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yandere-sins · 1 year

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Prisoner #001

a/n: Jay! First request! I feel like Diluc makes a good starter for this, thank you for requesting and enjoy ♥

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Prisoner!Diluc x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Catcalling/slutshaming, non-consensual touching/intimacy), Violence (TW Blood, Stabbing someone, Knives, lots of death mention but none on screen), Possessiveness, Long Post, Overprotectiveness, Manipulation, Breaking under the pressure

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"Be quiet."

A straightforward, understandable command, the voice so growly and commanding, you didn't dare to object. Your roommate lounging on the lower bed slowly closed his eyes again, seemingly unbothered by your presence as long as you didn't annoy him, and you most certainly wouldn't. Keeping your mouth shut, you averted your eyes quickly from the moody roommate, fixing them on the sparse amenities you two were given, like a small desk, chair, and behind a meager half-wall, barely shielded from the outside and your roommate, a toilet. You didn't feel like giving anyone a show, so you probably wouldn't use that one even if it would cause you sleepless nights.

A sigh shuddered off your lips as your mind finally came to understand the situation you were in. The place you were in.

Prison. Undeserved.

You didn't know who the judge was doing a favor by sentencing you for embezzling millions from the company you had only ever done deliveries for. But justice had not been served when you were pronounced guilty. That much was sure. Someone out there was celebrating getting away with millions while you had to fear for your life. God, this sucked. You'd have another month or so before you could appeal the case—if you made it that long.

Either way, there was little you could do now. Your eyes fell on the top bunk, then on the ladder in the back of the construct, right where the face of your roomie was. The last thing you'd do was speak up when he so clearly didn't want to talk; however, pushing your feet into the gaps would surely irritate him as well. But there was no alternative. You couldn't climb up any other way.

Holding back another sigh, you stepped towards the back of the cell, dark and stinky. Please don't move, you prayed over and over as you stepped up to the ladder, wearily glancing at the resting man beside you. How would you even avert an attack? You were infuriatingly helpless if anyone ever showed you how careless the guards were when it came to searching the prisoners. How little anyone cared if there were actual weapons inside this prison if they weren't out in the open.

Raising your chin, you looked to the entrance of your bunk, the bed encased with walls. Perhaps to avoid any more stabbings. It would be a tight squeeze inside, but you just hoped it didn't smell like piss in there like the rest of the prison. Pushing your extra clothes into the opening, you settled your foot on the first step, always looking at the man as long as the angle allowed.

You were almost inside when there was movement from below, panic rising as a hand grabbed your ankle with more strength than you could break away from.

Letting out a grunt, the grip tightened, then yanked you down. Next thing you knew, your head hit the ground; however, adrenaline blocked your body from feeling the pain. Hearing fabric rustling, you forced your eyes to snap open, sitting up to crouch backward as your roommate came to sit on the edge of his bed, peering down at you in an undefinable gaze.

"You don't belong here, do you?" he asked, the sound of a lighter clicking open, underlining his words sharply before a flame appeared in his hands. It was an odd question, but it fit the oddity of the man before you. Reaching up, he lit a cigarette, and you forced your eyes away from the light to look at him instead, his eyes drilling into you with the flame dancing in them. The red was like a hot blaze, his gaze burning you as he looked you up and down, smothering you with heat all throughout your body. Just before he closed the zippo in his hand, you gained a look at him too, infuriatingly handsome features mismatched with an indifferent sternness edged into his expression. But there was a passion gleaming in his eyes. One that you made you too afraid to ask him about.

"No," you admitted, gulping as you burned under his gaze. The sound vibrated through your head, making it ache. Pain returning to your senses, you grit your teeth as you reached up, relieved to find the wound dry even though it hurt like hell. You grunted in pain as you pressed into the spot, relieved to not find any hints of a concussion, luckily.

"Then why are you here?"

With a drag of his cigarette, your roommate didn't avert his gaze for even a moment, even when smoke dragged out of his mouth, collecting in the cell and itching in your nose. Well, at least it wasn't a blade pressed to your throat, and so far, he looked pretty decent for the kind of guy the guard tried to make him out to be.

"I got blamed. Someone stole millions, and the judge decided it must have been me. If you ask me, there was something really wrong with that decision." You couldn't help but sound sour, recalling what had happened, the words bubbling out of you now that someone genuinely asked for your version of the story.

"Sucks," he huffed, breathing out more smoke. That was more sympathy than anyone had shown you since you had to deal with this mess.

"How about you?" you asked, feeling emboldened by this conversation going so well. Evidently, you had a poor judge of character as your roommate suddenly stilled, his gaze cooling down regardless of the flames and smoke dancing in the reflection of his eyes.

"Look, stay out of my way, and you will be blessed not knowing what I did, okay? Just be quiet when you're in the cell."

And with that, disregarding that he caused the commotion, he settled back on his bed, sighing as he puffed out the last bit of smoke. Oh well. Peeling yourself off the ground, you were much quicker in ascending to the top bunk, catching your roomies' red eyes peering at you from below just as you disappeared inside. You never even got to ask his name, but at least the top bunk was... okay. Not ideal, but you felt a bit better being up here, hidden and shielded, than out there with him and his mood swings.

It was a real shame you couldn't stay inside forever, having to put yourself out there sooner rather than later.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all served in one cafeteria for all prisoners.

As much as you wanted to avoid it, the guard came back to escort you regardless of your protests so they could show you the way, a hint of hospitality despite the annoyance on their face. Luckily, Mister Grumpy and Handsome had already left when you finally slid out of your bunker, making your way to dinner. You may be able to get your mind off things with a few spoons of... hopefully edible things.

"Well, well, well. Look who survived the Butcher. You must have dazzled the Diluc Ragnvindr with your looks, Newbie, if you survived him," the first prisoner to spot you entering the large facility snarked from his table before taking a bite out of his sandwich. You grimaced at the aggressive stare he gave you as he took bite after bite like a hungry animal, others joining him in mockery.

"Spread your legs already? Damn, you're fast."

"Maybe they killed him?"

Eyes shot over to the neighboring table, half of the prisoners collected in the cafeteria now following the conversation upon noticing your arrival. And as if coordinated by them, they all burst out into laughter.

"Sure!" someone yelled from across the room. "Smothered in thighs!"

More laughter ensued, and the guard sighed, defeated, pushing you forward into the midst of hollering mouths and gawking eyes before leaving you all alone to fend for yourself. Delivering you to the cafeteria seemed to have been the expected amount of work they were willing to do, everything else fell beyond their responsibility and care.

Anxious, you stepped forward, spotting the food trays and the end of the queue, deciding to just quickly get your food and get out. But before you could reach out, so close to your goal once again, someone was quicker, throwing you off-balance as a prisoner, with only half of his teeth and more tattoos than eyebrows, grabbed you, pulling you towards him.

"Ya know, I'd be happy to show you my cell if yer uncomfortable with the Butcher. I can show you an even better time between my legs."

Stumbling, you grabbed the edge of the table while you were relentlessly tugged. "No way!" you exclaimed, horrified at the thought of anything so vile. Unfortunately, you knew you couldn't win in terms of strength. And to add to your suffering, so did the other prisoners.

Soon enough, you were crowded by them, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling back your neck, someone's nail cutting over your throat in a slicing motion while others admired your thighs and dug into them with their hands. You struggled and failed, and when you looked around for help, most of the eyes you met looked away or watched your misfortune with the curiosity of watching a new television show.

Your situation was hopeless.

You knew when the judge pronounced you guilty that this wouldn't end well. But it had been barely a few hours, and yet, you knew exactly how the rest of your sentence would look like. If only there had been someone to help you—anyone!—you might have had a nickel of a chance. But all you could do was close your eyes as more hands touched you, so many more dragging you down to hell.

"Hands. Off."

The voice was as cold and throat-cutting as it was familiar. A deep growl, followed by an anguished groan by the prisoner gripping your hair, suddenly letting go and crumbling to the ground behind you. Something warm splattered against the side of your cheek as a sloshing sound, followed by more groans, was to be heard. The other's eyes shot to the person standing behind you, first in anger for the interruption, then their expression dropped in panic.

Immediately, everyone let go, and in your confusion, you looked around their faces for answers before realizing the answer you were searching for was right behind you. Tensing, you slowly turned around, facing the fire-blazing red stare of, who you now knew as, Diluc Ragnvindr. Coming face to face with him in broad lightning was way more intimidating than before, him being tall and muscular and bloody.

You made the mistake of looking down, blood pooling around the prisoner on the ground. Directing your eyes further up, you saw Diluc's whole hand covered in the same red shade and the knife in his hand. His other hand shooting upwards, you flinched hard as he clamped his fingers around your chin, directing you to face him.

Moving your head side to side to check you, you shivered violently in his grasp, your brain still not registering what had just happened. But Diluc remained perfectly composed, his thumb reaching up to wipe away the liquid that had splattered on your cheek before. "If anyone--" he drawled, thumb wiping over and over against your cheek, his eyes growing grimmer the longer he had to do it. "--touches you again..."

Then, he directed his gaze away from you, back over your shoulder. You heard chairs being pushed aside and bodies moving away. "Stab them," Diluc finished his instruction, holding out the knife to you, handle first. You blinked a few times, unmoving, and he sighed, dropping it. Instinctively and regretfully, you caught it. For the first time, he grunted in approval before directing his voice to everyone.

Only now did you notice it was dead silent in the whole room, everyone watching. "Just to be clear," Diluc said, raising his voice for everyone to hear. "This one's hands off. They're mine." Below you, the stabbed prisoner grunted in pain, and you peeked down, watching as more and more blood collected on the linoleum floor.

"Oh my god," you whispered, obviously directed at the fact someone was bleeding out on your shoes with the weapon in your hand.

"That would be an exaggeration," Diluc answered as if you had been talking to him instead. As if this was a situation to joke about. Glancing up again, the corners of his mouth jerked upwards for just a second, though the smile never reaches his now deadly eyes fixated on you. The fire had finally been smothered by something else, something dark. Brandishing. Possessive.

It gave you goosebumps all over.

"Make sure to eat," he reminded you. "And take off your shoes before entering the cell."

Dumbfounded by his nonchalant words, you only flinched back into reality when guards finally stormed inside, yelling, "RAGNVINDR!" from across the room. His grip on you tightened before he sighed, looking like he was inconvenienced more by the interruption than the fact he just stabbed someone. His thumb stroked over your cheek once more, this time gently, as if its only purpose was to caress and comfort. Diluc only let go when he was grabbed by the shoulders and thrown to the dirty floor next to the bleeding man.

More guards assembled, and together they apprehended and dragged Diluc out of the room, his gaze on you until the end, finding you even through all the guards swarming him. Once he was out the door, they carried away the poor guy on the floor, his wounds hopefully not fatal even though he treated you like shit.

"Drop it," one guard hissed at you. Only now did you remember the knife, letting it fall immediately and jumping away to escape the blade threatening to go through your foot. "Way to go, Newbie," the guard huffed, shaking his head like a disappointed dad.

Once they were gone, the silence was deafening. You could feel the gears in your head turn, the blood rushing through you, but time seemed to stand still until the other prisoners began to return to what they were doing before all of this. It wasn't the same for you. You never were a big fan of gory horror movies; you never really saw that much blood—much less real blood—before. The thought of food was anything but appetizing to you now, not with blood on your feet, hand, and, as you learned later from looking into a bathroom mirror, face. Diluc's words echoed in your mind, but they were fading as you felt your stomach twist and gurgle, unwilling to even consider the prison food served here.

"Psycho," someone muttered next to you, and you didn't know if you liked the look everyone was giving you now. It no longer was mockery or belittling, oh no. They looked at you as if you were the monster who just stabbed someone. Being feared inevitably was better than being a laughingstock, but how did you always end up taking the blame for these situations?

Without another thought, you left, rather going hungry than risking vomiting everything once your brain realized all the gruesome things that just happened. Instead, you hid in a bathroom stall, the shock finally snapping your head back into its place, causing you to dry heave the stress and shivers out of your system before putting your head under cold water, hoping it would rid you of the images in your head and return your clear mind.

Your reflection was pitiful, the horror written all over your face. It took a long time to scrub the stranger's blood off your skin, and you had to see the bloody shoeprints you left in your race to get to the bathroom on the way back to your cell. Just as you were about to step in, you halted, remembering Diluc's words. Reaching down, you untied your shoe, your hands slowing the further you got. By the time you stepped out of your boots, you realized he had already crept his way into your subconscious, causing havoc to your feelings.

You were scared. There was no denying that. You were scared of his reaction if you disobeyed. Scared of what other unpredictable things he could do after you had to witness him stab someone... for your sake?

"This one's hands off. They're mine," he had claimed. Since when? How? Why?

All questions you wanted to know but feared to ask. Just like you feared disobeying him. Instead, you put your shoes under the table, peeling out of the orange overalls before climbing into your bunk. At least here, you felt somewhat safe. Safe enough to finally let go of the tears you had held back, your arms hugging yourself tightly as you wrapped yourself in your blanket.

And even though you knew nothing would change, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping for this nightmare to end when you opened them again.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

It was already incredibly late when your cell door screeched open, heavy footsteps dragging towards the bed. You couldn't find even a minute of sleep despite being exhausted after such a day. Instead, you had dozed in your bed, the sound jerking you wide awake.

"Next time, behave, Diluc," a very smooth but icy voice spoke before the door was slammed shut and locked for the night. You stiffened as you heard Diluc grunt, clothes rustling, and you assumed he was doing the same as you, not wanting to get dirt into bed. You expected to feel the movement of his body settling into the bunk below you any second now, hoping he wouldn't say anything to you that you'd have to answer. He told you to be quiet, and so you were.

But instead of both of you settling for the night, your quietness only added to the silence suddenly spreading through the cell. You couldn't even hear him breathe, only your heartbeat racing in your ears as you felt goosebumps run over your skin as if you were being watched. And then, something truly terrifying made sure you'd not sleep one bit that night.

Even if the sound was subtle, you heard him grip the iron ladder to the top bunk. Had to listen to the slight shiver of breath as he lifted himself up on the steps. Felt the additional weight press down on your mattress.

You didn't say anything, didn't move, didn't breathe. Your back was turned to the entrance, and you didn't even allow your eyes to shift in the darkness, fearing what you would see. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? Get even for what he must have endured with the guards? Was the same bloody mess the guard had told you about going to happen again?

One arm snaked over your midriff, fingers brushing upwards, the warmth of his palm dancing over your collarbones. Your breathing was ragged, faltering every time you felt him move, not knowing what his next step would be.

Diluc's body, smothering heat surrounded by skin, pressed against you. You were kept in a firm hold, and even if you had been asleep before, you never felt more awake and alert now.

"Breathe," he grunted, and you tensed up even more. How did he know?

"You wouldn't be holding your breath if you were sleeping."

"Ah." That explained it. Of course. Fuck, you were an idiot.

"As if I'm going to hurt you after getting beaten up for you the last few hours."

Diluc let out a heavy sigh, his head falling forward to rest against you. You shifted under his arm, trying to give him some space. If bruises were forming on his body, it must have agitated him to be squeezed between you and the encasing on the bunk. However, when he noticed you scoot away, he tightened his grip, dragging you back and into him with barely any effort needed. "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked timidly, and he huffed.

"If you mean getting stabbed, then yeah. That was supposed to hurt a lot. I, for my part, will not complain about a few gut punches and knuckles to my face."

His body kept slumping forward until you were the only resistance in his way. It was an odd, uncomfortable situation, but who were you to say anything? You feared him, even though he seemed less fearsome when he was exhausted like this. "Can I ask something?" you piped up, disregarding the 'be quiet' rule from when you first met. He'd probably tell you if he didn't feel like talking anymore, so you took your chance.

Diluc grunted, "Go ahead," as he rubbed his face into your shoulder. Just as you wanted to open your mouth, he hissed, having hit a sore spot, and you stilled, tensing as if you had done something wrong. Communicating with him was still as weird and confusing as it had been when he pulled you from the ladder. You never knew what you were allowed and not allowed to do in his presence, fearing any misstep you could make. And yet, somehow, you had grown closer without you even realizing. Silence raked its claws through the cell until he eventually repeated himself, pinching you as if to wake you up.

"Speak up."

"Why..." you stopped, thinking of how to convey your thoughts into words. Taking a deep breath, you collected as much confidence as you could, bumping your fist into the mattress to encourage yourself. "Why did you help me?"

"Someone bad hurt someone very dear to me," he finally muttered after a tense few seconds of thoughtfulness. "And I hurt a lot of their people in return."

"Oh," you whispered, not expecting that kind of talk. In fact, you had no idea what you expected, but certainly not an explanation that Diluc hadn't wanted to give you before. "But--"

"They want to use you," Diluc interrupted you as you were about to ask what that had to do with you. "Before you, my roommate was swayed by the offer to have their sentence reduced. They used his vulnerability to try and get revenge on me. Death. Painful and bloody, and worse than what you saw today."

Gulping, you remembered the guard telling you how they had to scrub the remains of the last roommate off the walls of this cell. "And you think they'll do it again?" you whispered, shuddering. The last thing you wanted was to be caught up in yet another feud. And yet, you felt like you were already a part of it.

"I know they will."

"So you got to me first."

"Yes."

Feeling his hand wandering upwards until it lodged in the crook of your neck, fingers digging around your throat, you gasped, clawing at him as he cut off your air supply. "I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if they offer you a deal to get you out if you get rid of me. Surely, you don't plan to kill me in my sleep, right?"

Gasping, you shook your hand as much as his hold allowed, Diluc's fingers tightening once before releasing you. Coughing, you felt tears burn in your eyes again, the sudden fear you had felt after your return to the cell burning up again. You had been careless, misjudging him again. Even after hearing it from Diluc himself, you forgot that he had no qualms about getting rid of things in his way.

"Good. Otherwise, those pigs would have eaten you for dinner. Don't forget you owe me. You can't trust anyone that gets close to you here."

"Then... what about you?" It took some clearing of your throat to present the question, but with your hands wrapped around your neck, you felt a little more safe and protected.

"You'll just have to learn to trust me."

His fingers ghosted over yours, noticing how you were shielding yourself and causing Diluc to let out a husky laugh. Instead, he gripped your chin, yanking your head to the side so you'd face him. When he spoke again, you could barely see his mouth move in the dark but felt his breath caress your lips in secretive whispers.

"I'll protect you. I’ll keep you safe as long as you hold up your end of the bargain. If you want to survive, I am your best choice to give your trust to. And I take very good care of what's mine."

"Why do you keep saying that?" you shuddered, feeling the brush of his lips, his fingers digging into your skin painfully, but you didn't dare look away from the red burning through the darkness. His eyes were eager to see, witness every shudder going through you, and roam over your face as if it was a map to your soul even in the dark. Perhaps his vision was much better than yours. Still, even you could see the genuine determination in his eyes that echoed through his words.

"Because it's true. The moment you stepped into this prison, you became mine."

"I never agreed to that," you protested meekly.

"You didn't have to."

"Don't you think that's unfair? Don't I get a choice?" you complained, feeling defeated by the direction of the conversation. Sure, his promise of protection sounded good but claiming you as something you weren't seemed to finally cross your boundaries.

"Darling," Diluc said soothingly. Yet it only raised goosebumps to hear him use such an affectionate nickname for you. The way his voice changed into a low, reverent breath was only drowned out by the confidence dripping off his lips every time he spoke. He was so sure of himself, never stuttering as he relayed his conviction.

"They blamed you for a crime you didn't do just to get to me. They bribed a judge just to get to me. They sent you to this godforsaken pisshole of a prison because of me."

You shuddered as Diluc laid out the facts so obviously, you had to realize he spoke the truth. This was worse than the nightmare you had gone through so far, deeper than what you thought this wrong guilty verdict had been. Someone chose you for a suicide mission because of a vendetta from the same man sharing your bed right now.

"Thinking about it, you were mine long before you came here," Diluc conducted. Then, you felt warm, soft lips press to yours, a struggle ensuing as you tried to defend yourself, but Diluc was stronger. A jolt of pain jerked through you as he bit your lip, relishing in the drops of blood appearing as he licked over it.

"No," you sobbed quietly, tears trickling from your eyes. What you were saying no to, you weren't sure. No to the reality, you didn't want to face. No to having to accept something so absurd it could only be true. No to his treatment, the kiss, the stabbing Diluc did for you.

His other hand reached up with a grunt from him, wiping over the lashes of your eyes squeezed shut. "Don't cry," he whispered, almost pleading with you. "I told you I'll treat you well. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but you're safe with me. I'll protect you and make sure these other guys won't get to you."

Sobbing a bit louder, Diluc hushed you, cupping your face so gently you couldn't believe he had stabbed someone with that hand just hours prior.

"I don't want this," you sniffled. "I never asked for any of this!"

"I know," he sympathized, and you gulped, feeling like those were empty words. You'd be right. Even though it felt as if you two were getting closer, Diluc unveiled something much worse than a knife to end you, his sympathy vanishing into thin air.

Instead, he stabbed you with his words worse than any knife could, ensuring your death would be as painful and awful as humanly possible. You saw the hints of a pitying smile on his lips before he opened them, the disgusting pleasure of a psycho showing in the softness of his gaze on you. A psycho that had found something to protect and keep in a world that had been way too harsh on him. You, on the other hand, felt your world collapse like a house of cards as he blew his words in your face, showing you no compassion whatsoever as he slapped the truth across your cheeks harder than any punch would.

"But you don't really have a choice, do you?"

No.

You never had any choice to begin with in any of this.

And even worse, he was right—you had to rely on him. Because if not Diluc, someone else would come for you. Another prisoner, or these mysterious people he mentioned, once you refused to get their revenge on Diluc for them. How would you even do that?

It was hopeless. Every inch of your being was violently refusing him and his offer. But you had to if you wanted to survive. You had no other choice, no alternatives to rely on. There was no Plan B when you never even had a Plan A. Diluc was your Plan P for protection. You'd have to trust him, a broken stranger, to make sure you wouldn't end up as the blood splattered to the walls the guards would have to clean.

"O-Okay," you whispered, your voice breaking just like your heart did.

"Good choice," he murmured, forehead bumping to yours before Diluc slumped back into the space behind you. Building trust would take a long time, you were sure, as you felt his hand grab your wrists, pinning them down to the space in front of you. It might have been a good choice for the moment.

But would it be the right one?

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yandere-sins · 1 year

Text

Before reading: R18, Mature Content Warning, Yandere Warning

“Welcome to prison, ya filthy criminal.”

The guard’s words were like cold slaps in your face. There was no kindness or even just a speck of respect in them. They were echoed by a vast variety of sounds circling around you the moment you stepped through the last gate to the outside and into the complex. From laughter to screams to moans—everything haunted these stinking walls. “Move it,” the guard grunted at you, shoving you forward after your feet had stopped halfway in the doorway, the harsh feeling of an elbow to your spine only adding to your discomfort.

This had not been the plan, said every prisoner ever.

“Fresh meat, boys!” the guard hollered behind you as they ushered you forward, baton slapping into the palm of their hand before coming down on the cell bars on your side. An awful quietness spread as you felt a million eyes turn to you, from above, the cells beside you and right in your path. And then, chaos descended.

If you were disgusted by the sounds before, then the rattling of bars, obscenities screamed at you (ranging from invitations to warm beds to threats of suffocating you with a pillow at night), and the delighted ogling at a change in the current boring routine of the prisoners, made you want to throw up. No one came to your rescue when hands reached out, grabbing you by the orange jersey you were put into, yanking you to the one side, and jerking you to the next. Laughter underlined everything as they saw your grimace, disgust, discomfort, and panic hidden behind your best poker face. But there was only so much you could endure before your mask began to crack.

“Come to my cell! I’ll give you the ride of your life.” “Why don’t you come over here, baby? I got some knives to show you.” “You’d look even better with my hands around your throat.” “Want someone to treat you to the real prison experience?” “Betcha fifty bucks they aren’t gonna survive.” “I give them a week.” “I give them one day.” “Deal.”

“My god, move!”

Tearing you out of the overwhelmed state of mind after being bombarded by the voices, the guard brought their baton down to your back, striking across it once and making you lose balance. With an ungraceful, embarrassing uff being punched out of your lungs, you fell to your knees, the items you were holding splaying out on the floor. Roaring laughter insulted your fall while you scrambled to collect your things, the guard groaning behind you in annoyance.

“How did someone like you even make it into prison?” they asked as you got to your feet again, letting your head hang low. Already, you had lost the pride you had come here with, wanting to keep your head held high and get through this without causing a stir. But you had a feeling no one would forget the display of you on your knees with your ass in the air, your extra pair of underwear displayed before you as if you were offering it up as a peace sign while submitting yourself to the torture.

“That’s your cell,” the guard snarked, hitting the cell door with their, extremely irritating, stick weapon. The door remained closed as you stood before it, a little confused about what you were supposed to do now, wanting nothing more than to get inside and hide in your bed for the rest of your time here. Rolling their eyes, the guard let out a long sigh and dramatically gripped the bars on the door, pulling it back to open up the doorway.

“There you go, princess,” they mocked you, leaning towards you and talking as if you were a child. “One super deluxe room including your personal psycho. If you need anything, you can ask that thing in there. Maybe they’re willing to not kill you if you tell them your little sob story of how you got here.”

Winding up with their baton in hand, you didn’t want to be hit yet again to be put into motion, so you stepped forward quickly, nothing but gray colors and the smell of sweat welcoming you into the enclosure. The guard slammed the door closed before patting themselves with their baton on the shoulder.

“Try not to die too quickly, okay? We only cleaned that cell last month after the last roommate died, and I don’t want that psycho peer down my asscrack again while we scrub your remains off the wall, gotcha?”

You couldn’t even have responded if this was a serious question. Because what were you supposed to say to that? “Okay, I’ll become best buddies with whoever is inside of here with me!” or “Oh, no, officer! Let me out, please!” The guard could be heard for a few more minutes as they made their way back outside, prisoners hassling them for information about you, wanting to know everything.

There you were now. Your cell. The place you’d sleep, live, and hide in for the rest of your sentence... or life. Wearily dragging your eyes over to the bunk bed, you stared into the darkness of the lower bunk, not seeing anything for a moment as your eyes adjusted. The light overhead was, by the looks of it, smashed. Just your luck.

“H-Hello?” you called out. Remembering the guard’s words, you realized much too late you shouldn’t have done that.

Your blood froze as piercing eyes split through the darkness, only outshone by the grin that formed on your roommate’s lips when you could finally see who you were dealing with.

Your chances of survival? Zero.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Welcome to the YMP, my lovely sinners!

The Yandere Multifandom Prison (Short YMP) hosts a multitude of long-term inhabitants. There is nothing in here that isn’t smeared in some kind of body fluid, fights are served like the cold eggs at breakfast every day, and there are definitely some... guests you’d like to avoid while staying here. Unfortunately, you didn’t really have a say in coming here, however, there are some things that are up to you!

RULES OF THE PRISON:

This is an 18+ Project, do not subject yourself to it if you can’t handle violence, gore, sexual content, yandere, and many, many more dark topics. (There will be individual warnings, but this is at best dark romance, at worse everyone dies.)

This is not a pure nsfw project! Please trust in me to decide when to include something! ♥

If you find yourself with questions before sending in your request, please asks me beforehand!

Read the Instructions below before sending in your ask!

Please no in-depth character customization or characterization. This is a xReader project and at this point I can’t provide OC-like conditions, sorry.

However, sparse details and wishes for the direction of the story and gender indications are welcome! Btw, you’ll find all kinds of genders in this prison, good luck ;)

Just focus on your reader for the information, I’ll come up with something for the characters of your choosing!

ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴇᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴍᴘ! [CLOSED!]

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨: Send in your ask with a few customized information for your reader.

🗡 ʜᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ʜᴇʀᴇ? (What felony did you commit to end up in prison?)

𓍝 ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ? (Did you do it or did you take the blame?)

🗡 ᴡʜᴏ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ? (Multifandom Project! Choose one (1) character from my fandoms available, current and old.)

𓍝 ʟᴀꜱᴛʟʏ, ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇʟʏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ... ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅꜱ? (Choose whether your LI is a fellow prisoner or rather an enforcer of justice.)

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Who knows? In all this chaos, you might just meet an unlikely pair of helping hands... finger count is debatable. What will you do when you are graced with the fortune of finding a protector amongst the scum of the earth? Will you guys be able to survive? Change your misfortune and get out?

Or will you come to realize that the person you trust is the one you really need to escape from?

#Prison Project #yandere prisoner #yandere guard #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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