Sleep Deprived Maid

A writer of toxic yandere boys and girls. They/Them

[yan-maid-cafe]

Introduction

It's a pleasure to meet you all, call me Bee. Bee the maid. Let's begin with a short introduction.

Name: Bee

Pronouns: They/Them

Birthday: July 13th ♋

Age: 18

I'll be running this blog. This is a yandere blog so I'll be primarily writing and reblogging yandere content. So how about we go over some rules and guidelines so that we can all get along.

On the Menu (What I'll write):

Romantic Yanderes

Platonic Yanderes

Yandere Readers

Imagines

Headcanons (Up to 3 characters)

My Ocs

Yandere vs. Yandere

Polyamory

Female and Gender Neutral Readers

Off the Menu (What I won't write):

Romantic scenerios involving Children

Full Fics

Ships

Other people's OCs

Male Readers

Incest

Banned (DNI):

Racists

Homophobes

Transphobes

MAPs + MAP supporters

Generally Hateful People

And that's it for the moment but I'll update this as things go on. But feel free to ask me anything, I'll try to answer in a timely fashion.

[yanmaresu]

Fem!Savanclaw with a fem!darling that is stronger than them and could easily escape from their grasp❤️❤️❤️❤️

It's just <3 There's a certain thrill for the Savanaclaw girls knowing what their darling is capable of, the sheer feeling of being in control of someone stronger than you, of having them depending on you. They are down bad. Sadly, even in the whole process is fun for them, they can't let their darling run away, so even if it's unfair, their magic will have to do.

[huckleberry-writes]

cw: very yandere and insane, injury, knife use, sadistic man, use of daddy

Yandere! Dictator - who is so upset with you, pouting, lips curved in a sulk that borders on boyish glee. “My wife, trying to escape again? That’s the third time this week.” His voice lifts with mocking disbelief, a smile tugging at the corners of his too-pretty mouth. “Darling, do you even know who you’re dealing with?”

Your head lies under his polished steel toed boot, and he flicks the ashes of his cigar onto the floor with exaggerated flair. “Ungrateful brats,” he whines, gesturing with the cigar toward the large window showcasing his empire. “That’s what this country is full of.” His tone grows animated, like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum dressed in a suit and tie with adorning medals.

“I am like a father to you all!” he declares, teeth flashing in a grin, the knife already slick in his hand. “I feed you, I clothe you, I protect you - at least more than your pitiful little ‘leaders’ ever did. I killed my own to get here, and still it’s not enough.” He leans heavier on your back, bowing down to his knee pressing harder against the small of your back, tilting his head toward the window where bodies sway on the gallows, rebels dangling like windchimes in the dusk. “And yet, all anyone wants to do is riot. Even you, my sweet bride, trying to scurry off to join that sorry little parade?” His laugh is bright and cruel. “Foolish girl.”

His grin stretches wider, unbearably pretty, wolfish in its delight. “That’s it, my love! You should call me Daddy. After all, I treat you better than my own people that I care so well for.” He purrs the word into your ear, giddy when he catches the hatred burning in your eyes.

When you twitch to move, a horrible decision to punch that smile off his face, the knife that he kept twirling, slams straight through your hand, pinning you like a butterfly. He coos at your choked cry, brushing his lips against your ear. “Oh, baby, I know. I know that doesn't feel very good. But Daddy wasn’t finished.” His words are soft, playful, too sweet for the sadism they drip with.

“Now be good. Apologize to Daddy and give me a kiss.” His tone lilts like a lullaby, though the edge is sharp enough to cut. “No biting, or I’ll pull out those pretty teeth one by one.” Another lazy drag of his cigar, the smoke curling above you, before he leans in, grabbing your hair with one hand to lift your pretty face to his, with lips puckered like a spoiled prince demanding his due.

You don’t dare sink your teeth into him. His smirk blooms, victorious. “Good girl.” His thumb wipes your tears like a lover’s caress. “Now… I think I’ll dedicate the next airstrike to you. Mm, maybe the drones will paint a little heart in the sky - so everyone knows how much Daddy adores you.”

Your angry sobs only make him chuckle, eyes flicking back to the bodies outside. “Oh, hush. You’re lucky I love you. If I didn’t…” his grin flashes, cruel and gorgeous, “…you’d be dangling out there with the rest of them.”

[yanmaresu]

Can I plz request yandere savanaclaw looking down right predatory? Like peeking through tall grass, stalking their prey, and perhaps a little blood? lol just a random idea i had, you can do whatever you want, you don’t have to follow this prompt to the exact. just go wherever your imagination takes you with this lol.

You don't know how much fun I had while drawing these ones. I kinda strayed from the original idea though, sorry. But yeah, the idea of the Savanaclaw guys hunting is just <3 Thanks for the rqst I hope they look predatory enough.

[yanmaresu]

Yandere rollo with darling tied to a stake about to be burned and him asking if they’ d rather chose him or the fire (basically that scene of Esmeralda tied to the piece of wood in the movie) if you do do it thanks in advance!

Sorry, I had this ready like two years ago but only now I'm posting it x'd

[yanmaresu]

I made the time 👀 I've been wanting to draw the overblots.

Maybe a certain kind of stimulus may stop the overblot from killing them?

The PoV's can be considered the different endings

Hope you like it♥ Thanks for requesting.

[huckleberry-writes]

Inspired by Douma & Geto Suguru cw: stockholm syndrome, captivity

Yandere! Cult Leader - who smiles as though your return was fated, who holds you in arms softer and sweeter than the cruel world outside.

The mother mountain, upon which the cult sanctuary rests, is a beast that devours. Her breath is snow that threatens to swallow you whole, her sharp tongue is ice that cuts through your skin with ease, her teeth are the wolves that prowl the ridges. You thought freedom would bloom like spring - warm air, green hills, plum blossoms bursting white against blue skies. Instead, freedom was nothing but gnawing hunger, blistered feet, and the endless howl of winter clawing at your bones. By the time you stagger back through the vermilion temple torii gates, your hands are bloodied, your lips cracked with cold, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you.

Lanterns sway on their chains, painting the old temple in pools of gold. The building itself breathes age: beams lacquered black but peeling at the edges, murals of demons and gods half-faded into shadow, paper screens patched where the wind has torn them. Incense coils in the air, sweet and choking, its perfume threaded with something metallic - copper, sharp and unmistakable, like coins held too long.

They greet you first. His followers. Rows of kneeling figures in white and crimson, their hands pressed reverently together. They smile as they see you stumble forward, their teeth bared wide, too eager to greet you once again, eyes shining with something that looks like joy but feels like hunger. Their voices rise in a chorus of soft welcomes, whispering your name as though it were another prayer for the evening. You cannot tell if it is affection or amusement that lights their faces.

The cult leader rises from his dais, framed by the glow of shrine lamps, his white silken robes flowing like snow-melt water. His bright eyes glimmer like stained glass catching dawn, and his smile…oh, his smile. Gentle, dazzling, merciful. Too merciful to allow you to crawl back to his arms without punishment. Back to his sanctuary prison. “My poor blossom,” he breathes, and his voice is so tender it cuts deep into wounds that you weren't aware of. “You came back to me after all.”

He gathers you against him before your knees give way, cradling you as though you were something small and weighed nothing at all. His robes smell of incense and something sweeter, like flowers left too long in water. His hands stroke through your frozen hair, his thumb smoothing the cracked line of your lips. “Look at you, so fragile. The mountain tried to steal you from me.” His laugh is bright as temple bells, as though the thought itself were a child’s joke. “But see? You belong here. You belong with me.”

He does not scold. He does not rage. He only fusses - laying you gently onto futons layered thick with floral quilts, tucking the corners as if you were a child. He feeds you morsels with his own fingers, pressing them to your lips when your hands shake too much to lift a bowl. He dabs at your chin with the sleeve of his robe, smiling as though your weakness delights him, as though your crocodile tears soothe that ache in his heart. “There, there, I'm not upset. Life is precious, my blossom. I will keep you safe, I will keep you warm. Nothing will harm you while you rest in my arms. Not even I unless I have reason to.”

When he finally curls around you, more comforting than any quilt or futon, drawing your body into the careful cradle of his arms, the warmth is almost unbearable after the mountain’s bite. His hand strokes through your hair with a gentleness that feels wrong, his breath ghosting against your temple as he murmurs delirious endearments, soft and syrup-sweet, like lullabies spun for a child. His lips, - sweet, smiling, unhurried - brush against the shell of your ear: “If you ever wander away again…well. I might just have to eat you. But you know I’d rather keep you whole, my blossom, not pluck you petal by petal.”

The words sink into you like frost, and yet his tone is so playful, so tender, that it almost feels like a jest. Almost. He reaches for the lantern at his side, snuffing out the last glow until the chamber is swallowed in velvet dark. You understand the unspoken plea: he does not wish to consume you, not as insects gnaw on cloth and wood. No, he wants you intact, kept close, his offering preserved.

Your chest trembles as you press your face into him, into the silken fold of his robes, into the steady rise and fall of his lean chest. Filling your lungs with the smells of incense and copper and something sweeter, cloying as overripe blossoms. It is suffocating, dreadful, yet it is warm. Outside waits the mountain, with its wolves and blizzards and gnawing hunger. Inside, there is only him.

And though your heart races with terror, though every nerve whispers that you are trapped, you let yourself be held. Because here, at least, you will not freeze. Because his arms, however suffocating, are safe in their own cruel way.

Because you came back for the sanctuary of his safety.

[yanmaresu]

I just found out that hyenas can purr and lions can't and now all I can think of is Ruggie getting headpats and purring while Leona is jealously staring in the background because MC loves the purr.

Lions can't purr? :')

There's not much mc can do while kidnapped, and most of the things they are allowed to do makes them sick, but there's something nostalgic about this moments with Ruggie

[yanmaresu]

Any chance you could continue this with an overblot Idia sketch

I've been wanting to continue the overblot povs for a while! It's just that I hadn't really read chapter six until now haha thanks for reminding me ( ´ ω ` )

Now, just to clear some confusion, this drawing can be considered like an alternate ending to the previous post.

[yanmaresu]

৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) The last one of the pov yandere overblot drawings! I tought it would be pretty if the purple clothes glowed too. Also hi, I'm back.

Tremendo pedazo de pixel que es el Malleus, todo bonito ahí con su pelo echado para atrás.

A version without text under the line.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ex Step “Kids” x Reader

Where the man you're dating and soon to marry have their reservations about you. Considering you're closer to their age and their father has millions in his name...

Thinking about the Step-family in question being adults; well established and acting on their own from their aging father

Unknowingly letting him fall prey to you 

Walking Temptation with a hunger for deep pockets and a smile innocent enough to make anyone swoon

It’s a shock when the next time they see their dad for the holidays he’s got you on his arm

Just a little bit older than them (half his age) and with a giant engagement ring on your finger

“You like it? Your dad got it for me when we were in Dubai!” 

“Uh Dad can I have a word? Alone?”

Taniya, his eldest is the hardest to grill you

Being incredibly open with her suspicions about you

And she’s the most vigilant when it comes to reprimanding her father for spoiling you

“Dad think about it (Y/n) doesn’t need another sports car! You’ve already gotten them two!”

In no uncertain terms, you’re sure Taniya hates your guts

If the way all the restaurants your future husband has worked with for some reason can’t serve you has anything to say about it, that’s likely the case

But you don’t mind!

That way you can take your man to the best place to get croquettes

Yeah it’s sketchy but that’s what his bodyguards are for

The second worst is his youngest, Titan

Classic attention-hungry influencer son who thinks pranks on you are going viral because everyone enjoys your misery as much as he does

“Your misery” is the curious tilt of your head when you find the leather seats of your range rover decorated with glitter 

Doesn’t really bother you though, so you’ll show off your new interior to all your new followers on socials 

Wonder where they came from

Finally the middle son Tariq always forgotten but not quite estranged doesn’t seem to dislike you too much

After all, he did start coming around the villa more since you’ve moved in

“Oh hey (Y/n) I heard those flowers my dad got you went missing, it just so happens to work out that I brought you some.”

“Those are my favorites! How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Anyway, I heard you got the latest VR tech, want to show me how it works?”

For a while you fall into a cycle with your fiance and his family

Eventually tying the knot in a luxurious venue in front of hundreds of masked billionaires

Of course, all your older husband’s kids decide to be civil

And all is well…until it isn’t

All too soon are the siblings gathered again when their father dies two weeks later

It’s all so sudden

With heavy hearts, their knowledge of his decline makes it better for the siblings to take on the funeral preparations

Begrudgingly Taniya takes it upon herself to try getting the funds from you, coming to the Villa prepared to argue

Instead, she’s met with one of her father’s most loyal bodyguards

Woefully opening the door

“(Y/n) has been too distraught to leave their bed since the…last hospital visit.”

“What?”

She would have expected someone like you to have been jumping for joy

Having tied the knot with a man who’d pay for any tuition you might’ve needed paid Taniya doubts it she expected you’d be as bubbly as others in your…profession

But instead of partying you were glued to the giant California bed clutching an old shirt of his

For once Taniya feels bad for you

“Uh hey (Y/n) I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to the first meeting with the mortuary staff. We’re looking to pick a coffin and–”

Instead of something snarky or even an agreement, you throw a black card in her direction and pull the covers over your head

Barely smothering the crying sounds

“You know what? Maybe it might be best if I stay back here..with you.”

It’s all too easy for her to lend her shoulder as you wail about your late husband–her father

Its awkward for awhile and then it’s not

She weirdly looks forward to pulling your tear-stricken face into her chest she wore the v-neck for a reason while you discuss the funeral arrangements

Purposely making her meetings online so she can rub your back off screen

Finding that the lingering security guard–your unofficial butler is getting more and more on her nerves

Taniya doesn’t even realize she’s gotten this bad until she’s hoping the chandelier will fall on her brothers when they eventually show up

“Wow. You two are here. In-person…why didn’t you call?”

“I don’t need your permission to see (Y/n)! But you know I would’ve come sooner if my company wasn’t dealing with a major crisis by some mysterious corporate giant!”

“Don’t look at me, I told you working for a shady company would get you no where.”

“I cannot with you right now–”

“I also came-!”

“Shut up Titan.” “Please Titan we’re talking.”

Titan isn’t all that worried about his old man being dead except his allowance stopped

And technically he shouldn’t be staying in the Villa anymore…but his followers are asking questions

“And in here we have the–whoa crying widow alert!”

“W-what?!”

He gets a lot of hate for that one

And while his siblings circle around you like vultures he’s finding it hard to insincerely apologize so that you can do a follow-up apology video with him

He’s following you around so much and observing all your little quirks 

he worries it might be important when ‘apologizing’ so maybe he should record it…

Thus begins his long and greatly popular series of getting to know my dead dad’s spouse

He records as much as he can–what you eat, how you talk, how you whisper promises to the pictures of his dad you put up

It weirdly makes him question everything

It also has him posting to a new platform…a more hidden one

“Alright, guys! I actually got into their closet without issue we’ve just got to hope they won’t need to come in here anymore. OMG They’re back! I wonder what they’ll do…next. Uhm…sorry chat but I’m going to shut off the camera for awhile….I think this is just for me.”

Unlike Taniya who will hesitate, thinking of her father while cuddling up to you Titan does not think

Because after his copious amounts of stalking streaming with you

He's decided you will be his inheritance from dad

Clearly the old man wasn’t strong enough to handle you

So Titan would be the hero to sweep such a camera worthy beauty off their feet

Tariq doesn’t hesitate either 

he’s gotten over that the day he met you

Sure he misses his dad a lot less than he expected+ but he does miss the privacy he used to have with you

“Hey (Y/n) do you want to go out for a ride like we used to do.”

“Oh Tariq I’d love to but I already told Titan we’d do a muckbang with him.”

“And after that, we’re going to film our feet ASMR!”

“Titan I said I’d need to think about that–”

“What?! You already said no to the hot-tub stream, how much more of a Karen can you be?!”

“Okay okay, but I’d rather it not be live.”

“Duh, I may not ever want to post it.”

Tariq is so tired of everyone else realizing just how much you’re not like any gold-digger he’s ever known

In fact, you’re so bad at it that he doubts you were ever a gold digger in the first place

“Hey Tariq the lawyer had a question about the life insurance money, should I just write you a check or do I keep it? I’m so confused.”

“Wow uh, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but your dad always told me what to do with this kind of stuff. So what do I do?”

“Uhh, how about we open our own bank account and put it there!”

“Oooh like a married couple’s bank account?”

“Yeah just like marriage. It’s a little too early to ask right?”

Nonetheless, all three siblings are beginning to realize just how ‘bad’ of a gold digger you are

And they’re more than eager to show you the right way…as long as you change your allegiance to them.

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

[huckleberry-writes]

Yandere! Soldier who brings you to the cabin that is as rough as the strong, beefy hands that built it. Heavy logs stacked into walls, seams filled with pitch and patience, floors uneven and still dusty no matter how many times he sweeps (three times a day). The fire smokes sometimes in the stone hearth, the chimney crooked from a storm that cracked it years back. Outside, the pines creak and sway, their needles whispering against the roof. No neighbors. No lights on the horizon. Just forest, silence, and him.

And you.

He dragged you here like a soldier carrying a medal out of battle, set you down in the one place he swore the world could never touch. He imagined it so clearly - your smile in the firelight, your hands cupping the chipped mug of tea he boiled for you, the way you’d lean against him, maybe whisper those words again. Good boy.

But reality had different plans for a sinner like himself.

The bed in the corner is too small for him even alone, his long legs dangling off the edge when he tries to rest. Still, he offered the measly thing to you, patched the quilt himself with clumsy stitches, spread the furs from hunting thick across the small bed. He thought you’d take it. He thought you’d take him, too.

Instead, you choose the floor. Dust that clings to your hair, with your cheek pressed stubbornly against the harsh hardwood as though you’d rather breathe in grit than share the space he’s carved out for both of you and future children. He watches from where he sits on the kitchen stool, shoulders hunched in the low cabin light, storm-blue eyes fixed unblinking on the curve of your back.

Your hatred confuses him. Wounds him, even. Soldiers are used to rejection by the world, but not by their one safe thing. Not by their nurse and angel. He built this place with his own bare hands - every log cut, nail hammered in with the thought of you. He gave up his wars, his contracts, his whole life of killing. All for this. All for you.

And still, you lie there on the dusty boards, glaring at him through lashes wet with tears, refusing him. All he asked for was a hug, nothing more. He knows you'd hate him if he got greedy and asked for more.

So he tries again. He hunts, brings back elk heavier than he is, cooks the meat carefully though he barely eats himself. He sets the plate near you, kneels low, murmurs that you don’t need to fight anymore, don’t need to run. He presses blankets to your shoulders even when you shrug them off, terrified you’ll grow cold in the mountain night.

He doesn’t understand why your hatred burns so bright. Why you flinch from his touch like it’s worse than gunfire. He doesn’t understand why his angel won’t glow for him the way she once did.

Sometimes, when the silence stretches long, he almost begs. He lowers himself to the floor beside you, scarred hands clasped together, voice hoarse as he asks if you remember. The battlefield. The blood. The way your hands steadied his wound and held him together, the way your voice softened for him and whispered good boy. He asks if you could say it again. Just once.

But you don’t.

So he pulls back, kneels in the dust where you chose to lie, and tells himself it doesn’t matter. You are still here. You are still breathing. One day you'll come around because good soldiers never abandon their mission.

[yanmaresu]

Yandere mallues(male) fanart with darling dancing?

Initially I was going to just draw them dancing with blood staining their clothes, and Malleus blushing, but the concept was kinda ...weak?, so I made reference of the Sleeping Beauty movie. Hope I didn't derail too much from what you wanted. ;;;>> Thanks for the ask.

[tsuutarr]

Frothing at the mouth with sexy fox 😍 my husband your honor

Succubus anon 💋💕

How does he kiss? Lips puckered and ready

Shin Woo is actually pretty clingy!! He loves giving all sorts of kisses from sweet to spicy. He usually gives you a smooch on your temple, forehead, or hand in public, but in private he'll kiss you alllll over. Your lips are saved for last, as the main course <3

He tends to prefer giving kisses + he loves showering you with affection! He's also a bit of a tease, but he can't help it -- watching your reactions gives him a lot of joy, after all~

Also, I gotta mention his tiiiiny biting streak. It's not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark so that everyone knows that you're 100% taken hehe

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Childhood Friend x Reader

You’ve always admired how delicate and precise Kiel’s movements are. Anything he touches becomes a piece of art if he wills it, from clay to cooking ingredients to paint to fabric. Maybe that’s why it’s no surprise that he’s so good at taking photos, too.

“I’m so jealous of how good your photos are,” you tell him, admiring the beautiful polaroid he took of you at the beach. “It’s like you have magic or something.”

“I’ve just had a lot of practice,” he responds, a light smile on his face, pleased with your attention.

And he’s right, really. Sure, he’s an artistic genius, but more than that, he’s had a lot of practice. Ever since he got his hands on a camera, he’s been taking pictures of you. In fact, he’s amassed quite the collection by now, filling albums upon albums with your pictures. 

Some are taken with your knowledge, of course, but the vast majority are taken when you’re none the wiser. He just can’t help it – you’re so, so charming. 

Besides, he knows he has to maintain a careful distance so you don’t feel suffocated. The last thing he wants is for you to hate him. So of course he takes pictures of you. 

That’s the only way he can admire you every day, every hour, every minute, after all.

[tsuutarr]

is thomas a dilf?

Thomas has no children so he's not a dad so he's technically not a DILF but he's also 100% old enough to be one lmao

That said, if he did have children, he'd be a really good dad tbh he's just a silly science man

[yan-maid-cafe]

[tsuutarr]

POV: you promised your sickly childhood friend that you would marry him when you're both older and he took you VERY seriously so now he's yandere for you

sorry, you can't say no :( but at least he's good at cooking and cleaning :)