#yandere hitman x reader
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Yan hitman squad reaction to darling crying because of somebody?? (maybe it's because of their enemy or something)
LOVEYOUR POSTS
The Hacker is the type to let them live, while making them regret it.
Yujin will take a deep dive into the offenders personal data, tallying up all the receipts needed to wreak havoc upon their social life so much so that they’d need to create a whole new identity and move to a different country to escape the pure violation.
The Strategiest is the type to take away everything from them and make them repent.
Bjorn will go out of his way to plan their downfall from sabotaging family ties, romantic relationships, and their whole career. He won’t stop until he’s taken everything that they held dear. He’ll make them write an apology letter to his dear coffee bean until their hands are littered with paper cuts.
The Sniper is the type to kill them when they least expect it.
Ossian wants to make sure the harasser of his crush suffers for the unforgivable action they taken against his love. So when they’re using the bathroom, pleasuring themselves, or just sleeping. The Sniper will fire multiple shots into their body and watch in satisfaction as they bleed out to death.
The Medic is type to accidentally kill them.
Koji’s displeased that someone other than him made his nurse cry so in retaliation he simply wanted to have a lil bit of fun with his newfound test subject of which he had the Torturer secure for him. Unfortunately, they died due to an overdose of harmful chemicals/substances.
The Enforcer is the type to give them a “friendly” warning
It depends on how much of a bother they’ve been to his lil spark he’ll either intimidate them to stay away from his darling or beat them half to death with his meaty fists.
The Torturer is the type to take the quote “eye for an eye” in a literal sense severing up body parts as an means to an end
Oh they cursed out his darling then surely they won’t be needing that vile tongue of theirs anymore. Whichever limb the offender used to harass his sunshine Best believe they won’t ever be present on their body again.
#Yujin the hacker#Moros the Torturer#Koji the Medic#Bjorn the Strategist#Ossian the Sniper#yandere male x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere scenarios#yandere blurb#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere oc#yandere hitman#yandere strategist#yandere torturer#yandere hacker#yandere enforcer#yandere sniper#yandere medic#yandere hitman x reader#yanderecore#yandere content#yandere x y/n#The Enforcer
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hii can I ask for hacker with a clingy reader. honestly your drawing of him a few days ago gave me a huge brain rot and I would have jumped on the idea of being handcuffed with him
@salty-muffin
The Hacker would be so estatic that his precious kitten wants him just as much as he wants you. He’ll coddle and swoon over you even if he has work. He won’t hesitate to cancel any plans that may jeopardize his special bonding time with his sweet babe.
But do be careful the more you cling onto him the more he’ll latch onto you as well. As the Hacker will be under the impression that the two of you can’t live without touching each other for no less than than 3 min. And will buy handcuffs, bondage, and other certain things to keep you guys intertwined.
He’s also the type to swipe out all your normal clothes and put those get along sweaters in your closet instead. So be prepared to go out in public spaces shoulder to shoulder in a sweater that’ll ensure the two of you won’t be separated.
#yandere male#yandere oc#yandere male x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere scenarios#yandere hitman#yandere x reader#yanderecore#yandere art#male yandere#yandere blurb#yandere hacker#yandere hitman x reader#the Hacker
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Yandere Head Canons:
The Hands That Hold You
Yandere Assasin Harem x Oblivious Fem Reader
TW: Somniaphilia, uncomfortable themes, yandere, stalking, mention of size difference, potential of being held captive, cunninglingus, smut, etc
The town of Rellikhold, a peaceful town filled with quirky citizens. Each with a mysterious past and lack of warmth. And you had received a special invitation by the government to live in this new town! Aren’t you lucky?
Poor little you had no clue that this town was filled with ex-contract killers who’ve never felt warmth nor kindness in their life… they were all a moth to your flame. Each one wanting to stake a claim on you, even if it was at the expense of another’s life. You belonged to them.
Callum: Scotland (Florist)
Callum is a massive man with a soft yet muscular build. He has a thick red beard that he keeps trimmed and a mustache he keeps curled up. Callum also has red chest hair and arm hair (the curtains definitely match the drapes). He is 35 years old and a retired sniper. Callum has a heavy Scottish accent and he’s the warmest of the villagers.
This big, muscular red head was shocked when you waltzed into his shop. You were so small and your steps were so clumsy like a newborn fawn. Yet it was your eyes that caught his attention. He’s never seen someone’s eyes filled with such innocence. It intrigued him.
Callum is easily flustered with from your bright smile and warm personality. Yet he can’t help the intrigue he felt from your arrival. From one glance, he knew you were just a regular civilian… what on earth were you doing here? This place was so dangerous.
Yet you’re oblivious to everyone’s past and treat him no differently from a regular man! Your interest in his flowers warm his heart… Callum is immediately taken to you. You’re so cute and you’d fit so perfectly in his arms… he’s never felt this way before.
Callum often looks forward to your visits to his shop. The red head often reorganizes the flowers just to make sure they’re to your liking! Callum always makes sure his beard is well trimmed and his long curls are pulled up into a bun. He has to look presentable for his little lady!
Often lingers around you like a shadow when you’re in the shop. Callum would lose his marbles if you ever came into his shop with a visible wound or bruise. He’s extremely obsessed with your well being.
Callum often offers you his jacket and holds doors open for you, he’s a total gentleman. A gentleman who believes you’re his. He sees no other logical explanation on why you visit him so often. You have to have a crush on him, right?! Don’t worry… he doesn’t mind that you’re shy. He has no trouble taking the lead.
It will take a total of four months until he’s trying to be more physically affectionate towards you. Callum believes the two of you are dating. His large, calloused hands often brush against yours or he’ll grab your waist to steer you in another direction. He cannot get over the size difference.
You’ll often have free bouquets delivered to your house with cute hand written notes. Which are often accompanied by Gaelic terms of endearment. “M’eudail. Mo chridhe. Etc.”
And if Callum ever spots you with one of ten other villagers? His stabs at affection take a turn to be more bold. In his mind, you’re trying to make him jealous… not to worry! Callum will give you more of his time! Whatever you want, he will give you! Even the heads of your enemies neatly arranged in a bouquet.
Callum I willing to do anything to keep you happy and satisfied. He’s the least selfish of the others. If you want to have a sexual relationship with him, he’d be more than happy to oblige!
Callum will have you bent over every surface and even his shop (with the curtains pulled down of course). Just so he can stuff you with his thick fingers and fat cock. He’s extremely giving and he’s more than happy to perform cunninglingus on you.
One day, you went into his shop and were filled with such fright, it made his heart ache!
“What are you so scared for, m’eudail?” Callum husky voice asked. The large man made his way over to your disheveled form. “Has someone frightened you?”
Callum bent down to your level and held your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brushed a few tears from your cheeks as he shushed you.
“It’s okay, mo chridhe. I’ll keep you safe.”
Günter: Germany (Police Officer)
A tall, muscular blonde riddled in scars from head to toe. His blonde hair is always cut in a military cut and he’s extremely stoic. No one can ever tell what he’s thinking and he hardly speaks. Günter is Char’s identical twin brother and also an ex bounty hunter. The pair are both 29 years old and very feared members in the community from their reputation.
Günter was extremely wary of you at first. He isn’t used to people taking notice of someone like him or being warm to him.
Günter is extremely stiff when you interact with him. He often glances the other way if you stare at him with your pretty eyes for too long. He’s unsure of why his heart flutters whenever you’re around. Günter has never been in a relationship in his entire life. He’s so awkward and quiet around you, but his stoic expression never shows it.
You once grabbed his hand when you tripped and Günter swore he was electrocuted. He was quick to help you up onto your feet as he silently checked you over. His heart thrummed in his chest when you gave him such a sweet, grateful smile. It’s how Günter realized he’s smitten with you.
Günter often offered to walk you home to keep you safe. He’s the least delusional of the others and a rather lucid yandere. He is aware of the difference of reality and his fantasies. Which is why he will never act upon them on you. Everyone else is free game.
If someone upsets you even the slightest bit, they are instantly on his shit list. And if they make you cry or try to harm you? They’re as good as dead. He’s the town’s cop and the most prolific killer of them, so what can they do to stop him?
Günter is very aware of the others’ twisted feelings towards you, especially Char’s. He often hides around the corner as he watches his sister wash your hair. He’s a bit jealous of the intimacy, but he knows better than to be greedy. He’s a cop, not a hairdresser.
He’s usually quite silent but he often shows you his soft side. Soft smiles and tender touches. Günter is incredibly gentle despite his massive height.
Günter would be over the moon if you wanted a relationship of any kind with him! If it’s sexual, you sadly won’t be doing much walking. Günter tries his best to be gentle, but he soon finds himself blowing your back out while he whispers German pet names in your ears.
Günter also secretly has a breeding kink so keep an eye on him. If he’s in the heat of the moment, he will whisper his darkest desires in your ear. Of how he wants you round and fat with his kids with a ring on your finger.
And Günter will not share. So don’t even think about sleeping with anyone other than him or he will make several attempts to baby trap you.
“Meine Liebe, why do you cry?” Günter asked you softly with a frown. The police officer sat beside you on the park bench, his muscular arms now wrapped around you in a hug. “You know you can tell me anything… did someone make you upset?”
You just rest your head on his chest which made Günter melt into a puddle. He’s quick to scoop you up into his arms. “Do you want to head to my home, meine liebes Mädchen? It’s getting dark out and it can get dangerous at night.”
And the instant you nod your head, you’re swept off your feet in a bridal carry. His normally stoic face now had a small smile on it.
Finally… you were finally coming home where you belonged.
Wan: China (Photographer)
Wan is an average height man of Chinese descent. He’s quite feminine appearance wise, but don’t like that fool you. He’s one of the most dominant of the villagers.
Wan typically keeps to himself. Hes not as massive or intimidating as the other men. His long black hair is typically pulled back into a braid and he usually roams the village’s park or beach.
Wan is a bit shocked when he first met you since he can tell off the bat that you’re a regular civilian. Did the government send you as some sort of social experiment to see if their retirement was successful? To see if a group of ex- bounty hunters can integrate into society without a hitch? How peculiar.
Wan often trailed you home to see if you had any attachments to any governments. He didn’t want a government spy ruining his idyllic life and he was not afraid to eliminate you if that were the case… but you were clean! Annoyingly so.
You had simple hobbies and a permanent smile on your face. You were friendly and warm like a dog… like a pet. It made Wan’s mind wander to more promiscuous thoughts. Would you enjoy a collar and a leash while he dominated every aspect of your life? Perhaps you would since you always greeted him with such a warm smile and baked goods. You must have some sort of attraction to him, right? Why else would you bake for an acquaintance so often? (Wan had no clue you did for all of your friends).
Wan often invited you out for walks with him on the beach while he snaps photographs. It’s when you accidentally enter one of his shots that turn his whole world upside down. How could someone be so beautiful?
Wan started to snap photos of you smiling and dancing when in his company but it wasn’t enough. These simple photographs simply wouldn’t do for him anymore.
What started off as innocent photography took a quick, dark turn into obsession.
Wan began to slip behind you in the shadows to follow you everywhere. Whether you were simply enjoying a meal or beverage, or even sleeping, Wan captured it all behind his lens. Wan wanted more! More. More. More. More!!
His photography room was now covered in photos of you. There was not a single empty space left of the wall or ceiling that wasn’t adorned with your being. His darkroom still had thousands of photos developing as well. Wan simply couldn’t get enough.
When Wan found out there were others, he was extremely upset. What on earth did you see in Callum or Günter? They weren’t nearly as impressive as him! Wan was slim and far more flexible. Wan could bend your body in ways it’s never been before.
Wan often snuck into your room to lay beside you. To inhale your scent and to caress your soft, pliable body. Would you freak out if you woke up to see him or would you submit to his desires? This risqué game of his never grew tiring…
If you begin a sexual relationship with Wan, he’s incredibly rough. He has incredibly sadistic tendencies such as pulling hair, choking, licking up your tears, and harsh spankings… but he will talk you through it.
Slender fingers stroked your cheeks as you slept soundly. Wan smiled at how unaware of your surroundings you were. How could someone be so cute?
“Lǎopó, you’re so precious…” Wan bent forward and tenderly pressed his lips against yours. In his eyes, you were his lover. His and no one else’s. “I just want you to be my beloved pet, bǎobèi.”
Wan pulled your covers over your shoulders and over his body while he spooned you. This was the only time you were all his and no one else’s… and that’s the way he preferred it to be.
Amari: Thailand (Musician)
Amari is an amab individual but prefers to go by they/them. The twenty four year old often enchant others with their ethereal beauty. They have sun kissed skin and long black hair that frames a symmetrical face, one would think they were carved by the gods themselves. Yet Amari is partially blind due to their final assignment so they were forced into an early retirement compared to the others. Yet they pretend they’re fully blind to appear weaker to the others. They’re one of the most dangerous of the villagers due to their unpredictable mannerisms.
Amari can often be found in Belladonna’s restaurant playing the khene. Their mystic melody is as intriguing as they are which often captivates their audience.
Amari is incredibly shy and will be startled at first if you talk to them. Yet they’re eager for the companionship. Amari is the easiest to get close to compared to the others due to their young age. If you compliment them, they’re completely enraptured by you. You think they’re beautiful?! You love their music? Amari cannot get enough of praise.
Amari often trails after you like a lost puppy. They will often play the ‘helpless blind’ card just so they can hold your hand. They can’t get enough of how soft you are. Oh what they wouldn’t give to be able to see you… there was not a doubt in their mind that you were lovely.
Amari will play their khene for you and sometimes they’ll even sing. They’re your own personal song bird! They’re willing to perform any song for you so long as you eagerly listen to them just like they eagerly wait for your praise!
Amari will want to spend every breathing moment by your side. They’re stuck to you like velcro and unmovable. Suffocatingly clingy due to them never receiving warmth, Amari cannot get enough of your sweetness. They want you all to themselves.
They cannot stand you giving your attention and affection to the others. Look at them! Listen to their music, you said it was lovely! Just be theirs! Please. Please. Please. Please.
Amari will pathetically beg for your love on their hands and knees. They will use every card in their deck to manipulate you into their hands. They will not share and they will not surrender you.
No matter how puppy like they are to you, they’re a monster the others will not go near. Being involved with them is like being trapped in a spider’s web. You were doomed from the first interaction.
They’re one of the only ones who will stoop low enough to take advantage of you in your sleep (besides Wan). Their mouth is always buried between your legs as you sleep completely unaware of their efforts to get you used to them. They can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. Of how your body contorts and your toes curl in pleasure. Sometimes if the moonlight hits your face just right, they can see your face. And they make sure to burn that image in their memory forever. Oh what they would give for you to know it was them.
Amari pressed kisses up and down your thighs as your back arches in pleasure. So beautiful… so unaware. You’re just like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.
“I love you…” Amari whispered against your skin, the assassin ran a tanned hand through their long locks in an attempt to reel themselves in. It was easy for them to get lost in the moment, but they needed to be patient. “And I know you love me too.”
Amari pulls themselves away from in between your legs and rests their head on your stomach. A soft hum escaped their thin lips in thought. It was such a beautiful night and they were happy to spend it with you.
Char: Germany (Hair Dresser)
Char is Günter’s identical twin and they couldn’t be more similar if they try. It’s easy to confuse one for the other since Char looks incredibly masculine. The only difference is their placements of scars and her blonde hair is just a little bit longer.
It takes awhile to earn Char’s friendship. She’s quite self conscious of herself since she looks so much like a man. Compliments will win her over and make her blush. She’s quite fond of being called handsome or beautiful.
She enjoys washing and trimming your hair for you. She cannot get over how soft your hair feels between her fingers…
It doesn’t take long for her to fall for you compared to her brother. She’s another sucker for praise, but she gives praise even more. Char is the queen of pet names.
Char is incredibly protective of you, just like Günter. The difference between them is that Char collects little keepsakes from you. Oh yes, she has a shrine dedicated completely to you.
Char is obsessed with you. She collects the trimmings of your hair and any utensils you had used in her salon. She tells herself it’s to keep herself from acting on her impulses, but that’s a lie. She’s simply obsessed with you.
If you ever vent to her about any one in the village, especially new comers, she will get rid of them for you personally. Typically in a rather brutal fashion. Anyone who upsets you simply doesn’t deserve to live.
If you’re ever curious about her past, she will tell you. She’s the least secretive and the most honest. Char will even admit about her shrine of you if you ask. She wants to be an open book that you can read at anytime. Trust her.
Char will often flee to the back room of her salon if she gets a bit too riled up from her interactions with you. If you follow her to the back because you’re worried, there’s no guarantee she won’t have you bent over the break room table with her lips eagerly pressed against yours and her fingers yanking at the waist band of your pants.
Out of everyone, Char is the most obsessed with your pleasure. She’s incredibly giving. It doesn’t matter the time or the location, if you’re a bit moody she will pull you into the nearest room and go to town. Be as loud as you want as she pushes your body to the point of overstimulation, she wants the others to know you’re hers.
“Meine Liebe…” Char whispered as she presses kisses all across your fear stricken face. An expression you always wore due to how passionate of a lover Char was. “I’m sorry I got carried away again.”
You nuzzled into your lover, who only peppered you with more kisses. “Mein liebes Haustier, I love you so much… how about you just stay in mein arms forever?”
Belladonna: French (Chef)
Belladonna was once a renowned poison specialist, hence her name. She’s a tall, slender twenty nine year old woman with fawn brown hair and sharp, feline like features. Belladonna is heartless and cold, just like the deadly poisons she once used. She’s a closeted lesbian and a very open misandrist.
Belladonna is the owner and head chef at Le Jarden. She’s quite prideful of her cooking and she only prepares the best cuisine. Belladonna has a tendency to be quite pretentious and she’s very rude if your French isn’t adequate.
Belladonna does not like Ignacia, to others it looks like she singles out Ignacia a lot, but they have a very complicated past. Belladonna is incredibly critical of others and holds herself at the highest standard. She’s also quite the bully.
Belladonna will chase out male customers from her establishment. They are not allowed in Le Jarden, no matter who they are. (She often gets into arguments with Callum over his floral choices).
If you catch her attention, it’s because you stood up for Ignacia when Belladonna gave the poor woman a verbal beat down. Belladonna immediately takes your defiance as a challenge.
Belladonna will often pick verbal fights with you, but she’s intrigued by you. You were a regular civilian and yet you stood up to her of all people? You had some guts. Plus, you still tried to be kind to her. It frustrated the chef to no end. Belladonna always feels conflicted when it comes to you.
Belladonna’s words often cut like a knife but you’re surprisingly quick witted with your comebacks. She enjoys the back and forth. To her, it’s like a game. And Belladonna wanted to win.
Her hostility increases the more she interacts with you since Belladonna has never experienced feelings of this magnitude before. Belladonna could not differentiate between love and hate. You confused her and made her mind in constant disarray…
You’re sweet to the point you make her teeth rot and she hates it… or at least she tells herself that.
Belladonna hates when you interact with the others! Especially the men (and Amari). She’s much better than them- wait… why did she care so much about what you did?
Your once pleasant words soon become sour whenever she enters your peripheral. You no longer try to smile or wave at her, only scowl. It confused her even more. Why did she care whether you liked her or not? You were just a civilian… right?
You eventually snap sense into her when you tell her you despise her. You… hate her? No… she didn’t want to be hated! No. No. No.
Belladonna loses her mind when you constantly reject her. You won’t come to her restaurant and you won’t accept the many, many bouquets she leaves on your doorstep. Why won’t you forgive her? She never apologizes, so she truly means she’s sorry. Please forgive her, she can be soft. She can be soft.
She will kiss you until your lips are swollen and bruised. Until your lungs are nearly out of air and you’re breathless. Belladonna could be your oxygen! Your reason for being! She can do everything the others do, if not more! She has access to various poisons and other plants, some that could take you to pleasures of immeasurable heights! Just let her worship you…
Belladonna will go to extreme measures if you continue to ignore her desperate attempts at reconciliation. And that includes poisoning you so that you’re briefly paralyzed.
Belladonna’s slender hands hold your cheeks as she quietly sobs from above your still form. She knows you’re afraid, but this was your fault! You pushed her to do this!
“All you had to do was forgive me… Je t'adore. Je ne voulais pas te faire de mal…” Belladonna slipped into her first language while the waterworks began. She was so conflicted and confused. Her new feelings were overwhelming and concerning. Belladonna was usually level headed, but when it came to you? She was a dumpster fire.
Belladonna pressed her forehead against yours, her tears now mixed with yours into a long stream down your face.
“Je n'ai jamais ressenti ça auparavant, mais je suis sûr que je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, ça me rend fou.”
Ignacia: Nicaragua (Writer)
Ignacia always wears a steel mask over her face and completely covers her body. No one knows what she looks like under there and she prefers to keep it that way… she was a twenty seven year old bomb specialist. At least until the accident. Her entire body is now covered in third degree burns. She is no longer beautiful so she hides herself away in order not to scare anyone. Her accident landed her in an early retirement as well.
Ignacia is biromantic and asexual. She’s always been more interested in books than people. Fictional characters comfort her more than real people.
A few years ago, she had a mission to take down a French politician and ended up destroying Belladonna’s secret hide out. Which is why Belladonna despises her. Ignacia isn’t too bothered by it though since she’s the one who received the worse end of it,
Her English isn’t the best so she rarely speaks. She often observes others from the corner of every room. Through the various interactions she observes, Ignacia created a fictional world for her characters in her stories. It was an escape from her harsh reality in the real world…
She’s so shy when you come up to her. Don’t you know she’s a beast under this mask? That she’s not as picturesque as the others?
Yet your kindness makes her knees turn to jelly and her heart leap in her chest in hopes it will escape its prison made of bones. Perhaps you were her chance at real life romance rather than the comforts of the printed texts in her books?
Ignacia is delusional. She overthinks every interaction you have with her. If you touch her hand on accident, she believes it’s because you’re shy! She’s shy too! If you compliment her eyes, she will try to wear masks that show off her eyes more. She’s so ecstatic that she shakes whenever she receives words of praise from you. It’s so exciting! Ignacia is living out a fairy tale romance!!
Ignacia began to build a perfect image of you in her head. To her, you were the perfect princess in a fairy tale book and she was the knight that would save you from the monsters (the other villagers). You were kind and sweet, the kind that needed to be locked away so nothing could harm you.
Ignacia begins to decorate your future home with her! She will ask more questions and bout your hobbies and interests so she can make it all perfect for you! She will incorporate your favorite colors and themes just to make it into your dream space! A pretty cage for her pretty princess!
Ignacia simply wants to keep you safe from harm. She doesn’t want you to ever injure or harm yourself. Her carelessness had landed her in her own predicament and she wouldn’t dare let you suffer the same fate. Ignacia was your knight in shining armor!
“Buenos díaz, mi amor!” Ignacia beamed at you while she handed you some breakfast. You were confused on your whereabouts, but Ignacia simply crinkled her eyes up from under her mask (she smiled). “Did you sleep well, mi princesa?”
“Ignacia? Where am I-“
“¡Estás en casa! !Donde perteneces!” Ignacia giggled as she affectionately pressed her mask into your cheek. Home? What did she mean by home? “Estás a salvo aquí, mi princesa. Para siempre.”
#female reader#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere lesbian#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere harem#yandere original character#original work#obsessive yandere#yandere obsession#yandere assassin#yandere hitman#yandere bodyguard#protective yandere#stalker yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere short story#yandere imagines#yandere concept#yandere insert#yandere male#male yandere#yandere female#female yandere
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Moral Dilemma
Your morality is tested at a monthly family dinner that gets interrupted by two masked men.
@seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111 @chimmy-licious
Word Count:7.317
Warning: yandere themes, dark themes, smut, coercion/dubcon/ violence, blood, multiple character deaths, stalking, slight gunplay, oral (f receiving), spitting, dirty talking, fingering, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, creampie,
Halloween Masterlist
The drive to your parents home was a long one - about an hour from your apartment in the city. It was a drive you dreaded taking. Not because of how far it was, but because you knew who you’d be seeing upon entering.
Your mother was someone you loved dearly, but was someone you’d rather keep at a distance. She was the type to constantly ask about your love life, wondering when you’d be married and have children. A career didn’t matter to her if there was a man wealthy enough to marry and settle down with. The amount of times she stated that you’re wasting your youth on working in a useless field and should look into marrying could be counted on both hands.
Your father was the boastful type - he bragged about any and everything he could. His cars, houses, business - it all. You couldn’t fault him, however. He claimed that he had to start from the bottom and work his way up, but even he was someone who looked down upon your choice to work instead of using your privileged last name.
With two parents came four children, you being the second youngest. Your elder brother was the first to follow in your fathers footsteps and take over one business. He was married and had no children yet much to your mothers dismay.
Your older sister was who you bumped heads with constantly - a carbon copy of the mother you shared. She hadn’t worked ever and had taken your mothers advice and married a close friend of the family - the age difference is a bit alarming, but you didn’t dwell on it often.
Your younger brother and final child was a breath of fresh air. He had not yet been corrupted by your parents' views thus far and was only a freshman in college. He opted to stay on campus unless he had to come home - like today. Only he and you were the most distant to the rest while remaining close to one another.
Your call pulls into the large estate and you release a deep sigh. You were the last to arrive, familiar cars in your line of vision. You pull next to your eldest brother's silver ferrari - a gift from your father when he graduated college. You contemplated slamming your door against his to chip the paint, but decided against it. You and your brother had no real issue - but you still held a grudge when he laughed at a joke your sister had said one day, completely embarrassing you in the process.
Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way up the stone stairs. You were greeted with a wide smile of one of many workers that night - the oldest worker your parents hired decades ago.
“Sofia.” you bow to the older woman who does the same. “WIll you be joining us for dinner tonight?”
Sofia shakes her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “I never do. I will be making my leave shortly.”
You giggle. “I could only hope you’d stay.” was your response.
Every monthly dinner your parents hosted always ended in a mess. Your sister and you bickering with one another, your mother having one too many glasses of wine while your father became enraged in a conversation about politics with your older brother.
The estate is quiet upon entering. You made sure to come around this time. Dinner would soon be done and all you had to do was have dinner, mingle a bit for your younger brother, and then leave.
You wished your boyfriend was here with you. It would make things easier for you. You could make an excuse to even leave earlier because he was with you - next time hopefully.
You remove your heels at the door and make your way down the hall to the dining area. Your nostrils are filled with the scent of dinner and your stomach churns. Your father was an amazing cook, much to outsiders' surprise. You recalled many times he would cook and give your mother the credit - she was the type to burn water.
You enter the large dining room. You noticed the table has changed - the dark brown wooden table changed to a glass one, surrounded by off white chairs. It makes the room brighter as the chandelier above it illuminates throughout the room.
“Well, it’s about time.”
Your mood soured at the voice of your sister.
“How long were you planning on making us wait for you?”
Your eyes glance her way. She wore an annoyed look on her face. Your older brother had been munching on a piece of bread, not sparing you a second glance.
“You’re the only one waiting for me to eat.” you say, noticing even your younger brother chewing. You took the seat besides him, patting his shoulder as you did so.
Your sister sucks her teeth, but she doesn’t respond.
The food is displayed in the center of the table and you waste no time in making your own plate. The last time you ate was this morning with your boyfriend and decided to skip lunch so you had room for dinner.
Conversation erupts throughout the table, you and your younger brother deciding to speak amongst one another. He spoke about his college classes and the parties he attends - everything you know due to social media. He speaks fondly of a person, making sure not to be too loud for listening ears to hear. He breezes past the word he before flushing and changing the subject - all you could do was smile.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
And of course, that voice speaks once more.
“Where’s your husband?” you retort.
“Not tonight.” your mother says warningly after your older brother snorts. She takes a sip of her wine and you want to repeat her words but bite your tongue.
“I wasn’t the one who said I would be bringing someone.” your sister takes a sip of water and raises her brows. “Now, where’s this boyfriend of yours?”
Her tone doesn’t go unnoticed. She thinks you’re lying about your boyfriend- you’re aware. You don’t feel the need to post him on social media and vice versa - the most you did was introduce him once during a facetime call with your younger brother, but that was all. Your older brother never pried into your life and you didn’t want to hear your mothers constant questions of marriage.
“He has to work.” you shrug.
“Sure.” your sister takes a bite of her steak.
You blink your eyes away to your mother who’s already staring at you.
“Hopefully we’ll meet him next time.”
You remain silent. You weren’t going to engage in yet another argument with her like she desired. You decided on picking up your fork and sinking your teeth into the steak.
“If he exists.”
You drop your fork harshly. It slams against the glass plate.
“Not again.” your older brother murmurs.
“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” you hiss at her.
“You supposedly have been dating someone for almost a year.” she shrugs her shoulders. “But we never see him.”
“Why would I bring him here?” you retort. “So you can continue to be a bitch?”
“Oh, I struck a nerve.” she giggles. “I’m not the one lying-”
“Lying?!” you snicker.
“Y/N has nothing to prove to any of us.” your younger brother defends with a roll of his eyes. “He does exist. I met him.”
“Oh, really?” your sister leans forward interested. “So did the both of you share details on your boyfriends?”
Your hands clench while your younger brother stiffens.
“That’s enough.” your older brother hisses, raising his hand in front of your sister. “You’re going too far.”
“What does she mean boyfriends?” your mother slurs and now you’re ready to pounce on your sister for her slick mouth.
“Nothing.” you, your younger and older brother say in unison. “I think we should just eat in silence.” your older brother grumbles.
“As do I.” your father quips.
“Your daughter,” your sister points to you. “is a liar. And your son,” she points to your younger brother besides you. “is gay.”
Your father stops eating while your older brother sighs.
“You can’t have anyone else be happy, can you?” you stand to your feet with a shake of your head. “What the fuck-”
“Y/N it’s okay.” your younger brother murmurs, but the soft tone indicates that it wasn’t okay in the slightest. Even if there was speculation on his sexuality, your mother was in denial and constantly asked him of girlfriends or flings that he was just end up lying about going on dates with the girls she’d set him up with. Luckily, said girls were kind enough to hold up the lie.
“Yes, Y/N. It’s okay.” your sister shrugs. “You can admit that you don’t have a boyfriend and we can all accept our baby brother for who he is.”
“Are you that miserable with life?” you ask. “Does that husband of yours not please you enough that you want to come here and fuck with everyone else lives? Or is it because he’s going broke?”
The table grows silent at the new revelancing. Your sister reddens with embarrassment, her hand clenching the glass of water in her hand.
“Is that true?” your mother slurs.
“Yes, it is.” you giggle, taking your seat. “Tell us how your dear old husband has filed for bankruptcy.”
Your older brother widens his eyes at you with a head shake. He was the one to tell you after he had heard mumblings from his own group of friends - the both of you laughed at the irony. Your sister had gloated that she married rich while already being rich - and now look where that got her.
“You sit around and try to make our lives hell because yours is.” you spit at your sister. “You fucked an old man for money just for him to end up broke.” you shake your head with another laugh. “I’m sure father would let you move back in. Just ask.”
Your sister stands, slamming her manicured hands against the table and before she can scream at you, she falls back.
The glass window directly behind you shatters. Particles of glass dance off your skin. The room erupts in screams and cries. Your eyes blink open and widen at the sight before you.
Your sister is bleeding, clutching her shoulder. Blood pools out from, coating her hands and staining her shirt.
Your older brother is the first to respond. He grabs a cloth and places it against the wound, a loud cry erupting from her throat.
“W-What the fuck?” your younger brother is in shock, unable to move from his seat. Your mother is crying and your father is patting his pockets for his phone. “We have to call the police-”
Another shot rings out, this time louder. You grasp your younger brother and fall to the ground, watching in horror as your father falls to his knees. He clenches his stomach, blood oozing out of him, as well.
Your eyes swell with tears, mind racing with confusion. You’re unsure what to do to help, completely frozen with fear. You hold your brother against you tightly, afraid that he would be the next one shot.
From beneath the table, your eyes catch dark leather boots. You're paralyzed with fear at the sight of two pairs of feet rushing forward. You hear another shot ring out, your older brother wincing. His body drops to the ground while he begins to bleed. The bleeding wound is on his shoulder similar to your sisters, but the next one is right between his eyes.
“Please! D-Do you want money?!” your mother cries, her arms wrapping around your deceased brother.
You are the next to scream. The glass table is flipped, shattering against the marble floor. Your brother holds onto you tighter, but only for a second. He’s being ripped away from you and now it’s your turn to plead.
“N-No! Take me! Just leave-”
A black gun is placed against your brother's head. His eyes are closed while soft tears are spilling out of his eyes. You’re afraid to move or speak for his sake.
The masked man is tall. He sports a completely black attire with an all white chilling mask that hides his eyes.
The masked man’s partner sends a shot to your mother and her crying stops, but you’re unable to look her way. The eyeless holes of the masked man before you paralyze you in fear.
“P-Please…” you begin to cry. Your father whimpers behind you while your sister is crying behind the masked man. Your older brother and mother are dead and you don’t want your younger brother to follow suit. “W-We have money…just don’t hurt him. W-What is it that you w-want?”
You gasp when the masked man slams the handle of his gun against your brother's head. He falls to the ground limp. “He isn’t dead.” the second masked man says from across the room, voice muffled. “Yet.”
“P-Please don’t kill us.” you begged, bowing lower to show your mercy. Your hands rest above your head and you feel the broken glass of the window pinching your skin.
You scream once you feel your hair being tugged. The masked man in front of you forces you to your feet. You don’t want to look the man in the face - the white emotionless mask frightened you. You’re unsure who these men are and what they truly wanted with you. You assumed money - your father being well known as wealthy and your family name was just as out there. But did they have to kill you all one by one to get money? You would have given them anything in the home - fine jewelry, expensive art pieces and furniture and more - if they allowed your family to be unharmed.
You stiffen when you feel the cold gun against your lips. The masked man taps it a few times. Your heart jumps out of your chest when you realize what he’s expecting of you. You open your mouth slowly, shuddering when you feel the gun slide between your lips.
The masked man turns to face your sister who’s watching with wide eyes. Her clothing is stained with her own blood and you’re unsure how long she’d last until she passed out due to her injuries.
The gun slides deeper inside your mouth. Your eyes close, breathing hitching. You’re unsure if he’s doing this to scare you - because it’s obviously working - or a way to defile you even further.
The gun is removed from your mouth. You hear footsteps begin to kick up. Your eyes blink open to find the second masked man grabbing your sister and hoisting her up. “W-What are you doing?!”
Your sister hisses at the harsh treatment as she’s being rushed out of the dining room. You want to follow her - to reach out and help her, but you can’t. The masked man is in front of you, dark eye sockets on you.
“Y/N.”
The sound of your name being heard by the masked man causes you to shudder. You’re shocked - goosebumps roaming your body. Did the man behind the mask know you? Your family? You do not recognize the voice even if it is muffled behind the mask nor do you recognize the stature of his body.
“You know my name.” you murmur. You begin to think that maybe this is someone that was wronged by your family - a long list that would possibly take all night to go over in your mind. “D-Do I know your name?”
The masked man is silent for a moment, so much that you’re unsure if he heard you.
“Do-”
“I heard you.” the masked man interrupts. “No, you do not.”
You hands begin to tremble. That doesn’t tell you who he is, what he wants or any motives. You not knowing who is was didn’t mean that you didn’t know you and your family - or if he was ever wronged by them.
“I can tell you’re thinking so hard.” you stiffen when he brings up a gloved hand to touch your cheek. “You’re wondering why we’re doing this. Why am I here before you?”
The man is touching you so softly, his gloved thumb rubbing along your cheek. You want to sob at his actions..
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”
Your breathing hitchens when his hand slides down to your neck and he takes a single step closer to you. Your mind is screaming at you, alarm bells are ringing.
“You’re afraid. Understandable.”
The gloved hand drops back to its side and he tilts his head.
“Who are you?” you whisper. As much as your heart beats for an answer, you’re sure that you’re afraid to find out. What if you saw his face and knew exactly who he was - then what? What would he do to you then upon knowing his face and name? “There must be something you want from me?”
The masked man moves slowly. He removes his gloves and drops them upon the floor effortlessly. He’s young - you can always tell the age of a person by looking at their hands. They appeared soft and young. Fingernails trimmed and cleaned - you snap your eyes away and into the eyeless sockets.
“I do want something from you.”
“Money?” you ask hopefully, even if in your heart you’re sure that if that's what he wanted, there would be a robbery instead of blatant murder.
“I have more than enough money. Especially in my profession.” you hear a tint of amusement in his muffled tone. “Down the hall to the right, there’s a bathroom, correct?”
Just who the hell was this man and how long had he been following you - and your family?
“Yes.”
“Lead the way.”
It’s a command. Your eyes lower to your younger brother’s unmoving body, surrounded by broken glass and splattered blood.
“He'll remain alive.” the masked man says. “You have my word.”
Somehow, his word didn’t mean much - but you decided that if you did as you were told that you, your sister and brother would remain alive. Just as long as you sacrifice yourself.
You sauntered down the quiet hallway to the nearest bathroom - a large room with high ceilings and a whole wall dedicated to a large mirror. You can feel the man close behind you. As you open the door for the both of you, he’s quick to close it behind him.
“Turn around.”
Another command. You do as you’re told, unsure what the masked man wants from you. Your beating heart has a clue.
As you turn, your eyes meet his - not the socketless ones of the mask. Dark brown eyes laying upon a smooth, young face. You feel hot with embarrassment when your eyes don’t blink - they continue to stare. His hair is dark and shiny, a single strain hanging on his forehead while the rest didn’t appear out of place in the slightest. His lips are pink and full, moisturized just as his skin.
You didn’t know who this man was but the sight of his catches you by surprise.
“My name’s Hoseok.”
Hoseok.
Hoseok.
You didn’t know a Hoseok.
“Hoseok…”
Hoseok is a bit easier to read when his mask is off. His eyes widen only for a slight moment at you repeating his name.
“Please, Hoseok.” you’re frightened to the core. This man is a killer along with his partner. Your mind can only wonder what in the world he’s doing with your sister. “W-Whatever you want. I can give it. Just please don’t hurt my brother and sister.”
You hear Hoseok sigh. He shakes his head with a low tsk. “You are so naive, Y/N.” he places a hand upon your cheek once more. “So caring. But that’s what I love about you.”
Your eyebrows knit together.
“I’ve known you for over a year now.” Hoseok begins. “I watched as you went to work each day even if you’re worth millions. You lived in a condo in the city - smaller than what you’re accustomed to.”
Hoseok’s thumb outlines your lips.
“Every now and then you would visit your brother and spend the day with him. You would also hang out with your boyfriend when he wasn’t cheating.”
Your eyes blink a few times at his words. Cheating?
“Of course you didn’t know.” Hoseok hums. “But I do. He’s been cheating on you for months now, baby. Dye red hair with split ends. Name’s-”
“Bella.” you murmur, the short description as all you needed. “His-”
“Best friend.” Hoseok finishes.
You look away from Hoseok.
You want to feel sad about your boyfriend's cheating, but you are beginning to feel numb. In normal circumstances, you’d possibly cry at how naive you were - clueless. You should have seen this coming long ago by just how close Bella and he were, but you didn’t want to appear insecure bringing it up to him.
But again, you aren’t as sad as you want to be. You had lost three members of your family thus far and your sister was hurt while your brother knocked unconscious.
“You’re not like them.” Hoseok’s voice drags you back to reality. “You aren’t as horrible as them.”
“They didn’t deserve to die.” you quip.
“Your father has done some fucked up things in the past. Your brother following in his footsteps.” Hoseok twirls a strand of your hair between both his index and thumb. “Your mother was just a nuisance. I know how much she put you down for not being like her.”
Just how much did Hoseok know about you and your family?
“You and your brother are the only hope left.” Hoseok murmurs. “The only two that aren’t far gone.”
You shake your head slightly.
“Even your sister is far gone.”
“Please-”
“Ssshh.”
Hoseok’s finger lifts to your lips to hush you.
“Turn around.”
You feel Hoseok’s hands upon your shoulders as you face the mirror. His eyes watch yours through the reflection.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”
“So are you.” you murmur, the hot feeling coming back. You’re unsure what Hoseok’s true intentions were, but his admission told you that he knows more than enough. And you had already seen what he is capable of.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” Hoseok says. “You don’t have to say anything to flatter me.”
“I’m not.” you swallow. You happen to think Hoseok was an attractive person - if you would have met him under other circumstances, you would be swooning. It’s difficult to ignore the elephant in the room even if the man is attractive.
Hoseok offers a smile. You ponder just how someone who appears so innocent and nice could be a killer - you wonder what he and his partner truly was. Hitmen? Assassins?
Hoseok’s eyes never leave yours, not even as his hands lower to touch along your neck then to your collarbone.
“How did you…find me?” you’re unsure of the word to use.
“A client.”
You inhale.
“I’m sure you know what I am by now, baby. Hitman?”
You exhale. Your conscience was right. Someone had hired him to do this to your family.
“I was paid to kill your family.”
Hoseok’s words replay in your mind. All you can think about is how he managed to do so - your mother, father and brother were already gone. By Hoseok’s words, your sister will be next.
“Taehyung and I are not monsters. We killed those we saw fit.” You feel Hoseok’s body press against yours, radiating warmth. “We take on these jobs as hitmen, but we make sure those who are paid to kill are worth killing. Your brother and you…are not.”
You blink. It feels sick to feel satisfied that he had no intentions on harming you and your brother - as the rest of your family lay dead.
“We take money upfront to do the job. We kill the client if we feel as if the target does not deserve death.”
You swallow when Hoseok’s hands begin to lower. His hands halt upon your chest and right above your heart. He feels it thump.
“Are you scared of me, Y/N?” Hoseok questions.
“You said you weren’t going to hurt me.” you respond to him. Your head leans back against his chest, eyes never leaving him in the mirror.
“You have my word. You and your brother are safe.”
You gulp.
Your father was dead, as was your mother and brother. Your sister - if she was still alive - was going to be soon. You had nothing left to lose besides your own life and that of your brother. Hoseok has been following you for a year now and knew everything - there was no escaping him.
Maybe if you gave him what he wanted, you could keep your sister alive.
“Is she still alive?”
“Your sister? For now, yes.”
You nod your head.
“What do you want from me, Hoseok?” you had a clue. “What happens after all of this?”
You watch his expression change. He hasn’t thought about it that far as of yet, you note.
“I don’t want you to fear me.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t want you to leave me, either.”
You feel Hoseok press himself even tighter against you.
He inhaled deeply. There was no escaping Hoseok.
“I won’t leave you.” you murmur. “There isn’t anywhere for me to go. You’ve had eyes on me for a long time.”
Hoseok again smiles. He places a kiss against the back of your head and inhales the fresh scent of your hair. “I knew keeping you alive was a good choice, baby. You’re smart and kind. You actually care about people.” His words are sinister and they replay in your mind. You ponder when Hoseok actually thought about keeping you alive and what you’ve done that had his decision forming. You feel uneasy thinking about how he has been watching you this entire time and you never felt his presence. There was never a time in the last year that you felt eyes upon you - or if anyone was following you in the slightest.
In the end, there was no escaping Hoseok - so you wouldn’t even try.
“Do you want me, Hoseok?”
Hoseok is a dangerous man - him and his partner. Taehyung was his name; a name you didn’t recognize, either. He was hired to kill your family by an unknown person or organization - he followed you for over a year now and knows your routine. He became infatuated within that time. The reason you were truly unsure of, but you could use this to your advantage. Though you do not truly understand what Hoseok wants in the end of all of this - a romantic relationship or just sexual encounter - you were determined to do it. To stay alive through it all - maybe you could convince him that your sister was even worth saving.
You turn to face Hoseok, placing your hands against his chest. “Do you want me, Hoseok?” you repeat, your voice lowering to a murmur. Your hands rub up his chest to his shoulders. He’s solid, stiff shoulders jolting as if you sent a bolt of electricity through them.
“Y/N…?” Hoseok murmurs, his hand touching yours as it reaches his cheek. “...do you want me to kill your boyfriend?”
You try not to react to his question. Slowly, you shake your head.
“Do you still love him?”
You don’t want to anger Hoseok. In a way you did love him - you assumed the love was reciprocated. In hindsight, you should have known the love he had for someone he considered a friend would be stronger.
“It would gather suspicion if my brother, sister and I survived this and then he died, don’t you think?”
Hoseok hums. Your words don’t go unnoticed by him - you were trying to keep your sister alive with everything you had in you to offer.
“I suppose you are.”
It’s insane to think Hoseok is a hitman. You would consider such a beauty of a man to be literally anything else - a model or an actor of sorts. You wondered what his partner looked like and if he was just as beautiful.
“I’ve watched you for a long time, Y/N.”
Your hands were becoming sweaty, nervous on where this was going to go with Hoseok.
“You said you aren’t afraid of me, right?”
You nod your head, but even Hoseok knew this was a lie. You stand before him and it would appear that you were fearless, but your eyes were glossy, having cried all the tears you could. You were shuddering with each breath you took - but you were a determined woman and this is one of the reasons he adored you. You were so selfless in a family full of selfish individuals.
“Okay.” Hoseok grasps the hand from his cheek and presses a firm kiss upon it. “Then there shouldn't be any secrets.”
You’re positive Hoseok can hear your heart quickening.
“I’ve watched you for so long. I’ve been in your home as you slept. While you showered.”
Hoseok’s eyes watch the shock go through your expression, even if you didn’t want to look it.
“I stayed and viewed the way you’d touch yourself at night. Your moans were so lovely, pure. A raw reaction from someone who thinks they’re alone. But you were almost never alone, Y/N. I always followed you.”
Hoseok’s free hand grabs your waist. He pulls you closer to him and it’s painfully obvious that he’s excited about recanting the times he’s watched you touch yourself.
“But as I watch, Y/N, I think how deep down you knew someone was there. You would always display yourself willingly for me, widen your legs in my direction and put on a show just for me.”
It’s then that you feel Hoseok’s hand glide down and it’s now gripping your ass.
His words cause you to feel hot - humiliated. The thought of you not being alone while you touched yourself is horrifying enough.
And even more horrifying that his admission causes you to clench your legs.
“I often speculate just how wet you’d be wrapped around my fingers. How you’d taste. Feel.”
Hoseok becomes more touchy, allowing your hand to fall from his cheek so he can bring you even closer to him - how was it possible? You had no idea.
The room begins to feel ever hotter, Hoseok radiating such warmth. His lips bury between your neck and he leaves open mouth kisses upon it.
“Would you give me a taste, Y/N?”
You were positive that you’d end up in Hell right alongside Hoseok. Your body shouldn’t be reacting this way to a man that has been hired to kill your family - especially when said man has admitted to stalking you for a good amount of time now. The bodies of your family lay dead and unconscious in the next room - who even knows what Taehyung is doing to your sister now.
“Y-Yes.”
Hoseok chuckles, a dark look in his eyes. He’s quick to push you deeper inside the bathroom and hoist your body so you’re sitting upon the sink. He’s quick to remove your pants, not being gentle in the slightest.
“Red’s a scandalous color.” Hoseok murmurs, a hand coming out to touch the wet patch right in the center of your panties. “You’re so wet, dripping all over the place. I’m sure I could slide right in now if I wanted to.”
Hoseok slides your panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your clit. You want to cover yourself at how intense his stare was, the hot feeling of embarrassment running rampant through you.
You gasp when Hoseok dives right, his tongue laying flat against your clit. It catches you by surprise even if it shouldn’t have. His tongue flicks your clit hungrily - he’s been waiting for this moment. The countless times he had watched you so closely as you touched yourself, he could only lick his lips and take in the moment.
Now, Hoseok could revel in the fact that he had you right where he wanted you.
Hoseok lifts his lips from your lips to spit upon your clit before diving back in. He suckles upon your clit, his hands pushing down onto your thighs.
You bite your lips to dead the moan threatening to release. Your thighs shake with the forbidden pleasure, your mind going blink. You cannot recall the last time you’ve been eaten out by a man - your (now ex) boyfriend didn’t exactly enjoy doing it.
Hoseok lifts once more, pushing your panties to the side further. His eyes dip up to meet your hooded ones, licking his lips from your sweet taste.
“How does it feel, Y/N?” Hoseok murmurs his question, hand slapping your clit. You jolt, gasping at the sudden action. “You’re dripping all over the place for me.”
Hoseok slaps your pussy a second time, then a third, then fourth. He doesn’t stop until you’re shuddering beneath him and even wetter than before. It’s sinister to be here beneath him - your sister in the next room bleeding out, brother unconscious and selfish family members deceased.
“You like what I do to you, don’t you, baby?” Hoseok chuckles, dimples showing and eyes sparkling with lust. He inches his index and middle finger inside of you, thumb pressed against your clit. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?”
Hoseok begins to thrust inside of you. It’s evident now that he was a dominant person - the kind that’s always in charge. He doesn’t give you any mercy, fiercely pumping.
Hoseok hovers upon you, his eyes bouncing between your dripping pussy to your face. He groans, the idea of ruining you shoots deep within him and down to his core.
“H-Hoseok, please-”
“Shut up.” Hoseok hisses, voice deepening. He removes his fingers from inside your shortly just to slap your clit once more. You scream out at the loss of pleasure and the sudden sting. Without much warning, he enters his fingers inside of you once more, continuing his hellish pace. “I don’t want to hear you make a sound, Y/N.” Hoseok hisses, leaning down to come face to face with you. “Understood?”
The dominant type was what Hoseok definitely was. At first glance, you would assume he was a nice person. His smile was bright and it reached his eyes, appearing an innocent everyday man. But he was hired to kill your family and now - after doing so - you allowed him between your legs.
You were destined to go to Hell, especially when you nod your head at Hoseok’s command.
You bite your lip and allow whatever moan to subside. Your eyes are fluttering shut, hips jutting. Your head leans back, pussy clenching around Hoseok’s fingers.
“I thought you were going to be a difficult catch.” Hoseok’s breath is hot against your face. “Thought I was going to have to force you to obey me.”
A moan releases from your throat unwillingly and you whimper at the act, knowing that you had gone against Hoseok once more.
Hoseok hisses, shaking his head. He removes his fingers and a slap rings across the bathroom. You open your eyes to look at him and Hoseok could only chuckle - such eyes filled with lust. You were truly a vixen, the perfect match made for him.
“Since a whore like you cannot listen.” your eyes watch Hoseok mess with the belt of his pants. You swallow, stomach churning in anticipation. “I’ll have to fuck the submission into you.”
Hoseok’s big, but you don’t have the chance nor time to marvel at the sight of him. He’s already forcing his way inside of you - but you’re so wet that it isn’t an issue entering.
Hoseok’s hands slap against your lips, roughly pushing you back and against the wall. His eyes, dark and filled with lust, bore into your own. He begins to thrust, pace fast and brutal.
“I though…fuck - that I’d have to force you to obey me.” Hoseok continues his speech. You can hear his clear as day, even with his grunts and the sound of wet skin slapping together.
“But you were a good little whore for me, Y/N. You did obey me.”
You could only swallow, breathing intensified.
“Just how,” Hoseok groans deeply, eyes blinking. You were so tight and wet - clenching around him lovingly. “J-Just how I knew you would.”
Hoseok releases his hand from your lips to clench both of your hips roughly. He continues his pace, eyes fixed on your pussy coating his cock.
You were going to cum, angered that you couldn’t scream out like you desired. Deep down, however disturbing it was, you enjoyed the control and dominance this man had over you. His hand that once fell over your mouth still feels warm, as if it was still there.
“You’re finally mine, Y/N. All mine.” Hoseok growls, thrusts sloppy. His mind flashes with the many ways he could claim you; control you. “Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to control.” Hoseok’s fingernails dig into your skin. “You’d like that, huh?”
Your head is nodding, breathing hitching. Your eyes squeeze close and it’s only when your cheeks feel wet do you realize you’re crying. Now you’re sure you’d be humiliated once the deed was done.
“You’re crying.” Hoseom chuckles. He leans down, tongue licking at your tear stained cheeks. “So pretty when you cry. So…so submissive for me.” Hoseok lips trail from your cheeks to your lips. He presses a firm kiss to your lips, hips slowing their pace, but they’re still deep and rough.
You’re cumming, creaming Hoseok’s cock like the submissive girl you were for him - tightening so much so that he can’t help but do the same. His mind flashes - he can’t wait until he has you in all the ways he wants. Tied up, begging for him. Maybe even he’d allow you to take control some days - he wanted it all.
“What is he doing to her?” your sister asks Taehyung, bullet wound wrapped. She leans against the wall of the kitchen. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
Taehyung doesn’t respond, only glancing the girl's way and snickering. The mask lays on the ground and he’s checking his watch upon his wrist.
Taehyung himself was growing impatient, having accompanied Hoseok to this job. It was about three months prior that Hoseok had come to him about the job. He had stated that he followed a girl - you - for nearly a year at that point. He spoke of you fondly, called you pretty and stated that you were different from your sister and the rest of the family.
“Can you not hear me talking to you?” your sister hisses, clenching her fists. “I’m paying good fucking money-”
“You haven’t paid us fully yet.” Taehyung interrupts, voice deep and laced with annoyances. “Don’t think we haven’t done our own research.”
Your sister gulps.
Every hitmen had their own desired price, Hoseok splitting the large amount with him. Half was due up front and the other would be due after the deed is done - Taehyung knows well enough that your sister was broke. Her husband had gone bankrupt and seemingly all she had left was a wealthy last name with no money to show for it.
However, killing your entire family and you being the sole survivor would garner her a large sum of inheritance and fame. She once bragged that she could even write a book about the situation - being the sole survivor of a hit put out on her family. She even instructed them to make sure she was hurt in the process.
“I just want to make sure everything happens smoothly.” your sister murmurs, eyes glancing away.
“Putting a hit on your entire family isn’t exactly something that can go smoothly.”
Your sister whips her head around to Taehyung, but her eyes meet yours. You appeared disheveled, hair a mess and eyes puffy. “Y/N-”
“You did this?” you murmured to her, Hoseok behind you. Taehyung, another beautiful man just as Hoseok, but you had no time to dwell, stood against the nearest wall.
“Why isn’t she dead?” your sister avoids your eyes and screams directly to Hoseok. Her voice cracks. “I-I..we had an agreement.”
“I may be a hitman, but I still have morals.” Hoseok responds. “If the people you want dead do not deserve death, then who am I to give it?”
Your sister shakes her head. She inhales deeply. “That’s not what we agreed on.”
You swallow, throat tight. It begins to ache and your vision turns blurry. Your heart aches just as your throat. The hit that was put out against your family was not one from a wronged employee, or someone that you barely knew. It came from inside the home.
You and your sister had your own differences, but you would have never thought life would become like this.
“I thought you were dying.” you blinked away, voice dangerously low. “I was willing…” you scoff. It didn’t matter what you were willing to do to help your sister because in the end, you were never intended to get this far. If it was any other hitman besides Hoseok, you would have surely been dead. “...I gave myself to the hitman you hired in hopes he’d keep you alive.”
Your sister doesn’t meet your eyes - she refuses to.
The thought of your younger brother being dead crosses your mind and fist clenches.
“I want you to have the final decision if she lives or dies.”
Hoseok’s voice booms behind you. For a second, it was as if time stood still. Your eyes bore into your sister, and only now did she meet your eyes.
“W-What?” your sister's voice drops and she attempts to step closer, but it’s Taehyung that raises his gun does she stop.
Your sister catches the way Hoseok’s hands land upon your shoulders, gently rubbing. She shakes her head.
You don’t speak at first, eyes looking straight at your sister. It was her turn to cry, whimpering softly. This wasn’t part of her plan - she never intended on any survivors but her. You’re unsure how she planned for everything to come together - would she grieve you and your family? If so, would it be a genuine sadness or a fabricated one?
“My brother,” you say, head only turning slightly towards Hoseok. “would not be harmed?”
“You have my word.” Hoseok repeats the same sentence as he did in the bathroom. “You and him would always be safe.”
You inhale.
You never would have thought you’d be in a situation such as this - but how could you forgive her? Can you just let her go and come together a month from now at another family dinner? The thought alone was comical - what would stop her from just trying to kill you herself?
“How would my brother and I not be caught in this mess?”
Your sister clasps her hand over her mouth, holding in a whimper.
“Leave it to me, baby.” Hoseok squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll take care of everything.”
You take your eyes off of your sister and turn fully to Hoseok. He offers you a smile - a kind and genuine one. His eyes were warm and for a moment, you actually felt safe. As insane as it was, you believed his words.
“Kill her.” you say to him. “I have to go check on my brother.”
You already told yourself you were going to Hell for what you’ve allowed Hoseok to do to you in the bathroom, but you solidified it as you strolled out of the kitchen, ignoring the cries of your sister followed by a loud gunshot.
#test your morality#bts smut#bangtanwritershq#btsmasterlist2022#bangtan smut#btswritersclub#hoseok yandere#hitman hoseok#hoseok x reader#explicit-tae#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#moral dilemma#bts yandere#hoseok smut#halloween masterlist#trivia-yandere halloween masterlist
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I’ve been seeing a lot of andweaso’s Agent Red in my YouTube Shorts and I really have to start writing for my other projects
So I present to you:
YANDERE SPY AGENCY! OCS x READER : SHORT INTRODUCTION
from my set of ocs planned for a webtoon called Honey Fatalis (which you can read more about in the tag #HONEY FATALIS 🔪)
YOU ARE THE HIVEMIND. Quite literally the ruler of information and data across the planet. You had dirt on anyone and everyone. You had the power to start and end wars in an instant.
You, are also an actor. Why take such a high profile job when you had such a volatile career behind the scenes? Well that was simple, no one will ever find out. No one ever could anyways. Besides, as an actor, learning multiple skills such as the use of guns, martial arts, and well acting would seem much less suspicious.
You were known for your cold, distant personality. Often inciting scandals due to other celebrities vying for your attention and promptly throwing a temper tantrum when you refused to do so. You have garnered so much hate and danger that your manager went ahead and hired a couple of bodyguards to prevent any mishaps.
That being said, your bodyguards happen to be the world’s two most dangerous spies.
Spy Agencies loved to pluck their workers from orphanages. It was easier to deal with a person that had no attachments after all. But they could not predict that their geniuses Agent White and Agent Black , would be such big fans of you.
Indeed. Both of them had watched every single media you have been (released to the public or not), and monitored you 24/7. They were quite a nuisance when it came to hiding your identity, but nonetheless useful tools.
You agreed to their hiring precisely due to the things listed above. If they were distracted by you in real life, they’d have less time to stalk you like the obsessive bastards they were.
You didn’t have to do much. Both spies were charismatic people. They often approached you. Eyes filled with admiration and lust as they shielded your body with theirs from paparazzi and the likes. You could hear their labored breaths as they struggled — daresay agonized — to hold you properly instead of this awkward dance they had to do for the sake of formalities.
Of course all things must come to end, and your identity had been forced into the surface by a hitman paid to take your life.
“Oh, Hivemind. If you’d only known how much I have wished to ravish you—“
But perhaps they were more interested in taking you in other ways instead.
#Honey Fatalis 🍯🔪#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagine#yandere oc#yandere fic#yandere x you#yandere oc x reader#yandere concept#yandere spies#yandere hitman#yandere spy#yandere spy x reader#yandere spies x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere scenario#yandere drabble#yandere core#yancore#yandere original character#yandere harem#yandere harem x reader
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Gokudera Hayato
event prompt 9&18:
“Don’t you want a life with me?”
“You were meant to be mine.”
hyperfixation go brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
tw: yandere/toxic possessiveness, mention of murder
What the hell were you saying?
Gokudera finally felt like he knew what his future would look like. Hayato was happy. You were happy. You were happy. Once. Weren’t you?
Your smile used to be so sincere. The way you said his name. The way you would both lay by each others side and twirl the others hair, so in love.
Staring into one another’s eyes like there was nothing else to exist. He had a life to lead, a family to run, and you along side him. You told him over and over you could take the stress of being a mafioso’s girl.
Was that a lie? Or was it him, you couldn’t handle?
He didn’t do anything wrong. You were overreacting. Right. Why else would you say such awful things? You didn’t mean them, right?
About how he didn’t love you anymore. About how you didn’t love him anymore. About how he only ever thought about Tsuna and the Vongola. While it had some truth to it, he only ever had you at heart. It’s always only ever been you.
Why the hell were you trying to break up with him?
“I just.. I can’t keep being put second…” you whispered.
Second to his loyalty, in which dominated everything among your relationship.
“I .. I would just be in the way. You don’t actually want this, me.”
More lies. How many of them have you spilled already?
“I’m sorry, Hayato. I want to be with you too but- but… I always end up hurt.”
You’ve never been hurt once since you’ve started dating. He’s made damn sure of it. How many people has he killed to be with you? To keep you safe from enemy hands? How many times does he have to prove he loves you? Would killing someone in front of you finally prove it?
“I-I’m sorry-“
“Don’t you want a life with me?”
He seethed out through gritted teeth.
“You don’t mean that. Any of it. You’ve always wanted a life with me.” He graveled.
“We had a plan. We talked about our futures, coming home to one another after every day, making pasta, watching scary movies. Falling asleep on the couch, scold Uri for eating what else was left…”
Gokudera reminisced in these memories daily. Every day. He dreamed of the life he would lead as the Vongola Storm Guardian, he dreamed of the home he would visit after every mission. To kiss you becauselike he hadn’t seen you in weeks. To hold you. And never let you go.
“You’re lying, Y/n.”
Gokudera looked at you with such harsh, betrayed eyes. A step forward, and he had your arms in his iron grip.
“I’ll work on my time management. I’ll reap the consequences of my mistakes. You’ll never feel lonely again,” he spewed on, starring deeper and deeper with that crazed look in his eyes.
“But you won’t leave me. You don’t really want to. I know,”
He could feel you trembling under his palms, see the scared look in your eyes. And again, you were under his thumb.
“I know you don’t mean any of it. I’ll do better, anyway. Because I love you,
And you love me too.”
“You were meant to be mine.”
#I expected better from myself#but it is what it is#I hate him#but I love him#katekyo hitman reborn#khr#khr imagines#khr gokudera#gokudera hayato#gokudera x reader#yandere!katekyo Hitman reborn#khr x reader#yandere!khr#yandere gokudera#yandere x reader#yandere writing#yandere
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"If you truly loved me, you should be dead." (Yandere Hitman!Dainsleif/Reader)
a/n: shoutout to rin for giving me that wine prompt, general for making me simp more, and ana for indirectly giving me that final push to write abt dain again lol. Maybe I enjoyed this way too much. Sorry for the b&w manga panels lol.
unreliable summary: Dainsleif– a well-known ex-hitman– recently discovered that his deceased spouse might be alive. Whether or not that’s good news is entirely up to his mental state to decide.
Cw: yandere themes, mafia au, religious themes, major character death, violence, UNRELIABLE NARRATORS, mentions of cancer, and grief mixed with suicidal thoughts. Hurt/no comfort. Please PLEASE prioritize your mental health first before consuming dark content. you matter first and foremost.
“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect, 6:00 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.”
—---
“Get in.”
“B-But what if!–”
“Just get in, Thoma.”
Dainsleif uncapped his hip flask as Thoma trembled at the foreboding skyscraper in front of their smaller and seemingly insignificant stature. He’s not bothered by Thoma’s reaction, besides–
What sane person wouldn’t be intimidated at the sight of a hotel run by criminals?
The Heavenly Principles is a chain of hotels established by the Abyss Order. It is also regarded as a haven for those with blood-stained nails– but never freshly coated hands. The Snezhnayan branch is the cruelest and most frigid one. They won’t bat an eye if you had arrived after a “job”, but it is most certainly a problem if you conducted “business” inside. It’s a neutral territory for the underworld with several ground rules. Rules that, once broken, would result in what is referred to as “ex-communication”… and no one wants the Adjudicator to hunt them down.
As fate would have it, the infamously retired assassin turned "Bough Keeper" aided a corporate bodyguard inside. Thoma spoke about how the Adjudicator was looking for his Lady without ascertaining the reason why. To soothe the "pup"’s nerves, Lord Ayato kindly asked his old friend Dain if he could drag Thoma to Lord Arlecchino. If Dain knew how finicky the lapdog would be, he probably would've turned the favor down.
"Why are you so sure he's not after Ayaka?" Thoma boldly asked.
Dainsleif refrained from sighing.
The only reason Thoma wasn’t afraid of Dainsleif was that the retired hitman made an oath to his spouse that he would never kill again once they were married. Nowadays, Dain’s income relied on mundane “clean-ups” or sometimes disarming bombs. He dismantled himself from his old responsibilities and became the Abyss Order’s errand boy. Currently, his job is the lowest rank yet he remains respected. As the Bough Keeper, his job is to clean up and handle disputes as long as it doesn’t result in the death of any parties.
A bit similar to Thoma’s line of work, but the bodyguard loathes that comparison. In his point of view, Dainsleif’s eyes are terrifyingly empty when compared to his. Thoma fears his eyes. It reminds him of the time he rowed a boat to Inazuma from Mondstadt. Being stuck in the middle of the sea is not what rattles him, it’s when Thoma gazed and saw the difference between the water and skies was heavily blurred, unable to pinpoint where the ocean ends.
That uncertainty makes anyone shake. They’d rather not make an enemy of a man who is one more step to having nothing to lose.
“If Adjudicator Cyno were out to get her, he would’ve surely ended her life by now,” Dainsleif answered, walking without as much letting the bodyguard catch up. “It’s far more likely that he has business with me and not your lady.”
The adjudicator would surely look for him in the next 3 hours.
“But My Lady has–”
“Not caused actions that'll make the Abyss Order turn against her whatsoever.”
Dainsleif stopped by the tinted glass door and Thoma exhaled deeply. They had been walking for hours since the ex-hitman refused to take a taxi. He claimed that a walk would be safer for Thoma. Assassins don’t act kind towards bodyguards, so seeing Dainsleif march beside him (rather, in front of him) is more than enough to secure his safety.
“Rest assured, once you talk to Arlecchino you’d realize that he’s not after the Himegimi.”
“A-And I’m supposed to be more relaxed by the possibility that he’s after her brother instead?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Because the Adjudicator wouldn't thoughtlessly kill the person who runs the Heavenly Principle's Inazuma branch. I'd appreciate it if you think critically.”
Katheryne, the receptionist, opened the hotel's door. She welcomed Dainsleif in, but if her hair was any longer she would’ve slapped her locks against Thoma’s face with how quick she was to turn and disregard his presence.
“Good afternoon, Sir Dainslief, Thoma,” she said in a monotone voice. Her lack of honorifics when addressing the bodyguard was noticeably rude. “Please, do not wait around outside, come on in.”
The hotel looks even more spacious and positively regal inside.
Thoma had anticipated that a place where "lowlives" would find sanctuary would be horribly run-down and neglected, but he cynically understood that money talks—and crime speaks louder. His skin crawls at the idea that the blood money used to construct this infrastructure served as its fundamental foundation, but he lacks the courage to say it.
“So… Do you come here often?” Thoma whispered.
Dainsleif blinked– and Thoma can barely determine the subtle shock on his face.
“... Yes. Yes, I do.”
Dainsleif proceeded to advance toward Katheryne without explaining why he was taken aback by that question.
Thoma normally takes the front line during security disputes in the Kamisato Esate, but this hotel is a very different situation. If the act of clinging onto Dainsleif’s toned arm won’t disparage the Kamisato Clan’s reputation, Thoma would’ve done that in a heartbeat. A few oddballs gave him the side eye, and a ginger-haired man almost charged at Thoma with a makeshift lance before putting it away when he saw Dainsleif.
“Holy shit. It’s the dead Twilight walking!!!” The ginger greeted with empty eyes. “Where’ve you been, comrade?! And what’s with the news we just heard? You gave Skirk an aneurism.”
Dainsleif took a sip of his pocketed Death After Noon with a look in his eyes that screamed “Here we go again.”
“Your concern for me is flattering, Childe,” Dainsleif spoke, bored. “I’m only here for personal matters.”
“Is he a relative of yours?” This “child” squinted his eyes, piercing them against Thoma. “Must say, he looks like a total greenhorn.”
Thoma raised his hand, “I’m–”
“That’s not worthy of your concern, and don't bother him.”
Thoma was grateful for Dainsleif’s nonanswer. The way he phrased it had implications that he might be a VIP and therefore untouchable.
“Alright then, who am I to disrespect a legend’s wishes?” The “child" patted Dainsleif’s shoulder.
“In any case, welcome home for the last time, comrade.”
Dainsleif diverted his gaze.
“Home?”
This place is not his home, he refuses to let it be so. The scent of cocoa truffles, the messy watercolor-ed desk, the bulletin board littered with red threads, and scattered impulsive notes about a character’s dialogue– where is it? Is this stiff hotel Dainsleif’s home when there’s no sign of life– no sign of them? In here, there is no bed to fix, no brushes to dry, no markers to cap–
and no insomniac spouse to forcefully tuck into bed at 2 AM.
A strained laugh exited Dainsleif’s throat, and a burning sensation in his eyes nearly reminded him that he does have emotions he cannot bottle underneath a cool facade. Yet, as that laugh reverberated in the otherwise silent lounging area, the ex-hitman steeled himself. That phantom coil in his chest dissipated and was replaced by something hollow.
Midnight cuddles and drinks with his spouse, watching their eyes crinkle as they ramble about their last horror piece, pulling them closer just to see the stars in their eyes. That scenery? It was his home. It was what street musicians dub like Venti would as happiness. Not the silence after slaughter– not the quiet of the Principle's lounging area.
The Bough Keeper closed his eyes and answered the two oblivious men with a flat voice.
A “home” to get back to...
“I… no longer have a home.”
He's already reached his journey's end. All his bones await now is death himself.
For only death can lead him back home into (Y/n)’s arms again.
Dainsleif sighed.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Childe. Do svidaniya. Extend my greetings to Skirk if you have the chance, and when you try your hand at hunting me down: do your best.”
—-------------
“Found you."
The woman of the hour smirked as she peered over her shoulder. Her luxurious locks of short dark-streaked albino elegantly hair swung as she faced both Dain and Thoma.
“Oh? Well, it’s only because I wanted to be found.”
Dainsleif sat at one of the chairs unperturbed while Thoma tried not to squirm as the Heavenly Principle’s Snezhnayan branch proprietor– Lord Arlecchino– organized her documents. The enormity of Thoma's situation was lost on her. Arlecchino's face was barely wrinkled, a sign that she takes pleasure in her job. Despite carrying out a task that required undivided attention, her piercing stare dug holes in the wall clock. Her lack of focus relieved Thoma, but only for a fleeting moment.
3 hours more, huh?
Arlecchino fished out a paper from her desk pile.
Never been one to beat around the bush, she laid the facts drop-dead on the table with a loud thud.
“(Y/n) is alive, and Her Highness expects that both Dainsleif and Kamisato Ayaka know where they are.”
…
Dainsleif didn’t utter a word.
“E-Excuse me?!” Thoma gasped.
Dain’s spouse died years ago. Much like a cat leaving the house when it knows it will inevitably shake hands with death, (Y/n) vanished when they knew the next month would be their last. Their family on their mother’s side had always been riddled with cancer and similar illnesses. When they muttered sweet phrases about how they wanted his last memories of them to be of them smiling and cheering him on– Dainsleif didn’t question the validity of their death.
So for Arlecchino to say such a thing is a bit…
“There’s no way! Sure, (Y/n) was close friends with the Kamisatos– but My Lady cried during (Y/n)’s funeral. Ayaka had always been honest to a fault– she wouldn’t have been able to lie, act, or keep a secret like this–”
At least, that’s what Thoma assumed. All he has is word-of-mouth from his master and the Darknight Hero’s associates. The Dawn Winery isn’t the most reliable source unless you’re trained at fact-checking rogues and fabulists’ crude testimonies. Thoma may be a streetwise man, but he always exuded naivete when surrounded by men like them.
Dainsleif cut him off immediately.
“Your rambling is as banal as Katheryne asking for “Dinner Reservations” after business. Worse, yours suffer from how unwarranted they are.”
Thoma went silent to both Arlechinno and Dain’s immediate relief. The two understood it as Thoma perceiving a threat, but in reality, the bodyguard just wasn't aware that “dinner reservations” meant cleaning up a crime scene.
“Where is (Y/n)?” The ex-hitman looked at Arlecchino nonchalantly. “If that intel was real, where are they now?”
“Y-You can’t be serious, Dain!” Thoma gawked. “Your spouse died long ago–”
“Where are they now?”
Silence filled the room as the assassin repeated his inquiry with accentuated obstinacy. Dainsleif knows his spouse better than them so Thoma cannot question the widower’s line of thought.
(Y/n) (L/n), may not have been an official criminal in the eyes of the underworld, but they were guilty of multiple accounts of rebellion, sedition, and illegal associations. They penned propaganda in literary mediums and had repeatedly given out tactics on how to dismantle the current system under a 4-lettered pen name, “████”. His spouse was devious by nature and a long-winded conversationalist– which emphasizes a noticeable stark contrast when seated beside their stoic husband.
If they were alive, they must be watching this conversation while suppressing a smirk.
(Y/n) was the type who would laugh at their own funeral. An expiration date made more sense to them than a promise of forever. Fixity made them uneasy. Dainsleif cannot trust others to share a domestic life with them when he is wholly aware that they’ll die from their hereditary illness. (Y/n) sought thrills more than comfort, which is a reason why he can't cross out the possibility that they had grown bored of their marriage and used their health as an excuse to–
No. That’s an awful line of thinking.
(Y/n) loved him.
… Surely, they did?
"Don't lose your composure, Twilight. I'm not saying this so you could drown yourself in grief with fire-waters. I’ve heard word from Pantalone that they’re likely in Sumeru City during the Sabzeruz Festival, but as (Y/n) loved to say–”
“Information always travels faster than people,” Dainsleif closed his eyes, tasting the words as if it was his deceased lover that imparted them themselves. “That leaked intel is as reliable as wet tissue paper.”
(Y/n)’s insight in regards to trends had been prescient– which is a kinder and less pessimistic way to say they likely already knew the adjudicator had been trailing them for some time. Runaways follow oft‐trod paths to free-trade zones– his spouse would be no exception.
That is, of course, if (Y/n) is alive.
But they’re not.
Dainsleif refused to believe it.
If (Y/n) (L/n) truly loved him, they wouldn’t be alive right now.
“Let us temporarily assume that your spouse is alive for the foreseeable future, Dain,” Arlecchino said, noticing Dain’s subtly pained expression. “For the sake of formalities– are you aware of the repercussions you will face if they were?”
“Repercussions…?” Thoma’s eyes widened.
Dainsleif shook his head.
“If it’s as I suspect, then this is a tragic state of affairs.”
“Indeed,” Arlecchino placed a hand on her hip, subtly pushing away her coat to signify her slotted holster. She tilted her chin up menacingly at Thoma.
“Since you can’t catch up, Mister Kamisato Estate Representative, allow me to spell everything out for you– Dainsleif would be formally announced as a “sinner” in the next 3 hours.”
Thoma’s eyes widened, unlike the man who was affected by the news.
“HAAAH?!?”
Dainsleif sipped his flask again, unbothered.
“Sinner” describes individuals who have been banned from all services, resources, and relationships with other members of the criminal underworld. Sinners become a target for any individuals who wish to kill them with a large bounty placed on their heads. And an ex-communication ordained by the Heavenly Principles is a guaranteed high payroll. When it’s the Abyss Order that hands the cash, you’d get more than enough to secure more than a handful of assets. The moment that occurs– Dainsleif would have to run and find connections that would help him plead his case.
They would surely goad everyone with tenfold the normal amount given the Twilight Sword’s intimidating repertoire.
Dain found that amusing.
The nickname “Twilight Sword” he carries is not reserved for anyone else, but mortal arrogation would surely take a jab and see if they can steal the only life he can’t take away.
He’d laugh now if he weren't depressed.
Killing the Twilight Sword, huh? Even he fails to accomplish that.
"That's unreasonable! The sins of a spouse can't be shared–"
"Why don't you keep your mouth shut, blonde?"
Arlecchino snarled.
"Read the room. No one is giving you a turn to speak."
…
Dainsleif cleared his throat, “Back to the matter at hand; Her Highness is under the assumption that my spouse was– or is– conspiring against the Abyss Order. Which, I reassure you, is unlikely given how their last book is an anti-fascist novel with The Crane being alluded to as the protagonist.”
It didn't make sense for (Y/n) to betray the mafia when they were part of the cog that overthrew Osial, Ei, and the rest.
“... The Crane?” Thoma muttered to himself.
Arlecchino sighed gutturally, irritated.
“You might know her as Shenhe. She’s the assassin that overthrew the ex-Capo, Osial,” Arlecchino answered Thoma. “Strange that you don’t know her. I’m certain she had helped with renovating the Kamisato Estate before.”
Thoma answered with a small voice, “I do know Shenhe as my Lady’s friend, but I don’t recall having her help us with our last renovation…”
“But you should’ve remembered that. After all, cranes are the best kind of bird to help you lift planks.”
…
…
…
“... None of you got the joke too? Don’t even think about disparaging me. The joke is not mine, it’s the Adjudicator's.”
Thoma frowned, “I’m sorry, I think it’s too advanced–”
“Stop.” Dainsleif whispered urgently, “Don’t let her explain it. We’re wasting time.”
—-------------
“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect: 2 hours and 30 minutes.”
—-------------
“There’s a fourteen million bounty on your head now, Dain,” Arlecchino said. “If I were more heartless, I would’ve easily planned something. Fourteen million is an impressive starting price.”
“Thank you.”
“P-Please don't thank her. She admitted that she wants to kill you," Thoma begged in a hushed whisper.
As if he doesn't want that to happen.
“Although you have been a loyal customer, I can’t provide any services once the timer runs out,” Arlecchino deadpanned. “You’re a brave one. Sauntering into my hotel when assassins are waiting to strike. It’s as if you have a death wish like my former colleagues.”
“I’ll take my leave then.”
Dainsleif stood up and prematurely exited the conversation, leaving two acquaintances behind.
Arlecchino chuckled. Always up on his feet, that one. She looked at the person who left. It’s clear to her that Thoma does not know what he intended to do next. Thoma fiddled with his fingers, staring blankly.
"It's rude to stare. If you have something to say, spit it out."
Thoma cleared his throat.
"Lord Arlecchino, I was hoping to find out more about My Lady's safety…"
Arlecchino rolled her eyes.
“I’d rather you figure out the truth for yourself. (Y/n) taught us that indoctrination is not education before they ‘passed’, but since I happen to be in a friendly rivalry with Lord Kamisato, I’ll give you your damn reassurance and advice."
Arlecchino grabbed Thoma’s shoulder tightly. Thoma stiffened at her harsh touch, but his determined eyes impressed Arlecchino.
"Ayaka is fine, and Ayaka will be fine."
Arlecchino slid an envelope against his chest. He winced awkwardly at her cold touch and fumbled to receive it.
…
…
After reading the letter, Thoma sighed in relief.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes. Yes, Lord Arlecchino."
"Good."
No one outside the room knew at that time what the letter contained except for Lord Kamisato. But in 2 hours, the world would know soon enough.
"And lastly, I know you're tempted, but stay away from Dain. He's a dead man and most of all–" Arlecchino breathed between her teeth.
“He's unreliable. His view on his relationship with (Y/n) is tinted with a rosy hue. His memory has all but faded completely regarding what transpired. And sometimes, liars get fooled by their own lies. See for yourself.”
Thoma’s eyebrows knitted in an instant. Arlecchino didn’t give him a turn to speak and opened the door on his way out.
“Focus on your issues, Kamisato Dog. Ad astra abyssosque.”
—------------------------------------
“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect in 4… 3… 2…”
“1…”
“Dainsleif: 14 million. Open contract is now in effect. All services have been suspended.”
—------------------------------------
“Halfdan.”
“Dain.”
“Please let me do this.”
Dainsleif hummed non-committedly.
His new enemy is none other than Halfdan: an old friend back when he served in the military and also the same brother-in-arms he dragged along to become freelance hitmen. Thanks to the fall of multiple governments, Khaenria’hns had to vicariously live through dirty work to survive. To cope, Dainsleif mercifully persuaded Halfdan down this route with a gifted gun for him to take.
And it’s the very same revolver now aimed at Dainsleif’s forehead.
“Capo Pantalone denounced two possibilities from this scenario: one being your spouse had turned traitor and the other would be that they were a double agent this whole time,” Halfdan quietly mused. “And if that were the case, they fear what that makes you."
“And that’s why you’re here?” Dainsleif spoke between labored exhales, clearly worn out from the numerous assassination attempts against his life moments prior.
The world they walk on is liquefied and weightless, never a flat one. Most are content to kill, but not to live– never to dream. Here in the underground, capitalism plays in a greater uneven field. Assassins, elites, common folk– such titles make no difference. Whatever bounty pays moderately might shoot higher the next hour while others might drop lower than the corpse themselves.
Which led Halfdan to make the worst decision of his life.
An ex-hitman who refuses to kill does sound like an easy target on paper.
Dainsleif gritted his teeth.
If Halfdan knew Dain's barrel was empty, he would be dead right now.
Still, not everyone would be bold to make an enemy out of the Bough Keeper.
Especially not when he memorized every hitman’s fighting style, moves, and preferred weapons.
"Evidence suggests that you’re an accomplice. Did you help them?"
“I did not help them– because (Y/n) was not a traitor.”
“Then who else could’ve ratted out all the Abyss' trade routes?” Halfdan said robotically. “It’s a win-win situation for (Y/n) if this whole mess is true. They’d get recognition for their work and potentially have you dead after your ex-communication.”
"Do you know where they are? Where (Y/n) is?"
"You're at the end of my revolver and that's what you're asking?"
"Is that so surprising?"
"Not at all," Halfdan closed his eyes. "Not at all."
"I take it you don't have a clue."
"I know that (Y/n) has been the brains of Archon Kusanali's return to office– possibly her second sage. Whatever that is."
That can’t be right. His spouse hated superordinate roles.
"For someone who was told their dead spouse might be alive, you're surprisingly calm, Dainsleif."
"Forgive me, I try my best to remain composed twenty-four-seven," Dainsleif sardonically replied. "It was a requirement of my previous profession."
“Right… Being a hitman must’ve been tough. Can’t imagine what it’s like,” he chuckled.
Halfdan fired first.
Dainsleif sprinted, hiding behind the alleyway's bricked stores. With his finger hovering above the trigger, he had momentarily forgotten who was after him. As Halfdan carefully scanned the area, Dain tied his blonde hair up loosely, courtesy to how his late spouse nagged him about how it helps keep loose strands out of his eyes during "business hours".
Three warning shots followed.
"Senior, can't you go easy on me? Just this once?" Halfdan mumbled.
Now that the gun was pointed at him, it came to both their minds that they don’t know one another as deeply as they thought. Not in the traditional sense of knowing their names and faces, of course. It dawned that neither talked about themselves as soon as they became hitmen. The Heavenly Principles– whether it’s the Snezhnayan branch or the one Lord Ayato’s running– was like their version of two lost samurais’ dilapidated shelter. They’d talk and bond while it rains– but they’ll never converse outside that haven.
Dain pursed his lips, glaring at the corner of his eyes...
It’d be too easy to kill him.
There’s a crack in the wall that can easily target Halfdan’s temple. Should he pull the trigger, he would be dead without another word. His blood and brain matter would paint the alley’s wall like vague graffiti and there’d be one less person off his case.
But Dainsleif didn’t fire his gun.
“Senior”? Don’t make him laugh.
"I'm not your senior anymore, Halfdan."
Dainsleif jumped out of his spot–
And took his shot too, without any intent to kill.
“NGAH–!”
Halfdan gasped sharply, biting his bottom lip as blood gushed from his left arm. He slid back behind the post immediately, afraid to get close to Dain. Besides, anyone can see a rifle's imprint on Halfdan's cheek.
He's a sniper. Close combat is not his forte.
Unfortunately, Dainsleif used to be a spotter.
“Shit, Dain! What the hell?!” Halfdan tearfully begged. “W-Why are you fighting back? Aren’t you tired of this world?! Aren’t you just waiting to die?!”
Dainsleif’s eyelids lowered.
He doesn’t know the clear answer to that himself.
Until a thought occurred to him.
“I.. Want to carry their memories.”
“... W-What?”
“I wanted to carry on living, for them,” Dainsleif said. “For (Y/n).”
He realized that as long as he was alive, he could keep (Y/n)’s memory alive. He can continue to tell stories about them– to cherish the memories they shared and to honor their legacy. With a newfound sense of purpose, Dainsleif made a silent promise to himself and his deceased spouse.
Hence, Dain would continue to live, not just for himself, but for them. He would carry their memory with him wherever he travels and he refuses to forget their warmth. With that, he gripped his gun, feeling resolute. It’s a long road ahead, but he can carry on, for (Y/n) and for himself. As it turns out, he still had a purpose and a reason to keep going.
His memories of (Y/n) are enough for him to stay alive.
Dainsleif glanced at the crack in the wall.
He reasons that he will be fine if Halfdan dies. Dain had killed many of his former allies before he was wed. Many did oppose his marriage with (Y/n)– worse, many thought they could kill his beloved for it to occur. Killing an old friend tonight wouldn’t be his first.
Dainsleif sighed. He could use his dagger, but he wanted Halfdan's death to be quick.
‘I’m sorry, Halfdan.’
But he did not feel sorry.
Dainsleif loaded his gun.
2 bullets.
That should be more than enough.
‘You’re going to have to be my first kill after 7 years.’
—------------------
As Dainsleif fended off greed-blinded men, Thoma found himself in another nerve-wracking dilemma. He stood inside one of the private rooms in the Heavenly Principles, unflinching. The sharp yet muted shrill of a spoon grated Thoma’s ears, but he remained standing, vigilant yet afraid.
Hard to speak when it was the adjudicator himself that stirred the cup.
The adjudicator, Cyno, is a dreadful shadow to have. Unlike the Bough Keeper, he had deep-set eyes that looked to be calculated at all times. Thoma was most terrified by the adjudicator's reputation for having unwavering determination. His job is to be both feared and respected in equal measure. If Cyno wills it, Thoma and Ayaka would be nothing more than mere bodies between him and his goals.
If it’s true that (Y/n) managed to escape Cyno more than a few times, then he ought to get some tips on how they do it. Cyno cornered Thoma so effortlessly before he could leave earlier.
"Coffee?" Cyno offered. "Don't worry, this isn't the same drink Dain prepared for (Y/n) every morning."
Thoma raised an eyebrow.
What does that mean?
“No thank you sir, but I appreciate the gesture.”
Cyno nodded.
“Let me be clear: I am here to adjudge your master, not you. So if my subordinates found evidence against her, I shall be the one that weighs those scales.”
Thoma already knew that and that threat was never going to provoke him.
If Thoma tells him what the letter contained now, it'll only make the Kamisatos more suspicious.
“I understand, sir. Would that be all?”
“Course not,” Cyno said. “Thoma, I’ve got a question to ask.”
“Go on, sir.”
“Did you ask Dainsleif for help earlier?”
“... Yes, sir.”
“Good,” the Adjudicator nodded. “I value your honesty– and are you sure you don’t want coffee?”
“Yes sir– and I’m sorry for asking for his assistance, I didn’t–”
“Know he was going to get excommunicated, I’m aware,” he muttered. “But that’s an old excuse.”
Cyno sipped his cup, his eyes locked on Thoma's. Thoma tried his best to avoid his gaze but found it impossible. The Adjudicator had a way of making people feel small with just a single look.
"You're brave," he said. "But bravery can’t save the Himegimi. Only the truth can. So where is he?"
Thoma's heart raced as he tried to come up with a response. He knew he had to be careful with his words, or he might end up endangering not just himself, but Dainsleif as well.
"I don't know where he is," Thoma said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't lie to me," Cyno's expression darkened, slamming his cup against the table. It shattered, making Thoma finally flinch at the sound of its impact.
"We know you've been communicating with him. You're part of his and his spouse’s rebellion against the Abyss Order."
“I genuinely don’t know where he is and I'm not part of any rebellion,” Thoma’s voice cracked. “Lord Ayato just ordered me to communicate with Lord Arlecchino and had Mister Dainsleif tag along, please believe me.”
The Adjudicator went silent.
He scoffed.
“Damnit.”
Cyno understood through experience that Thoma wasn’t lying. He ran his fingers through his stressed-white hair, eyes closed.
He unlocked the door.
“Fine, you’re free to leave.”
Thoma blinked, hesitating to do what was commanded.
It’s as easy as that…?
He’s not going to interrogate him further? Wasn’t he supposed to probe into what he knows about Dainsleif or why Lord Ayato sent him to Snezhnaya in the first place? Won’t Cyno give Thoma the chance to tell him that he went all the way here because he feared what he plans to do to Ayaka?
It can't be over just like that.
Wasn't he after Ayaka?
What's going on?
Why did he give up that fast?
All the effort he went through… Just for that?
That’s all the big scary Adjudicator has to say?
Thoma combed his hair up.
Was Lord Ayato right? Was he really just paranoid?
Whatever was on Thoma’s mind– he spoke none of it. He discarded every doubt. Above all else, he was glad that everything seemed to be over.
As Thoma turned to close the door behind him, he heard Cyno mutter something barely a whisper.
“If I am to weigh the souls of others in this world as an Adjudicator, then I must also place my own soul on the scales to be judged in the same manner, but…”
Thoma closed the door before he heard him finish the rest.
“(L/n), despite being a wrongdoer, I wonder if you had a point…” Cyno said.
“... Maybe it’s time we dismantle the current system and rely on the government– Kusanali– once more.”
Cyno didn't drink the coffee he prepared for Thoma. Instead, the adjudicator grabbed his case and left the dubious drink be.
—--------
Thoma thought that was the end of it, but fate had other plans.
He was on his way back when he stumbled upon Dainsleif, soaked in blood. It was a complete coincidence that Thoma had taken this particular route, and he can’t tell whether that was a blessing or a curse. Knowing that Dainsleif possesses incomparable mental fortitude to carry on fighting despite his weakened state, he approached him warily. Thoma was warned already by Arlecchino not to get involved, yet he can’t just leave without a proper thank you. As he got closer, Thoma saw that the man was mumbling incoherently.
"Eli…”
Thoma blinked. Is he calling for Ellin, the rookie hitman?
“Dain…?”
He’s lost in his thoughts.
Dainsleif was morbidly aware that feelings of grief should've surfaced, that he should be mourning the loss of an old friend. Once again, he tried to summon some kind of emotion, any reaction to his Halfdan's corpse. But he felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no regret. What he felt was frustration only after his failed attempts. Dainsleif was unable to shake off the sense of detachment that had taken hold of him.
Halfdan was just another person who failed to kill the “Twilight Sword”.
“Eli, lama sabachthani…?" Dainsleif muttered.
"Huh?"
Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani: those were the words his spouse said when they were incredibly ill.
It meant "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
As he gazed at the scene of Halfdan's death, Dainsleif heaved a heavy sigh. He was aware that he had to face the facts of his predicament, but he wasn't sure how he should press on. The deafening silence prevailed. Now that he had to deal with isolation and social rejection, his longing for (Y/n) rekindled sevenfold. He knows that it's near impossible to continue living without his spouse.
But finding them?
That should be easier.
"Y-You should take a rest, Dain," Thoma frowned. "I know you haven't killed anyone since today, so maybe you should seek shelter and steel yourself for now."
“I can't, and there is no need for that. No other Black Serpent assassin danced with grief more than I.”
Dainsleif swiftly picked up the knife from the ground, masterfully twirling it until the blood was wiped clean.
“But when I got back to work– I suddenly felt a small amount of relief from this suffering.”
He stabbed the knife back into the corpse’s chest like a toothpick. The blonde carved the knife down the ribs with sheer brute strength. Blood coated his fingers and as he curled it deeper inside Halfdan’s chest, the blade disappeared.
Dainsleif laughed.
The manic blonde’s crooked grin widened.
Thoma didn’t gag at the sight of Halfdan’s corpse– he was used to the sight– but he gulped as he saw Dain’s expression.
His "terrifyingly empty" eyes suddenly had something murky fill the void.
Dainsleif lost it.
“That high didn’t last. Even now, I can feel anguish permeating my entire being. There is no “undoing” their death, such a line of thought inflicts only agony. (Y/n) had become an integral part of me– slowly but surely replacing my sins with a tenderness one cannot attain in the underworld. They did say that grief comes in waves, but how long will I have to stand ashore until a crash large enough would drown me to sea?”
Thoma drowned out his musings. They were bound not to make sense in the first place.
He's not mentally stable, and he doesn't expect him to be. Dain just found out his dead spouse might be alive and killed a friend in under an hour. Thoma would be insensitive if he forced him to compose himself.
Dainsleif let the handle go.
“Can’t you understand why I’m so desperate to find even a sliver of my beloved?” He laughed. “Why I never took assassination requests from the Abyss Order after their death? Why I’m more than willing to kill again? The answer is simple–”
Suddenly, it’s harder to breathe.
The ex-hitman stopped.
His smile weakened as he spoke, “Thoma… (Y-(Y/n)... I want (Y/n) to take me back in their arms as a corpse.”
Dainsleif breathed in shakily, his tears obstructing his speech. He clenched his fists above the table, arching his back as he avoided the bodyguard’s concerned gaze. Thoma could practically see his sobs as Dain’s entire body trembled from a depleting mix of ineffable exhaustion, sadness, and longing. He had bottled these emotions for long enough.
He always had nowhere else to go– no one else to turn to. But nowadays, it felt different. All because he foolishly trusted that maybe this time someone would be able to kill him…
Maybe this time…
The bodyguard rubbed his back, which only served to make the lonesome man conceal his weeping. There's nothing Thoma can do other than provide useless ministrations. To save the last of the ex-hitman's dwindling pride—if he really cared for such—he can only frown and look away.
Dainsleif trembled.
He doesn't know how to cry.
So he cried clumsily.
“I-I’m tired… of taking my own life.”
—----------------
“Dainsleif, open contract. Increase: 20 million.”
—----------------
[Eight Years Ago]
“So, Dain,” they awkwardly voiced with a warm smile. “Do you come here often?”
Does he come here often? Of course, he does. He “worked” here– but no ordinary citizen should know what business goes down in Wanmin restaurant.
And he knew (Y/n) frequented this restaurant too.
Dainsleif laughed.
It’s true, Dainsleif stalks them.
He initially believed they were just an extroverted student who had nothing better to do than to talk to the stranger they kept sitting next to on the bus. He was so exhausted from "work" that his initial impression was of (Y/n) was a loud and brazen scholar. Since the bus they boarded frequently had a TV, they were always open to talk with him about delicate subjects like the daily news about the syndicates without displaying any expressions of disgust. Although they didn't agree with everything he stated, they showed maturity by holding their ground. They praised him for his noteworthy thoughts while criticizing him for his blatantly generic statements. Dainsleif was almost sure they were part of the "industry" he works on–
Until he saw the collage of their friends and professors as their lock screen. Dainsleif realized two things at that time.
1) They like to write.
2) Their favorite mentor was Professor Aether. The “Traveler” who would inherit the Abyss Order if the Abyss Princess dies.
So it’s no wonder they knew a lot about human trafficking.
Something about their easygoing attitude and quick wit struck a chord with him. He found himself laughing along with them, feeling a sense of rare ease and comfort. And whenever they said their goodbyes when boarding off the bus, Dainsleif felt a sense of anticipation, a feeling that this was something special.
And now he "knows all that he needs to know" about (Y/n) (L/n).
Upon realizing that he was staring (they were waving a hand near their face), Dainsleif cleared his throat.
“I enjoy the wine here.”
“Thought the light was about to take you to the other side,” (Y/n) teased. “Anyways, yeah, you know my friends Stella, Jude, and Shiro? They like it too. Can’t catch me drinking though– I just order the sardines pasta here while they get red-faced drunk.”
He sneakily glanced at the menu and silently noted how that order appears to be the cheapest meal. If Dain pitied his date, he made no mention of it. Uyuu restaurant is for the rich and the shady and based on their humble hand-me-down shoes, both descriptions eluded them.
“Well-off friends?”
Dainsleif already knows the answer.
"Eh. We all know both rich and getting-by folks, don't we? As long as we can pay our bills, it doesn't matter," they shrugged. “Still… I’m REALLY sorry that you dressed up for me, Dain.”
They pinched their forehead.
“Look– I don’t know what on earth Rin told you, but I’m not worth this effort. You look incredibly dashing in that suit and tie by the way– but your date is wearing their sister’s Converse right now. If you want me to leave and enjoy your meal alone, just say so– you can even tell everyone that I’m just some charity case college student you fed or something. Fine by me, no problem.”
Dainsleif snorted slightly. While there’s no doubt in his mind that his salary can afford someone’s student loans, the last thing hitmen would do with their monthly pay is invest in multiple scholars.
“Would you feel better if I said I just arrived from work and had no time to change so I 'didn’t' put in any effort…?”
“Kinda,” they croaked pathetically and bowed their head. “But now that you phrased it like that, I can't tell if you're lying for the sake of my feelings, huhu...”
But that uncontrollable sunny smile on their face doesn't show any hint of genuine remorse. Dainsleif reciprocated their smile. (Y/n) is getting more comfortable being in Dainsleif’s presence than before, and Dainsleif seems more open to sharing things about himself– albeit not enough to spill about his true occupation.
His occupation…
Dain tried not to think about it whenever they're on a date, but he can't help it sometimes.
When, he wonders.
When will he find someone that is close enough to actually kill him?
This job was starting to get stale…
If it weren't for (Y/n), he sees no reason to even get out of bed anymore.
(Y/n)... Right, (Y/n). Of course.
Dainsleif stopped himself from grinning widely.
He's on a date– he should be more attentive.
Dain looked at them again, finding himself naturally concentrated on their mannerisms.
“... Why are your hands in your pockets?”
“Oh– I learned from one of my professors that people look more confident when they have their hands in their pockets, if and only if they have a thumb out, apparently.”
“And this prolonged eye contact we’re having?”
“My poor attempt at applying what I’ve learned, yes.”
Dainsleif laughed.
“You’re very easy to listen to.”
They frowned.
“Sorry… I tend to overshare sometimes.”
“Why are you apologizing? I appreciate that you’re being yourself,” Dainsleif said. “Better than honeypotting someone in a relationship.”
“You’re right, sor– I mean, yeah, you’re right.”
A waiter passed by.
“One– Two Death After Noon please, boss,” Dainsleif said.
(Y/n) chuckled humorously, "I suppose I'd also drink a lot if I ended up going on a date with someone like me."
"Glad to hear it. Let's have a drink together."
"Aight– wait, what?"
Dainsleif attempted to pass the glass to (Y/n), but the moment their hand reached the stem–
Splash.
"Oh sh–! I'm so sorry!!!"
Dainsleif blinked.
"Oh my Goodn– I'm so sorry, my bad. I'm–"
"It's alright. Hand me some tissues."
"Sorry…" they cringed. "I'm– I'm a little out of it, lately. I didn't mean to spill that all over– ugh. I'm such a disaster today, what the heck?"
Dainsleif chuckled, almost inaudibly. He didn't move from his position, letting the wine soak his jeans.
"You don't need to worry, I'm used to this."
They tried not to visibly react to that statement.
Use to what, exactly? Having drinks spilled on him?
What kind of life is Dainsleif living for that to happen often enough times for him to get "used to this"? Are people constantly spilling things on him?
"...Workplace harassment?" (Y/n) muttered, not realizing Dainsleif heard it.
His heart leaped as he quickly glanced at himself to check for visible wounds or scars, but snapped out of it when he felt something light against his clothes. No matter how wrong it could appear in public, it seems that (Y/n) awkwardly grabbed the closest tissue box to dab it out (and this action was motivated by how dry cleaning was expensive that year).
"(Y/n)–" he cringed as they continued.
"Please wait."
"You should be more focused on yourself," Dainsleif cleared his throat, with his ears and cheeks slightly red. "Y-You're wearing white."
"Oh…"
They pulled the hem of their clothing. The wine soaked them as well but they were too engrossed to notice it. (Y/n) scowled.
"I'm– yikes, I'm irredeemable at this point. Whoops," they laughed somewhat nervously. “You’ve done it, Mx. (L/n). This is our last date, I guess.”
Dainsleif didn't say a word.
He just stared, looking directly at their splattered clothes. Unlike (Y/n), he didn't jump to helping his date clean up. Dainsleif covered his mouth and breathed in shakily. It was strange. Instead of feeling annoyed or frustrated, he found himself staring fondly at (Y/n) and their almost equally stained clothes.
This stain… It looked like…
They expect him to laugh at their clumsiness or berate them at worst, but when they gazed up, those slapdash daydreams evaporated. Dainsleif looked dazed.
… Blood.
“Dain?”
They looked up at him, doe-eyed and confused. Without hesitation, they cupped his cheek, checking his features.
“Dain? Are you feeling alright? You’re spacing out a lot today.”
Dainsleif couldn’t stop staring.
This scenery was almost perfect. Almost. It just needed one small tweak:
It shouldn't have been wine. (Y/n) would look breathtaking if they were covered in the blood of the men he killed to get a chance to date them.
He looked at his stained clothes and smiled.
Maybe, just maybe,
(Y/n) (L/n) will be the one who can kill him.
—-----------------------------
[PRESENT]
Dain stumbled towards a house with a small inteyvat garden, his body aching and his clothes still stained with blood. He lifted a weak hand and knocked on the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support. He shook his hip flask, disappointed that the alcohol was already empty. Not that he needed it to ease his wounds. Thoma already helped Dainsleif patch up a bit, but left in a hurry knowing that the Adjudicator might see his act of “treason.”
After a few moments, the door creaked open and a blonde man peered out.
It was Professor Aether, a kind yet unassuming man who taught at multiple universities– including (Y/n)’s. Despite being the Abyss Princess's kin, he lived a relatively lowkey life in the suburbs after he stopped traveling. Aether looked Dainsleif up and down, his expression unreadable.
"You look injured," he said flatly, without a hint of concern in his voice.
Dain struggled to keep himself standing.
"I am," he said. "Traveler, I’ve been wrongfully excommunicated and I need your help."
Aether nodded as if he had expected that news. Still, he refused Dain entry to his house. “You didn’t honestly think I’d help you without a second thought, right?”
Dainsleif took a deep breath, “I have served and will be of service.”
The sinner then pulled out an object from his pocket and shoved it down Aether’s palm.
Aether raised an eyebrow, concerned.
Visions is a round metallic insignia formally recognized by the Abyss Order that signifies a blood oath. The debtor has their bloodied fingerprint pressed inside the shell. This vision had Aether's fingerprint, and he owes Dainsleif.
“A vision? Do you believe a blood debt will make me help you?” Unlike before, his voice was warm but distant.
“I helped you find your sister– you can help me find my spouse in return,” Dain glared. “Sinner or not, you owe me. I’m certain (Y/n) is alive– and I’m sure you know where they are. You shaped them into the tactician they are now. If there’s anyone who can figure out where they are, it’s you. So take me there.”
Aether closed his eyes.
There's no way he can reason with him.
This is no longer Dainsleif he's talking to– but a husk of a man.
“Fine.”
The professor also pulled something out of his pocket. A blue syringe, none other than one of Dottore’s concoctions, Dain believes. He did not question why he had that in his possession. Foolishly, he did not question if it was an anesthetic or a lethal injection either. What mattered more was (Y/n)’s location. Nothing else.
“But you’ll have to be asleep for it to happen,” the professor commanded exasperatedly. “Do you understand?”
“Why?”
“Because they wouldn’t believe I didn’t help you out otherwise,” Aether scoffed. “So just knock yourself so I can tie you up.”
Dainsleif rolled up his sleeve.
“Do what needs to be done.”
Aether administered the drug.
—-----------
Dainsleif slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing just as Aether warned him. The room spun slightly as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the distinct Inazuman patterns that covered the walls. The intricate designs were a mix of cloud shapes and leaf motifs, all in shades of blue and white.
This must be the basement of Uyuu restaurant. Dain didn’t expect he’ll be able to (Y/n) here– and if this was one of their base locations, that must mean Ayato is on their side. That’s another surprise he didn’t see coming. These all must’ve been Archon Kusanali’s idea– or maybe it was that government official, Al Haitham?
Whatever, it didn't matter. At least Dain was expecting to be tied down and he was right, he reminded himself. Dainsleif took a deep breath and calmed himself. The ropes dug painfully into his wrists as he struggled against them, squirming to find weak knots that bound him to the chair. No luck.
“Evening, Twilight Sword… Do you come here often?”
Dainsleif stopped struggling.
He looked up, dazed.
Perhaps “enchanted” might be the right term.
Although Dainsleif could barely discern their face from this lighting, he can just about make it out from the shape of their silhouette.
“To this day, you’ve faithfully done your duty as a loving husband– how can a person ever find a man better than you?” The shadow smiled cheaply. "Is that what you wanted me to say?"
The shadow tilted their head up, and a red glint refracted from a familiar pair of tinted glasses. They pulled out a chair and sat in front of him, chuckling angrily as they did so.
“I’d rather not. I’d rather ask how much can I pay you to die.”
Dainsleif coughed.
“... (Y/n)? My beloved, is that you?”
The abyss smiled back.
“I importune you to perish, and you call me 'beloved'?” They laughed sardonically. “Isn’t taking bounties your entire shtick? Why ignore me? Don’t tell me you had a sudden aversion for death.”
They rolled their eyes.
“You’ve encased me in your penthouse, locked me up, stolen my brushes and pens away– and lied to the rest of the world that I had cancer like my relatives when I didn’t and still don’t. So don’t call me beloved. You don’t have the right.”
Their voice was buttery smooth as if seducing him– yet it would be foolish of him not to notice the sharpness of their words– the bitterness it latched onto. It sounded like the truth, but Dainsleif believes they were nothing but lies.
Dainsleif cringed.
“But you do have canc–”
“Fucking bullshit!” The person slammed the table, but years of experience didn’t make the retired hitman flinch. “I was NEVER sick!!! You desperately wanted me to be– because– because YOU didn’t want ME to LEAVE!”
“You always talk about how I’m fucking corrupted– how I can’t be cured– how I’m terminally ill when you’re the one slipping poison in my coffee every fucking day!” They ranted. “You didn’t want me to live, Dainsleif. You wanted me to be sad and– and miserable like you are."
He heard nothing.
That’s not true. None of their words add up.
They loved him– (Y/n) loved him.
Didn’t they?
… Then again, didn't Dainsleif have awful memory?
“Every night, I prayed you’d be dead,” the shadow said, calmly. “And every morning I woke up, I was disappointed. It doesn’t help how your expressionless face is always the first to greet me.”
Dainsleif knew (Y/n) liked challenges– there's no way they want him dead. That's what the promise was for, right? The reason why they made him swear to never kill again once they're married was to make life a bit more exciting. That's what it was, right?
They're not trying to get rid of him from the very beginning, right…?
They clapped.
Dainsleif instinctively closed his eyes as the rest of the lights fiercely illuminated the entire room. Slowly, his burned eyes fluttered open, and his heart beat again after seeing the shadow’s face.
It was (Y/n)'s.
It was his beloved’s.
The same face who wrote the letter Thoma read earlier– the same bastard who schemed to prove the Kamisatos are "not involved" with the anti-mafia stunts they've pulled but not their supposed “spouse”.
"I know what you're thinking, and I know I can't kill you," they scoffed. "So I had to resort to some underhanded tactics. Getting you excommunicated was the best one. If I can't do the job, I'll give others a damn good reason to do it for me instead."
Dainsleif chuckled softly.
Adorable. What a kind gesture.
"You underestimate yourself. You can kill me if you just try."
They snorted.
"Best joke I've ever heard from you, Dain. Dry humor suits you."
"I wasn't joking."
"I know you weren’t," (Y/n) clicked their tongue. “I know one of the reasons you kidnapped me was to make me competent enough to maybe kill you someday. Hah. At least I can say that I tried.”
They scowled. Patronizingly, they tore their gaze away from him and instead looked at what was inside the room. Dainsleif was not the same. He couldn’t tear his gaze away to notice how he was trapped inside the Uyuu restaurant’s weapon room.
For the first time in years, Dainsleif smiled like a child.
Dogs like Thoma would never be able to understand what it’s like to have such a strong connection with someone that isn’t your master.
He could no longer care if they (Y/n) was the one that shoots him right there.
In fact, he wouldn't mind if (Y/n) died too.
Haha… Hahahaha….
They had always been dead to him for years now.
Dainsleif finally remembers everything clearly.
(Y/n) had never been "dead", he was just angry that they escaped successfully.
Angry to the point they were actually dead in his eyes.
“I don’t know why the Professor brought you here all tied up– but I’m growing impatient at just the sight of you.”
So is he.
Dainsleif chuckled. One other thing he expected was that Aether will send him here with the intent of killing him. Shame, however, that Dainsleif saw that coming from miles away.
(Y/n) stepped closer and Dainsleif frantically pulled at the ropes, feeling them loosen. Dain had to keep going. He needed to break free.
“Farewell.”
As (Y/n) reached out to grab their gun off the table, Dainsleif surged forward, throwing his weight against the ropes and snapping them. He stumbled to his feet, the chair clattering to the ground as he grabbed at the gun faster than they could. The patrons of Uyuu restaurant are completely unaware of the drama that had taken place below their feet, chatting and dining as usual.
“Tch!”
With years of experience behind his back, Dainsleif knocked the gun out of (Y/n)’s hand, sending it skittering across the floor. (Y/n) lunged for it, but he tackled them, driving them both to the ground.
(Y/n)’s eye twitched and they can tell Dainsleif was equally pissed. But even when he had them pinned on the floor, Dainsleif remained careful on how he should hold them down. That unspoken act of “love” makes them want to vomit, but there was no time for that.
Even so, something about his stare seemed off.
It's as if he wanted to drag them down.
It's as if he wants them to be as dead as him.
(Y/n) jolted upon seeing his eyes.
In an unexpected string of luck, (Y/n) kicked him off and wrenched the gun away from Dainsleif.
They pointed it at him.
Dainsleif did not take a step back or forward.
As (Y/n) preps the gun, like souls intertwined by fate and time, they both had one thought in mind:
“If you truly loved me, you should be dead.”
(Y/n) fired.
BANG!!!
…
…
…
They shot him.
They shot Dainsleif.
And they know they shot him because they felt his blood pressed against their body.
But they blinked.
Lord– all (Y/n) did was blink.
"Y-You finally know how to fire a gun."
Dainsleif has nothing to be proud of in his own life, but he can still be proud of them.
There's no way for (Y/n) to miss the wetness of his gunshot wound. Not when he's holding them into a tight hug. Despite bleeding out, his firm hand cradled the nape of their neck, humming contently. Dainsleif thought to himself that a shot from (Y/n) did not feel painful in the slightest. It almost seemed like an injection.
No… Something isn't right, why is he so close…?
Their stomach burned.
And they can almost hear his smile.
"Thank you, my beloved. I was tired of taking my own life…"
If he can't have them alive, well…
Dainsleif pulled out the dagger behind their back.
No one should be able to have (Y/n)'s corpse too.
Dain kissed them.
He traced his wet thumb against their cheek, painting their face red with his fingerprints.
Dainsleif grinned.
"I love you."
They choked out blood out of pure disgust. Their strength was ebbing away.
Haha… It’s almost like… They actually have stomach cancer…
Their vision began to swim and they felt their consciousness slipping. (Y/n) saw blood seeping through their clothes, staining them dark red. Tears streamed down their face as they realized what had happened. Dainsleif stabbed them. They tried to cry out loud, but their voice was weak and hoarse.
The blood on their clothes… It almost reminded them of their seventh date. The wine, his dazed look…
(Y/n) would laugh humorlessly if they could.
In their last moments, (Y/n) learned that it took strength to cry… to scream out the pain buried within their stomach. But they had no strength left and they dropped their gun.
Their only option was to wither away.
Dainsleif kissed their neck sloppily– (Y/n) couldn't tell if it was saliva or blood. The taste and scent of blood filled his senses. Surely from both of them. Maybe this is what Dainsleif meant when he spread rumors about his spouse constantly going through hemoptysis. Bleeding from the mouth does count as a sign of a terminal illness, doesn't it?
His thoughts are curt. His breathing is short. Yet, his unhinged eyes were near immortal.
Dainsleif no longer cared about his own life– not when the person he lives for wanted him dead.
The weight of their "atonement" falls on (Y/n)'s shoulders as Dainsleif weakly knelt along with them. As their vision dies out, he tightens his hug, hungrily leaning into their dwindling body heat.
Dainsleif was right.
They do look beautiful soaked in the blood of their enemy.
"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."
Even in death, he will not leave them be.
They sobbed.
No…
But they were so close…
In their final moments, (Y/n) could only look up at the ceiling and cry.
They clutched their feeble freedom and life, staring into the abyss as though it can provide them solace to answer the question:
"E-Eli… eli, lama sabachthani?"
#ansy-writes#yandere dainsleif#yandere dainsleif x reader#yandere#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere genshin x you#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x reader#dainsleif#dainsleif x reader#x reader#tw: yandere#tw: suicidal thoughts#yandere male#tag: hitman dain
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Yandere!Toji Fushiguro x reader
Trade off
So i accidentally deleted the toji ask like an idiot im really sorry anon bestie:( you tried. I just failed.
Prequel and if enough ppl like it ill finish the fic i just wanna see how this does
(Yandere, breaking/entering, attempted plan to murder, etc, etc idk)
Living near the countryside has desensitized you to the thumps and crashes you’d hear at night. In the beginning you’d be paranoid, laying in your bed for hours before gathering the courage to step out of the room, trusty bat in hand, only to find a stray cat staring back, right beside an open window. Nowadays, you’re coolly shooing away whatever creature that finds their way in your home. Mostly it’s cats, sometimes you’d get the occasional bird or racoon.
The situation has happened so many times that you aren’t even surprised to hear the soft rattle that comes from your kitchen tonight. You’re already moving, rousing from your soft bed, grabbing your trusty broom ready to scare away whatever creature you’d find scurrying about your kitchen floor. A rat, most likely.
But the thing rustling through your fridge is no rodent, and you don’t recognize this man.
It doesn’t occur to you that you’re being robbed until half a second later. Mainly because of how casual this bizarre situation is. He’s rifling through your food like it’s normal and you’re the weirdo carrying the broom.
“Damn, there’s nothing here. Do you not eat or something?”
You assume he’s thinking out loud, but he glances back at you like he expected you there.
“I-I haven’t gotten the chance to go shopping this week,” You find yourself replying.
He gives a hum, slamming the fridge shut, standing to his full height and you’re instantly aware of how ill-prepared you are to fight him. He’s huge, not just in height. He looks better fit for a bodybuilder than a run-of-the-mill robber.
You left your phone upstairs. Why the fuck did you leave your phone upstairs?
You lower your broom, trying to make yourself seem as little threatening as you can. Your mind is running too fast to conjure any real thoughts, but the part of you that hasn’t completely broken down yet is telling you it’s better to avoid any confrontation. A distraction.
“There’s a TV in the next room,” You numbly point towards the living room, “It’s brand new….would probably go for a thousand.”
He barely seems interested, eyes flicking to glance over before going to you.
“That’s nice,” He waves your offer off, “But I’m not here to steal your stuff.”
“You’re…you’re not?” You reply weakly.
There’s a grin on his face, a touch away from being maniacal. His hand is brushing his hip, lightly playing with the hilt of a gun.
Oh.
Maybe it’s because you’re still half asleep, your brain isn’t working as efficiently, it takes you a bit longer to process his intentions. When it finally does, the realization hits you like a train. Your mouth gets dry, it suddenly feels so cold. Fear. You’ve never felt fear like this before.
You don’t notice the steps you take backward. He does. The man groans in something you can only discern as annoyance.
“Don’t do that,” He frowns, “Come on, I’m trying to be nice here. I can’t chase you around the house, I'm supposed to make it look like an accident.”
His nonchalance is terrifying. Like he’s done this before. He probably has. How many people has he murdered in their own homes? How many bodies does it take to be so calm around imminent death?
You don’t have time to wonder, not when something he said catches your attention.
“Were…were you hired to come here?”
His mouth twitches and it looks like he’s thinking. Finally, he shrugs, like the information he gives won’t really do anything to harm him.
“Yeah, some rich folk in the city. Can’t remember their names for shit though.”
Someone had a vendetta against you? Enough to want to kill you? Your mind is running through every single name, every quarrel you’ve had. Family members, friends, acquaintances. Nothing enough comes up.
Nothing is supposed to. Only crazy people hire hitmen.
And hitmen are even crazier.
You take another step back.
He takes another forward.
(End of prequel)
#yandere#yandere togi#togi x reader#dark toji fushiguro#Breaking and Entering#yandere toji fushiguro x reader#hitman toji fushiguro#yandere jjk x reader#yandere jjk#dark jjk#dark content
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[Okay so homie ignore this if ur busy I just NEED 47 content and ur one of the only ones to provide it a req I guess????? LOVE U HOMIE 💞💞💞💞💞💞-
Anyway:]
PICK YOUR POISON:
Romantic:
So 47 with a genderfluid reader (Bc I KNOW u simp for this man and u are absolutely unhinged when it comes to your fav characters 😤)? Maybe a romantic candlelit dinner and it's basically really fluffy??? Imagine this it's been 2 years since he's taken you into captivity he's been nothing but kind to you and you find yourself catching stockholm syndrome. Maybe they share a sweet little kiss?
Or or or
Platonic:
Dad!47 with an agender reader? Maybe reader tries to escape or just in general rebels against dear old dad? I just wanna see how you'd write reader running away and 47 reacting to reader escaping from his tightly secured home- 😈
(Also remember that if u pick one I'll put the one u didn't pick in a new req once they're open again and I'll add another option to pick from)
A/n: Ahh yes, hello Ghost YOU DID NOT HAVE TO EXPOSE ME ABT SIMPING FOR 47 OK?!- But Ik you like a dad!47 so I went with that one
Escapade
Yandere!Father!Agent 47 x gn!reader
( summary: after asking to go to a party leads to an argument with your father, 47, you decide to rebel for one night and leave anyway )
Warnings?: Mentions of drinking, Yandere 47 so, possessiveness, stalking/being followed, mentions of an argument, 47 cornering the reader, mentions of guns, mentions of poisons and poisoning, normal Hitman violence- reader can be a teen or adult you choose!!
!-!more under the cut!-!
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no.”
“Why not?!”
47’s deadpan expression didn’t waver as he took a sip of his tea, the warmth of the liquid was evident to you even from where you stood. “Because I said so.” You almost audibly laughed at that, currently you were attempting asking your father to let you leave the house to go to a party that you had been invited to by one of the only people your father lets you talk to. He’s let you out of the house before so you don’t get why he won’t let you go this time. "That's not even an answer." "I don't want you going, drop it." You closed your mouth, swallowing any further protests as you did. "Fine," quickly, you stormed off to your room, making sure to not slam the door.
You huffed as you stuffed a bag with some extra clothing. You carefully picked out which garments you threw in there, you'd change later. You picked up a hunters knife from your desk and hid it in your boot. You’ve been with your dad for long enough to know that sneaking out was possible but not plausible. After he notices your absence, you practically have a specific amount of time before he locates you and drags you back home.
You’ve only attempted this once before way back when you’d first been taken. You were a child then and were able to escape using the vents that led through to the outside. You were only gone for what felt like a matter of seconds in your kid brain, though in reality you know if was longer. It took you a while to accept your “new life” as 47 put it. He was your father and though you know he took you from your real parents at this point there’s not much you can do about it now. You can’t remember what your old life used to be like so you don’t feel as bad when thinking about it. Instead, you’re glad that your father cares so much and even after earning his trust enough for you to go out semi-often his protective nature can still get overbearing at times. You’ve totally spotted him trailing you when you’re out with the only people that 47 let’s you talk to. Sometimes you wonder if they’re just actors he’s hired to make you stop whining about not meeting new people.
You scoffed at the thought as you zipped up your bag, you had a few rations of food and some water bottles in case you got thirsty, you were to wait until your father goes to bed and then you’d act, he sleeps around the same time every night when he’s not taking mission and it’s usually a pretty early time so there should be no problem with getting to the party late. All you had to do now was wait.
—TS—
The house was cold and dark, the shiny tiles reflected the light from the full moon that shone through the large windows. You'd be foolish to go through the front door knowing the system your dad has set up this whole house would come down on top of you if you were to trigger any alarms. Your heart raced and you steadied your breathing as you walked barefoot through the halls. Your father had an armory within the house that had a crawlspace designed for quick escapes. The heavy disguised door let out an even colder draft as you opened it. Flicking on your flashlight you pointed it into the dark room, stepping in and shutting the weighted door behind you as quietly as you could. You swear you could see your breath as you creeped through the cold armory, elevating your heels to feel less of the cold on your feet.
You quickly placed the flashlight in your mouth as you crouched down near the wall. Pulling a lockpick from your pocket, you undid the lock of the crawlspace as quick as you could, the cold of the room stiffening your movements slightly. After getting it open you crawled in, throwing your backpack further ahead first so that you could properly close the door to the makeshift tunnel. The space led you to a small room near the garage, the only way out other than the place you just came from was a large vent that sat in the corner. With a bit of struggle you were able to get high enough to unscrew it and crawl through.
You had done it, you'd made it outside, and though you knew you'd left an obvious trail of where you'd gotten out it was fine to you. Avoiding the cameras, you found your bike near the trail in front of your house and grabbed it. It was now that you put on your shoes, hoping that you hadn't left any obvious trails up until this point. You rode through the forests, breaking off from the main trail near the beginning to a less taken hikers trail that was blocked off halfway down the mountain.
Eventually you'd made your way to the main streets, riding all the way until you hit a gas station. It was there that you freshened up in their bathroom, changing your clothes into a more appealing outfit for the party. You then continued your ride to the address your friend had given you, your smile growing as you heard music as you continued to near the place. But no matter how happy you currently were your father was quite the opposite.
Looking at the cameras, his signature expression changed ever so slightly as he frowned. You'd escaped his watchfulness, honestly he hadn't expected you to get so far. By the time he awoke you were already outside, the crawlspace he guessed, and upon inspection he was right. He was quick to check his cameras, he had them aligned with the main trail to get to the house and at first he was able to locate you, but you'd obviously gone off path because the next second you weren't in frame anymore. He sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his black turtle neck. He stood, going to grab everything he thinks he'll need. Guns, knives, and syringes of multiple poisons littered the walls and counters of his basement. Explosives? He doesn't think it'll get that serious.
Sedative? Perfect.
He packs his coins and garrote wire along and sets off to track you.
"I'm so glad you could make it Y/n!" You friend yells over the loud music and you cheer back. "Me too! It took a while to convince my dad but I made it!" You lied, clinking your drink with them before chugging it back. "Oh shit-" Your friend stumbled and you snorted, almost choking on your drink as you laughed. "Ughhh here, take my drink," you said, handing your cup to your friend, "I gotta piss." "Let me go with youuu," they slurred and you shook your head. "I'll be right back it's right over...there!" You saidd, pointing dramatically towards the open bathroom door. "Plus I need someone to watch my drink." they sighed before waving you off, mumbling a fine as you skipped your way to the bathroom.
"Woops, sorry!" Your friend said after someone bumped into them. The person hadn't responded though and quickly got lost in the crowd of people. Checking that none of your drink spilled on them, your friend sighed at the lack of liquid on their clothing. Lifting the cup to their lips they paused, before laughing at themselves. "That's- That is not my drink~," they giggled at themselves before pushing your cup away from them.
Sooner rather than later you came back to your friend, swooping your drink out of their hand you took a sip as they immediately went back to talking to you. After a while though the lights started to blur together, it felt different from the previous effects of the slightly alcoholic beverages you'd been drinking and you struggled to keep your eyes open.
"Hey I'm gonna go get some air-" You tried to yell over the music but you're not sure how loud you'd actually been speaking. Stumbling out of the party you were met with the fresh cold night air, a stark contrast to the humid environment inside. You walked a little ways away from the intimate couples that littered around the front of the house. You blinked slowly as you caught your breath, you felt a little better but not by much.
A clinking noise caught your attention, in between the houses where the fence clashed with the opposite houses, creating a dark alleyway. Curious, you walked towards it, well, more like stumbled as your feet seemed to work against you. As you neared the location of the sound you were met with something shiny, a quarter. You picked it up, inspecting it a bit. "Nice," you slurred, putting the shiny metal into your pocket before standing back up. You stumbled backwards into a sturdy surface, a wall maybe? That you swear wasn't there before.
Turning, you came face to face with the bright blue eyes of your father. A gasp escaped you as you tried to back away, tripping over your own feet causing you to fall to the hard ground. You groaned as your father crouched down to you. "You never should have disobeyed me." Your vision blurred a bit more as you attempted to defend yourself. "What's wrong? Feeling a bit tired?" His voice warped in your ears as you fought the urge to keep your eyes open. "Let's get you home dear," Your eyes finally shut as your father grabbed ahold of your now limp body.
Waking up in your bed, you groaned as the slight hangover caused a pounding pain in your head. You moved to get up only to feel a slight tug on your limbs, halting your movements.
"Huh? Wh-"
Your eyes scanned your form, noticing that all of your limbs were handcuffed to the posts of your bed. "It's a precaution." Your head snapped to the side, where your father was sitting in a chair near the door. His expression, unhappy. You gulped, the false hope that you'd be able to sneak out of your house without getting caught felt so foolish now as his intense gaze practically swallowed you whole. When you'd be unchained, you weren't sure, maybe days or weeks even. But you do know that it'd be better for you if you just do as instructed from here on out. For your fathers punishments were never for the faint of heart.
———
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Masterlist
#agent 47#yandere agent 47#agent 47 x reader#agent 47 x gn reader#gn reader#x gn reader#agender reader#agender#fanfiction#hitman woa#hitman x reader#hitman#platonic agent 47#prismuffin#x reader
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Tbh i won't mind if this acc ever becomes a 47 fan acc cuz i barely see any 47 fanfics😭 and i'm simp for that man<3(im recently in the fandom too)
Can i request a yandere 47 with a sleepy reader? Who basically just sleep everywhere and everywhere that would be interesting and probably stressful for him lol
Yandere!47 x sleepy reader
Notes: i think i would kinda mind if this became a 47 fan acc, don't get me wrong, i love him w all my heart but i have other characters and ideas
Warnings: none, I'm not a native english speaker, im totally fluent but this made me question my skills a bit
The drive back home was never quite fast enough.
The headlights were the only source of light on the rural road. Not like there was much to illuminate though, the night was overwhelmingly dark and the windsheild wipers couldn't do much against the pouring rain.
A palpable anxiety hung in the air, one that was only amplified by the fact that, aside for the harsh sounds of wind and rain outside, everything was completely silent.
God. He missed you so much
Your smile, your laugh, your touch, your expressions, opinions, thoughts, even your playful teasing.
This particular mission had taken unusually long. Well, the kill itself was quick, but the process of infiltrating for the required intel took much longer than he would've liked. He even had to spend a night in a hotel, not like he could sleep anyways. At least during the extra days away he had time to get you a few gifts (and by "a few" i mean seventeen).
His paranoia grew every passing minute that he wasn't with you, it was funny, how only you can bring out that kind of emotion in him. Of course a part of him knew you were okay, the house was stoked with everything you could ever need plus if someone broke through the security system he'd be the first one to know.
For a moment, 47's brought out of his thoughts as the road transitions from asphalt to gravel and the drive itself gets more uneven and noisy. It was a comforting sign that home wasn't much further.
Still, he couldn't help but be worried, worried about how you were doing, worried about how felt about him being gone for so weirdly long, worried over irrational scenarios where you accidentally hurt yourself.
It was times like these he wanted nothing more than to call you, to hear your voice and to talk to you, but he couldn't, he had made sure there was no line of communication between you two, thus no chance of calls getting traces.
So he kept driving, it was all he could do. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice how his grip on the steering wheel tightened and pressure on the accelerator got increased.
Would you be in the living room, binging that show you like? In the kitchen, having one of the pre-made dinners he prepared for you? In the bedroom, reading? Relaxing? Or, as you so often did, napping?
Relief washed over him once the house was in view. He could see that some lights were on but he couldn't see you in any of the large windows of the modern house.
He hastily parked, grabbed the supply bags and practically ran to the front door.
The door smoothly slid open and 47 practically threw his bags on the floor, he couldn't care less about anything besides seeing you right now.
There was no sign of altercation in the house. Though, if someone were smart enough to find your location (and be stupid enough to think they'd get away with it) they probably wouldn't leave a trace.
After all, there was no shortage of people who wanted 47 dead, and they certainly wouldn't be afraid to use you against him (they should be). He couldn't even trust Diana with the knowledge of your existence.
The first floor was dimly lit, you never did like using the big light. A few dishes were left out in the kitchen and on the coffee table, and you had clearly made yourself comfortable with the pillows and blankets on the couch, but you were nowhere to be seen.
47 made his way upstairs, quickly clearing other rooms on the way, since he was rather certain of where he'd find you.
He opened the bedroom door a lot more cautiously and carefully stepped inside.
You were in a deep sleep, the blanket only partly covering your body. You had made yourself into the most comfortable position possible and he couldn'thelp but smile at the sight.
He should have expected this, the sound of rain outside had always been relaxing to you. It would be a crime to disturb you when you looked so peaceful, not that 47 had considered it.
He slowly sat down at the edge of the bed and took you in, your messy hair, relaxed expression, slow breathing. You looked like the most beautiful person in the world, the best person in the world, and you were, at least to him.
God. He'd missed you so much.
The longer he sat there admiring you the harder he felt his heart swell with overwhelming adoration and love. He'd spent nearly a week yearning to get home, and only now that he was sitting beside, knowing you were safe, did he feel truly at home. It was a foreign feeling for most of his life, home. Before meeting you all it meant was the house one lived in most, but now, this house you two shared could get blown to pieces and he wouldn't care, as long as you were safe, and happy.
After a while he gently laid an arm over your hip and leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.
His body and mind weren't quite ready to sleep just yet, so he begrudgingly pushed himself to get up. Now in a much calmer state of mind, he went to put away his gear and clean up the house. He wanted to prepare for when you woke, he wanted you to wake up to the smell of your favorite breakfast (plus the gifts he got you).
He could already picture it. You groggily stumbling downstairs, your eyes lighting up when you see him in the kitchen, you hugging and greeting him like you usually do-
-He couldn't wait <3
#image you wake up and his blue eyed ass is just staring at you like 👁👁#not sure how i feel abt this one guyysssssss#agent 47 x reader#yandere agent 47#yandere agent 47 x reader#yandere hitman
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《The smutty hitman chronicles》
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→【The Hacker: Milkies?】
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Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI🔞Fem reader! throatpie, deep throating, praise, overstimulation, mention of lactation, breeding, and impregnation.
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『Yandere! Hacker that’s always spontaneous in everything he does. Whether it be from wrecking enemy databases or just casually trolling people online to pass the time. His unpredictable nature shines true in any setting he’s in.』
『Yandere! Hacker who’s the definition of an orange cat boyfriend. Always unhinged and in general an overly affectionate bundle of jittery joy when it comes to his loving darling.』
『Yandere! Hacker who loves everything about you from head to toe and is fascinated time and time again by your body anatomy. Reason why he’s got his hands on you 24/7 and due to his boundless obsession and curiosity. As to how you function on a daily basis being so soft and squishy compared to his lithe and hardened form. Regardless, You’re always kept on your toes whenever you’re in close quarters with the clingy fiend.』
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“Yujin, honey, are you alright? You’re spacing out again.”
『You hummed in an amused tone as you looked from beneath your lashes. To see your hacker boyfriend eyeing you with an intense glint in his sharp feline eyes that were up to no good. You jolted slightly when you felt him abruptly shove his hands down your crop top to greedily cup both of your jiggling boobs. Giving them a good hard knead.』
“Yeah, uh huh I’m fine babes it’s just—Wow! Your tits are so heavy and perky! So perfect to suck on…”
『Yujin drawled, dumbly in pure admiration as he went on to pinch and tweak at both of your nipples like they were joysticks. All the while his fleshy tip lightly dragged against your lips and chin smearing precum all over your face. As you were on your knees fondling his hairless balls and jerking off his pulsating shaft.』
“I read somewhere that mentioned how woman could lactate. Is that true? Of so, can you make that happen like right now, pretty please? I really wanna start milking you plus I’m thirsty.”
『He begged needily as he was completely fixated on your enticing mounds. Which had him utterly whipped at the thought of seeing milk dribble out those puffy areolas. That Yujin adored and revered to be the cutest thing of all. All the while he let out a throaty purr from how you started to lavish your wet tongue on his cockhead coaxing his salty sweet pre straight from the tap』
“Jin, listen I’d have to get pregnant in order to lactate. I can’t just do it at will on my own. It doesn't really work that way hon”
『You explained gently from how oblivious the 20 year old lynx hybrid sounded. Remembering how Yujin admitted that he didn’t have any definitive knowledge on the birds in the bees. Since he was raised in a very sheltered environment for most of his upbringing by strict caregivers.』
“Oh really? Well that's an easy fix! I could easily knock you up if that's what it takes baby cakes! All I gotta do is make sure to cram my spunk in every cute little hole you've got right?”
『Yujin chimed with a fanged lopsided grin and before you could even correct him with the right terminology. He suddenly thrusted his hips, forcing his thick cock deep into your mouth with each drawback of his pelvis.』
“Now that I think about it, I guess creaming your lovely throat would be good for starters~ you’d love that huh baby? I can just tell from from the way that sweet pussy is dripping all over the carpet~”
『He cooed lovingly, staring down at you while meanly squeezing your cheeks to get a close up at his dick. That was stretching open those plump lips that he fantasized kissing for all eternity. You were gripping his thighs for life support trying not to choke』
『As Yujin became Hellbent on pumping your throat full of his jizz to help fulfill his agenda. Of turning you into his lovely milk dispenser so that he’d be able to suckle on your swollen breasts. And admire his litter growing inside of your tummy for hours on end whenever he's slaving away in his room full of monitors and PCs.』
“Oh fuck, I think imma cum soon! You’re doing so good for me, so fucking good! just like I knew my pretty girl would. I swear Imma take the best care of you, make sure that my mate never goes in need of anything”
『He babbled, drooling from the tightness of your esophagus closing in on his throbbing meat. In tandem with how you squeezed his family jewels that were bloated with semen ready to make its home inside of you. And It doesn’t take long before Yujin goes completely ridgid tangling his clawed fingers in your scalp to further plant his crotch right against your face.』
『You could only process a deep hiss escaping your lover as your mouth was filled with nothing but his thick warm seed. He held your head in place and forcing you to savor every last drop of his cum that marinated your tastebuds. Yujin whined softly in protest at the thought of pulling away too soon.』
『The Hacker almost didn’t wanna pull out of your heavenly jaws at all but he still had his quota to fill. So with great reluctance he pulled out and look down at you with satisfaction. Brandishing a smile full of childlike chagrin as he sent you clutching for your pearls with his daunting words. Which hinted at the fact that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.』
“Welp that’s one hole down baby only two more to go~ but this time I’mma fill ya up more than once since I gotta make sure that it all sticks mkay?”
#yandere male x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere drabble#yandere male#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere blurb#yandere hitman#yandere hacker#yandere smut#smut imagine#smut drabble#smut headcanons#Yujin hacker#yujin smut#yujin oc#yanderecore#yandere content#male yandere#yandere concept#yandere headcanons#yandere x y/n#yandere hitman x reader#fem reader
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What does medic do when the nurse mc dresses up like a elf for Christmas? But sensually ~
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The Medic
Santa’s little helper
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Cw: suggestive, Slight degradation, Bondage, humiliation
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It was the season to be jolly so the Medic decided to dress up festive for the occasion for when he gifts his self destructive concoctions to the addicted rotten individuals of the criminal world to maintain good relations and funds towards the squad.
However before he could start distributing the drugs to his avid customers a little minx decided to show up and pull him from his line of work by wearing a joke gift of a sexy elf costume given by a close friend to wear to work as a dare.
He simply couldn’t let them go undisciplined for such insubordination and so this brought him to a certain sadistic idea that made him feel giddy with how his cute nurse would pay the repercussions from it.
“Why’re are you squirming so much my dearest elf? Didn’t you want my attention from how enticing you dressed?“
The Medic smiled deviously enjoying the way his nurse quivered in his lap in embarrassment as their punishment for distracting him when he was concentrated on making drugs that’ll sell like hotcakes for a high price as his side hustle.
“Is Santa’s lap not comfortable enough for you, hmm? Well that’s unfortunate since I’m in dire need of a lap warmer, and who better to help me other than my slutty helper elf“
His darling nurse was all beautifully wrapped up in ropes of pink silken ribbons. Having their wrists strapped together to properly pinned up high to the sky with their thighs widely spread out to expose their assets for all to see should anyone pay him a visit inside the laboratory. While he revels in the sight of his darlings flustered hot tears of shame running down their cheeks.
The Medic was certain that teasing his darling nurse and making them suffer so deliciously was the best gift of all.
#yandere male x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere scenarios#yandere blurb#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere oc#yandere hitman#yandere medic#yandere hitman x reader#yanderecore#yandere headcanons#yandere hitman squad
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Yandere Short Stories:
A Confession to Make
Yandere Florist (Callum) x Fem Reader
Blood red flowers laid out in a maple wood work desk, their boood red petal reminiscent of Callum’s past as a hit man. The florist hummed as he carefully cut each stem and trimmed the leaves of each flower to arrange a bouquet for his favorite customer… he wondered if (your name) understood the meaning behind these vibrant flowers and how they were a loud declaration of his love for her.
Callum sighed dreamily while he organized each chrysanthemum with white wax flowers, eucalyptus, thistle, and red hypericum berries. He truly wanted to put a lot of thought into each flower in this bouquet in hopes that his feelings finally went through to his beloved m’eudail.
Callum had been after (your name) the moment she enter his shop all those months ago. To him, she was dainty and perfect… a true lady who had easily captivated him with her shy smile and innocent eyes. Callum wanted her in ways he’d never wanted anyone else before… it was nearly carnal from how badly he wanted to bend her over and stuff her fat with his kids- woah. He had just gotten a bit to in over his head there for a moment…
The melodic dingle of the front door bell broke him from his musings. The red head quickly peaked his head out from his workroom to spot (your name) in the doorway.
“Good morning, Callum!” (Your name) giggled at the scarred man whose cheeks flushed red. “I saw that you have some new flowers in stock.”
“Give me one moment and I’ll tell you what each one is!” Callum chuckled, his green eyes scanned over her small frame in awe. (Your name) was always so cute!
Callum finished the last few touches to his lovely bouquet with a smile. The bouquet would no doubt swallow (your name), but he couldn’t help the excitement that seeped into his love stricken heart.
“Hey, I put something together for you.” Callum hid the bouquet behind his back as he smiled warmly at (your name). The young woman perked up once she spotted the bouquet. A bashful smile now on her face when Callum gently placed the red bouquet in her hands.
“You made me a bouquet?” (Your name) admired each flower in awe. It appeared Callum put a lot of thought and care into each piece of this arrangement. “It’s so beautiful… the red kind of reminds me of your hair.”
Callum chuckled before he bit his lip. It seemed (your name) didn’t understand the romantic language of flowers… but that was okay! He was willing to outright admit his interest in her!
“Well, these are much more than flowers…” Callum towered over (your name) as he pointed to each flower. “Red chrysanthemums for passion and love, wax flowers for a wish of lasting success, red hypericum berries, thistle, and eucalyptus for protection.”
(Your name) blushed when Callum grabbed her hands, the bouquet the only item in the way of the two of them from hugging.
“In other words, I’m confessing to you.” Callum whispered softly, his green eyes filled with adoration. “So what do you say? Would you be mine, m’eudail?”
#female reader#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere obsession#yandere imagines#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc#yandere original character#original work#yandere short story#yandere florist#yandere assassin#yandere hitman#yandere male#yandere concept#fem reader#yandere stories#Callum OC#yandere x y/n#yandere content#original character#oc x reader
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Games-Masterlist
Guidelines
Detroit become human
Yandere simulator
Yandere simulator 1980s
The legend of Zelda
Hitman
Mario characters
Twisted wonderland
#detroit become human x reader#yandere simulator x reader#yandere simulator 1980s mode#legend of zelda x reader#loz x reader#hitman x reader#agent 47 x reader#mario characters#twisted wonderland x reader#princess peach#princess daisy
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I have two possible aus for Billy x reader x Stu. One is older!hitmen billy and Stu x reader and the other is older!serial killers Billy and Stu x reader. Both would be a universe where they get away with the killings and meet reader later on. They’re also both Yandere. I’m gonna make moodboards for each and I’d love for you guys to send in questions about each au for me to answer so I can decide if I want to write full length fics
#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#billy loomis x reader x stu macher#stu macher x billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader x billy loomis#stu matcher x reader#billy loomis x reader#older!billy#older!stu#hitman au#serial killer au#yandere!billy loomis#yandere!stu macher
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Masterlist
𖤐FandomList 𖤐YandereEventMasterList
Tokyo Revengers
SlusheePreferences Headcanons - All
TomanBand Headcanons - multiple
StarGazing Ask - Mitarashi
PrettyBoy - Chifuyu Matsuno
Collateral - Takashi Mitsuya <yandere>
LibraryKisses - Manjiro Sano
ForeverYours - Manjiro Sano
Love,Manjiro - Manjiro Sano <nsfw>
Perfect - Manjiro Sano <nsfw/yandere>
Misguided Drabble- Manjiro Sano <ansgt>
I’mHere - Manjiro Sano <yandere>
FragileDearest › Baji x Tutor!Reader Series
CaughtOffGuard - Baji Keisuke <nsfw>
Nightmares - Baji Keisuke <angst>
Teasing - Baji Keisuke
SocialCues - Baji Keisuke <comfort>
Rest - xTimeskip Baji Keisuke <comfort>
Neurodivergent!Reader Ask - Baji Keisuke
Kuroko no Basket
LittleSnack - Atsushi Murasakibara
PurpleRosesxCandyRain - Atsushi Murasakibara <nsfw>
Katekyo Hitman Reborn
YandereEvent Oneshot - Gokudera Hayato
*WORKSINPROGRESS…
*most posts are written in Fem!Reader perspective …
*please reference my Intro Post of extra information
#masterlist#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#tokyo revengers x reader#the basketball which kuroko plays#kuroko no basuke x reader#kuroko no basket#kuroko's basketball#knb#knb x reader#knb murasakibara#murasakibara x reader#baji x reader#Mikey x reader#mitsuya x reader#katekyo hitman reborn#katekyo home tutor#khr#khr x reader#khr imagines#khr gokudera#x reader#yandere x reader
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