allow me to introduce you to the edge of sanity, where the infatuation of your beloved isn't fleeting; it's all consuming, knowing no bounds, for there is no line they wouldn't cross for you.
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you should know: this is a yandere oc x reader blog with dark themes. DNI if you're uncomfortable with this type of content. I am not responsible for what you choose to read.
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Synopsis: You’re a witch known for making love potions. They're fake. The reviews are real. Your track record? Immaculate. Until a duke walks in, covered in blood, and demands you reverse the spell you cast on him.
You didn't cast anything.
He doesn't care.
And now you live in his mansion.
Love Potion or Love at First Sight?
"Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes yes! This is the love potion. Now pay up or leave because I have other customers to attend to!"
You groan at the woman hesitating in front of you, wasting your time.
You're an infamous witch known in the black market for selling all types of spells and potions for a hefty sum.
Your most popular item? The love potion.
Which is actually just… an aphrodisiac.
But after selling 170 potions? You've only ever received positive reviews. All from noblewomen, lovestruck and happy with the results.
What can you say? You've always known men to be lustful creatures, barren from emotions. After selling a 170 with zero bad reviews? Your ideology is proven correct.
"Are you sure it works?" the woman whispers.
"100% customer satisfaction guaranteed!"
She still looks nervous.
"And if it doesn't work, you can come back and I'll give double your money back as refund."
The woman nods. Pays. Leaves.
Another positive review, you think to yourself. Already confident and marking this as your 171st success.
…
You just didn’t expect your first bad review to appear right in front of your face.
The door slams open.
A man stands in your doorway.
Black hair. Red eyes. Blood splattered across his face, his clothes, his sword.
"So," The bloody man starts.
"You're the witch selling cheap love elixirs all over the market."
You don't answer. Your hand slides toward the defense charm under your counter.
Because this wasn’t just any man, this was the war-crazed duke feared by all of society.
"You better pay for this."
…Guess you'll be closing the shop for a while.
___________
And… you've been working at his mansion ever since.
Tasked with reversing whatever spell you supposedly casted on him. Despite all your protests, despite swearing up and down that you never did anything.
He doesn't believe you.
He won't believe you.
Because how else do you explain what he felt when he walked into your shop? That made his sword hand waver and his heart stutter, and his threats turn into something softer?
Obviously, you’ve cursed him. There was no need to investigate this any further, nor did he feel the need to tell you about all these symptoms.
So now you're stuck in a massive estate with a madman who thinks you cursed him, brewing antidote after antidote, watching nothing work.
You could only curse that woman.
The one who bought the potion and slipped it to him. The one who left you with this mess and then promptly left this world, if the blood on his sword was any indication.
Damn her.
What the hell did she see in this man anyway?
Because here's the thing you're learning, piece by piece. The duke? He's not just some nobleman. He's the nobleman. The one everyone whispers about. The one who's had three fiancées and buried all of them. The one who allegedly keeps a dungeon beneath the east wing and a graveyard behind the west garden.
The madman of high society.
If only you'd known he was the target that woman was after, you would've never sold her that potion. Never agreed to the commission. Never opened your stupid mouth about the satisfaction guarantee!!
But you didn't know.
And now you're stuck with the aftermath…
___________
At first, the madman kept you confined to a workspace somewhere within the mansion.
Close enough to monitor. Far enough to ignore.
Then, he started calling for you more often. Checking on your progress. Standing just a little too close while you worked. Watching you with scrutinizing red eyes.
And then, he started sticking around you 24/7, following you from room to room like some clingy puppy who couldn't bear for you to leave his sight.
Even that wasn’t enough. At some point, you stopped being assigned a room at all.
Wherever he was… that became your workspace.
You’d turn around and he’d be there.
In the doorway. Behind you. Leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time.
Like he had nowhere else to be. Don’t dukes have better things to do? Go tend to your paperwork or something!!
Through it all, he's never kind. Still angry. Still demanding. Still barking orders about reversing the damn spell.
But he never hurts you.
His threats are loud. His hands are rough. His voice could shatter glass.
But you've started to notice something.
He always stops. It’s all bark but no bite…
And it becomes a routine.
You work. He watches. You brew. He hovers. You try to leave. He blocks the door.
At some point, he has you working in his bedroom.
No, like, actually. He stooped to this level of stupidity, allowing needing you to stay in his chambers at night.
He's sleeping on the bed and you have to sit beside him. On the floor. With your books and your herbs and your constantly dying patience.
You don't know when this became normal.
You hate that it feels normal.
__________
Tonight, you try to get up.
His hand immediately shoots out to grab your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You don't flinch anymore. The first few times, you did. Now? You just sigh.
"I'm trying to study for a reverse spell. Or a cure. For you, remember?"
"Stay."
His voice is flat. Unreasonable. Like he's not even considering the possibility of you leaving.
"I can't work if I'm stuck by your side, your grace."
"Leave and I'll rip your throat out."
You've heard this before. The first time, you froze. The second time, you nearly cried. The third time, you started noticing the pattern.
He never follows through.
Not with you.
"Your grace," you say, calm as anything, "you can't do that. Who will reverse your spell if not the caster?"
His jaw tightens. His grip on your wrist doesn't loosen.
But he knows you're right.
He's quiet for a long moment. Thinking. And you can see the exact second he shifts tactics.
"Then I'll slit the throats of all the guards outside who allow you to leave this room."
"…I'm sat."
You sit back down on the floor. Head leaning against the bed where his hand lingers limbly. Sometimes brushing your hair unconsciously, like it was to make sure you were still there.
And you work on the spell in his chambers all night long. Barely getting a blink of sleep.
He, on the other hand?
Dead to the world.
The madman who threatened to rip your throat out twenty minutes ago is now curled up on his ridiculous silk sheets, snoring softly.
His face is slack. Peaceful. Innocent in a way that makes you want to throw a pillow at his head.
You've noticed this before. The way his eyes get heavy when you're nearby. The way his shoulders drop when you enter the room. And the way his threats get lazier the longer you stay.
At first, you thought it was the potion's side effects.
Now you're starting to think he just… can't sleep without you.
Which is not your problem. You didn't sign up to be a nobleman's sleeping charm. You're a witch. A busy one! One who is currently being held against her will in a mansion that smells too much like old money and fresh blood.
And yet.
Here you are.
Watching him sleep.
Because if you move, he wakes up. And if he wakes up, he gets grumpy. And if he gets grumpy, he threatens to kill someone.
Usually the guards.
You've started to feel kind of bad for the guards.
"I hope you wake up with a stiff neck," you mutter, dipping your quill in ink. "I hope you stub your toes when you wake up. I hope your breakfast is cold and your tea is bitter and your horse steps on your foot."
His lips curl up softly. Like you're singing him a lullaby.
Your quill scratches to a halt.
"…I hope you dream about spiders," you try, weaker this time.
His smile deepens.
He doesn't wake up. He just… rests. Peaceful and content. Like your curses are the sweetest words he's ever heard.
You stare at him.
Then you look down at your notes. At the page full of failed antidotes and useless counter-spells.
At the truth you've been avoiding for weeks.
Nothing is wrong with him.
The potion didn't work.
He's just like this.
You set down your quill.
Press your palms to your eyes.
And wonder, for the thousandth time, what in the hell you did to deserve this.
Maybe its time you suggest a psychiatrist.
___________
Little did both of you know.
The potion didn't work on him.
It never could have. Years of assassination attempts had made his body resistant to poisons, potions, anything ingested.
The drink that woman slipped him? It passed through his system like water. Barely a flicker of discomfort. A vague pulling in his chest that he dismissed as irritation.
He came to your shop that day ready to kill the witch who made it.
Not because the potion had affected him.
But because he was annoyed.
Someone had tried to enchant him. Someone had failed. And he wanted to make an example of the person responsible.
Until he saw you.
And something in his chest pulled again.
Not the potion. That was already gone.
Something else.
Something he didn't have a name for.
He still doesn't have a name for it. He calls it a curse. A spell. Your fault.
It's not.
He was just love-struck at first sight.
And he's been falling harder and harder with each day that passes.
Deep in his sleep, one thought surfaces in his mind.
How many days do ya think all of the ocs you still write for will last with Adam’s bratty darling?
A few weeks? A few months? Idk. I just luv the idea of the other ocs returning the bratty darling back to Adam. “You keep her. She’s not worth it. She’s not worth it at all to be with”
And Adam is excited becuz he luvs to be abused by his bratty darling
i lowkey think the yans would like any extension of your personality even if it's not exactly how u acted in the story..... though that is kind of funny ........
being dropped off at adam's doorstep after a couple of days and whichever soul was unfortunate enough talking about some "just take em man they ain't worth it" oh i KNOW his grin would reach up to his ears seeing your humiliated expression
"see? you're too chatty for your own, baby, you should be lucky i even put up with you" while kissing over your face AGHH
i’m 18F studying biochemistry at a top five uk uni. i like to draw and play instruments. i play 4 instruments. i speak six languages not including english. im on yanblr. can you find me a match #matchmakerdoe
you and anon two peas in a pod you guys are on the same bs
not getting out of bed often, always sleepy, no motivation in life, not a whole lot of talking or social interaction. the whole bag of actual misery
here are some dante crumbs so enjoy !!!!! cw: depression/bad mental state
"sweetness."
you don't bother to look up from where you're curled up under the soft blankets, knees curled up against your chest as you stare at that same spot in hopes that, the swirling thoughts in your head cease for once.
that fond voice comes again, accompanied by heavy footsteps that round the bed, placing the breakfast tray on the bedside table before his face fills his vision. his eyes are impossibly soft as he brushes a lone tear away from your eyes.
"c'mon, eat for me, please." he hushes, lashes casting dark shadows on his cheekbones, and a sight so ethereal your heart would racd in any other circumstances.
"m'not hungry."
a sigh, a resignated one at that, but if there's anything you know, it's that dante does not give up on you so easily now. his lips reach your ear in a trail of kisses, stopping short of the shell.
"i know it's scary, babe, but there's no coming back now." your eyes meet his through the blur of your tears, and you can't tear them away with his hand that's holding your chin in place. "i'm yours, as you are mine."
you shake your head, but his hand grips your cheek tighter.
"now," his breath ghosts over your ear. you shiver as the temperature of the room seems to have plummeted, "please, sweetness. eat for me. i'd hate to have to do that again, you know how much i love you."
Ya ever get so mad at a friend? That you just place them into a false narrative and have them solve riddles, hard to understand ciphers just to get them to solve a meaningless mystery.
Well that’s currently me ^_^ said friend is currently in part one of this situation and I am aware that they won’t be able to finish it but when I report back to someone, I hope they can finish the story that I made… meant to be finished by someone else
either i'm stupid or im too sleep deprived while im reading this nonnie so pls forgive me for that last part i dnt get
How was your presentation and what was that abt. I love presentations
that makes one of us anon i DREAD them
it was in a physio course of mine !!! i'd say it went quite well tbh i did mess up my lines and was very nervous during it though, but other than that it was fine
I needed to find someone to share this about a silly dream I had
Basically I was playing a random tower defense game but in the middle of the game one of the units I used ended up glitching out and teleport to the enemy base before setting it on fire, the game kicked me out with an error code before loading back up with a new intro
“Along the petals I sit here beyond the screen my reach is far, why must we be apart yet still close?”
I woke up because of my alarm… scary
hold up that line was lowk peak your brain was cooking smth nonnie
i have a whole draft about something i dreamt though it'll hopefully never see the light of day LMAO
Now I’m even more scared that Blake is a confirmed football/soccer player. (T-T)
His endurance and stamina is off the charts and my pathetic non athletic ass could never try to out run him.
Side question……how’d Blake feel if we just weren’t into football/soccer? (I have no interest in it. Lolz).
Likey we are more into a different sport or no sports in general whatsoever?
(Watch Blake catch me thirsting over a Rugby man or just rolling my eyes and being bored having to watch him play football/soccer). >:)
i could NEVER imagine not being athletic (← tired from walking up a flight of stairs)
i'd say it doesn't that much of a difference regardless he's still very into you so your disinterest in football only serves to make him just, patronise you more and treat you like you're very dumb especially if you ask abt something related to it
though, if he ever catches you being interested in a popular athlete whether it's his sport or another he gets insanely jealous and prevents you from watching anything related to rhem as well as outshining them or better yet, even undermining their career
so unless you want to see said person's fame down in the gallows and feel guilty, i suggest you should keep your interest a secret
Will there ever be a fic of a sweet story with Adam? 👩❤️👨 I just feel like the only dynamic we have of him is him bullying us and being sadistic. It’d be nice to see a fic where he is vulnerable and doesn’t need to feel the need or want to humiliate bratty girl 24/7 💀. And in return bratty girl is also tame
only time will tell nonnie..... maybe................
Hope your family and life is doing ok. Hope this video makes you laugh a little too since you usually like what I send you
i had a veryyyyy good laugh at i imagine the blake haters would have a field day with this
thank you nonnie for checkin in !!! yes everything is going great for me, came back here on my break to post a lil tho i will be inactive from time to time but HOW ARE YOUU
yandere aizawa who recognises you, a villain, as his childhood friend. you were failed by society despite your cheery goal to become a hero, and so, it lead you to this very path of villainy.
and to him.
you fail to escape him, squirming in the binds of his cloth, glaring at him with those fiery eyes as you throw obscenities at him, the eraser head. his own gaze remains stoic, unreadable and so you assume that your life of crime is very much over.
only, you wake to an unrecognisable home — definitely not a cell, for sure — and aizawa sat in front of you, watching you attentively, black locks falling over his sharp eyes that never leave yours. his voice is thicker, though no less lower, as he leans over to you.
it's for your own good, he says. you've been making such dumb decisions without your shota, it's only rational for him to keep you away from the corruptions of the real world that you are oh so influenced by. after all, who could understand you better?
when you fight back, you find yourself weak against his quirk and strength, as his lips quietly press to your forehead in that familiar way, only now you find no comfort in the act.
no one would care about a petty criminal, darling, so won't you let him save you?
