#yandere clerk
Note
Oc! Oc! Oc!
Some yan oc hc with a cute chub GN reader
Yandere Serial Killer
Everyone was on edge. The amount of murders that occurred in your part of town amped up to a debilitating degree; to the point that the general public no longer walked outside. If the lack of people outside was bad enough, your buddy system was failing. Your roommate who worked at the same place used to walk with you from place to place only for them to recently have to move away due to family issues.
Now you are on your own.
To work. To school. To the store. You had to move as fast as you could.
No more than 30…that's what you told yourself
30 minutes to do whatever you had to do before leaving. You couldn’t keep it together any longer. Suffering from the collective paranoia of the entire town you kept to yourself, no friends, no family, you were on your own. Even the people you know that you buy things from no matter how many times they smiled at you or offered their help. They couldn’t be trusted. No one could.
“Oh (Y/n), how are you today? Everything okay on your walk over?”
It was Penn, the owner of the grocery store that was within 30 minutes. Smiley and bright before the events of the serial killer he was a known favorite. Even so you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything but the typical response.
“I’m fine.”
“How’s your jogging routine going? Are you still doing that?”
You huffed as you continued putting your items on the belt pretending to not hear the question as the same person that subjugated you to it in the first place. Before Mo you were fine with yourself exercising when you wanted and doing as you liked when you liked. But with a person like Mo there was no getting around it. Mo was your landlord, a nutty fellow that had an outward appearance of being a lovely parent over the tenants. In truth they were a crummy old person that liked to practice their helicopter parenting on everyone and her latest victim was you.
Forcing you to run ‘to fix that weight of yours’ many times you had tried to inform them about the fact this was simply your body shape but she refused to listen. Promising to lock you out of your apartment if you should ignore their ‘advice’ again; you tested them one time and ended up sleeping outside your door before they woke up.
You saw Penn make a face before ringing up the rest of your items.
“H-heym you’re looking for a roommate…”
Your head snapped up as you were finishing your payment, as you cautiously asked.
“How do you know that?”
He was blushing in embarrassment as he shuffled his feet.
“Your roommate suggested I ask you…I’m looking for a place.” Seeing the disbelief on your face he put his hands up in defense.”I-i have the money with me in cash if you want it right away.”
He seemed desperate and for as long as you’d known him never once did you question his character. Was it really okay to break your rule?
______________________________________________________________________
“Thanks so much for inviting me to take a look around (Y/n)! I really appreciate it!”
Against your better judgement you let him come over and like a puppy he dashed around taking in every bit of the apartment.
You shook your head as his eyes darted around the vacant room. A smile started to creep on your face as you thought of the possibilities…maybe he could be your new buddy. It’d be a shame if someone deprived you of that in these dangerous times.
Knock
Knock
“Hey (Y/n)! Who’s in there with you?!”
Your door unlocked and in came Mo smelling as if they dunked themselves in the worst smelling
Perfume they could find. Trudging past you they came to look at Penn who was now also looking surprised at the gremlin who let themselves in.
“Ohh my goodness is that you Penn? What are you doing here? I doubt they actually took the time to go ahead and invite you over.”
He laughed awkwardly as he sent a worried look over to you before centering back on the fast approaching landlord.
“A-actually they did. They let me come over to see the room I’ll be getting if they let me be their roommate.”
“Oh please, if you need a room I can do that and more for even half the price!”
Was your landlord really trying to hit on and steal your potential roommate? You just rolled your eyes as you leaned yourself on the nearby wall just waiting for Mo to get tired enough to show herself out. Unfortunately she didn’t plan to do that; and ended up attempting to flirt with him for nearly the whole afternoon. Looking outside it was getting dark out and you began to worry about Penn and against your better judgment you intervened.
“Uhm Mo, hey I think you should be letting Penn leave seeing as it's getting late and a serial killer is at large.”
“Oh you're such a worrywart (Y/n)! Penn’s a strong man; he'll handle himself. But if you want I can offer my room! It’s a suite–!”
“I-uh actually would rather not..if I was going to stay I definitely wouldn’t be staying with you.”
“What?! And you’d stay with this chubby kid?”
You were going to blow it off, another statement to ignore but Penn apparently wasn’t having it. The man you’d never see so much as scrunch his eyebrows in anger held your landlord by their shoulders holding them at arm's length with a shadow on his face. Amazed and slightly worried for Mo you stepped in putting a hand on his lower back. Immediately he snapped out of it looking at you and his arms in surprise before releasing your landlord who grunted and angrily stpmped out of your door. You both sat in the silence of relief before you broke it.
“I-if you do want to stay with me for the night, I don’t mind. And if you wanted to move in that’d be cool too, that is if she still lets you.”
“Ha-ha, thanks and if it's cool I’ll totally move in. But I can get home okay,” he headed for the door before turning with one last smile towards you. “I really appreciate it. I'll text you when I get home.”
“Sure, okay bye.”
You leaned against the door before leaning a bit as you imagined him being your roommate.
Having someone around that defends you didn’t sound so bad. You shook your head as you went off to complete your chores. After all, you had to do some cleaning before your new roommate may start moving things in.
____________________________________________________________
“Hah~hah (Y/n)--(Y/n)--(Y/n)-ergh!
Disheveled and breathing heavily, Penn was sitting with his pants down in the hallway just outside your door. He tried to catch his breath while still replaying the euphoria that he felt just three minutes and 40 seconds before. Not only did he get to see your living space with the lights on but he even got to feel the plush warmth of your hand on his back. Penn growled silently as he thought of why you did but nonetheless it reminded him of his future plans for that night.
He grinned as he sent the text to you before pocketing his phone and knocking on your landlord’s door. When it opened Penn batted his eyes and puckered his lips like he’d done so many times before.
“Oh Mo, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive earlier! I was just playing with you, I do want to spend the night and I want to do it at your place.”
“Were ya? Well I’ll be, make yourself at home handsome while I freshen up.”
Penn smiled, pulling back his hair and putting on his beloved latex gloves.
“Take your time dear,” he spotted the decorative knife block on display in the kitchen.
“Take your time…”
#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yanderexrea#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x oc#yandere x darling#yandere serial killer#yandere clerk#yandere bnha#serial killer oc#yandere oc#chubby reader#chub reader#yandere fanfiction#yandere asks
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HEADCANON
1980s Game Store Clerk and Gift Clerk are Gema’s parents
#yandere simulator#yansim#yandere simulator headcanons#gema taku#gema takagaki#yandere simulator clerks
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an0nym0us-m0nster asked:
Osoro, Aoi and the 1989 Hardware Clerk hanging out. They'd totally be best friends. Stealing shit, beating people up, maybe even committing a crime. Who knows?
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Convenience Store Clerk
#yandere simulator#yansim#yandere sim#yandere sim fan art#yandere sim art#Convenience Store Clerk#store clerk
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Ik it's in the middle of the night but please listen.
So
The convenience store clerk in 202X is very similar Student-Chan from way back then
Hear me out on this ok
Do you remember when Buraza Town was re-added back in 2019? The convenience clerk was a placeholder for the other shopkeepers at one point until they were replaced with new ones.
Student-Chan on the other hand was also a placeholder for students way back in prototype days until she was also replaced with new ones that got slowly added to the game.
Isn't it odd that they both were placeholders at one point in the game and then replaced? Especially their appearances. They both exactly have the same eye and hair color (ik that Student-Chan is a Unity Asset Store Model but let's just talk game-wise ok?)
Soooo
I think that the Convenience clerk and Student-Chan might possibly be the same person an we didn't know this.
that concludes my theory. I'd like hear you're thoughts on this!
#yandere sim#yandere simulator#yandere sim student-chan#202X Convenience Clerk#I've been thinking about this for a while now#I might be correct or way off but idc#On the YS Fanon Wiki Stuent-Chan's name given from Qvajangel is Aoya Nomey but we don't know if the name is canon or not#so don't tell me about it
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Predator
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader
Word Count: 5.1k
Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...
Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.
“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”
The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.
“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”
“Crane. Jonathan.”
The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.
“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”
“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”
Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.
“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.
Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth.
“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”
You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.
The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.
“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.
“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.
The clerk hands over a key card.
“Have a nice night,” he tells you.
You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.
You smile.
You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special.
Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.
Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him.
You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.
“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.
From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.
As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.
“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”
His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him.
“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.
“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”
Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.
“How did you get in here?” he presses.
“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”
It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.
“Hey!”
You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.
“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!”
Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.
“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”
“That's… personal?” you mumble.
“Try again.”
God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-
“Well?”
Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.
“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”
“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”
“No!” you say, a bit too sharply.
He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.
“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”
Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.
“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.
“And why the fuck is that?”
“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”
Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.
“What do you mean by that?” he asks.
The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.
“Scarecrow.”
Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride.
“Who are you?” Crane asks softly.
“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.
Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.
“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”
You shake your head.
“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”
Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.
“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”
Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care.
“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”
You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.
“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”
He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.
“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”
“Rape me?” Crane supplies.
“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”
You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.
“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”
Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.
“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.
Crane nods, just once. Curtly.
“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”
As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?
Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.
“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”
The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.
“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.
“How?” Crane asks.
“With my mouth…”
Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose.
“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”
He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.
You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length.
Crane has other ideas.
He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.
“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”
You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.
In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.
“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”
You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.
He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.
“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”
You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.
“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.
“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”
He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief.
“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”
“I… I came here for you,” you insist.
Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.
“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”
Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.
“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”
With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”
You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.
“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”
“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying.
“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.
The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.
“Gonna come!” you whine.
And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him.
You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.
“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”
Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking.
“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”
The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs.
“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”
It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm.
“I-I’m close,” you whimper.
“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”
You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.
“Please fuck me!” you beg.
“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”
His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.
“Fuck…” you gasp.
You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.
“Think you can do one more for me?”
Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.
“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”
“Can’t…” you say.
It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.
“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”
In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.
“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”
You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.
“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”
“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant.
Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.
“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”
“Y-yes,” you whimper.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir,” you breathe.
“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”
You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.
You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.
When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again.
“Good girl.”
His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress.
“S-so close,” you gasp.
“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”
As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.
“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”
He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.
Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.
“Ah!”
Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.
“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”
#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#jonathan crane#LemmyFics
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Hii! May I request Thomas Hewitt overhearing reader talk with her friends and saying that she came across this very cute guy whom she smiled at when they accidently made eye contact? (The guy is, of course, Tommy <3) And maybe Tommy spares her afterwards and decides to hide her away so that Hoyt doesn't order him to turn her into a human stew-
Thank you!
You're Mine
Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader
SFW
TW: Hoyt is a creep again / Very very slight Yandere!Thomas
...
Thank you for sending in this ask! Sorry for the long wait time and I hope you enjoy!
The cool wind rushed across your face, whipping around your body and sweeping through your hair as you leaned back on your own hands.
Your eyes stared up to the bright blue sky, a few tuffs of cloud floating idly through the giant blue mass as you sped down the highway, your best friend behind the wheel.
You were sat in the passenger seat, feet planted on the dashboard as the radio blasted loudly enough to try and rival the open hood of the convertible.
Carly was screaming along to the music, open beer in hand as she swung around her seat behind you, loud laughter repeatedly breaking up her own singing.
Brooke was singing as well, pausing often to puff on the cigarette stuck in her left hand, the smoke immediately obliterating in the harsh winds as soon as it left her lungs.
You three had been on the road for two and a half hours, not even making it a quarter a way through your trip. Time was dragging on as Brooke sped past the desolate Texas fields, pushing well past the speed limits.
Carly's laughing suddenly dies down as she leaned past the front seat, turning the radio down to match her new tone.
“Hey, look! There's a gas station up ahead!” She pointed at the large red sign standing prominently on the side of the road, the faded red and white paint being about the only thing you can register about it as you quickly pass it.
“Oh, perfect, we're almost out.” Brooke sighed, flicking her cigarette butt to the road.
“I told you to fill up before we left!” You furrowed your brows as you looked your friend up and down, “We sat at that first place for twenty minutes, what gives?”
“Not the cute cashier, that's for sure.” Carly giggled as she wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned her chin on the seat, “You know how our Brooke is, always the romantic.”
You rolled your eyes and playfully nudged her, “Oh, like you're one to talk. Didn't you tell Freddy and Taylor you'd go out with them next week?”
“But I've got taste,” She insisted, “My men have to have culture. I don't just go for the first cute gas station clerk that comes my way.”
“Oh, get real, Carls,” Brooke scoffed, “The only 'culture' Taylor has is whatever's growing on his dick after sleeping his way through the entire town.”
Their smiles were wide as they continued to poke playful fun at each other, filling the few minutes it took to find the gas station with conversation and laughter.
The station wasn't anything fancy, no one in sight as the three of you parked next to one of the only two gas pumps out front.
The building was old and small, the white paint faded and chipping off the sides from the apparent decades it spent under the relentless Texas sun.
The glass door was smudged and unclean, the pumps rusted and stained, and the air was filled with the red dust Brooke's car had stirred up from driving through the dirt that laid out in front of it.
You couldn't help but think of how perfect this scene would be in a horror movie.
“Here.” Brooke dug a ten out of her small pink purse, shoving it your way.
“Why do I gotta go into the creepy old gas station?” You frowned, still taking the bill.
“Because I'm pumping the gas and Carly's already drank so much she's about to piss herself.”
You turned back to see Carly had already evacuated the back seat, hurrying off to look for the bathrooms.
You sighed and gave in, stepping out of the car and taking the opportunity to stretch as you made the short walk to the front door.
The metal was hot as you swung the door open, the creaky hinges screaming out as the heavy, rancid smell of old meat swept through your nose.
You couldn't help but cringe a little, nose scrunching and feet faltering at the old pig set inside the glass counter of the small deli to your left.
You brushed it off and stepped up to the counter to your right, greeting the older woman with a smile as she puffed on her cigarette.
She looked you up and down, a slight scowl on her face as she nodded at you.
“I need ten on, uh...” You glanced back through the door, “...The pump that's closest to the door.”
“Ain't got no gas.” She deadpanned, leaning on the counter with one hand as she looked down to the ten you had sent on the counter.
Your heart dropped and you sighed, crumbling the bill in your hand, “Is there another gas station around here?”
“Not for another fifty miles.”
“I don't know if we can make it that far. Do you know when you might get some more gas?”
“'Fraid those pumps haven't worked for the better part of five years.”
You let out a huff and chewed your bottom lip, “I- I don't, uh... I don't suppose you have any idea of what we could do?”
She let out a long sigh through her nose and rubbed the butt of her cigarette into the ash tray, “I can call the sheriff. I'm sure he won't mind taking you to the nearest station.” She punctuated her sentence by looking you up and down once again.
That implication made you more than a little uncomfortable, but knowing Carly and Brooke were with you was enough of a comfort let her call the man.
The lady turned to the phone behind her, spinning the dial as you tapped your foot impatiently.
You were looking around the station, taking in the old, dusty atmosphere as you waited for the sheriff to pick up on his end.
Flies buzzed, darting around the room as the dull lights flickered in the empty display fridge across the store, a couple of old wooden tables and matching chairs filling the space between it and the shelves.
A small radio sat stiff and silent on the table behind the counter, right beside the phone the lady was speaking into.
“Sure you ain't. And I don't know, only one of 'em came in.”
You balanced on the balls of your feet for a moment, letting out a short sigh as you finally tuned into the one side of the conversation you could hear.
“Watch your tone, boy.” Her voice was threatening as she pulled the phone away from her ear, “How many of y'all are there?”
Your brows furrowed as you stopped for a moment.
It was a bit of a strange question, but you supposed that he would need to know how many people he'd be driving, so you brushed it off and gave her an answer.
“Three, including me.”
“There's three of 'em.” She didn't acknowledge your answer as she continued speaking on the phone.
You pursed your lips as the faint sound of a loud man drifted from the phone, but you had no idea what the hell he could be saying.
“If you say so. I'll see you in a bit.” She finally responded before hanging up the phone and turning to you, “He says it'll be about five minutes.”
Hope blossomed in your chest as you thanked her profusely, “I'll go tell my friends.”
She didn't say anything as you hurried out the door, meeting Brooke and Carly at the car.
“The pump ain't workin', Y/N. What gives?” Brooke was repeatedly pulling the trigger as the pump sat in her gas tank.
“She said they don't have no gas, and the next station ain't for another fifty miles.”
“Oh, what the hell...” Carly groaned from the backseat where she had been laying out, sunglasses protecting her eyes from the harsh light.
“Don't worry, she called the sheriff and he's gonna come give us a ride!” You explained, climbing back into the passenger seat, “She said it'll only be five minutes.”
Brooke huffed as she put the pump back in place before climbing into the drivers seat, “Just our luck, eh?”
Carly shot up, beaming, “It could be! I bet the sheriff is an absolute hottie.”
You snickered, “In a place like this? He's probably a hundred years old!”
“Hey, Carly likes the gray foxes.” Brooke smirked, leaning back on her seat to face the two of you.
“Oh, sick.” She made a gagging face and grabbed her throat, “You are a freak, Brooke!”
“There's nothing wrong with an older guy!” You defended the idea, “They're more mature.”
“Oh, so you're the freak.” Brooke laughed, “It would be you, you've always been a weirdo.”
“True! Remember when we went to that haunted trail a few years ago and she hooked up with one of the zombies!?” Carly pointed out, making you groan.
“Don't remind me. He was such a clinger, I practically had to fake my own death to get him off my leg.”
The conversation continued flowing easily, as it always did between you three.
Before you knew it, the loud slamming of a car door caught your attention and halted your conversation as the three of you looked ahead to the sheriff's car parked some feet ahead of your car.
And older man began walking from the driver side, graying and white hair, a matching, thin, goatee stained by the dip he haphazardly spit to the ground.
“Oh, nasty.” Carly whispered, pulling a face, “He really is old.”
“Don't say that!” Brooke nudged her with her elbow before gesturing to you, “You'll give the old home's heartbreaker here a boner.”
You gently slapped her shoulder, “Shut it, he's coming this way.”
“Who's that in the passenger seat?” Carly asked no one in particular, sitting up further to get a closer look.
“Well, howdy there, ladies. What brings you to this little slice of paradise?” The sheriff drawled, a creepy smirk on his face as he finished crossing the path to Brooke's door, leaning a little too close for comfort.
“Just passing through, sir.” Brooke gave a tight smile, leaning back a little, “Ending up running out of gas.”\
He tsk'd a little, shaking his head, “Well, that just won't do, will it?”
You tried your best not to pull a face as your attention turned back to the sheriff's car, hearing the passenger door finally open and close.
Out stepped a man, much much different from the first person to emerge.
He was tall, towering over the car as he shuffled in place, head hanging low as his eyes stayed trained on the sheriff.
His long, black curls brushed against his shoulders, and seemed to be held down by the homemade mask covering his face, though you couldn't see any finer details from here.
He wore an old, dirty dress shirt, and black slacks to match, almost as if he were in his Sunday best, despite the stains and wrinkles adorning his clothes.
As you stared he seemed to notice, eyes darting to focus on you.
A deep heat flooded your cheeks as you flashed an awkward smile before shrinking into your seat, and mostly out of his line of sight. Staying up just enough to peek back out at him often.
“Oh, don't worry about it.” You tuned back into the sheriff, flashing his stained teeth as he finally stood straight again, “I'll just go in there and tell Mama to keep an eye on your stuff and then I'll take care of y'all.”
You could practically feel Carly shuddering as he stalked off towards the gas station directly across from your car.
“Thomas!” The man yelled as he reached the doorway, and you watched as he motioned the second man over before whispering something to him none of you could hear.
Assuming he was going back into the gas station, you turned back to your friends, who seemed to be avoiding looking at the gas station all together, thanks to the creepy sheriff.
“What a fuckin' sicko!” Brooke shuddered, “I don't want to go anywhere with him!”
Carly nodded, making a sick face, “Did you see the way he kept staring at our boobs? I don't trust him!”
“Who gives a shit what you guys are talking about.” You loudly interrupted their quiet complaints, “Did you see that second guy!?”
They both shook their heads, having been too focused on the creepy advances of the sheriff.
“Oh my god.” You groaned, running your hands down your face, “He was so fucking cute. I'm talking tall, dark, brooding, absolutely huge build. Guy looked like he lifts in his sleep.”
“Uh, you mean that guy, right there by the door, who can absolutely hear your bat shit talk?” Carly pointed to the man, who was standing a few feet away, completely avoiding looking at the car now.
You face dropped and you slunk into the seat, practically screaming, “NO, oh my god he must think I'm such a freak.”
“Um, you kind of are.” Brooke leaned down and whispered, “He's not that cute.”
“You are so stupid.” You let out a sigh, “That man looks like what every man wants to be.”
“Well, maybe he didn't hear you.” Carly offered a small smile, “Even though he definitely did.”
“Fuck.”
“Go talk to him.” Brooke nudged you.
“No way! I'm not looking to embarrass myself even more!”
“It's too late anyways.” Carly reluctantly gestured to the sheriff who was now returning.
Brooke rolled her eyes as she turned to climb out of the car, “Come on, girls.”
You sighed as you followed suit, Carly not far behind.
Brooke was the first to make her way to the sheriff's car, opting for the backseat, much to your and Carly's dismay.
Not even giving you a chance, Carly darted ahead, loudly announcing, “I'll sit with you, Brooke!”
You groaned, knowing it would be rude to try and insist to sit in the back as well.
You glanced back to the station door, noticing Thomas was coming over too. You sighed this time, hoping that he'd take the front seat, as he seemed to know the sheriff better.
But before that even became an option, you heard the loud protest of Brooke and Carly as they pulled faces at the open back door.
“There's stuff all over the backseat! We can't even fit.” Carly pointed out.
“Oh, yea.” The sheriff mused, “Well, c'mon then. Start grabbing stuff, we'll throw it in the trunk.”
He opened the trunk and your friends gave you looks as they started grabbing armfuls of various things crowding the backseat.
You finished walking to the car, planning on helping but walking slow so there hopefully wouldn't be anything left for you to grab.
Thomas was only a few steps behind you, watching as you stood beside the open back door, waiting on your friends.
His hands twitched, and his mind was torn.
His entire life he was ridiculed and bullied.
If not for his deformities and looks, than for his lack of education and inability to fully understand and control his emotions.
When people looked at him, they saw a monster. A freak.
But... You didn't.
You, a complete stranger, if even just for a minute, thought he was cute.
Cute enough to tell your friends and feel embarrassed by his opinion.
You treated him like a normal person, for a brief moment.
And he was hooked.
He craved more, more of that feeling. To have someone look at him like he was normal, like he was more than just a deformed monster hiding behind a mask.
He wanted to get your attention again, to selfishly hear your sweet voice say more kind things, things that no one had ever said before.
He stared holes into the back of your head, trying to will you to give him just a little more of your attention.
He thought you were beautiful too, and he wondered if you knew.
Could you tell, with the way he stared every chance he got?
God, he didn't even now your name, but he needed to. He would do anything to learn more about you, to keep you close and safe.
He was so lost in his own thoughts and emotions he didn't even notice how severe the situation had gotten between the sheriff and your friends until you darted forward.
Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. His mind screamed, his hand shooting out to stop you.
The skin of your wrist was so soft compared to his calloused hands, he never wanted to let go.
He wondered if the rest of you was just as soft.
Your confused eyes flickered back to his own, questioning him without any words being spoken.
He shook his head, tightening his grip just enough to get his message across without hurting you.
You were his now. And he would give his life to protect you.
#slasher fandom#slashers#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x s/o#thomas hewitt x y/n#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt x reader#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slasher x y/n#Jamie Writes
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Yandere kongi hc, like in general with a civilian who not really afraid of him of his height and just sees him as your everyday person
Warnings: yandere behavior
A/N: ty for requesting this dovey. Hope you're doing okay :]!
He's incredibly relieved. Not only does he view himself as an intimidating wreck, but he fears scaring you all the time; especially with his height, his strength, his dangerous voice that can be viewed as extremely intimidating. It breaks his heart to even think about you flinching.
Most likely, this will cause him to be clingier with you, especially with the fact you're a civilian and you can be in any type of danger at any time due to his job.
His anxiety does skyrocket a bit. Not that it's always high, but whenever he hasn't seen you in a while, he does get a bit nervous around you momentarily; expecting danger to come out after come home from being gone so long.
You likely work a slow but comfortable job. Possibly a store clerk, a job office, maybe a florist, garden center salesperson, or even have a rare chance to have a cool job like a Mortician.
This said, expect him to visit once or twice at your job, coming over to bring you homemade lunch every time he's home and bear-hug yoh as he's missed you deeply. You'll likely have to peel him off of you before your lunch breaks ends as he never wants to let go of you.
König is happy you don't judge him for who he is. Sure, he has anxiety, occasionally making odd noises, shifting too much at night to the point of annoyance. But, he's able to let himself go without thinking you hate him not that anybody could!
With you seeing him as your everyday person, this will likely cause him to feel more comfortable showing his face more often. A rare but intimate thing that happens between you two; something he rarely lets go of.
While he doesn't like to take it off, as it's a comfort item and possibly protects him, he allows himself to relax in your presence and see him as him.
—
Masterlist || Please reblog or comment instead of liking, it helps me a bunch!
© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
#the icons are not mine#they belong to their rightful owners#kokeshi!!#yandere blog#yandere x reader#yandere male#male yandere#requested by kitty-chan33#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere cod#yandere call of duty#yandere könig#yandere konig#yandere mw2#yandere modern warefare#yandere mw2 x reader#yandere soldier#yandere military#yandere König x reader#yandere x you#könig mw2#könig modern warfare
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How would feel about writing headcanons about platonic yandere zhongli with a child reader who is the reincarnated version of his child who died in the past. But now the child has been reborn in the present but belongs to a different set of parent which naturally doesn’t make Zhongli happy considering he wants his child back. But I hope you get what I’m saying and are interested
have a good day!
How absolutely tragic! I love it! Have a wonderful day!
Platonic yandere Zhongli with his reincarnated child
The day of your death is spent in solitude. Each year, Zhongli leaves for your grave with your favorite flowers, homemade dishes and a different children’s book each time, which he will then read out loud. The silence he receives for it is deafening. There are no animals around as the area is protected by one of his shields, though he himself always makes sure that the place is well-taken care off. Your birthday is a bit more joyful, as he will hand-pick the newest trending toys in Liyue as well as decorate your grave just like he knows you would have liked it. Both dates will have in common that no matter how dire the situation in his nation is, the archon will at the very least visit.
He has lived for millennia and is well-acquainted with the concept of rebirth and the like, and yet he never imagined it happening to you. However, there is no denying what he is seeing, hearing, feeling. You are three, maybe four, years of age, walking on your small legs in a somewhat clumsy manner and smiling with such childish innocence that makes his heart ache. The moment he heard your laughter he had turned to face you only a few steps away, his vision tunneling as he takes in your appearance. Even though you look different, are different, it is still you. He sees it in the way your eyes move curiously around the street, hears it in the littlest gasp you make when you notice something particularly interesting and feels the familiar soul, so old and yet never having had the chance to remain anything but young.
Zhongli is barely able to contain himself, every fiber of his being screaming to snatch you away, to the Guyun Stone Forest to watch the stars again and to the place which now harbors Qingce Village where you loved to play hide and seek. But alas, fear grips his heart. He sees the way your hand is held tightly in those of who must be your mother, your new father currently talking to some store clerk. The thought leaves him bitter, as if anyone could ever take his place.
But he can not let this opportunity pass, can not let you disappear in the crowd of people, though he knows that now that he is aware of your rebirth, he would find you wherever you are. He quickly walks over to the woman by your side, greeting her politely before turning to you. He has to think of some excuse for his sudden intrusion, but all thoughts die out as you look up at him and making grabby hands in his direction. Instinctively he kneels down as you leave your mother’s hold and almost stumble into his awaiting arms, joyful giggles escaping your mouth as you grasp for his clothing.
The mother is horrified, scolding you but clearly on guard around this stranger and Zhongli hesitates to let you go. He feels deeply satisfied with how you refuse to listen, preferring to stay with him instead of leaving for this woman and there’s a gentle smile he just can’t help nor contain. It’s a shame he can’t just take you away like this and he hesitantly lets you go, his heart breaking when he has to unclasp your hands, his own shaking and his voice almost failing him as he apologizes, making some kind of excuse that he did not wish for you to fall. His exterior looks awfully calm, maybe a bit embarrassed. On the inside though a storm is brewing. Why should he apologize? You came to him, you recognized him, however much that may be, he was your father, you were his child. He had seen you grow; he had taught you of this land, he heard all you had to say and express, he had witnessed your first and last breath and yet they dare to step in between the both of you.
This wrath was not unlike what he had experienced before, your death having made him a grief-stricken, vengeful god more than he was ever before. It had taken centuries for it to calm, for him to regain composure and become the gentleman he is known for. Yet it all threatens to spill over as this woman - she is Liyuen, and though he never thought like this before, shouldn’t she be grateful for the life he had granted her indirectly? It’s ridiculous, she doesn’t even know who he is - this human dare to shield you away from him.
One look at you and he sighs unnoticeably. Even if your instincts tell you to trust him, your father, he does not wish to scare you and so your meeting ends, with the trio leaving the already planning archon behind. He waits a bit before gesturing Ganyu closer. She must have felt his raging emotions and come to see, help, maybe, and now that she is already here, he might as well ask her for a favor or two.
Your parents, two loving mortals that work hard to provide you a good life, admire your creativity. Each morning you tell them of your dreams, wonderous plains, mountains higher than the sky and caves big enough to fit entire cities. You ramble of palaces made of pure gold and clouds painted in the most colorful ways. The only continual constant being the dragon that accompanies your own scaly form, a graceful being full of wisdom and stories and wonders, anything a child would love. How incredible, your parents think, it might be a blessing of the yakshas if not for the archon himself, they tell you with which you refute them that the archon is long gone. In your mind, the dragon is greater than any god and wiser than every scholar. You can’t help but wish he’d break the boundaries of your dreams.
Sometimes you see the man from before in the streets, clad in brown and gold and black and he reminds you of your dreams. He’s always smiling, too, eyes curved gently as he waves and you wave back, to which he laughs and you grin. You don’t know his name, don’t know him at all but he feels safe and you know that if you had the time you would like to run to his side and hug him again, no matter how much your parents warn you against it. You have a feeling it would make the man happy.
Zhongli watches from afar. You are as curious of the world as you always have been. He longs for you by his side again, he knows which stories he’d tell and what toys he’d buy and what food he’d make. He wouldn’t even harm your parents.
You are a curious child and when there is a trail of gold leading somewhere, you follow. When your scaly friend is waiting at the end of it, far away from any people, you run to him. When he takes off into the sky, you cling to his back. When he gives you a charm, a pretty little thing, you wear it. When he tells you that it’s so you can live with him, as his life would normally be longer than yours, you believe him. You don’t think of the people left behind, too great is the comfort and trust you feel in Zhongli’s presence. “His little treasure” he calls you affectionally and you react to it as if you had never been called anything else.
While your parents weep and cry and call your name you are taking a nap at a dragon’s side. While Ganyu tries to comfort them, knowing their efforts of finding you are, and always will be, fruitless, you play catch with the nice man. As long as you are happy and safe, Zhongli can justify anything. He had promised you long ago to always be with you, to always care for you, and what kind of god of contracts would he be if he couldn’t even hold true to that? More importantly, what kind of father would he be? Zhongli doesn’t even entertain the idea of letting you live your life as a mortal and he believes he has every right to it, too.
#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#platonic yandere#yandere father#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin zhongli#yandere zhongli#yandere zhongli x you#yandere zhongli x reader#yandere platonic zhongli#yandere father zhongli
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yandere!botanist x gn!darling, pt. two . . .
˚₊ ꒰ nightmare fuel 𝄁︎ obsessive/needy behavior, violent intrusive thoughts, ominous thoughts, slight leg humping, oral receiving (for y/n), overstimulation (also y/n), cumming untouched, incidental self-harm, + mentions of blood, murder, and suicide.
˚₊ ꒰ word count 𝄁︎ 931.
˚₊ ꒰ key 𝄁︎ crossed out red words indicate sencha’s thoughts. blue text indicate sencha’s messages. purple text indicate y/n's messages.
˚₊ ꒰ sen’s statement(s) 𝄁︎ you’d find pt. one here, let alone sencha’s face claim and information here. this’ll be the last part of headcanons, btw. (these hcs just keep getting longer and longer, god).
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who leaves itemized love letters at your doorstep in the middle of the night with a flower that displayed his mood and what the love poem was going to be about. it could go from a stargazer lily with a letter sealed with a pink heart or a wilting petunia and a crumbled letter indicating that he was clearly angered with something and the letter sloppily ranted his baleful desires towards you.
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who glowers you down as he watches the flower shop clerk flirt with you, his mind whirling with thoughts of repetitively stabbing his throat with the claw of his rake before burying his body beneath his garden to use as fertilizer. it’s a miracle that he hasn’t launched at the man by now but stood there trembling with anger, his heart thumping harshly, hearing the word “go” compulsively raid his mind, his hands twitching occasionally yet noticeably as the thoughts became louder …
“that loser doesn’t even go know where go eucalyptus originated. y’know i could tell go you everyth-STAB HIM everything you need to know, y/n. why laugh MINE …it up with this weirdo? go.”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who is an empty threatener. his obsession is primarily threatening to his emotional, physical, and mental health since he wouldn’t harm a fly, not him or his compulsive/intrusive thoughts. he feels a bit belittled when you brush off his outbursts, but nothing but a small smooch should be able to brush it off… for now, at least …
“i’ll kill anyone who even considers you as an existing human being! KILL THEM KILL THEM INSTEAD no one should know that you’re alive but me, i’ll even kill myself because i know you!! so loud, my head…”
“hm, that’s nice to know, sweetheart.”
“sweetheart…no, hush. you’re a bane, y/n. you never take me seriously…sweetheart, sweetheart, sweet heart, my love is sweet to them…”
“and don’t… and you a lie. now c’mon, the apples should be ripe to try.”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who embraces you dotingly, tightly, and longingly, muffling a loud moan into your shirt. his knees were in a gelatinous state, buckling wildly to the point where his weight shifted on top of you. he shoved himself so deep into you to the point it was painful, as if he was forcing his way into what’s beneath your skin. his arousal wasn’t discreet either since he was ‘subtly’ grinding his hips into your leg like a mutt in heat …
“hnngh, y/n? i missed you so much, did you miss me too? please tell me you miss me, i need it…”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! with his face buried deep between your thighs, sucking and slurping you hungrily during your orgasms, seeing as his lips have not detached from you in a second. his own pants were stained with his own cum yet he hasn’t touched himself during the whole process, but solely examined your expressions as they contorted in pleasure and pain. his grasp around your thighs was hopeful and voracious. to think that someone like him would have such a hold, let alone coy look …
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! it’ll be over soon, just one more for me, okay? just give me two more and i’ll love you harder…just five more…a few more than that, please?…sencha, you idiot…”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who is easy to please pt. two. he’ll take whatever you would give him sexually, even if it’s for your sadistic pleasure. he completely understands since he wants to see you in every scenario, so it only turns him on immensely that you love him so much to do such. he just wants to be useful for you, thrusting his sticky hips against you, his cum could be felt through the confinements of his boxers, which was caused by you merely kissing him and caressing his body. he couldn’t even breathe when you touched him so generously …
“please please please tell me you love me again…it’s a bold request and i’m a little messy but i know you can… i just want your love forever and—mmph, floret! your face, just look at me, catch me with your eyes and tell me i’m yours…”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who keeps his emotions limited to the best of his ability, but everything you do gets him so excited! the most ominous desires slip from his mouth instinctively, instinctively to the point where he doesn’t possess the mental awareness to apologize (which, again, you learned to inure) …
“i’ll skin all your friends in order to sew you a nice warm blanket to keep you comfy during the winter…”
“… that’s uh considerate, flower boy, but i’ll stick to the blankets you’ve bought me. they’re very warm, trust me.”
☪︎︎ 𝔂andere botanist! who absolutely trashes his place when you’re gone for too long with little to no explanation. once you came through the door you were greeted by a frantic and apologetic male, his roseated cheeks stained with smeared tears, his hands pricked with bloody rose thorns after destroying his vases out of resentment, and his hair was tousled and a bit damp from sweat. it was hard to be mad despite you being concerned, and what’s worse is that he seemed to calm down immensely when his hands traveled up your shirt, his breathing shaky and irregular as the thorns dragged across your skin …
“take off your shirt. i need your touch, your love, your sweat, embrace me with everything you own… i need your skin infused with mine… we’ll become one big bud of blubbery love, blooming under each other’s needs! you have a heart, don’t you?! can you show me, please? show me that you miss me. tell me that you need me. i can’t take another moment without you!”
© all rights reserved 𝄁︎ sencity. plagiarism will not be tolerated on this blog but addressed and chastised accordingly.
#☪︎︎ sen’s submission#sencity#reblog and share#interact with me#yandere#yandere x y/n#male yandere#tw: violence#tw: intrusive thoughts#tw: obsessive behavior#obsessive love#yandere x darling#yandere x gender neutral reader#yandere x gn reader#clingy yandere#tw: yandere#yancore#yandere blog#yandere headcanons#yandere smut#nsft concept#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x willing reader#yandere community#yandere love#obsessive yandere#obsessive compulsive behavior#yandere imagines#yandere concept
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What Lingers - Dark!Edward Cullen x F!Reader (18+)
Plot: Edward Cullen doesn't know how to handle his crush on the new clerk at his favourite book store.
Warnings: NSFW, Dark/yandere Edward, unhealthy obsessive thoughts, sexual thoughts (Edward descends into being a bit of a weirdo perv), Edward gets himself off
Word count: 2436
Part 2 (coming soon, send in reqs/ideas!)
A/N: My first fic on this account! I haven't written in a while so I may be a little rusty, please bare with me! I didn't have much time to fully proofread this because I just wanted to get it out, so it may be a little awkward and have some mistakes, sorry! If you like this, feel free to send in requests for a part 2 (I'm thinking of writing it in in reader's pov?) or just any requests in general!
At first, Edward Cullen had thought he was dying. His throat had tightened more than he had thought possible, his mouth dried of all venom, he suddenly couldn't remember how to fake the motions of breathing, and despite knowing that it was impossible for his heart to do anything, he couldn't decide if his heart was being squeezed by some otherworldly force, or was kickstarted into a rapid beating that reverberated throughout his body and sounded in his ears like a drum. He quickly ran through his knowledge of vampiric bodies and health, but came up with nothing that could explain what was happening to him, nothing that could clarify why the mere sight of you had elicited such a visceral reaction from him.
Initially, you didn't seem like anyone particularly special. From your thoughts he discovered you were a writer, daydreaming about the draft you were working on as you were leaned against the wooden book store counter, head lazily rested upon your right hand while the left absently drew shapes onto the antique surface. Occasionally, the thought of your cat would interrupt your brainstorming daydream. A chubby orange tabby that was intelligent in all the wrong things and stupid in the rest, who seemed to cause you endless trouble. You were worried he had turned on the tap to drink from it again, an irksome habit he had that often ran up your water bill as he didn't know how to turn it off. None of your thoughts seemed to stick out to him as something of importance, but admittedly being present in your mind brought him a sense of peace he hadn't felt before. With shy hesitation he would even admit to himself that it somehow felt endearing.
Edward did have to give you credit, you certainly were beautiful by human standards. However, after spending decades around Rosalie and other vampires that had been blessed with an unnatural level of beauty made you seem more mundane to him than you would have appeared to a regular human. The more he thought about it though, the more he found he liked that about you. The pimple that lay just underneath your cheekbone, the natural reddish flush to your lips from a functioning circulatory system, the slight frizz to your hair, the rhythmic sound of air being pushed in and out of your body, and the oh so human eyes that looked up from the desk and met his. You were imperfect, flawed, starkly different from himself who had been biologically engineered to be irresistibly perfect from the first bite Carlisle inflicted upon him. You were intoxicating. Suddenly, Edward understood.
"Oh- Uhm- Sorry- Ah!" You jolted up, quickly shifting from your relaxed lean into a stiff, well postured, standing position as you tripped over your words. Edward could hear your heartbeat speed up. With your thoughts a current incoherent jumble, he was left to wondering if it was out of shock from his presence, or a flustered reaction to his appearance.
You cleared your throat, "Y/n. Hi. I work here now, just moved into town a week ago. Can I help you with anything?" A smile appeared on your face, but one that seemed to come from a place of general kindness (and a little embarrassment), rather than the normal customer service mask people put on. It was a scene Edward wished could wrap around his whole body, holding him tenderly in a sea of gentle warmth.
Thousands of replies appeared in his head, things he could say to charm you, things that could make you swoon, words that could make you laugh (a sound he was certain would be an imperfect crackling melody he would play on repeat in his mind), but when he opened his mouth, none of the above came out.
"Machiavelli." Edward wanted to disintegrate into the floor. He was supposed to start off with a smooth line to make you want to talk to him more, not the first author to appear in his head. Who even randomly thinks of Machiavelli anyways? "Sorry, I'm Edward Cullen. My family was the newest ones in town until a week ago I suppose. I'm looking for anything you might have by Machiavelli." He recovered, playing it safe but still flashing you a dazzling smile that always seemed to charm those who saw it.
You looked away from him. He tried not to clench his fists in frustration. He decided that he enjoyed when you looked at him, he liked looking at the many flecks of different hues and shades that made up your irises. So sweetly imperfect.
"Machiavelli..." You pondered, a finger pressing itself into the plush, slightly chapped surface of your lips. You were running through the layout of the store in your mind, trying to remember where it would be located. Edward felt a little bad for wasting your time, he knew the book store's layout in and out. He didn't actually ever come here to buy anything (although he did so quite often to ensure it would stay in business), but rather the usually empty store was a haven for him where he could pretend to be human again while escaping the constant barrage of other beings private thoughts.
"Okay! I think I remember where it would be, follow me!" You looked back at him with a smile. You didn't have to tell him twice, he would stay on your tail as long as you would let him (and perhaps even longer after that, if he was being honest with himself), your presence being a strawberry scented sirens song that he couldn't seem to want to pull himself away from.
"Of course, lead the way," Edward spoke with a slight grin, finding the words ironic. In reality it was him, the covert apex predator of the animal kingdom, who would be herding you like a sheep wherever he wished.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
As he stared at your phone number in his hands, the sheet of paper growing softer and more fragile while he toyed with it, Edward Cullen tried to decide that he hated you. It wasn't your fault at all, you had been nothing but perfectly pleasant and kind to him while he was in your presence, but instead it was his own.
You were kind, sweet, caring, imperfect. Those traits flowed through your veins, they even wafted in the air around you, pulling people close to you. After his first slip up with his words, everything between you two went exactly as he wished it would, and your feelings of curiosity towards him combined with the innately biological pull to his honeypot of inhuman beauty led to him getting your phone number. Everything went perfectly in his favour, and that was the problem.
Out of his family it was Rosalie who resented humans the most, and Jasper who kept the most distance from them, but even though he didn't fall at the extreme end of the spectrum, Edward wasn't a big fan of them either. He looked down on them as weaker life forms, sheep disgustingly careless around wolves, a sentiment he was smart enough to know came from a place of jealousy and sorrow, but still not something he harbored enough strength to get over and befriend one... that was until he saw you.
You made him selfish. His hand trembled as the ten endearingly messily inked numbered stared back at him tauntingly. You made him selfish and he hated you and he had to stop being around you. Something about you, your simplicity, your messiness, every imperfect mannerism that overflowed with life drew him in. Edward couldn't deny his nature when you clouded his senses with envy and awe. It was like the scorpion and the frog, Hades and Persephone. He was a hunter designed to lure you into false security before inevitably striking. He knew he couldn't be pure around you, you were a lamb and himself a lion, not a domesticated dog and cat. Biology and the food chain would triumph over his wishes soon enough, he would be an idiot to not know it.
But even so, a voice in his mind nagged at him, making him weak at the knees with bliss at the thought of giving into it. Hadn't he earned the right to be a little selfish? Aside from his rebellious stage, Edward had been so so perfect, a word he grew more sick of by the day. A word that seemed to wrap itself around his throat and tighten oh so slowly as time went on, now an unbearable pressure he was sure could snap his neck. You were everything he wasn't, everything he needed, you were ambrosia while he was on his deathbed. Could he really be faulted for just a sip?
Of course he didn't mean that literally. Although he knew that being close to you would surely end up with his lips stained crimson with blood and sin, there were ways around it. A junkie always finds a way.
Edward Cullen entered your number into his phone, staring at the blank space for him to type in a message for what felt like an eternity before turning it off completely. It wouldn't be the same to communicate digitally. He wanted you in person, laid bare in front of him, your thoughts not even kept private. He wanted to worship you softly, to expose himself to you fully, for his need and adoration for all that you are as an imperfect, truly human, life filled being. And as his thoughts delved deeper into all that you were, his thoughts took on a double meaning.
Edward had never done this before. He knew he was repressed, he was a religious boy from a much more conservative time that had long passed, and he was fine with that. But, he deserved to be selfish. He had never truly indulged himself, who could blame him for what he was about to do? Especially when it was your fault, you were making him imperfect as well.
His porcelain hand brought the now fragile sheet of paper to his nose, and as he breathed deeply he deluded himself into believing a trace of your aura still lingered on it. His hand hesitantly trailed down to his crotch, his fingers lightly touching the bulge through the fabric of his khakis. The foreign sensation made him let out a small whine that he quickly stifled by biting his lip. He was home alone, his family gone to visit the Denali's for a few days during the schools spring break, but it wasn't because he feared being heard that he stopped himself from making noise, but rather a nagging feeling of shame that faded more and more into the background as he slowly rubbed his bulge harder and faster.
He wondered if God was watching him as he undid his pants, pulling down his boxer-briefs with a hesitancy that seemed to flow away the more he melted into the nagging desire to indulge. If he was being watched, Edward decided God had no right to be angry. It was he who decided to put the most tempting creature in the world right where Edward would meet her, he should have known this would happen. Edward wasn't to blame, he was doing what any person would have done in his situation, and what was life anyways without indulgence?
With another deep inhale, Edward grew more confident. Using his leaking tip as lubricant, he began to quickly stroke his length. There was no point in taking things slowly, he had spent his whole life pent up and teased, why would he do it to himself?
Edward thought of what you would do to him. Your deep pink tongue licking from his balls to his tip, your utterly indecent and irresistible eyes, oh so filled with life, gazing up at him tenderly. The thought made him let out a small groan he couldn't stifle in time. Edward thought of how your skin would feel under his touch, smooth and warm with the occasional blemish. He wanted to slowly run his hand up your bare thigh, watching you squirm with need as he showed you just a fraction of what his life was like.
His hand moved faster and faster and he thought of earlier that day, the way you stumbled upon your words when you first saw him. He decided he would coax you into talking during intimacy, wanting to see how you tripped and fumbled the words of praise for him that would flow out of your mouth as he showed you that drinking blood wasn't the only thing his mouth was good for. He would be a bit clumsy in the beginning, but that would be okay for you, wouldn't it? You don't demand perfection, you're soaked in the opposite, and that is perfect to him.
One more inhale had his brain melt, his hand speeding up as much as he can take as he wonders if he'll be your first too. Surely he will be. If this experience taught him anything, it would be that you were made for him, and as he had never felt this pull to anyone else before, he was inclined to believe he was made for you too. He let out a growl as he thought about someone else laying a hand on you, deciding he should just claim you when the opportunity arises, painting your skin with his-
His loud moans turned to heavy pants, not from lack of air that he doesn't need, but from the intensity of what he had just done. The white liquid flowed down his tip and fist, and a sense of freedom rushed over him. He wasn't bad for this, he was doing what anyone else would do. You were rubbing off on him after just one interaction, making him oh so perfectly imperfect.
He grabbed a tissue from the box that had been placed on the table beside his couch for show, and wiped himself off, tossing the soiled tissue into the trash. His eyes went to his phone, which he turned on with a soft click. He felt better about everything, about himself, about you. What was life without indulgence?
Hello, It's Edward Cullen from the book store. Would you like to get coffee together soon?
He smiled to himself after typing out and sending his message, his hand bringing the piece of paper to his nose one last time, craving your essence, not wanting to miss even a hint of what lingers.
#dark!edward cullen#yandere!edward cullen x reader#dark!edward cullen x reader#yandere!edward cullen#edward cullen x reader#dark!twilight x reader#yandere!twilight x reader#twilight x reader#alyssia writes
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👉👈 I know you mentioned getting asks with similar themes but I can’t help but ask for more because god damn is the angst just… -chefs kiss-
Can the girlies (and by girlies I mean me 😔) get that Kanto!Mikey, Shion, and baby boy Shinichiro headcanons about their s/o trying to leave them because their s/o doesn’t feel good enough?
I swear I’ll give you a better idea someday 😭😭😭.
I did Mikey in a seperate post because his got out of a hand and waaaaaaaaay to big sorry I didn't give these two as much love.
TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, STALKING, GASLIGHTING???
Yandere!Shion Madarame
He knows you're insecure, and he loves you, he really does, but he uses it to his advantage. Shion is more worried you're going to be scared and try to run, not like he'll ever let you, but still is very worried about what you might try so he does attempt to play into your worries to make you stay.
"I mean, ya, you can be a pain, but I still like you," he tells you after listening to you fret over how maybe he shouldn't be with someone so weak. What he doesn't say is that he wants to protect you, to guard you and love you because you're just too precious to let go.
But then you go and pull some bullshit. You actually try to break it off... "I-I can't do it anymore, Shion. I just know you need someone who can do more for you and I'm not that person..." and you actually walk out on him like that.
Now Shion would sooner tear out his own eyes than ever hurt you, but your 'breakup' isn't sitting well with him. You figured as much when you see him watching staring at you from your apartment window. He even waves.
And it gets worse from there, because now there always seems to be beatings where ever you go. The nice clerk at the corner store you visit regularly ends up being robbed and thrown out of a window, the jogger you pass by and smile to in your neighborhood ends up being jumped with his kneecaps broken, and even your coworker that always brings you coffee has somehow ended up in accident... People are dropping like flys...
Shion pays you a visit one day. He's actually sitting in your apartment when you get off one night. You're already not happy because you just heard an old friend from high school had somehow ended up with a cracked skull...
But you find Shion just sitting at the foot of your bed... With hands caked in drying blood, smiling at you like you just told him he had won a million dollars.
"How many more?" he asks you, "Wh-what? Shion what're you-" "How many more people are in our way, Y/N? Tell me so I can take care of 'em."
Yandere!Shinichiro Sano
Oh how much this one loves you could bring all the greatest of romantics to shame. Too bad he's such a goofball. And honestly, that suits you fine. You two are perfect for each other like that.
You're both playful, a little silly, and you two have fun together. But then you see it. The importance of Shinichiro Sano. Men, powerful men, come to him for guidance and respect his own authority.
That makes you feel so small. You actually can't believe how many influential people he has at his beck and call, the ones that call him a leader. And where could someone, who's a little bit goofy and a lot of bit awkward possibly fit into his world.
You tell him as much and it almost brings him to tears. "You're just... you're so much more than I am-!" "I am nothing without you! How could you even think that!?"
And you two argue like that all the time, back and forth, about how you know he's too important to waste his time, and how you're too important to loose. But boy does he feel like he's loosing you....
"I gave it all up. I don't need that if I don't have you." "You had it before me, you can't just stop being so important." But he isn't important, you make him feel important...
Once, you tried to mention that maybe he could do better and he reached hysterics. It honestly terrified you, not because he was violent but because you saw that he had the potential to be.
Grabbing your arms in his hands with a crushing grip, one you knew could break bones if they really wanted to, and holding you so tight that you couldn't even budge if you wanted to.
"I don't want anyone else!" he had hissed, "I don't need anyone else! This is it! For you and me!" its no longer comforting words but demands of submission now. Like he needs you to top bringing the topic up altogether.
And you do. Not because you want to or because you're suddenly convinced. But because you're too scared now. You've noticed eyes on your everywhere you go, you even tell Shinichiro about it.
"Oh? Him? He worked under me back in the day. Told him to keep an eye out for you." "Wh-what!? Why!?" "Keep you safe. Keep you from doing something stupid."
You figured you're not the only insecure one....
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Ticking Springs
(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)
Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ
capitolo uno
capitolo due
capitolo tre
capitolo quattro
capitolo cinque
capitolo sei: is here
Capitolo sette
Capitolo otto
Capitolo nove
Capitolo dieci
Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ
It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.
Tag List:
@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites
TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occure in time, also I am running out of pictures of P he looks the same in every pic (but prettily so) and so im gonna end up using the uh same ones prbly
[TW for this one specifically include: Demeaning uncle Geppetto, mentions of grief, signs of overworking mentioned, blood, wounds and crying, anxiety, puppet going aray]
[Also, I am gonna be like that and mention that I would not mind any comments or reblogs! This series is definitely gonna have short chapters and is currently building up settings but there's gonna be good ol yandere Pinocchio tailing after you like a puppy afterwards, no worries!]
The wrench bent on contact with the floor.
It was mere and old wood but the throw was aggressive enough to leave the tool useless. It was one of many. One he could easily snatch from the Workshop Union from.
Damn these halfwits.
He was not expecting a call from them. They were just as naive and cocky as the Workshop Union, and their glorious, genius breakthroughs.
With a grunt he picked up the tool before carelessly throwing it into a metal bucket. One on the far right corner and one far too familiar.
A heavy and frustrated sigh escaped him.
"Oh, son," Removing one glove, his fingers ran down his sweaty face, "It's always the same with them." Just as briskly as he sat down, Geppetto got up from the chair just as fast. His voice tired but still holding onto bitterness. "Stealing my time meant for you."
Brown eyes tiredly wandered up the motionless figure sitting on the blood-red armchair. The fabric untouched while surrounded by tools and oil, material that fell off shelves left on the floor. The pads were full and soft, so heavenly soft as it seemed - only the best for him even if he was not awake yet. Nevertheless, the sight irked him, from the unfinished touches of the skin up to the missing arm. It couldn't be any arm and so Geppetto had to wait and wait and wait for the material to be stocked again and again.
Progress was thriving at top speed but it didn't seem like that to him. All was too slow. Everybody was too tardy.
The flick of the light was fast but reluctant and as he looked outside, a scoff escaped him. Another long, long night but a dry one at that at least. Krat's cloudless nightsky the only relief he could feel.
Eyes mustered the nervous smile on your lips. Shoulders up to your ears and a little list in your hands - the man's hand absent-mindedly went to his mustache as he offered a smile to the lady before his eyes met yours again. With a nod, you were the next one in line.
The man rose his eyebrows and tilted his melon hat for a moment. You briefly scanned the list in your hands. "Baby blue fabric...made out of cotton, please?" "We certainly have that." Answered the man, "How long? Width and thickness?"
"Oh," You gave the measurements written on the paper and the clerk gestured you to follow. His other hand pointed on the hallway to the left. "Cherry." You turned your head as you tried to keep up, only to see a short puppet appear from the hallway, wearing the same melon hat as the man - only with a small ribbon at the side. Leading you to the back and taking out a roll of the cloth you requested, the man first showed it to you. 'Cherry' in the meantime rose its two hands, which consisted of a scissor and a measuring tape. Yet the clerk stopped it, before looking back to you. "I will let you know, young lady...100% cotton is expensive and we at Tailorshop Cherry never deliver anything other than superb quality."
He could see the hesitance in your face and took another roll of the wall. "60% cotton. Here, feel it." So you do, fingers gliding over the different fabric and as your eyes dart between the two rolls. The clerk eyed you with raised brows and it was almost like the puppet did, too.
You sucked in air. "...Perhaps 100% cotton would be better?" Making a face, the man sucked in air himself. "Can you even afford this, young lady?" He rolled the cloth up, "The measures you request for seem like that of an toddler. I've had...gentlemen pay the same sum to ask for their darlings hand."
"It's fine!"
"It is fine..." You repeated softer, "I am aware that this tailor is known for its quality...but I do know what I want." You pointed at the blue cloth. "This one would be just perfect."
The consequences were clear to you...but finances were the least of your worries. Your eyes throughouly stared at the roll, before looking up at the man and nodding your head firmly once more. Maybe you were too dead set on doing this and all of this might bite you later...it all depended on your uncle. Just musing about it made you deflate a bit. Perhaps it is the age, the stress, the work...but he has been more agitated since you last saw him - before your visit, before you moved here.
Or perhaps it was grief.
Eyes glanced to the side before looking back. "Well then, here you go." Feigning a smile, you took the package, one as big as your torso. You didn't like to think about it. "Cherry will stamp you a card. At the third purchase, 15% off!" It was too long ago. Or not, maybe even. "Thank you for purchasing from Tailorshop Cherry!" The puppet's hand brought out a stamp, punching a cherry-shaped hole on the pink card. It's voice softer and higher than that of the baker. You smiled and bowed before leaving.
Distracting oneself is easy. Either with your own life or with puppets.
A shaky gasp escaped you before the shrill echoes of inserructions neared. Your knees fell to the floor, the card long abandonded on the sullied ground as you clenched your hand to your chest with a high scream. The nearby customers congegrated around you but the salesman was quick to be the first one knelled at your side. Your ears felt about to burst - from the sounds of your crying to the panic of the people and the non-stop imploration of the man. The puppet seemed to speak, somewhere in the shop, for the first time since you entered.
"15% off!"
"15% off!"
"15% off!"
You cried and hissed as the shopkeep forcefully took your hand away from your grasp. Though he begged and begged to at least see, you were sure as hell from the pain that there was too much blood.
Somehow, somewhere feet scrambled and you heard sirens soon after. Before anyone could barge through the door, the man held you by the shoulders as he and others tried to stop the bleeding - begging and begging to not utter the name Tailorshop Cherry.
The sound of stomping in the air as well as revolted murmurs resounded still.
"15% off!"
The stitches and bandages were done with. A woman offered you a handkerchief to dry your tears. Though it was all awfully sweet, the mention of having been lucky that the puppet's clutches did not move any closer to your bone was one you immediately tried to force out of your head.
The card was left there on the shopfloor, its cherry pink color tainted red.
Jumping, you halted before your feet stepped on another pair. The door threw itself shut harsher and louder than anticipated and trying to save face, you quickly stepped to the side. Geppetto continued where he was left off - putting on his coat.
He glimpsed at you from the side, back hunched as he let one arm crawl into the sleeve as he did the other. You bit your lip and avoided his gaze before taking a step back. The wind picked up by the time you came back to the workshop and howled against the door. It creaked slightly.
The older man reached for his hat, "And where were you, young lady?" Finally he fully turned to you, though his eyes were still narrowed. "Out." You quickly but meekly let out and played with a loose wrapping end of the package. "As I told you, Uncle."
"I wasn't aware you'd be out this long." He looked for an umbrella, just in case, but kept his tone flat while speaking. "I don't like it when you are out for that long. Especially as such a young girl as yourself."
"I," You licked your lips after the small stutter, "I wanted to get back by dinner." "Dinner." Geppetto sighed, "Oh. Right, dinner." His hectic movements halted; before he began to button up his coat calmly. Eyes scanned the hallway and turned to you. "Be a dear and order food. Sandwiches or, or pasta. No, actually get something that can be eaten cold." You took a step closer, "Won't you have a bite before you leave? It's late and I am sure you're hungry. Besides, the weather's getting awful."
"The better it is that I leave now." Taking a small, old umbrella he finally found, Geppetto opened the door and took a step outside - but not before looking at you. "Order some food, dear, I'll be sure to enjoy it after I come back. And..." Brown eyes narrowed as he slightly leaned closer. The man scrunched up his nose.
"What happened to you, (Name)?" His eyes flickered to your limp hand. You mimicked his movements but tried to hide the bandaged hand under the parcel anyway.
"...Uncle, today afternoon..."
"Ah, you are fine though now, aren't you?" Geppetto failed to see the frown on your face the moment he mentioned the injury. Instead, he patted his collar down. "We'll talk about this later but this is what happens to children staying out after dark. You don't see how you get hurt."
Again, you tried to gather courage to speak your mind, just a word, a mere objection to his ridicilous and childish assumptions-
"...Go to bed early, (Name). You already have a few dark circles under your eyes, unbecoming of a young lady."
The door was shut close. A strong gale blew into the workshop briefly, leaving a shudder down your spine.
The frown stayed on your face. Still, the parcel had to be stored into your room sooner or later, and it was best done sooner judging from your uncle's mood. Adjusting your grip, as it started to slip out of your clutch, you slowly went up the stairs while having a hard time taking your eyes off the door.
Eyes stayed trained on the needle and the fabric, as well as your fingers, as the sewing machine diligently worked away. Although you held both machinery and fabric rather awkwardly with the side of your hand, the sure progress melted your sadness away, bit by bit.
Your wallet may have not suffered today for you got the fabric graciously for free, but your limb surely did.
The puppet did not really puncture your thumb, the emergency responder said. Still, the injury was deep enough to be treated with stitches and bandages...and a few painkillers, possibly. It kept you on wiping your tears.
The mechanical cadence would stop as you shift and lay the fabric in different directions, cut off unneeded material while avoiding to accidentally stab out your own eyes with the scissor whenever you rubbed them. The experience today was scary enough but despite it, you did not want to stop now.
Forcing yourself to take one more sip of your drink, you cleared your throat. Eyelids feeling heavier.
A puppet wasn't supposed to do that.
No puppet was ever meant to harm another, human or mechanical fellow alike. Even if it was a mere accident - this 'Cherry' should have sensed your flesh being too close to its brackets and it not having targeted the card correctly.
On top of that, echoing its master's words like a madman if you recalled right.
Uncle Geppetto had to know. Even if he would still be too busy to listen, you'd have to let him know.
"...I know you..."
You frowned as the machine begun again. Your voice barely reached the same volume as this old thing...neither did your sniffles.
"...I don't feeling like singing that one." Mumbles reaching no one but yourself. Once again, you sniffled and cleared your throat, focusing on the task at hand.
"...When you wish upon a star..."
Lone words entered the lone room. Sitting up straighter made you feel more focused, more awake. Here, in the moment and aware that this trivial task meant change for you.
"...Makes no difference who you are..."
The machine continued flawlessly despite its age. You even found yourself singing while it conducted its own cadence, no matter if both tunes melodically weaved in together or not.
It was about the feeling. About the action.
It was about being heard even if your only audience was yourself.
Yet it was not. It never was.
"...Anything your heart desires..."
Behind the many walls, down the turning and winding stairs and straight through the locked door, were sounds emitting and attempting to mimick your own.
The rattling was resounding from the underground and offering its own melody in hopes it will join and align with yours.
Though it sung in high and longing tunes when picking up the sound of your sniffles.
Naive, little thing that you were, you did not hear it over your own whimsical fantasies.
"...Will come to you..."
#yandere lies of p#Lies of p#lies of p x reader#lies of p pinocchio#yandere pinocchio#Pinocchio#Lies of p pinocchio x reader#Pinocchio x reader#P x reader#Yandere#ticking springs
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OMG! Totally cute ship idea! 😲
Osana’s stalker and the Game shop clerk bitch start bonding because of their love of hent@i games 😳 and then, get this, they start dating! 😙😘❤💕
Totally cute! I’m such a genius! You’re welcome! ✨👁👄👁💅
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Collapse of Paradise.
Yan Childe x M Reader.
Commissioned piece.
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, gaslighting attempts from Mr Childe.
Word count: 3k.
It started with the small things.
Synchronicities, perhaps, little blips on a piece of paper that appear seemingly unconnected. No lines could be drawn between them at first glance. Some of these coincidences weren’t necessarily bad; if anything, it was as if you’d hit an unprecedented stroke of luck. When you went to buy groceries at the market, the second you’d go to get your money out, the store clerk would start rambling about how ‘he needed these goods gone anyway’ and lowered the price significantly. In the days that followed, he’d stopped charging you altogether.
You’d found it odd, but he was insistent, countless stories prepared to explain away his altruism.
Then there were the lines. It didn’t matter if they were long or short, many of the people in front of you offered their spot. At first, you hesitantly accepted, but it started to make you feel wrong, so you started gently turning the offers down. After that, you noticed the typically crowded streets of Liyue seemed easier to traverse. Others would scramble to move aside for you, apologizing under their breath if you so much as bumped shoulders or anything of the like.
Eventually, you began to wonder if this stroke of luck might be a veneer for something more sinister.
Were the rumors spreading that you weren’t privy to? Slander and gossip? You couldn’t fathom why, you’ve always kept to yourself, never troubling anyone. For days now, you’ve mentally combed through your memories, searching for any act that could’ve been interpreted as offensive. These brainstorming sessions always end with more questions than answers. You just weren’t the type of person to form ripples in calm water. You favor tranquility, going to lengths to keep it.
You shut the book in your hands with a quiet sigh. Despite having opened it an hour ago, you were only halfway through the first chapter. The plot and characters failed to transport you to another world as you hoped. You slide your bookmark into place — a narwhal-shaped piece, courtesy of your lover — then opt for staring at the ceiling. If you couldn’t distract yourself, maybe you could zone out and turn your traitorous brain off for a bit.
Should you post an apology on a bulletin board, where there’s bound to be lots of foot traffic? You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, so it might not be the best idea. Maybe you could ask the next person to give you this unwanted special treatment? That doesn’t sound satisfactory either. It could make matters worse if they think you’ve remained blissfully aware of your offense all this time.
Having your home quietly turn hostile is a unique type of pain.
“Hey, what’s with all the sighing? Is the book that bad?”
Sunlight parting through storm clouds — that’s how you’d best describe Ajax. His warmth never failed to reach you. It sought you out, chasing after you for as long as necessary, maneuvering through obstacles like they were nothing. No matter where you hid, he always found you.
“I wish I could tell you. I haven’t made enough progress to determine that yet,” you give him a smile that must look as unconvincing as it feels. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner. Have you been here for long?”
He juts his thumb toward your front door. “Just snuck in, actually. Not too stealthily either.”
You frown at the implication. Ajax had often playfully complained your front door was squeaky enough to alert the whole neighborhood of his presence whenever he opened it, a sentiment you agreed with. You must’ve really been out of it to not hear those decibel-breaking hinges.
The couch dips to accommodate his weight as he sits next to you. He props his feet up — his boots off, thankfully, you had to remind him countless times — and rests his arms behind his head. You both stay like that for a moment. Your eyes are on his side profile as he thinks, about you, no doubt, the grin you’re so used to seeing on his face uncharacteristically absent. You shift in your seat at the prolonged silence.
He just got back from a long day at work, you’d rather not bother him with your paranoia. For someone who acts so lackadaisical, he’s freakishly perceptive, picking up on your every nuance. He pointed out tics about yourself that even you were unaware of. It didn’t feel fair for him to have to keep guessing what’s been bothering you while you struggled to make up an excuse different from the last time he asked.
Ajax inspects you from the corner of his eye. “Feel up to going out to eat? It’s been a while. As much as I love cooking dinner with you, sometimes it’s nice to take the night off. How about it?”
You gnaw on your bottom lip. He isn’t bringing it up out of consideration for you, you know it, he knows it. And still, it seeps into every aspect of your life. You’ve been avoiding going out. You aren’t a total recluse, there’s still work to be done, but you’ve been staying at home more often than not. At first, you told yourself it was unrelated to the strange predicament you found yourself in. You’d only recently come to terms with the fact that was a lie, meant to lull you into thinking things aren’t that bad.
“If you’re tired, you can relax while I whip something up,” you propose, sounding as cheerful as you can manage. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Oh, there are some leftovers from my lunch too. We can just warm that up and—”
“[First].”
You’re looking everywhere but his eyes. “Yes?”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” his hand is on your forearm, serving as the anchoring force you so desperately need. His tone isn’t judgmental or irritated by how elusive you’ve been acting. It’s overflowing with patience so sickeningly sweet, that a lump forms in your throat. “You know you can tell me anything.”
The sensation of guilt that washes over you then is unwelcome. You wish you could both keep playing along, but all dreams are destined to end. This conversation and the doors it’d open were bound to happen.
He gives you a squeeze before you part your lips, having sensed your change of heart from the subtlest shift in demeanor.
“I’m not exactly sure how to explain it… I just get the sense people are treating me differently lately. Not in an overtly bad way, but more like they need to be careful around me. I don’t know. It’s weird.”
Another squeeze, this time to your hands, which he takes in his. “When did you start noticing this?”
It’s a question you don’t like the answer to. They’re unrelated blips, you remind yourself. This world you live in is filled with plenty of those. Correlation doesn’t equal causation and all that. Ajax’s gaze never falters from yours. He’s wholly concentrated on you as if nothing else could possibly matter more. This display of unflinching devotion brings forth a fresh sting of guilt. It tingles all over, pricking against your skin.
For a lie, your next words come out surprisingly easy.
“A week or so ago, maybe.”
Ajax is unabashedly inspecting your facial features. He studies every little counter, each dip and groove. The way he examines you now is different from his usual, loving stare. It feels colder, more critical, almost like he’s been charged with determining whether or not you committed a crime. You do what you can to keep yourself from squirming.
You have an easier time breathing when he pulls back, apparently satisfied with the outcome of his search.
“I can’t imagine why that’s happening, but these things naturally tend to resolve themselves with time. Maybe someone overheard something out of context or got overly chatty while drinking. The people of Liyue are reasonable. Keep being you. They’ll see through any of the mistruths they came across.”
His lips curl into the lopsided grin you’re so used to seeing. A part of you is relieved by how he’s handled your admission, though you can’t fathom why. He’s a good man. It doesn’t matter how many hours he’s worked, he’ll stay up late into the night to write replies to his siblings, insisting he wants them to receive their presents as soon as possible. He cares for you, dotes on you, going above and beyond without needing to be asked.
You don’t want to think about the small things if you can avoid it. You want to think about the upcoming trip to Snezhnaya he’s planned, insisting his family wants to meet their future brother-in-law. How he took time away from his busy job to nurse you back to health the last time you fell ill. The almost magical way he can distract you from your problems, whether it be through witty banter or exciting adventures into nature.
He brings your head to rest on his shoulder. You accept the gesture, knowing how he favors being physical with you. Letting him have this seems like a good idea.
Your eyelids flutter shut and you’re back to where you started — struggling to quiet the desperate whispers of your mind. The voices grow more hoarse from how loud they must strain to try and be heard.
Trust is built on open communication, you know this, yet you’re holding back one piece of critical knowledge from him.
That you know all these peculiar interactions began around the time Ajax started courting you.
-
You’ve watched people convince themselves of things in the past.
It was a sight that brought out a myriad of emotions, namely confusion and pity. Should you let them carry on in their misguided ways? Hope that maybe they snap out of the reverie of their own volition, or someone better equipped might happen by and lend a helping hand? You’d witnessed it in grief-stricken mothers who lost their sons at sea, refusing to attend the funeral while claiming ‘he’s still out there’. Then there were the failed entrepreneurs who put everything into a business for it to just go bust. They’d swear that their investment will pay off eventually, that economies change, it isn’t a total lost cause; the justifications never ended.
It’s strange, going from being an audience member to these predicaments to landing the lead role for yourself.
You see the script, know that the words were written in advance, yet still try clumsily acting through them all the same. What else is there for you to do? Ajax has never harmed you, never given reason for you to openly doubt him. These suspicions were spun by you. His job at the Northland Bank was never a secret, neither was the financial prosperity it brought him. Their collaboration with the Fatui is similarly public knowledge, though the degree of which is unknown.
Picking up a rock, you test its weight in your hand, then give it a calculated toss. It skips across the clear, shimmering water, then plunges into the depths.
“This would certainly make for a nice fishing spot,” a voice casually quips from behind. Your shoulders go stiff. It didn’t take long for him to find you, it never does. “What do you think? Should we make a date out of it?”
You feel the point of his chin press against your neck. “I, uh, might not be the best fishing partner. It requires waking up early and sitting still for hours, doesn’t it? That sounds difficult.”
“Patience is always a good thing to hone, it’s practical. I’ve found mine being tested lately,” he taps you on the side. Once, twice. “That’s the thing, though! It’s important to get pushed to your limits. You’ll never know what you might be capable of otherwise. Wouldn’t you say so, [First]?”
There’s an attempt to turn around and face him, yet what your body wills doesn’t come to fruition. Ajax’s body might appear lean, but it’s strong, almost inhumanly so. It requires no strain on his behalf to keep you rooted in place. You have nowhere to look aside from ahead. The sun is setting now, molten gold easing into shades of amber. You squint, finding the scene both beautiful and difficult to stare at directly.
Sunlight could be as painful as it is beautiful.
“We aren’t right for one another,” you mumble, almost grateful you can’t see his face. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t know what to do.”
He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. His warm breath tickles your ear. “You don’t have to do anything. Neither do I, for that matter. Everything was fine. Everything is fine. What have I done to you to earn this cold behavior, hm? Would you care to tell me?”
Your palms might bleed from how harshly your nails dig into them. “… You haven’t done anything to me.”
“And I wouldn’t, either,” he seems to take pride in confirming. The fact he has to say this in the first place is reason enough to worry.
Waves brush against and retreat from the sandy shoreline. The breeze carries with it hints of the ocean, tousling your hair, ensuring it’ll maintain the scent of saltwater for hours to come. This place that would set your heart at ease any other time fails to comfort you now. Each breath you take grows increasingly unsteady. A damning word that’s been floating around in the recesses of your mind grows louder and louder, demanding your attention. No longer do you have the energy to hush it.
“Ajax,” you begin, fighting through the impulse to say nothing, for your mouth is terribly dry, “Are you familiar with the alias ‘Childe’?”
A spray of water droplets kisses your cheek after a particularly sizable wave comes crashing down against the shore.
His hands are on your shoulders. Your sense of equilibrium is thrown off by how sharply he turns you around, forcing you to confront a reality you can no longer ignore. The rays of the dying sun are bright, yet his eyes do not reflect them. You’ve never seen those pools of bright blue turn so dull. His lips are set in a straight line, his face mere inches from yours. What you would’ve once considered an intimate moment feels like a perverse invasion of privacy. He’s giving you no space, no time, no air.
You have to remind yourself to breathe, the action no longer involuntary.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” his fingers are on your chin. You wonder how much blood has been shed due to the very hand cradling you. “I keep that portion of myself separate from those I care about.”
He isn’t denying it.
“That isn’t something— something you can just clock out of. People are scared of you. Because they’re scared of you, they’re scared of me.”
He sighs then, the closest thing you’ve gotten to resignation from him so far. “I know, I know. I really did want to avoid that. It isn’t anything I can’t fix. Still, you need to work with me on this.”
“I… what?”
You don’t want to believe you heard him right. You try to take a step back, but he doesn’t allow it, his grip unrelenting. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles when he smiles.
“You were happy,” Ajax states. When you voice no dissent, he continues on. “You must’ve been, if you were willing to overlook your suspicions for as long as you did. Maybe you should be scared of me… maybe you will be, if you keep looking into things you shouldn’t. Or you could make this easy for yourself. We can take things slow, work it out a day at a time.”
Toward the latter half of his proposal, he finally lets you go, yet you don’t make any move to run. It’s as if the sand beneath your feet has been replaced with iron shackles.
You need a moment to compose yourself for your next words to come out. It’ll be the most confrontational you’ve been yet. That thought alone is almost as frightening as the situation itself.
“What makes you think I want to work this out?”
His toothy grin never falters at your challenge, instead, it grows wider. You shiver at the possibility your unusual resistance excites him.
“Do you have what it takes to go the other route?” His voice takes on a condescending lilt. When he sees how you bristle, he laughs, shaking his head and putting his hands up in mock defense. “C’mon, I’m joking. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a smart man, I know you’ll make the right choice.”
You’re not sure what other options you have.
Ajax bends over to grab some stones of his own, just as you did before his unwelcome arrival. He winds his shoulder a few times, then gives it a toss, the rock skipping too many times for you to count. It goes out impossibly far before finally succumbing to its watery prison. He tries to hand you one. You stare at it unblinkingly.
“Something tells me this might be our last romantic outing for a while. Might as well make the most of it,” he nudges it closer.
With some reluctance, you take the rock into your hand. He’s back to throwing the few he collected, beaming while he does so. You thought you were growing adept at playing pretend — that pales in comparison to his abilities. Pleading his case is no longer of any interest to him. He knows what you’re going to choose, he could always read you, and he’s only going to get better at it.
“Nothing about this is romantic,” you finally murmur. This rock fails to glide over the water, plummeting immediately. “That’s a word I’ll struggle to associate with you... Childe.”
He winks and replaces the rock you just threw, his fingers brushing over yours.
“Well, it's a good thing I just love challenges then.”
#childe x reader#yandere childe x reader#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#commissions#my stuff
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Yandere!Clark Kent + Yandere!Bruce Wayne x female!reader
𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent
𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕒| 𝔸𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕖| 𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖| 𝕥𝕧 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖: Dc movie series (?
ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕖: Scenes of jealousy, attempted aggression.
ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥:1 of 1
𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: I spent several days trying to do something coherent, I didn't like Batman vs Superman nor did I find a coherent way to make a Yandere story of these two. But hey, this is the final result, which is located after the events of the new flash movie (I mean, the new reboot of the DC world)
{AND YES, I PUT A PHOTO OF BATMAN VS SUPERMAN BECAUSE I THINK IT WAS AWESOME}
⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆ ⋆ටᆼට⋆
Coffee, cooked mate, tea, black tea, green tea, smoothies, croissants, ice cream.
You smell the sweet atmosphere and feel the warmth of the cafeteria atmosphere fill your soul and body with happiness. As if you have changed from a horrendous and heavy environment to one full of happiness and peace and love, you smile, thinking about what to ask for.
For a few days you longed for a break from work, and finally you had it, you could finally have breakfast in complete peace, without worrying about whether you arrived late or late to a place or to do such a thing.
After talking to the clerk about what you were asking for, you sit down to think about your life, and what you could do today. Walk in the park? Watch a movie? Or maybe just lie in bed and sleep like you've never slept in your life.
Or maybe... visit Barry, one of your best friends.
Yeah, that sounded like a great idea, catch up and talk like they did before they got into college.
But... Something went wrong, something interrupted the little rest you had, and you knew that thanks to the people who suddenly went outside.
As if everything were a chaos orchestrated by destiny, as if it were God who had decided to let humans take the reins of their destiny, you see how a kind of fabric is torn in the sky. A hole in the shape of torn cloth reveals two men, peering out of the gloomy chaos that had ensued.
People watched, took photos with their cell phones or recorded videos, or were directly shocked by the bizarre situation in which they lived. The surreal thing about this fact was that a part of you thought that Barry was in danger.
A pang that runs through your stomach as if it were your body telling you something, forces you to start pushing people.
Elbows, shouts, pushes; everything seemed like chaos with the people who began to mobilize.
You walk out of the cafeteria, looking directly into the hole that had opened up.
As strange as it may seem, or as fearful as you did not express, you were able to see two people in the distance that you casually or conveniently knew.
---Bruce? ---Questions with a small voice ---, Clark?
All the noise that people were making because of the shouting, or just because of the amount of people moving slowly fades away, as if your brain was only focused on the two people who were there, above, staring at you, as if they were watching you. searching.
It is then that the hole gets bigger, and an immediate desire to run or hide from what was going to happen ran through your mind and body taking over you
But... everything was in vain, everything had already been determined, everything had already been done, as if destiny had already been written on a stone.
You can see it, the world you've known, the people you've always loved, or even your very existence disappears.
In a blink, you go from being at work, watching the world be destroyed by something you didn't even understand, to waking up from your bed.
You remove the sheets from your body with violence, throwing the sheets on the floor. You look around you, scared; it was your room, but almost completely different.
Instead of posters of your favorite bands, there are posters of people you didn't know. From titles like "The woman in the cabaza" or "The dance of the end of the world" were movie titles that you had seen in your life.
Instead of losing your mind, or starting to panic, you know you can't lose your mind now.
Inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale.
You kept up the routine for a few minutes, until you even managed to keep the peace, even now.
---Remember; everything is fine, everything is fine, ---You inhale again, trying to keep the peace ---, everyone is alive, it was just a nightmare, it was just one more nightmare.
After a few minutes that at this point seemed endlessly insufferable, a sudden call interrupts your attempt to keep all your ducklings in line.
Seeing the cell phone, which was on top of a small book that was on top of a wooden shelf, you take it in your hands.
"Barry <3"
A small hope that everything was a nightmare appears, so you answer.
---Hello? (Name)? --- You hear his voice, like a worried older brother.
---Barry? ---You questions, happy.
You listen for a moment as if Barry did sounds of a happy person, as if he is celebrating that you still remember him.
---It's good that you remind me...! --- He cuts off his own sentence ---, I mean, I'm glad you're okay
---Yes, I'm fine... ---You answer, averting your gaze ---, I just... woke up.
--- Thank goodness --- He whispers, as if he were nervous ---, by the way, can we meet somewhere?
---Yes, s-sounds perfect ---You whisper, trying to hide your nervousness ---, where can we meet?
---I can hear you're nervous, did you have another nightmare? ---He asks.
You blink a few times, remembering that he knew about the nightmares you had for practically your entire life.
---Yeah... It was horrible ---Your voice cracks ---, I can't believe it felt so real!
---Huh? But if all your nightmares feel real... ---He mentions, confused.
---B-But... I could see as if the world was destroyed, something in the sky opened up! ---You explain, nervous ---. Everything was fine, it was my day off but... when I went outside, something in the sky opened up and...
---Oh... ---He whispered, this time more confused ---.., wait, did it open and something or someone peeked out? Like a person or...
---Bruce and Clark! The two of them peered out of the hole that opened ---You express, worsening your condition.
Barry is silent, it was noticeable that his words were stuck in his throat. It is then that, after a few seconds and listening to you sob with fear.
---(Name)... ---Barry called you.
---And I thought it was a dream because everything was being quite strange, and... ---You explained, getting out of bed and looking at the posters in your room ---, I'm in a stranger's room!
---(Name)
---It looks a lot like mine! But it has very... strange tastes, I've never met any of these bands or movies ---You say, investigating the room further.
---(Name) ---He calls you once more.
---What's happening?
---It was not a nightmare.
---What? ---You ask, before listening to someone knock on your door.
---(Name), I need you to go to the park in front of your house, Bruce and I will be there, okay? --- Explains Barry, you could see that he was trying to stay calm.
---O-Okay... ---You whisper, ending the call quickly, looking at the door.
After a few seconds of mustering as much courage as possible, you go to the door and open it. Your fear is suddenly replaced by surprise when you see who was there.
---Clark?! ---Your voice is shot throughout the house, to your surprise, you can see it there; completely calm.
He was carrying a white ceramic cup with flowers, which seemed to have something inside.
---What's up, (Name)? ---Clark asks, confused ---, are you okay?
You look at him for a few seconds, trying not to say something that would probably be very incoherent. You look at the cup that he was carrying in his hands.
---It's nothing... Did you need something? ---Questions, playing with your hands.
---Oh, nothing, nothing ---He repeats, with his cheeks a little reddish ---, I just wanted to bring you a cup of coffee, as I saw that you didn't get up.
You blink a few times, before seeing how he extends the cup towards you.
---Thank you... ---You whisper, before taking the cup in your hands.
--- By the way, --- He mentions, before suddenly changing his tone --- who was that you were talking to?
You can see that because his body was tense and his tone of voice had changed, he sounded different than what you were used to.
--- It was Barry --- You answer, drinking from the cup between your hands ---, he said he needed me to go to the park near here.
--- Oh, --- His voice changes even more for a moment, erasing the smile on his face, but suddenly it's back to normal.
---I'll go now ---You say, happy ---, say hi to Louis for me.
As you walk past your good friend, he suddenly grabs your arm, not forcefully, and in fact hardly exerts any force in his grip.
--- (Name) --- he calls you ---, can I go with you?
---Hey?
Your smile disappears, before scratching the back of your neck with one of your hands.
---Well... Barry says that Bruce will be there, don't you think it would be better if I go alone?
Yes, you were perfectly aware of the certain tension that existed in their relationship, therefore, it was best to avoid conflicts.
---All the more reason I must go... ---he whispered, tightening his grip on your arm a little.
---That?
---No, no, nothing... ---He lets go of your arm, nervous ---, I just want to make sure you're safe.
---But... I'll be with Barry and Bruce... ---You answer, confused ---Besides...
--- (Name) --- he calls you again, taking you back, now grabbing your arm, --- May I go with you?
You can see that his body acted unconsciously, as if he really needed to accompany you before anything else in the whole world.
"Well...okay." You relent, letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips.
You can see how his attitude and face change, his grip is quickly removed, and a smile appears on his lips.
---Okay --- he whispers.
＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／
＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／
You can feel how the tension in the air increases with each second of silence that was between the four of you.
---Uh, well... ---Barry whispers, playing with his hands, before walking next to you ---...It's good that we're together now!
---Yes, thank goodness... ---You whisper, before looking at your best friend ---.., Barry, could you tell me about the nightmare?
Bruce looked at you, you could see a soft smile tugging at his lips, before speaking.
---You didn't tell him anything, Barry? ---Bruce asks, intrigued.
---Eh, no, she doesn't know yet ---The young man answers, before looking at you.
---Know what, exactly? ---Asks Clark, again being serious.
---It's complicated.. ---You whisper, before taking a breath ----.., apparently I had a nightmare, as is recurring, but they're telling me it wasn't!
One of your hands goes to your lips, your nails settling between your teeth, until Barry takes your hand.
---Hey, hey, hey ---He's calling you ---, I know this is all complicated, but for now we're not in danger, so let's sit down and...
You can not just one, but two hands grab Barry's wrist, abruptly pulling his hand away from yours.
---Keep your distance, Barry/kid ---Both Clark and Bruce say at the same time.
The surrealism of the scene, along with the sudden reaction of both of you, surprised both Barry and you.
Barry quickly pushes them away, his tone changing suddenly.
---What's wrong with them? ---Barry asks, confused and frowning.
Neither of us could say anything, because you directly speak louder than usual
---What's wrong with all of you? ---You ask, with anger in your tone---. We can't fight now, especially not over something as small as him grabbing my hand! --- You approach Barry, taking his shoulder ---, don't fight, do you really want to make a scene having, I don't know...? More than 28 years?
After the nightmare that seemed to be real, the display of obvious jealousy on Clark's part, and an obvious attempt at another jealousy scene, you were on the brink of losing your mind.
Clark and Bruce don't act like they used to, where did your kind reporter who was actually one of the strongest superheroes on the face of the earth go? Or your good friend who showed you appreciation very rarely? By whom were they replaced?
You can see that both men stare at you, while Barry tried to calm the situation by talking, positioning himself in front of you. But that only caused the look of both of them... Yanderes to intensify, they will begin to lose patience, as if they were on the verge of taking Barry and... damaging him a little, with their own hands.
You know what I mean, don't you, (Name)?
＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／
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I don't give a shit what the world thinks; The Bruce that appears in the last Flash movie is great, or at least I like how the actor looks.
#obsessive love#yandere#yandere male#yandere dc#yandere bruce wayne#two yanderes#dc#clark kent#yandere superman#yandere batman#yandere superhero#yandere x you#yandere one shot
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