for the mug, your fingers brushing his. He lets the touch linger, always letting it linger.

“You’ve been so quiet lately,” he murmurs as he sits beside you. His body is too warm, his scent—the faintly metallic aroma he seems to carry with him. It makes your stomach twist in ways you try not to notice.

“I’m just tired,” you lie.

A beat passes. Too long.

Elias doesn’t blink, “You’re tired,” he repeats, like he’s testing the sound of the word. Your eyes fixate on his thumb... tapping lightly against the side of your mug, once, twice.

“That’s strange… because you seemed pretty awake earlier.”

Your grip on the handle tightens. You feel the air thinning, feel his warmth turning into something sharper before you fully understand it.

He tilts his head, studying you, not unkindly. Never unkindly. That’s what makes it worse, “You were on the phone,” he continues softly. “Laughing, oddly enough...”

“I checked your call history. Imagine my surprise when it was empty.”

Your stomach drops, of course he did. You try to keep your face neutral, an impossible task when his eyes are boring into yours. “It was probably nothing. I clear it sometimes—”

He hums out, not believing her words in the slightest, but playing along as if it was for her sake. “Sometimes?” he echoes.

He leans closer. Not enough to be threatening, just enough that you can feel his body caging you in against the couch. “It was wiped.”

Your breath catches. His eyes flicker over your face, searching, cataloging every micro-expression. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that?”

You shake your head quickly. “It wasn’t not like that. I-I clean it out every week. It’s just a habit—”

Again, he doesn't let you finish. He cuts you off with a soft laugh, like you’ve said something mildly interesting but ultimately incorrect.

“A habit,” he repeats. “You’re so funny today.” His fingers slide over yours where they hold the mug, not squeezing... just there, grounding, inescapable.

“Because I have habits too, you know.” His voice is calm again, conversational. “Like checking who you talk to, when you talk— how long you talk. You know it brings me piece of mind.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

The room is filled with a tense silence.

He watches you scramble.

“You must think I’m stupid,” he says after a moment, almost gently. Not angry, worse. Disappointed. “Or careless.”

“I never— I don’t—”

“No?” His brows lift slightly, as he cut you off like he’s giving you a chance to correct yourself… you both know it’s not a real chance.

You falter.

He smiles; Not wide, not warm. Just enough to send a chill down your body.

“I watch everything, love,” his voice brushes your skin, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Not because I don’t trust you…”

A pause.

“…but because I know you.”

His fingers tilt your chin just enough to make you meet his eyes. “And I know when you’re hiding something from me.”

You feel the wind getting knocked out immediately after those words fell out of his lips, “I’m not hiding anything,” you say, but it comes out smaller, more rushed than you intended.

He studies you for a long moment, searching, weighing, deciding. Then… he exhales.

Slow.

Controlled.

“Okay.”

The word should feel like relief. It didn't.

He leans back slightly, hand still resting on you like he never planned to let go. “Then you won’t mind if I keep a closer eye on things,” he adds lightly, like it’s the most reasonable suggestion in the world. “my things.”

“I just worry,” he continues, almost tender now, brushing his thumb absentmindedly against your thigh. “People don’t always have the best intentions. And you…”

His gaze sharpens for just a second as his thought drawled on. “At this point, I don’t know if you’re too hopeful to find the best in them…”

“or too stupid to tell the difference.”

The words land softly. That’s what makes them sting.

“I’m not,” you say again, like you're a broken record spinning round and round. It comes out thin, fragile.

“No, no…” he hums, as if he was pleased at the fact that you were close to tears. His tone turned syrupy sweet as he pushed some stray pieces of hair behind your ear, “Don’t take it like that.”

His hand slides down, cradling your jaw. “You know I didn’t mean it in that way.”

He pressed a soft kiss against the temple of her forehead, “You just don’t know any better, do you?” Another cheap shot, “but that’s not your fault.”

His thumb brushes under your eye, slow, “This world is full of monsters, baby. They don't deserve you... but I do, and I’m not letting anyone else get inside that little head of yours.”

You nod along to his words barely. Another soft kiss against your cheek. You know that kiss. The kind that is half-adoration, half-warning. “Just you, Love.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’d hate to have to do something we’d both regret.”

Your hands tremble around the mug. He notices. Of course he notices. He always notices. He slips his other arm around your waist, sighing, as if the weight of the day melts when you’re here, like this, in his grasp.

“Sometimes I wonder...” he says softly, voice low, deliberate, “if you still really love me. Or if you’re just scared.”

You open your mouth, not even sure if words would come out— nothing does. His hand waves off the idea, before he touches your lips lightly. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.”

Then he lifts his sleeve.

Lines, faint now, pinkish and jagged, slowly fading. He takes your hand and traces them with your fingertip, deliberately, intimately, like he’s letting you memorize them… as if you hadn’t done that already.

He doesn’t need to say much... the image alone speaks louder than any words could. You see the moments he carved into himself, the pain made tangible. Healing has softened the edges, but not the memory.

Not the guilt that engulfed her everytime she saw them.

“This is how I know it’s real,” he says. His voice is calm, almost tender.“You live under my skin. You always will."

Then his tone changes.

It drops,

Low.

Deadly.

“But if you ever tried to leave me…” His head tilts, the sweetest smile on his face.

“…I think I’d have no choice but to carve a matching one into you.”

The mug shakes in your hands—

Too much.

It slips.

Porcelain cracks against the floor, tea splashing across your skin, hot enough to sting... but the sensation barely registers: Because Elias is already there, pressing you back into the couch with all his weight.

Too fast… too sudden…. too rough.

His fingers weave into your hair as he pulled you into a frenzied and messy kiss, you taste rain on his lips and fear in your own. The kiss isn’t gentle this time.

It’s messy.

Hungry.

Demanding.

You taste rain on his lips—

And something else, something sharp.

And you let him; You let him be rough, you let him take, let him claim.

You let him… because what else can you do?

You know he would never intentionally hurt you, not in his eyes. Anything he did to you wasn’t really his fault. You just shouldn’t have pushed him that far…

Because resisting would only make it worse.

So when he hears you whimper into the kiss? He just moans back, because he knows this moment is bigger than both of you . That you need to remember how much he needs you, how much he loves you.

His love is his worship, his obsession, his devotion. You’ve been told that before: he’d rather destroy himself than let you hurt… because you? You’re his fallen angel, sent down to this hell just for him.

And yet, the threat is real.

Every day is a tightrope with Elias... One wrong step and the storm in his mind could sweep you away— or pull you closer.

A balancing act between love and fear, devotion and dread. Some nights, you’ll get in the crossfire of one of his meltdowns. Others? You’ll be praised solely for existing.

And in that realization, the rain outside doesn’t feel so different from the storm inside these walls.

⸻

૮𐔌っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬 also sorry if the spacing is weird i dont know how to do this at all :3

[hyacinth-in-a-haze]

One of the lucky ones- Yandere Concubine x Fem reader

Contains- abuse, physical violence, obsessive and possessive behaviour,blood, disfigurement, power imbalance

“Hurry up, will you? Need I remind you how it looks if a member of my retinue falls behind everyone else?” He raises a manicured brow as he gestures for you to walk at his side.

“My apologies your imperial highness,” you scurry up next to your lord, carefully holding the parasol above him, it is heavy and your hands buckle slightly from carrying it above him the entire hour he's been outdoors wandering the imperial gardens. The most favoured and spoilt concubine to the emperor, he chose you, lifting you up from a nameless serving girl scrubbing floors in his pavilion, to his primary attendant and companion. The only servant privileged enough to stand beside him rather than behind him, you're lucky. You remind yourself of that as much as you can, you're lucky to have been only just sold to the palace as a servant instead of anywhere else they send plain faced village girls too. You're lucky that he spotted you and found your stammering provincial dialect entertaining, lucky that you get dressed in his offcuts and old fabrics, fobbing off his gifts from the emperor onto you to the point where minor servants speak to you with respect because everyone can see you hold the most treasured concubines ear. Even if you're too skittish to ever mumble in it.

“Leave that for one of the others to carry,” The parasol is immediately taken from you by one of the guards, with your arms suddenly free he wraps his arm around yours, resting it in the crook of your elbow. He is beautiful, unfairly so, and he guards it fiercely. You alone know of the countless tonics and potions he applies to himself, the time he spends every night focused on himself before the emperor arrives. He allows you to sit in with him as he conducts his rituals, smearing some mask over his face, noticing your stares he put some on your skin too. And you were too shy to even wonder if this was just him making fun of you. He lets you brush his hair, long and thick down to his thighs you spend extra time to care for it. Raking your hands through his locks as your mother once did for you. Your own hair is nothing special, stubborn to grow long when cut but he will let you keep the last dregs in the hair oil bottles for yourself. It's nice, these little tastes of luxury he shares without asking anything of you in return. His beauty is his currency and you've seen the bruises that can litter his body for night after the emperor has him, the slight limp as he walks. And you say nothing because you know what it's like to serve a master who's violence comes to him quickly. So you just help your lord into fresh clothes, rub balm into his marks. When he pulls you tight against his chest as though he would stop breathing if he let go of you, you just stay still and let it happen.

Some nights when he does not need to deal with the emperor's attention he will request that you sleep by his side. At first you prepared to sleep on the floor beside his bed until he rolled his eyes, flicked you on the forehead and simply pulled you beside him. But now it's become just another part of your routine, most of the night is spent helping him with his. You watch wide eyed as he uses ingredients that could cause years of your salary as though it is worthless. He dismisses everyone else until it's only you two in the warm lamplight and the sheer silk sleeping robes he's bestowed on you, with the excuse that as his personal attendant your presentation reflects him. You don't really know if that matters in private, when his head is resting on your lap and you scratch his scalp with a tenderness he's never been shown before.

The reverie is shattered with the entrance of the emperor. You have never seen your Lord's face move so quickly from panic to that stone mask of seduction he wears publicly. Nor had you ever been so close to the emperor before for him to even acknowledge your existence but it seems like tonight your luck must be about to run out. You scramble into a bow as the concubine lifts himself leisurely from the ground, heartbeat so loud you do not even realise you're being addressed until you're ordered to lift your head up. When you move too slow for his liking the emperor's hand reaches out and grabs you painfully by the chin to lift you. There are cracks in your lord's mask as he has no options but to watch, a flare in his nostrils, a set in his jaw. The emperor tilts your face any which way like buying a horse at a market as he makes comments about your appearance. Most of which you've heard before, plain faced and provincial, but he continues that you have that look of a fresh faced country innocence one that can so easily be shattered.

“Come, why would you bore yourself with her when I am the one you came for? Not my silly little maid.” the concubine practically throws himself at the emperor to distract his attentions from you. The moment you are released from his grip you scurry from the bedchambers, into the safety of the outside. There you wait until you can see the emperor leave, and you wait a bit longer just in case, before entering the chamber with warm damp cloths to silently clean his skin.

Afterwards your lord looks down on you, he is in a state of disarray, hair tousled, lips swollen, robe practically open. “I need to do something about you.” He mutters as though you aren't even in front of him. “I can't have that incident repeating, now that he has seen you, I don't have the luxury of waiting for him to forget you.” he sighs angrily, running a hand through his hair to get it out the way.

“My lord?” You ask softly trying to break him out from this state, but all it seems to do is remind him that you're here. He pounces on you like a tiger, pinning you underneath him. A hand fisting tight in your hair.

“I should ruin you,” he mutters darkly “it would be for your own good if I did so, to protect you from his advances you don't realise what he's about to do to you until his free hand is held aloft before you, a glint of silver in the low light in the room. He pulls your hair sharply when you begin to writhe and scream, the pain from your head being jerked about silences your sobs to whimpers as he leans over your ears. “I am doing what's best, don't you understand? I can handle his attentions,” he practically spits the word out as the dagger hovers precariously above you, “but you, you would collapse and crumble if he took you. This is the only way I can protect you, my sweet.” his eyes gone dark from mania as his hands shake “if I do this, not only will I mar your face but he will not know just how much love I have for you if I am willing to disfigure you. He will only think I'm jealous.”

“Please.” You whimper and tremble in his grip begging for mercy, but you don't realise that to him- this is a mercy. A shield from everyone who could think to harm you, he may not have the power yet to protect you but until then he will use what he has. You never realised that all the tenderness you offered to such a beautiful creature would make it turn its claws on you.

The pain is blinding for a moment as he drags the blade across your cheek. Holding your head tight and pinning you underneath his weight while you try to buck underneath him. It sears and burns brightly once the blade is removed and the dampness dripps across your face, staining the sheets and both yours and his robes. You try to open your mouth to scream or to howl but his mouth is on yours in a moment, to swallow up any sounds you make. Every slight moment only seems to open the wound more but he presses onto you as though he could devour you whole, pulling back with a flush on his bruised face and pure tenderness in his eyes he cups your bloody face, dabbing at your wound until the blood flow slows.“You're still so perfect,” he whispers softly “this was for the best please, you'll understand that in time.”

And perhaps he was right, in time you're left with an ugly scar torn across your left cheek, where you can't even smile without the skin puckering. With no one wanting to meet your face and the rumours spreading that he did this in jealousy that you could steal the emperor's affection from him. You're the only one who knows at night where he pours over secret plans to steal the throne out from underneath him, and he will kiss your puckered skin tenderly like you're the most perfect thing he's ever seen. Mumbling promises of how this was worth it now you're safe. You've long since stopped lying to yourself about how lucky you are to be here.

[drfrankensteinsketchupbottle]

Coffee and Cashmere

Yandere femboy x implied chubby reader

Very long fic, sorry!!!

TW: homophobia/kind of transphobia, murder, stalking, creepy behavior, slight NSFW

Your half empty coffee cup sloshes precariously as you run down the hall, frantically looking for your next class. You had already taken three wrong turns and ended up in a completely different building which is what led you to this rushed and panicked state.

Taking a sharp turn your body collides into someone else, knocking you both to the ground with your coffee cup flipping out of your hand in a perfect arc and landing directly on top of the person's head.

You gasp, hastily pushing yourself up onto your knees and reaching out to help “I’m so sorry, I promise that wasn’t intentional.” you grimace as you watch your coffee slowly seep into the girls baby pink shirt “Oh god, I totally messed up your outfit.” you grab her wrist and tug her back the way you came, remembering that you passed a bathroom.

“No, wait!” you pull her inside the girls bathroom and immediately begin rummaging in your backpack “I’ve got a spare shirt, it might be too big but you’ll still look super cute in it.” she fidgets nervously, a bright pink blush dusting her face. You coax her inside an empty stall and you hand her the spare shirt “Here, change into this and I’ll help get the coffee out before it stains!” she hesitates before taking the shirt from you, her hands trembling “What’s your name by the way?” you ask, hoping to help her relax a bit “Eden.” her voice is so quiet you have to strain to hear it “That’s a pretty name!” she doesn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry if I embarrassed you. I’m kind of scatterbrained right now and I should’ve paid more attention to where I was going.” you say as she locks the door behind her, there’s some rustling sounds and she drapes the coffee covered shirt over the top of the door “If I can’t get the coffee out then I’ll pay for a new one or try to get the stain out at home, sound good?” you begin scrubbing the shirt in the sink, pumping a few handfuls of soap into your palms and vigorously kneading it into the fabric. The stall unlocks and the girl comes back out, arms tucked around herself “You don’t have to do all that.” you wave her off “It’s perfectly fine, It was my mistake so I’d feel bad if I didn’t help.” she adjusts the shirt, the collar slipping down over her shoulder. 

“Sorry about the size, I usually keep a change of clothes for when I go to the gym and I like my clothes to be baggy so it’s less itchy.” you wring out the shirt, holding it up to the light “Hey! It’s like it never happened!” you turn to the girl “Do you have more classes today? I’d hate to make you carry a soggy shirt around all day.” she shakes her head, very clearly nervous “Alrighty then, here you go.” she takes it gingerly “Here, I can give you my number so you can let me know if there’s still a stain after it dries!” you scribble your phone number on a post-it note you had in your pocket and hold it out to her.

She glances between you and the note “This way it’s up to you whether or not you want to reach out.” she finally takes it “I’d be super pumped if you messaged me! I haven’t made any friends yet, I just moved here a few months ago when I got accepted to college.” you pull your backpack over your other shoulder “Well, I won’t keep bothering you, so you can head home. I hope to see you again!” you wave and head out, content with being late.

It wasn’t necessarily intentional, it was honestly just an overwhelming amount of anxiety that made him duck behind corners and trail after you like a skittish mouse. He fully intended on returning the shirt you had let him borrow but the embarrassment of you mistaking him for a girl and just how sweet you were was enough to make his heart pound so hard he felt like he’d pass out.

But he followed you down one hallway, then another and suddenly he was following you home. He almost collapsed when it dawned on him how far he had stalked you, knees shaking at his very creepy behavior. 

And yet…

He chews on his bottom lip, an odd satisfaction swirling in his chest as he fidgets behind the tree, watching as you unlock your door and step inside. Your shirt still clutched in his hand. Maybe he’d hold on to it for just a bit longer.

A bit longer turned into two weeks, and the shirt turned into a pillowcase. Again, it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that your perfume still lingered after he washed it and he couldn’t help but press his face against the soft fabric.

He still hadn’t worked up the courage to text you, though his fingers hovered over your name in his contacts. He had added an ungodly amount of cutesy emojis and changed your name to ‘my future wife’. Your name decorated in his notebook surrounded by hearts and ‘Mrs Ellis’ which made him giggle and kick his legs late at night in bed, like a lovesick teenager.

He sighs wistfully, doodling cute little chibi versions of you, tucked away in the back of the class “Oh hey! I know you!” he slams his notebook shut, cheeks neon pink at almost having been caught, his heart rate skyrocketing as he looks up and meets your gaze “I was worried when I didn’t hear from you,” he stares at you, pink lips parted in shock “I thought you might have been upset with me about the coffee.” he lurches up, shaking head head “Of course not!” you let out a sigh of relief “Thank god! Why didn’t you reach out then?” you almost pout, genuinely upset you didn’t get a message from a potential new bff.

Before he can respond, another classmate stalks up to you two scowling down at him “Is the freak harassing you?” the guy asks, making you side-eye the intruder “The fuck is wrong with you?” you shift your body to block the girl “Why the fuck would you call her a freak?” the guy snorts “That’s a dude, a creepy little femboy.” you freeze, processing “He probably didn’t tell you so he could perv on you!” he laughs, pointing at the trembling figure behind you.

You smack his hand away “Back off.” the guy stares at you, anger flashing across his face “Fucking lesbo.” he spits out before stalking off, the only thing stopping him from continuing his verbal onslaught was that the professor finally arrived.

“Are you okay?” you press your hand against Eden’s shoulder, his lithe frame shaking like a leaf “Sit down, take a deep breath.” you glance at the front, hoping the professor doesn’t call you out as you tug an empty desk closer so you can sit next to him “I’m sorry.” he rubs his eye, smearing his mascara as he tries to stop his tears.

You coo softly, pulling out a micellar wipe packet from your bag “It’s okay, just take some deep breaths sweetheart.” you hold his face, carefully cleaning away the dark smudges under his eyes “I didn’t mean to lie to you.” he whimpers, unable to meet your gaze “Hey, it’s okay. It’s my fault for assuming, I put you in an uncomfortable situation.” you pull away, scratching your head awkwardly “Honestly, I didn’t even think boys could be as pretty as you.” his cheeks burn.

You think he’s pretty?

“I’m more used to douches like that.” you jerk your thumb towards the guy who had harassed you two a moment ago “I’m from a really small town so most guys use three-in-one shampoo and think washing their face is stupid.” you study his face, leaning so close it makes Eden’s breath hitch “But you look like you’ve got a twenty step skincare routine and have multiple hair products.” you reach up to catch a lock of his silky hair between your fingers “And this color fits you so well.” he feels like he’s going to pass out, you’re being so touchy and saying such nice things, he feels so overwhelmed.

“Do you think you could recommend some good conditioners? I want my hair to be as soft as yours.” his hand clench on his thighs, the blush on his cheeks spreading “Shit! I’m sorry!” you jerk back, your eyes wide and apologetic “That was rude,” you sigh “It’s really unfair just how gorgeous you are.” you prop your head up on your hand, elbow on the desk “You’re literally angelic.” okay, he’s definitely going to pass out.

He keeps shooting you glances throughout the class, barely taking notes and more caught up with just how close you were sitting to him. He could feel the heat of your skin just an inch away from his legs. Eden has to turn away, forcing himself to look out the window in order to calm down his racing mind. The urge to kiss you suddenly rearing up and taking over every last sane braincell in his head. 

His every thought replaced by how pretty your lips look, how soft your hands were against his cheek, how warm your skin is, how full your waist is shaped. 

He almost whimpers, the idea of sinking his teeth into your squishy thighs makes his eyes flutter closed. 

I want to mark her pretty throat, I want everyone to know she’s mine.

That thought unleashes something raw and beastly inside him, the urge to claim you, keep you locked away from everyone else, force you to only pay attention to him. 

“Psst.” he’s ripped out of his thoughts by your finger lightly prodding his arm “Do you want to hang out after class?” you whisper, smiling hopefully at him. Eden melts, nodding before he can even process what you asked, not that it matters, he would say yes to anything for you.

“Coffee? Or food?” you ask and he blinks slowly, his tongue tracing his lower lip where he bit down too hard “Food would be nice, I forgot to eat this morning.” you gasp, gaining the attention of a few classmates who glare at you “You have to take better care of yourself! We’re getting food the second class is over.” you scold him gently, making a bubbly warmth blossom in his chest.

She cares so much about me!

True to your word, you tug him out of the classroom the second the professor finishes, already listing off different options “There’s a great Mexican place close to here, and a fantastic Jamaican restaurant with the best pineapple curry I’ve ever had, or maybe burgers?” he’s so focused on your hand wrapped around his wrist that he can’t even think straight “Eden?” you halt right outside the building, looking at him concerned “Huh?” you giggle at his dazed expression “I asked what kind of food sounds good to you?” he hesitates.

What kind of food would she like? What should I say? What if she’s on a budget and I suggest something expensive?

A lightbulb goes off in his head, this was his chance to woo her, to win her over.

“There’s a really good sushi place I like to eat at, but it’s crazy expensive.” he mentally thanks god when your face falls “But since its my idea I’d pay!” you frown slightly “I’d feel bad letting you pay for me.” he beams “Don’t worry about it! I’m loaded so it wouldn’t even put a dent in my budget.” you quirk an eyebrow at him “Are you sure?” he nods excitedly, clasping his hands together in a pleading motion “I promise you that you’ll love it.” you purse your lips, thinking for a moment “Fine, but only on the condition that I pay for our next meal.” Eden is on cloud nine, you hadn’t even gone on one date and you’re already planning the next one?

He has no intention of allowing you to pay for even a dime, but agrees nonetheless, he’s sure to weasel out of that in the future, perhaps by goading you into trying more of his favorite expensive restaurants. 

“We can take my car, that way we don’t get caught in the rain later.” you gasp “That’s smart! I forgot my umbrella at home anyway so that works perfectly.” he already knew you forgot your umbrella, he watched you shuffle through your backpack in a panic halfway through your walk to school and cursed yourself for your forgetfulness.

You stare wide-eyed at the sleek car parked in the private area he paid extra for “Woah…” you brush your hand over the hood, transfixed by the dark blue custom wrap, light glimmering off the sparkles “It’s such a pretty color.” you pull out your phone to snap a few pictures “I’m totally getting my nails painted to match this color.” Eden's knees buckle, he wasn’t much of a car guy but the idea of you choosing something that he owned as your nail color made his head fuzzy and a dopey grin to spread across his glossy lips.

He revels in you seated next to him as you adjust your seat to fit your height better, he won’t change it once you get out, it’ll be permanently fixed to your liking. 

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” you ask, clicking in the seatbelt “No, I usually don’t do anything other than class.” he says, suddenly feeling nervous about his lack of social life, but you light up at that “We could hang out longer then? If you want?” you try your best to contain your excitement, not wanting to come off too strong but he matches your enthusiasm “That would be nice, maybe we could go to the arcade afterwards?” his voice trembles, shy and expecting rejection despite you being the one to initiate “I’d love too!” he feels his tension ease at your enthusiasm.

Eden slides his hand behind the headrest, craning his head around to backup, as he turns back around he catches you staring at him, your cheeks tinted pink. You jerk away, looking out the window. He frowns, confused, but shrugs it off. 

His nerves are fried as he pulls into the parking lot of the sushi place, it was a short drive but an odd tension simmered in the air and he panics internally, worried he had done something wrong. 

Before he can ask, you’re already out of the car and bouncing toward the front doors, urging him to catch up “Come on! I’m really excited to try it!” he trots after you, grateful he had opted for his mary janes instead of wedges so he wouldn’t look like a newborn deer teetering after you.

A waiter guides you both to a table, his eyes lingering on you longer than needed after giving you a menu. Eden’s knuckle pops from how hard he clenches his hands, jaw ticking as he stares down the waiter walking away “What’s your favorite thing to order?” the rage melts away the second he hears your voice “I’ve tried almost everything on the menu, but I usually order this.” he leans forward to tap the middle option, his hair spilling over his shoulder in a waterfall of soft strands. You’re so transfixed by his hair that it takes you a moment to look down at where his finger is.

Your eyes blow wide as you look at the price “Just how loaded are you?” he laughs as you hiss under your breath “The hoshi garei isn’t even the most expensive option, plus I’m paying so don’t worry about it.” you stare down at the menu, half of the items are listed at a higher price than what you normally pay for a full meal, let alone a tiny plate of sashimi. 

“My treat.” your breath catches in your throat as you meet his gaze, his hands clasped under his chin and his head tilted, making him look more like a serene painting of an ethereal being, rather than a human sitting right in front of you.

Your moment is interrupted by the waiter returning with complimentary hand towels and a pot of tea “A delicious tea for a delicious girl.” he winks at you, turning away. Your lip curls down in a scowl, deeply unsettled by the interaction. Eden stares at you, irritation simmering in his gut.

How dare he even look at you, how dare he upset you, how dare he, how dare he, how dare he!

You give a dramatic shudder, playing off your discomfort “Some men, am I right?” you simply shake your head as if you’re used to it, making Eden’s anger bloom brighter and heavier. Suddenly the idea of his hands around the waiter's throat flashes through his mind, making him suck in a breath of shock. 

Not shock from such a violent idea when he’s usually so quiet and passive, but shock for how good the concept felt. Disposing of anyone in his way, anyone who hurts you, anyone who makes you feel unsafe.

“Could you pick for me?” you pour a cup of tea, pushing it towards him before filling your own “I don’t know what I like and there’s so many options.” that heady feeling washes over him like a wave, the idea of you relying on him makes his knees weak “If you trust me to make a good decision, then sure.” you wave him off “I’d trust you with anything.” he drops his napkin onto his lap, his length suddenly throbbing, your blind trust in him causing his hormones to explode for the first time since he was a teen.

Eden does his best to stay collected throughout the meal, but you kept offering him the other half of your sushi when you didn’t like one and sharing your appetizer with him made his skin itch, he’s taken aback by his desperate thoughts, wanting to slot his lips against your so he can taste the inside of your mouth instead of being teased with the bites of fish that touched your lips.

Thankfully he stays calm, tamping down the urge to grovel on his knees and beg you to let him suffocate between your plush thighs. 

Your mouth falls open when the check comes, only seeing a few digits before he snatches it away so you can’t feel guilty “I said it was my treat, if I need to show you my bank account to prove I can afford it I will, but you’re not allowed to fuss over the meal.” you frown, clearly feeling conflicted over the incredibly delicious but expensive choices “Plus, I picked everything out, it was my decision, not yours.” he offers you his hand, gently pulling you out of the booth and heading towards the cash register to pay.

You stare down at your locked hands, his fingers long and pale, nails perfectly trimmed and cuticles well maintained “Thanks for coming in, I hope to see you again.” you look up in time to see the same waiter wink at you as he hands you the receipt. Eden tugs you out of the restaurant, barely holding back from slamming the waiter's head into the cashier’s stand.

“Oh gross.” he freezes, slowly turning to face you, instead of staring at him in disgust like he expected, you’re holding the receipt with two fingers like it's contaminated with germs “He gave me his number.” your whole face is scrunched up, flapping the piece of paper aggressively “Get rid of it!” Eden doesn’t think twice, grabbing it and crumpling it up in a tiny ball then violently chucking it into the distance.

You shake your head “It’s like he didn’t even realize we were on a date.” he gapes at you, his mind running a mile a minute.

Wait, that was actually a date?

You slap your hand over your mouth when you see his expression “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean that!” your face is on fire and you couldn’t be more mortified, your inner thoughts slipping out without thinking twice. Eden takes a shaky step forward “Did you want it to be a date?” he looks so hopeful, eyes glossy and wide.

You nod hesitantly, terrified you read the situation wrong, he practically sags in relief, draping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you against him “Oh thank god, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you spilled coffee on me.” his voice cracks “You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” he grins and shakes his head "Definitely not.” you roll your eyes “Come on lover-boy, lets go to the arcade.”.

Eden can’t shake the smile off his face for the rest of the night, clinging to you all the way through the arcade, even as you both take turns winning each other stuffed animals and toys from the claw machines. His cheeks hurt by the time you wrap up the date with a photobooth session. 

“We look so cute together!” you gush over your film strip, clutching it to your chest as you wander out of the arcade “We look good together.” he corrects quietly, staring down at his own copy. The last photo was his favorite, his cheek squished up against yours and both of you beaming at the camera.

“I had fun tonight.” he says nervously, shifting back and forth on your front step. You hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t ask for directions, too busy taking pictures of your film strip to post on your social media “I did too.” you reply, your hands tucked in your pocket “Do you maybe,” he pauses, fiddling with his hair “want to date?” he dares a peek at your face “I know it's fast, this is only the second time we’ve talked and all…” Eden is sure he’d combust if you said no.

“Like… boyfriend girlfriend?” you ask, rocking back on your heels, he nods and you fling your arms around his neck “Yes! Absolutely!” he can’t resist, having you so close makes him lose the last shred of control.

Eden tangles his fingers in your hair and kisses you hard and fast, knocking the breath out of you. The passion is overwhelming, making you clutch at the front of his sweater to stabilize yourself, feeling dizzy by the rush of adrenaline. 

When you part you’re both gasping, Eden’s lipgloss transferring to your own lips, leaving you both sparkly and blushing “Wow.” he whispers, eyes wide “That was my first kiss.” he admits and you cover your mouth, shocked “I’m your first kiss?” he shifts away, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was being “That’s so sweet Eden.” you pull him back down to you, seeking more from him and he complies without resistance.

“If you keep kissing me like that you’ll be my last kiss too.” he mumbles giddily against your lips, making your laugh quietly “I’d be okay with that.” you admit, giving him another soft kiss “Could I drive you to school tomorrow?” he asks after you finally pull away, worried about coming off as clingy “That would be perfect, then we can spend more time together.” Eden is completely and irreversibly in love with you.

He makes sure to wait until you’re inside with the door locked before he heads back to his car and driving away. That simmering rage roars to life without you next to him distracting him, keeping him settled. 

His car is hidden in the shadows, parked away from prying eyes as he waits for the perfect moment. 

There!

The waiter opens the back entrance, hauling two large kitchen garbage bins, struggling to hoist them over his head and into the dumpster being the building. Eden is silent, sneaking up behind the bastard, clamping his hand over the waiter’s mouth and slamming a knife into his gut, over and over and over until the man's body goes limp.

Eden’s chest heaves, a maniacal grin creeping across his face as he stares down at the body, a pool of blood slowly spreading. He watches for a moment, savoring the satisfaction of protecting you before pulling out his phone.

“I need you to clean up a mess.” he pulls his sweater over his head and drops it on top of the body, a bit upset that one of his favorite cashmere tops now needed to be discarded “Yes sir, send the address and I’ll send my men to deal with it.” being rich had its perks, which he planned to use to the fullest extent now that he had you.

Thankfully his skirt and undershirt were spared, he’d hate to have to walk back to his car in just his lacey underwear and shoes. Sure enough a few minutes later a black car pulls up, his father’s ‘fix-it man’ stepping out and surveying the scene “Goddamn Eden, what the fuck did you do?” he claps a hand on the younger man's shoulder, grimacing at the mess “He harassed my girl.” Eden says, almost proudly. The man’s eyebrows shoot up over his ray-bands “No shit? You’ve got a girl?” he grins like a proud dad “Congrats man! I was worried you’d be a loner forever! You’ll have to bring her over to meet us sometime.” Eden flushes under the praise “If things go well I’d like to have her over for dinner soon.” he admits, watching as the other men begin loading the body into a bag and erasing the evidence.

“Well if she’s good enough to catch your picky eye then I’m sure we’ll love her.” Eden earns another firm pat on the shoulder “Head on home kiddo, I’ll finish up here.” he waves goodbye and practically skips back to his car, already feeling lighter now that he had removed a nuisance from your life.

If you enjoyed this OC yandere feel free to Meet the Yan!: Eden

Each OC yandere that I post will have an additional 'Meet the Yan!' intro linked at the end of the fic so you can learn more about the characters, eventually you'll be able to request fics with your fave yandere once all of them have been introduced! Each Meet the Yan! will include basic information as well as a picrew image of what the characters look like. - Ketchup

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[dreadoverthoughts]

Thinking about poly tf141 becoming obsessed with the seemingly homeless and amnesiac reader who shows up in front of them at death's door randomly, who also somehow seems to know an unusual amount of stuff about them, but is clumsy and silly enough that they just keep her around and treat her as one would treat a house cat.

Not knowing that the reader is actually from a whole other world that has a whole fanbase for the tf141, with enough debauched literature dedicated to them that would shock a nun to her grave. The same stuff reader used to eagerly engage with.

Even when the guys start doing things that are too 'out of character' or too 'in character' for different versions of them portrayed in fiction, and just 'something that friends do to look out for each other.' The reader is either comically oblivious to it or just wants to wait it out and see how accurate those fanfictions were in different scenarios, often leading to the reader either getting cracked or spoiled for being docile and obedient.

[pyrodolls]

SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER

WARNINGS: stalking, obsessiveness, breaking and entering, nsfw, masochist yandere, overstimulation, thigh riding, bondage, male masturbation, unhealthy behavior, average yandere tendencies, male yandere oc (he’s very pathetic and perverted, it’s giving “step on me” energy.) gender neutral reader

A/N: heyyyyy guess who isn’t dead.. i literally open tumblr every 3 minutes i just haven’t been posting. but i’m hereeeee lol. here’s a random yandere oc post, sorry it’s not mortal kombat. (tbh i have faded away from my mk obsession and now i am obsessed with until dawn, the quarry, tlou, and rdr.)

part two here!

superfan! yandere boy that buys all of your merchandise and streams your music on loop 24/7. even while he sleeps.

superfan! yandere boy that commissions artists to draw you and him together in different styles. some of them may depict him on a cute date with you, and some are more explicit and depict you stepping on him or choking him.

superfan! yandere boy that sneaks into your concerts if he didn’t manage to buy a ticket. no matter how strong your security is, he will always manage to find a way in and pretend he's just a regular fan.

superfan! yandere boy that will even sneak onto your house and film you through your window for hours, and then he would go home and touch himself to the footage of you.

superfan! yandere boy that wants to buy meet-and-greet tickets to see you, and be able to feel your presence up close and be able to speak to you personally. but as much as he craves your attention, he knows he wouldn't be able to handle it and would crumble immediately the second you look him in the eyes.

superfan! yandere boy that pays people to stalk you and take pictures of you when he can't do it himself. especially ones when you have a wardrobe malfunction.

superfan! yandere boy that goes to sleep every night fantasizing and dreaming of you. his particular favorite wet dream is of you letting him ride your thigh, grinding against your skin as a desperate attempt to feel any friction on his cock. your hands would roam around his body as he relishes in your attention, no matter where you touch him. any small nudge or brush against his skin would set his heart on fire and oh no where'd his pants go-

superfan! yandere boy that thinks you could do no wrong. you said something offensive and got yourself cancelled? he is your number one defender and would be threatening your naysayers on the internet. he would even go as far as to learn to hack just so he could delete their accounts.

superfan! yandere boy that almost WANTS to get caught. he knows he wouldn't be able to handle your attention, so he avoids it, but a part of him wants to get caught and outed for his perverted, stalker ways. he wants to hear you cuss him out and degrade him. he wants to see the disgusted look on your face as he is exposed for everything he did. spit on him, kick him, treat him like vermin, he doesn't mind. he gets off on the thought of you punishing him. he has a particular fantasy where your punishment for him is by tying him up and overstimulating him until he is crying, whimpering, and almost fainting. but he would still beg for more. no matter how long it lasts. it could be a week long and he still wouldn't be satisfied.