#he’s not particularly possessive or even obsessive?? to him violence really is just . a necessary means to keep u happy

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you in. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. like clockwork. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting, slipping from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches a flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back. 

so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

#im a lil unsure how to feel abt this piece i feel like it lost its flow pretty quickly 😔👉👈but i rlly did have fun writing it hehe #my baseline for yan!gojo is basically; a kind man who’s so in love w u that he’s willing to compromise his own morals to keep u safe #he’s not particularly possessive or even obsessive?? to him violence really is just . a necessary means to keep u happy #this is almost definitely the only yan piece ill ever write bUT im very fond of this gojo … he’s a tortured little meowmeow <33 #cw yandere #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #tw yandere

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Profile - Scaramouche

Yes I’m finally posting it lol, I had this sitting around a while actually and was hoping we'd get more info or anything on my boy, but since it looks like that's not happening anytime soon and I’ve had it done, I'll just go ahead and post

That and I kept asking myself "Man is this it? Is this the limit of too gross and dark for it to be searchable?" but meh. I'm sure eventually we'll get more info and I'll have to edit or redo this but oh well, I felt like writing a super sadistic bastard so. For one thing I don't think it's confirmed? But I'm still going with the idea he's electro vision.

EDIT: this is circulating a lot again. Please note this was made prior to version 2.0.

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Tws: fem reader, sadism, ns/f/w themes/mentions, manipulation, derogatory offensive language, mutilation, psychological torture, a LOT of physical and emotional abuse, bone breaking, detailed branding, scarification/cutting, mentions of murder, referenced trying to hurt yourself, descriptions of torture to a third party, brief descriptions of violence and gore and very brief mentions of eye/decapitation related stuff on a third party. Scara's just.... very awful lol

Tws (ns//fw section): noncon, severe sadism, d/s content, nonconsensual masochistic conditioning, degradation, anal, public humiliation, cockwarming, petplay, it's just... bad

This is definitely the darkest/most brutal one I've done by a pretty good margin, so, I just feel like I should warn that in case dark yandere isn't your thing.

The whole thing is really long (longest one yet yay) so I'm putting the whole thing under a cut, with a ====== line to divide the sfw and ns//fw sections.

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Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 7

Brutality: 10

Physical capability: 6

Mental/emotional instability: 3

Restrictiveness: 6

Sexual sadism: 11

Stubbornness: 9.5

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Bastard.

Honestly? A lot of his bullshit is defensive, he's basically an extra-mean tsundere that will also happen to rip limbs off of people who look at you the wrong way. Quite literally a case of, "it's not like I like you or anything," which he tells both you and himself.

I mean, what were you expecting. The man is not regarded as a particularly nice person.

Nonetheless, liking you will inevitably come through in certain moments, the mask of apathy for you comes off when necessary, and what comes through instead is an insane degree of possessiveness and defensiveness. It most likely starts with someone else insulting you or getting mad at you, perhaps a Fatui darling that fucks up and some other superior starts yelling at you -- can't have that. Only he's allowed to yell at you, he's the only person that can make you cry and apologize and cower like that, and he has... low self-control. He'll absolutely get pissed and publicly blow up at the other person, making a scene that actually has some benefits, as it will deter everyone who witnesses it from ever being mean to you. Honestly, his meanness is somewhat made up by the fact that literally everyone else will be incredibly nice to you  (when you are both given permission to interact), if for nothing else but fear of his wrath.

As far as who, it's likely one of two roles, first, an underling or direct subordinate as mentioned above, perhaps some kind of assistant. Second, more likely, someone who did meet him for a few moments, but in a rather... negative encounter. An enemy he was sent to deal with perhaps, someone he maybe almost got to fight but they ran away, like a coward. Someone who got in the way of him and a target. It's an instinct, really, like escaped prey, to chase after it.

Does he know your name? Because it's... questionable, given that he never calls you by it, instead opting for some rather derogatory, even offensive pet names with even more derogatory adjectives. Namely sexualized, y'know, things like that, the occasional "fucktoy" or "cumslut" later on. And it's wise not to get upset over it, because if you show any anger over it, he'll just intentionally get even worse and meaner. Again, it's all part of a defense mechanism, because God forbid you get the impression that he enjoys being around you. He'll also come up with a mean name based on a physical trait of yours. And... it's somewhat creative, at least. Something derogatory, but it's.... personalized, so, at least that's, well... affectionate? Examples include things such as four-eyes for a glasses-wearer, cow tits for the larger-chested, dumbass for a spacey, inattentive darling.

In a perpetual effort to degrade you as much as possible, he also expects you to respond to whistles and tongue-clicking, you know, the sound you make to call dogs and horses? Well, that sound is for you too, add in a "come here" finger motion sometimes -- all while not bothering to even look up from what he's doing. He could use words, but, that's more effort than he should have to put in, and you should be well-trained enough to know you're supposed to come when you hear that sound.

Another thing is that from the get-go, you get collared. It's degrading, it's possessive, it's humiliating, it's everything he likes inflicting on you. It's made for humans, so it has a lock and key, it's too tight to pull it over your head, and it's solid leather and can't be easily cut. So you're not getting out of it easily. It's not a sex thing, he insists, even though it clearly is and you will openly accuse him of it. He'll admit to it eventually. But it does have it's practical purposes as well. It can't be taken off, and it has his name and the Fatui's symbols on it, so even if you should get out and seek help from some kind of law enforcement or locals, the moment they see your collar they'll just drag you back.

And for someone who always insists you're bothering him, you will find he is actually rather... clingy. Before you know it, you're spending every second of your day with the man. Let's be real, given some of the shit going on within the Fatui, they're not gonna care that one of their highest ranking individuals has, well, more or less a slave. People will turn a blind eye. They don't care if he brings you with him. And like a good pet, you'll just sit quietly tethered to a desk. All day. He'd rather that than leave you at home. If you complain enough, he'll get you something to do, some kind of paper and pencil or a puzzle or the like, tells you to do that and not bother him. But he insists on you being with him.  And likewise, the clinginess continues even in living quarters. If he's working on something, he expects you to stay in the same room. If you're in one room and try to run off to the kitchen or bedroom or whatever, you get a glare and a where the fuck do you think you're going?

You actually end up spending, unfortunately, almost more time with him than any other yan, because he insists on taking you to work every single day, whether that's in a headquarters or elsewhere, even on trips/missions, you can just hang around nearby within sight if there's any fighting. He has no need to hide you, since everyone knows about you, and he has enough power to not be challenged by bringing you wherever he wants, so he quite literally keeps you by his side, perpetually, 24/7. How... sweet.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

For a subordinate darling, though, you're right there, so it's not hard. He just tells you you can't leave, and you're going to be changing your living quarters to his. In fact, he already had some other underlings go to your residence and move some of your things. If you should resist, well, you know your family information is on your employment records, right? Would be such a shame if anything happened to them. He doesn't try to hide it very much, makes the threat pretty obvious with no hint of subtleness.

for any other darling, well, kidnapping is for pathetic people, and he's not one, he thinks. He's too obsessive over self image -- if he kidnaps you, that would make it seem like he likes you, or, archons forbid, even needs you. Can't have that.

Thankfully, there is a useful alternative. It's called, "passive aggressively threatening financial ruin, great harm and even death upon your loved ones unless you do as you are told." See, he doesn't have to resort to pathetic measures like kidnapping. You come willingly. Nor does he get you himself, he's above that. Sure, he might... feel the urge to, but again, he has an image to maintain, you know. Going to fetch his new pet is a task delegated to underlings.

Which is something you honestly might want to thank your lucky stars for, because they're far too afraid of consequences to be rough about it. If you showed up with bruises or cuts, who knows what could happen to them if they marred and defiled his toy with their disgusting hands. So, they're very... gentle. Honestly, the poor things might get you with pity, that if you don't come back with them, it's their job, wellbeing, even life on the line, so hey, maybe you could do the right, empathetic thing and come with them? Maybe you can talk him out of it, and save both of you! (They know that's impossible, but they say so anyway).

For the one-time-encounter darling, at first you're not even sure who they're talking about or what's going on, you're confused and think maybe they have the wrong person? Unfortunately once you're there, once they shove you into a room and slam the doors behind you, you have the oh no, I remember this guy moment. Because, well, how could you forget him? Now you're actually nervous, because they're not very clear at first as to why you're there, only that you're being detained by their forces, so you might think the Fatui would like to kill you, but that doesn't make sense since they brought you all the way here. Maybe interrogation? No, that doesn't make sense either.

He feigns apathy. Again, can't make it seem like you're, you know, important. It's more of an oh, yeah, almost forgot that you were coming sort of attitude. Like you're wasting his time, as if you weren't the one practically dragged here. He's doing some kind of paperwork (not really, he's just holding a pen and pretending to read the paper), and doesn't bother looking up for more than a moment. You're already asking questions, perhaps angrily, perhaps meekly, depending on the personality. If it's the former, he might snap and glare at you and snarl about it, if it's the latter, he'll just shoot you a glare to get you to be quiet.

Says, simply, he's decided that you posed... an obstacle before. An annoyance. You're not worth the trouble you caused before, and he'll make sure you don't get in his way again. He's gracious enough to not kill you, since he thinks you have some potential for a different purpose. You'll be like... a slave. Pet. Toy. Whichever word you like best. You start today and it's indefinite, so get used to it.

He says it so matter-of-factly and calmly, apathetically, that you're almost not certain you heard right, so you blink and stare and ask sorry, what? And he groans and rolls his eyes and tells you to listen because in the future he's not going to be repeating things for you, and tells you again.

You protest? Ok, maybe he'll just actually kill you, then? Sound good? No? Then why bother saying anything? You should have known that was the alternative. Of course, he wouldn't actually kill you, but, you don't exactly know that, and this guy certainly looks and sounds like he wouldn't hesitate. So... have fun.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He's going to have you under constant, live surveillance every waking second of your life, so, it's not exactly easy. Given his position, he can easily persuade anyone to let him bring you with him to whatever work he has to do. He keeps you collared and tethered to the desk, most of the time. And he prefers you to be under his surveillance, but if he absolutely needs to leave he will leave you under the care of guards, and it's never a long window of time. Most of said guards value their lives and know the man well enough to know they had better keep a very good eye on you.

Your only real chance is when you get the newbie guard, the one who doesn't know better and might get distracted. If you're willing to throw said guard under the bus, you stand a slight chance of getting out into the main buildings, and even then, you have to make your way out of one of the most heavily guarded, likely walled-in buildings in Teyvat, out into the very difficult to survive wilderness. It's actually not a great idea. You'll most likely end up caught by guards even if you make it out of the initial room, and as you can imagine, your course of actions has not gone over well with your captor, who they drag you back to, likely kicking and screaming because you know you do not want to face his wrath.

It's not pretty. Escape attempts are a very high-ranking offense in his mind, and even worse, you've made a fool of yourself and reflected poorly on him. You'll most likely have a broken bone by the end of it. He doesn't really think out punishments for this very much, he just acts on angry impulse, which at the time might be snapping one or two of your fingers, or a kick to the stomach that cracks a rib. It won't be too severe of broken bones, thankfully, he won't break your legs or arms... not just yet, at least.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Ok actually... you'd be surprised that it's easier than you think. You see, you'll find that a lot of particularly cruel, mean-spirited people often don't have the best socialization skills, as people tend to fear them so much and dislike engaging with them that they don't get a lot of conversational exchanges beyond barking orders and dominating any exchanges, and consequently, as well as due to people's fear of them, have difficulty telling when someone is lying, being sarcastic, or reading subtle things like body language and facial expressions.

As a result, you can lie to him, and he's more easily fooled by acting than you'd expect, although it's still difficult, it's just no next-to-impossible. But I mean, really, the question is more... is it really worth the risk? Because you'll suffer if you get caught. Managing to trick him is kinda humiliating on his end, and he doesn't exactly take kindly to people making a fool out of him.  It's an insult to his pride, so, consequences are more severe than just regular misbehavior. Basically the more an offense humiliates him or makes him insecure, the more he'll lash out at you as a result. Lying or any kind of deception is a very severe offense on his internal ranking. Basically, lying is only really worth it if you're planning an escape and are fairly confident you can pull it off.

Manipulation isn't really possible. What, you promise you'll behave better if you get this or that? And you think that'll persuade him? Hah. Don't try it. He actually gets mad if you try that sort of thing. Any exchange like that, you see, gives you a semblance of some sort of power, which is unacceptable. Why give you an inch of your way when he can just brutalize his way into getting you to do whatever he wants? That being said, he might come up with things on his own to pacify or appease you if you annoy him in general, but won't listen to your "deals" -- so really, if you want something, it's smarter to express interest in that thing at some point, then go and annoy him in general -- he's much more likely to think of that thing and get you what you want, whereas if you ask for it directly in exchange for not being such a brat, he'll say no.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Initially not a lot, he doesn't want to waste money on anything for you, but soon realizes you can be very, very annoying while he's trying to work, and you're so bored that you're willing to take the consequences of being annoying. He hates to give in to the "if you give me stuff to do I won't bother you" thing because it feels like giving in to you, but, eventually if you pester him enough he'll cave and get your something to do from his own idea, but as aforementioned, not a direct deal made with you.

So, eventually, you'll get things to do. Books, paper and pencils, anything that works if you give him some peace and quiet.

As far as roaming, though, absolutely not. You start off not leashed to anything, but if you try some shit once, you'll have your collar leashed up and tethered. During meetings, you obviously can't leave. And any roaming, really, would be breaking the "don't leave my line of sight" rule. Really, he gets upset even if you move around the room too much, prefers you stay still.

It's a stretch to call it lenience, but you go where he goes, so you do get some outings. Even if you don't want them, because again, you go where he goes.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Rules are simple actually, because a simple rule encompasses a lot. He tells you very plainly from the start: "Don't piss me off."

Of course, poor darling has to get some elaboration on that, so he sighs and groans but clarifies and it turns out there are, in fact, many rules. Do everything you are told, do it when he says it, and don't complain. Don't avoid him. Don't speak without permission. Don't backtalk him or give him an attitude. Stay within his sight at all times. Don't speak to anyone that's not him, and don't look them in the eye. Call him "Master." "Sir" will suffice occasionally. If he calls you over, don't take you time, you should move as fast as you can. ...He keeps going on for a while. This is, obviously, a much further extent than it initially seemed, but he doesn't seem to have much leniency, so you try to listen carefully.

Most importantly. You will take everything he has to give without fighting back, and at the end, you'll thank him. While saying this rule, he actually bothers to look up from his work and look you in the eye, and you know he's very serious about it.

For simple punishments, it's not so much that he intends to do horrible things, it's more that he gets into more or less a tantrum and gets so mad he lashes out on instinct without thinking it over. Expect a lot of simple beatings -- slapped in the face, some hair pulled out, a combination of both is common, where he just grabs you by the hair and smacks you around. Shoves you to the ground, kicks you while you're down there. Spits in your face. Chokes you on the collar, chokes you with his hand until you black out. He'll wait for you to recover on that last one, after all, you have to say your "thank you" at the end.

As aforementioned, escape attempts are a high-ranking offense, but not quite worth severely broken bones to him. However, this changes if they become repetitive. This is the fourth time now, so maybe you don't need that ankle too much.

However, the actual worst offense is trying to harm him or yourself. Hurt yourself, and you'll find yourself unable to. He'll make sure you come to appreciate life with him a little more, let's see how you like constant restraint, 24/7 bound and tied to a chair or the bed. This might also get a wrist or fingers broken, to prevent you from hurting yourself.

But raise a hand against the man and you'll genuinely, truly suffer. It's a combination, you get a little bit of everything, an all in one deal -- one offense, receive every type of punishment free! But if this happens again, he decides to do something a little more... permanent.

In order to reach this point, you'd have to be particularly bad for a pretty long streak of time. Repeated escapes, repeated attacks, repeated misbehavior, and you just don't seem to learn, so, he'll just have to remind you of your place, and he feels the best way to do that is leaving a mark. Oh, and probably the most physically traumatic experience of your life, that aspect will help it sink in.

He might not be able to do all of them with a respective vision, but that doesn't mean he can't just mark you in a few of the old-fashioned ways! In fact, you get the choice. That's part of the psychological torture of it all, having to pick and choose the details of your suffering, the way your heart pounds and the way you whimper and sob and the fact that you've never seen him look quite so giddy, as if high on the very notions of your pain. There's one he can do on his own, though. Have you ever seen the scars of someone who's been struck by lightning? They're pretty. He thinks something like that would look so nice etched out on your skin. Unfortunately you'd have to be shocked a couple of times for several seconds at a time to be permanent, but he'll give you something to bite down on if you'd like.

If you don't like that, he can brand you the old-fashioned way with a fire and iron. It would take a bit longer, and he'll very intentionally drag out the process. What kind of design do you want? There's a few. Do you want it on your front or your back? Left side or right? Chest, shoulders, hips? You should be grateful, he's here giving you options and you're just sitting there blubbering? If you don't hurry up and answer, he'll just have to give you more than one.

Or if both of those options aren't good enough, there's another alternative. Carving into you like a piece of meat. It could be his name, or a design, maybe. He could write it down your thigh. Across your stomach. On your chest. Don't worry, he's cut into enough people to know how to not to go too deep, just on the surface is enough to scar.

Speaking of not going to deep, notably, he will never actually do anything that puts your life at risk, or impacts your... health? Obviously the pain and scars aren't healthy, but to elaborate, he won't starve you, and he won't choke you beyond the point of blacking out. If he does cut you, it's with you so heavily restrained you cannot move in any capacity -- no chance of you thrashing and making it go too deep, gags you so you don't accidentally bite into your tongue and bleed out. He's actually... oddly vigilant about making sure he doesn't accidentally kill you.

He also won't isolate you, well, not physically. This is more for him than you, although he won't say so, he doesn't like you being physically out of his sight or away from him. Instead, he gives you... emotional isolation, tells you not to speak to him, pretends you're not there, won't respond to you calling out to him. It's actually a bit more hurtful in a way, but you'll never get the whole "locked alone in a room for a week without contact" punishment that some yanderes pull. He's too needy for that.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

You see, it's your fault. Even if it isn't.

No, it really doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, it's still your fault that someone else shows you attention. You probably seduced them somehow, looked at them with those lustful eyes when he wasn't looking, or you held your body in a way that people would look at. So, it's ultimately your fault, and you will get punished for it, but although you are the root cause, you're not the worst offender -- the other party is still far, far worse.

Because by now anyone should know better. You'd have to be stupid or just have a death wish, because realistically everyone will look the other way if he quite literally kills a low-rank.

And to be fair, he might actually be wrong. He's actually really paranoid about this, and he takes the slightest of things and blows them out of proportion. Maybe that guy that he says looked at you the wrong way wasn't even looking at you at all. He imagines things and will definitely at some point accuse someone completely innocent of something they didn't do. Or he might be right, they did look at you, speak to you, but it was just a glance, just a simple question, but that doesn't matter. They still did it (and you, you probably encouraged it, didn't you?).

If you are the one saying it, though, complaining about sexual harassment from one of the guards or something, well, then he's more brutal, and doesn't hold anything back. He will, simply, kill them. No life-ruining, no framing for crimes, he's actually very direct and simple when it comes to rivalry because who needs indirect methods when you have enough status to just off the bastard?

Now, if it's someone from back home, a boyfriend or such that you keep whining about, because he doesn't know what happened to me! He's probably worried! Fine. He agrees to send people to inform him of what happened, he says, he promises he'll get them to tell him what happened to you, after all it's not like the guy could do anything about it. He feigns irritation at best, rolls his eyes, but inside it actually sets him off like nothing else. Eats him alive inside. He's right here and here you are droning on about some guy who doesn't matter? To his face?

Well, it's not as if he doesn't... understand why you're not exactly happy here. It's a dilemma that he has, which we'll touch on later, that he kinda does sometimes wish you were happy and did like him, but he also realizes that pretty much everything he does is counterproductive to that. Still, this is one of those times he wishes for it. Gets childishly pouty to anyone else interacting with him, in a bad mood all day because how dare you have someone else you care about. He wants you to show that kind of concern for him.

And, although it's even more counterproductive to the possibility of you ever liking him, he decides to do something very, very spiteful. He changes his mind and says actually, he'll arrange it so that you get to see the guy. Bites his tongue and twitches at how your face lights up, but then you you have the nerve to ask if he's joking. No, he says, he's serious, it'll take a while to fetch him though. It warms your heart. Maybe he has, you know, the capacity for empathy after all. When you get called over in a few days, because he says he has something for you, you think it's that, but no, it seems to be something else. You've been good, he says, so he got you something.

A gift, in a box and everything. Go on, open it. He got it just for you. It was hard to obtain, there's only one in the world. Oh, but sit down first. You might pass out from excitement.

You don't like the happy look on his face, the light-hearted tone in his voice, it's all too uncharacteristic, and you run through possibilities, none of them good. You pick it up and you're fairly certain you know, you shake a little bit and tears start to fill your eyes, and you really don't want to open the box, but at the same time, you have to know.

He's smart about it, and takes your well-being into account, because he cares, you know? That's why he got you to sit down, if you'd been standing, see, you would have passed out and fallen and maybe hurt yourself. This way you just slump over and drop the box when you black out. That was somewhat expected, most people pass out when they see the disembodied head of a loved one, and you're no exception. You got blood on the floor when you drop it, but it was worth seeing the look on your face. Alright, well, you got what you wanted, you got to see him. See? He wasn't lying, he followed through on the promise.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Very, very easy to piss off. You often do it so unintentionally, without even knowing that the action is something that will set him off, that the reactions catch you off-guard. The actual anger varies depending on his mood that day -- some days, it's just snarling and berating, looking at you with disgust and barking at you about how stupid you are, threatening you with this or that, ultimately forcing you to apologize just to get him to leave you alone and stop being mean. He likes to feel above you, so a lot of the time he'll say something isn't worth his time getting truly angry over, and wave his hand after a few minutes and tell you to not speak to him again until he says you can. Other times, if he's in an especially bad mood, he can get kinda physically violent, throwing things, grabbing you by the hair or clothes to get in your face, pulling your hair, kneeing you in the stomach.

He can be incredibly childish and immature about offenses -- even long after the loud and explosive angry tantrum is over, he'll be passive-aggressive for a while, and is incapable of just letting it go. He brings it up over, and over, and over, like an actual child that wants to wallow in bitterness and make you feel sorry for him. This is less of an active anger, it's more pouty, but still spoken with narrowed eyes and a disgusted glare.

Also, when he's exceptionally angry, it's one of the few times he might act... not so. When he gets furious, for a few moments he'll snap into the "fake" personality we've seen in him -- smiles and laughs a bit, begins his sentence with a light hearted, saccharine tone that, by now, you know means you have severely fucked up, and you tremble and step backwards. You cower, but he grabs you by the hair, shirt, chin, anything, and his voice gets lower and lower, the smile slowly drops, until he just explodes, furiously snarling at you and pulls your hair, backhands you a few times, shoves you to the ground, before dragging you away by the hair or the shirt to go over your real punishment.

Now, there's anger, and then there's rage. He gets mad easily. He blows up, he yells, he does his little transition from smiley to mad, but if he's at the absolute upper limit of anger, he gets surprisingly... quiet. Quiet and calm. It's actually unlikely that this anger will ever be directed towards darling, as there's not really anything you can do to make him this upset. If you witness it, it's likely in the form of someone else trying to hurt you, or the aforementioned rivals. And that's an insult to him, you know? You're his property. It makes him completely blind with rage. And, the unspoken aspect of it, is that if someone is genuinely after you, the idea of you being killed or taken away terrifies him because he needs you, deep down.

This rare rage, again, (seemingly) calm and quiet, is very straightforward. The offender is staked to the ground straight through, don't worry, he can do it without hitting internal organs. And then, well, tortured to death. He's an expert in the art of pushing the limits of keeping a human being alive as long as possible. Oh, don't go anywhere. He'd like you to watch. If it's someone trying to hurt you, well, they deserve to see the reason they're dying, and if it's someone you gave your attention or affection to, he wants you to see the consequences of your choices on others, remember, it's your fault this happened, you likely enticed them. If it's that, he'll make sure you're involved. Give you choices. What would you like to see go first, a finger or the tongue?

Another little quirk is that he always has to express anger physically, even when he knows not to -- which isn't too often, but sometimes he has to accept that subordinates will be stupid and that he can't always kick them in the face for it. So when he's just in a bad mood, he gets twitchy from the need to exert physical violence. Grabs at the edge of the table with trembly hands, breaks writing utensils in half, pulls at his hair and digs his fingernails into his arms. Once you're there, though, he can take out the anger on you, unfortunately, like a living stress ball. When it's anger at other people, though, he tends to take that anger out not by hurting you, but rather, finds... other rough ways to expend some energy and exert some physical force.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

What do you think?

Yeah, there's not a whole lot to say here. He's a massive narcissist, everyone is beneath him. However... notably, although he wouldn't say it out loud, he still sees you as being above other people, even though that in and of itself is a narcissistic thought process -- you have value, because you have value to him. You are important because he has deemed you important. And other people, he has deemed unimportant, worthless. You have worth... because he's decided you do. Because he has the utmost worth, so, he's just bestowing some of his own worth on you -- it's an act of benevolence, really.

And, well, as you can imagine, this attitude is very much reflected in his behavior. And, one way or another, itwill be reflected in your behavior, too.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

You might be surprised, but he actually... does try.

For someone who essentially makes your life hell, there are times where his mind starts thinking and drifting off because of some boring meeting or the like, or he's watching you go about whatever you're doing and thinks... you know, maybe it would be nice if you actually liked him. The first few times, he quickly shoves away the thought, but it starts popping into his head every now and then. Maybe the worship would be a lot better if you had adoration in your eyes instead of fear and tears. Honestly, it's still selfishly motivated, because he just thinks of how it would benefit him if you loved him, but he starts to like the idea nonetheless. And he can think of a way to make it happen. If he becomes determined to carry this out, it would be a little while into the "relationship," maybe a year or so.

He knows it won't come naturally. You need help. So, mindbreak it is.

It's not as if you're not already well on your way to mindbreak with the general way he already is, but there are certainly some things to be done that can speed up the process. Ultimately, the key to breaking you into loving him is making you need him, to make you think he's better than others, and to balance out the cruelties. The way to do this is to make you terrified of everything else, and present himself as a protection from that.

He'll arrange for accidents to occur that he can save you from -- gets an underling to pretend to break in and abduct you or the like so he can chase them off, sets a trap that nearly hurts you only to snatch you away from it.

The second tactic is to make himself seem better than your alternatives. He'll find a way -- it goes without saying he's not the only harbinger with a toy. He exaggerates how awful the others' are -- you know, that one's little toy has no arms or legs, they ripped them off. Bet you're glad he hasn't done that to you, huh? And that one only feeds their pet once a week, you get to eat normal meals every day. He finds ways to make it believable, maybe even get the others to support his claims (they gotta help each other out, you know?). You start to feel like maybe you should be a little more grateful.

And finally, it doesn't come easy but... he decides he can maybe (maybe! Don't you go getting used to this, you know) ...be nice. A word of praise here or there. The first time you hear a word of praise, you think you've gone insane, look up at him with wide eyes, and he just what, you want me to *not* say that? and you insist no no it's fine, it's fine! And as much as you wish it didn't, it makes you feel... warm inside. Good. You feel like you want more.

At the same time, you know what that means -- it's not hard to figure out that it's intentional, really, you know that, and he knows you know. You know why he's doing this. You know what the intended outcome is, and that you're falling for it perfectly. You know that your internal response means you're beginning to slip, to lose it, but... maybe that wouldn't be so bad. To put up a fight, to resist it? What good does that do, really? Your pride is already shattered and you're just going to make yourself more miserable.

Yes, if you let it happen, maybe you will finally be at ease. Resistance just makes things worse. So maybe acceptance will make things better. Maybe if you start working for the niceness and avoiding the meanness, trying to be good, trying to earn the niceness... maybe it would make you... happy. Maybe you really can love him. So eventually... you'll let go.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

He does love you, in his own way, but it's impossible for you to understand. This is where we get into the idea of sadism as love. True sadistic love is a rare thing even in yandere, and it's difficult to describe - for him, the degree of cruelty bestowed unto you IS, in a way, his way of "love." He has no idea how to express affection any other way, but it is, genuinely, caused by affection, even though he himself doesn't quite realize it, doesn't quite understand the feeling that's making him want to hurt you. Sure, his cruelty is partially a defense mechanism, a little bit of that tsundere side, but it's also something innate, instinctive. The natural reaction to the feeling of fondness is to hurt the object of that fondness. When he becomes fond of a person, he wants to harm them. He can't say why, and he doesn't exactly care why. He thinks you look pretty when you cry. When your face twists up in pain and your lip trembles, that's your most beautiful. It makes him feel powerful. In the same way a lot of people feel powerful over making their beloved cum or feel pleasure, that's how he is with pain. Well, he likes to inflict both actually, preferably at the same time.

To truly, completely own you means to be your whole world -- responsible for every bit of pleasure, pain, happiness, misery, he wants to be the cause of all of those things. Other people hurting you and making you cry makes him just as mad as other people making you smile or feel happy. They're both the same offense -- they're both trying to take away some of that ownership, some of that power. While he might utilize others harming you to his benefit, it still makes his blood boil -- not just in a "you're hurting someone I love" way, but in a "I'm the only one supposed to hurt them" way.

============================

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

It changes gradually with time. At first, surprisingly somewhat reserved, and even more easily embarrassed, gets red in the face and shifts uncomfortably over certain topics. Doesn't mean he won't fuck you, but will be kind of cold and distant about it at first, not saying much, too embarrassed to call you nasty names and say degrading things.

(Un)fortunately for you, that changes pretty quickly, as the more confident and used to you he becomes, the more he's willing to indulge in the things that sound so nice in his head. Ok, so maybe the collar is a fetish thing, which you accused him of at the very beginning but he adamantly denied. So what? You clearly get off to it, so don't go around calling him a pervert for it.

He's in this odd middle ground where once he's actually horny and initiating it, he can get gross, and is very touchy almost all the time, but if sex comes up as a conversational topic when it's not actually occurring, he gets flustered about it, especially if you're the one to bring it up. Outside of specifically you, it's an absolute no. He's the kind of person to get outwardly disgusted at the slightest mention of the most vanilla and hand-hold-y of sexual things, or even just retch when seeing people get non-sexually romantic and loving, when hearing it from other people and tell them to shut up or get out of his sight, but at the same time is having you on a collar and leash in a workplace setting and forcing everyone around him to just tolerate that. Don't question it.

That being said, the "actually horny and initiating it" part is a frequent occurrence -- for someone who seems somewhat reserved, it's still incredibly often, almost always several times a day, and that's just actual intercourse, not counting all of the little degrading acts and words throughout the day. You'll be sore for sure.

And the touchiness is honestly partially neediness. He's touch-starved. Half the time, sure it's sexual, but it's also... nice. You're warm. Feeling your skin is comforting. He won't say that it's partially non-sexual, but sometimes will, without even consciously realize it, rest his head on your shoulder when you're sitting in his lap or the like.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

It's better without, actually.

Of course, over time you'll learn better -- you'll learn you were just being stubborn at the time, that you should have been grateful, that it was what you wanted deep down -- but at the time, your fear is cute too.

That being said, once you reach the mindbroken state -- once you're enthusiastic, love in your eyes, bouncing up and down on his cock and thanking him for every second of it -- he has to admit that's pretty nice, too. He can enjoy it either way in the end -- whether you have that adoration and willingness, or if you don't.

The only thing he won't tolerate is if you pull the silent treatment -- trying to stay silent and now show anything on your face in an attempt to not give him the satisfaction of your reactions. Which is easily fixable. It's really not a good idea for you, because it will just make him worse in order to finally draw out some sounds.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Orgasm denial/control/ruining

It's humiliating and funny at the same time, nice. But seriously, he likes to make you beg. It's nice to see you accept your place and do what you're supposed to, to openly acknowledge how little control you have.

And denial is great too, especially combined with edging. After a few days of the torture of not getting to cum, you'll finally be willing to throw your pride away and truly, truly beg, offering to do anything, and words spilling out of your mouth unprompted that you think he'd like to hear, and that's the best part, seeing the filthy things your mind can come up with to appease him enough to let you cum -- and they will be brought up later. Hey, remember when you said you would do this or that when you were begging to cum? About time to follow through right?

But if you haven't been so great, there's one thing better. Getting your hopes up and just barely letting you reach the high before pulling away completely. Your little eyes widen and you spasm and you rock your body in a desperate attempt for friction and sensation, but you're held down as the orgasm dies before ever reaching a peak. Sometimes you get so miserable about it you cry, which isn't great as it just fuels the desire to ruin it again.

And if you're so desperate to get off at any time, once you've been edged a few days, you can earn permission to either ride his thigh or get on the floor and rut into his leg until you cum. No using your hands. If you can't get off to humping like that, you don't get off. And be sure to thank him for the graciousness of allowing you to do so.

Public Humiliation

Once he gets more confident, he tells you you're going to start coming to meetings with him. He hates leaving you alone with guards he doesn't fully trust, so you'll just go too. At first you're ecstatic. This means you can finally get out of the lingerie and into real clothes, right?

And then you see the look on his face and realize what's actually happening, and it makes your blood run cold. You can fight it, but in the end you're going to be dragged by a leash in front of a room full of people on your hands and knees. If you've been relatively bad, you'll just sit at his feet, but if you're good, you get to sit up on his lap, nice and pretty so that everyone can see. He's just too possessive enough that you won't go naked, but the clothing of choice will certainly not be something you would ever, ever want to be seen in.

Oh, they give out water at these meetings. He grabs your chin and tells you he'll let you have some if you open your mouth, and you're thirsty so you do -- so he takes a swig of it and spits it into your mouth. And if you want any more, you'll have to take it the same way.

People are watching -- and you know people are watching. He's still slightly too awkward to want to be the center of attention (let's be real, there's probably fucked up things going on all over these meetings, others probably bring theirs too), but people cast glances, people smirk and chuckle at your humiliation and misery. And people envy him. You're so cute. He knows that, and he loves the power rush that comes with that knowledge. And you? Well, you don't want to throw a fit or cry in front of people -- not only would it be humiliating, but you fear the consequences, so you sit and squirm and whimper.

He's not one to start talking to others so much, though. Some yans into publicly humiliating you will make a spectacle of it, talking to the others and verbally, loudly showing you off, jeering at you and talking about you like you can't understand them (example being a certain hydro likely in the same room), but, well, honestly he just doesn't like the others well enough to speak with them unless necessary to begin with, so he actually just kind of glares and snarls at anyone that tries to interact. Again, not the center of attention, he prefers to remain a little more in the background, talking to you, soaking up your misery and beaming with pride over the glances people cast.

D/S dynamic - master/slave + petplay + humiliation + worship

If we're being honest it's more of a "this is your life now" than a dynamic. It's not that you pretend to be or act as a slave, you are one. And it's better if you accept that, really. No matter what, you say thank you after everything you get, be it rewards, punishment, anything really. And he likes to go out of his way to test the limits of that. See how far he can break down your pride before you refuse to give your proper thanks, so that he knows the limit of where he needs to start breaking you down more.

And it's whenever, wherever -- you're free use, basically, but also just tests your obedience and submission by random acts of sadism. Calls you over and tells you to get on your hands and knees so he can use you as a footrest, and you'll stay that way for a while. Grabs your jaw and tells you to open your mouth at complete random to spit in your mouth and tells you to swallow. After you grind on his leg until you cum as aforementioned, you got gross slick all over his shoes and the floor, so lick it up. Smiles at you and tells you hey, come here a sec and gives you a good backhand across the face. And what do you say? You know the answer - thank you Master. Is any of it necessary? No. But he enjoys it. It reminds you of your place, and your thanks is a measure to prove your loyalty. And he's not heartless, he'll tell you you're good for it. You start to look forward to that.

But the leash is another thing -- it ties onto your collar and he uses it to make sure you can't go too far. More importantly, uses it to pull you around and tells you good pets don't walk on two legs, they walk on four -- so you'll do the same and crawl on your hands and knees whenever he feels like it.

But worship is the best thing, really. As much as he likes doing things to you, you should be eager to show your love and gratefulness, too, which in his mind comes mostly in the form of riding him until your legs give out and deepthroating cock until you nearly black out. It would be much appreciated.

Anal sex + throatfucking

If we're being honest, it's just cute to watch you squeal and squirm. You whimper because it hurts, it feels weird in a way you're not used to, and when he cums inside your poor ass you can physically feel it and it feels so, so gross, leaking out and running down your legs. But it's better if it's by surprise, switching holes when you're not expecting it and listening to you squeak and jolt and try to pull yourself off, to listen to you beg and plead. It's adorable, really. And it makes for a good punishment that will definitely get you to behave if getting your poor ass stretched out is the threat you're dealing with. It's all cute, how you can't stand up to walk after, how you twitch and cry, and it's better if you can cum while he's fucking you because then that means you clearly enjoy it.

And your throat, too, watching your eyes tear up and feeling your throat instinctively spasm as your gag reflex kicks in. It goes pretty far down your throat, you definitely can't breathe, so you grab at his thighs and desperately try to pull off, but to no avail. And he likes making threats out of that too - when he cums down your throat, if you spill so much as a single drop of it, you won't be able to sit right for a week.

It's also nice to combine the two -- telling you so make sure you suck good and get it coated in your spit, because it's the only lube you're going to get. You have the most adorable reaction, eyes widening with fear and immediately getting to work on making sure you follow through.

Cockwarming

Eventually, as he gets more used to your presence in his workspace, and you've proven you know how to sit still without being an obnoxious nuisance, he'll decide you can help him alleviate boredom on days where there's not much to be done other than papers and the occasional subordinate coming in to be spoken to. Good thing the desk you sit at has a front to it. You're either down on your knees with cock in your mouth, or more often just sitting on his lap. The thing is that if it's that, you're dealing with cock inside you the entire time. Don't think about squirming around, it earns you a slap to the thigh and being told to stop moving so much. Are you really such an insatiable slut that you can't hold still just because you're that desperate to get off? Maybe if there's no one around you can get railed into the desk, but that doesn't mean you get to take it out -- you'll go right back so sitting the way you were before.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Eh, he kinda goes both ways, back and forth. The issue is that the side that thinks he might want a kid is entirely delusional, he has absolutely no idea how difficult or involved having a kid actually is, he just thinks of some... creature he thinks he can copy+paste his ideals and values and worldview onto, like a protege, an heir. Another thing is he somehow does not realize why combining himself and a child with a copy+paste personality is a recipe for disaster. Honestly, he would NOT be a good father, you would be doing 99.99% of the work while he just occasionally trains them and other stuff that he actually likes doing... the rest would be your job. So, realistically, you should hope and pray he doesn't decide he wants one.

Which is unlikely, because he also realizes that kids are a distraction, time consumption, they take up your time and attention and energy. Your time and attention and energy are essentially his property, because you are, so why would he willingly give that up? No, he's not about to watch you tire yourself out over some stupid kid and have none for him, you'd probably use tiredness as an excuse to not fuck or something, can't have that. It's... not like he likes your attention or anything... it's just that he deserves all of it and no one else does.

That being said, he is a key member of the "what the fuck is protection" club, so, it might happen anyway.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

A better question would be what kind does he NOT use. The full spectrum of ideas is there, he mockingly kinda takes pride in the creativity. He prefers some to others, though. Less frequent ones include overstimulation and sexualization of electro torture -- light shocks to the most sensitive parts of your body, it's more fun the second time and onwards, because you tremble in fearful anticipation, desperately try to squirm away.

More frequently is just, well, the classic way, beating your ass. It's easy, quick, humiliating, and it proves a point. Spankings are incredibly common for the slightest of offenses, beating you red and raw for a defiant look or a word out of place. If you whine that it's unfair because what you did wasn't that bad, well, that just adds on more. He's the type to keep something laying around, invest in a rubber paddle or a leather strap and keep it somewhere visible, somewhere you can see it, as just a constant reminder, a threat looming over your head.

And as aforementioned, another frequent one is the threat of fucking your throat or ass or both. It leaves you sore for a long time, the taste of cum down your throat, the feeling of cum leaking out of your holes, not to mention the discomfort of the sensations themselves, potentially pain, if done roughly -- and you do not want him to be rough about it, so, be on your best behavior.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Tits, but more specifically nipples. They're so sensitive. If he touches or sucks on them you squirm and moan, but if he pinches and pulls them or bites down on them hard enough, it makes you jolt and squeal, and that's a very nice reaction, really.

Also, nipple clamps. He makes heavy use of them and will also tug on it pretty harshly to get your attention.

=========================== 

#atml #yandere genshin impact

[wolf-zer0]

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people.  I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors.  Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana 

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra 

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort 

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos 

Attack at your own peril 

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after 

The only known food export is potatoes.  Wonder why… 

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade: 

Is pig.  

With braid.  

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.  

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot: 

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit: 

Child.  

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human?  Is he not?  No one’s sure yet.  

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.  

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.  

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries 

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent 

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years 

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war 

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana 

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids 

Notable Members: 

Dream: 

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.  

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:  

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George: 

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.  

Skeppy: 

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly.  Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo: 

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power 

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world 

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake 

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups 

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot. 

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it) 

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information 

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt: 

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity: 

Lucky duck.  literally.  

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy: 

FOX!  

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc. 

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.  

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy: 

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them 

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral 

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because: 

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass 

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???) 

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez: 

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage 

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.  

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret: 

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.  

Having a bad mental health day?  

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.  

Dysphoric?  

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.  

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?  

They’ve got it.  

Ranboo:  

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo: 

This boi!  Has so many dads!  

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”  

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.  

When they meet up, look out.  Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering 

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess 

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student 

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is 

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members: 

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country 

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range 

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them 

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods 

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter 

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance 

Notable Members:

Tyr: 

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi: 

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya: 

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti: 

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin: 

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

#whoo boy #that got long #can you tell i have a creative writing degree #fsis au #find steel in silver au #mcyt au #mcyt #dream smp #antarctic empire #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #skeppy #badboyhalo #jschatt #quackity #fundy #captain puffy #captainsparklez #nihachu #eret mcyt #ranboo #tubbo #i tried to tag everyone but it cut me off #if u have ideas/questions hit me up!

[tiaragqueen]

Give and Take

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Mafioso! Park Jimin x Singer! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,8k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Mention of abduction, obsessiveness, possessiveness, implied forced marriage, murder, blood, death

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. All in all, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

You know you’ve been out of BTS fandom for too long when you accidentally mixed Jimin's surname with Kim. Also, I nearly forgot to write this.

Part 1

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“A hundred and five is the number that comes to my head, when I think of all the years I wanna be with you. Wake up every morning with you in my bed, that's precisely what I plan to do.” - Marry Me [Jason Derulo]

Being the girlfriend of a mafia boss was surprisingly… relaxed; or maybe because it was Jimin. When you woke up in a spacious room completed with a queen-size bed, a walk-in closet that kept lavish dresses and clothes in your favorite colors, en suite bathroom, and balcony, Jimin had barged in and immediately leaped on you. You remembered shrieking at the sudden attack of affection and tried to push him off, but he was surprisingly strong for someone so… short.

Suffice to say, he didn’t quite release you for the next ten minutes.

You’d never met a man so clingy, so affectionate except, maybe, a sasaeng. And even so, your guards never let them touch you. One or two times, yes, but their service was pretty good overall. However, they weren’t here to protect you now. You were left at the mercy of a mafioso, the boss one at that.

Now that you thought about it, what happened to your guards? You only remembered snippets of you going to a supermarket to buy snacks when someone abruptly knocked you out. You weren’t sure if your guards saw the culprit, but since the car was basically across the street, you concluded that they must have. After all, it was their job to watch over you.

But you supposed even the most experienced guards were nothing at the hands of mafioso.

You hoped nothing particularly bad had happened to them. Who knows what your kidnapper had done to them when you were unconscious. Wasn’t Mafia a cruel organization? It’d be understandable if the members were trained to act that way. Though, you prayed that they only knocked your guards out as they did to you.

And what about your manager? Oh, God. They must be worried sick about you. Well, maybe not necessarily your well-being.

However, it didn’t seem as if Jimin shared your concern. Not that you were expecting much from him, to begin with.

When you asked him about their conditions, he merely whined and proceeded to bury his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Why are you asking about other men when you already have me here? Am I not enough for you? Why do you even care about those puny men, anyway? They don’t deserve your attention. Not at all.”

You didn’t understand why he said it as though he was your boyfriend already, and that he deserved to be the center of your focus. In fact, you didn’t understand anything at all!

“O-of course I care about them! They’re my guards, after all. You can’t just…” You squirmed in his hold when you felt it tighten around your stomach. “You can’t just dismiss them like they’re nothing! And who the heck are you, anyway?” 

His giggle sent an awkward vibration throughout your body. If he sensed your discomfort, then he chose to ignore it. He probably noticed, because he soon giggled again and nipped your neck playfully.

“I’m your number one fan, of course.”

It finally dawned on you that you were dealing with no ordinary fan, but a sasaeng. Out of all people, he just had to be one.

And out of all frantic thoughts that circulated in your head, the worst just had to happen.

“… But,” he continued thoughtfully. “now that you’re here, I guess you could say that I’m your boyfriend!”

You learned pretty early that Jimin was serious about this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, or maybe it was just him drilling his affection into your distraught brain. Every gift, from big to small, and from cheap to expensive, piled on your floor. Although looking at the ‘cheapest’ present he gave you, it was probably worth a thousand dollars. Your favorite food would be served every day, and any snack you craved would be sent to your – or should you say, your shared – room, regardless of the time.

Compared to your manager who needed to watch over the finance, Jimin didn’t bother to hold himself from spoiling you thoroughly. It came to the point where you had to keep your gaze from wandering to the things that interested you in fear of him buying them with or without your knowledge, usually the former.

Obviously, he wouldn’t do anything without a price. This was a give-and-take world, after all.

Luckily, the price wasn’t that outrageous. Just the things a lover usually did; affection and attention. But, as expected, he forbade you to look and speak to other people for too long. Not even the guards that were stationed outside your room was an exception to his ‘rule’.

And, of course, they’d be more loyal to him than to you. You were just a stranger who was suddenly plucked from your vibrant yet taxing life into his suffocating hug. A weak woman who could do nothing in the face of a muzzle.

“If you talk to other people for longer than ten seconds, I’ll shoot them.” That was what he said to you one day, during one of his impromptu cuddles. Despite the guileless smile he wore, you knew that he wasn’t kidding with his threat.

He’d told you that he’d spoil you to your heart content, and he’d ordered his subordinates to kidnap you. How could you doubt his words?

But you were lonely. The life in Park mansion was generally quiet, and although Jimin liked to invite you to his office, it still wasn’t enough. Not to mention, the guards had forbidden you to accompany him to his meetings because you weren’t ‘official’ yet – not that you necessarily wanted to come in the first place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the meaning of ‘official’ – though, you did have an inkling – and quickly backed down. Too quick because Jimin had whined, hand outstretched to grasp even a hem of your clothes.

You were so lonely you decided to bite the bullet and greeted the servant who came to give your food.

“… Hello.”

The servant was startled at first, eyes bulged out of their pockets as if you were threatening his family with a gun instead. Once he discerned your friendly, albeit awkward smile, he relaxed slightly and nodded.

Just a nod. He couldn’t even bring himself to return your greeting. That was how much he feared you, or rather, your affiliation with Jimin.

The hesitant response you received sent a pang of disappointment in your chest. To think that one day, people would fear you instead of admiring you like you were accustomed to seeing. You might not have many fans, but you were happy and grateful for their efforts to watch your concerts. You loved looking at their glittering eyes as they followed you on the stage, their wide beams, and their boisterous cheers.

And now, people couldn’t even glance at you without flinching and recoiling. Granted, it was only the servants. The guards didn’t bother to notice your existence beyond necessary interactions, which was very rare.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” you said softly as though he was a cornered animal. “I’m not Jimin. I… I don’t even know what I’m doing in here, to be honest.”

The unnamed servant frowned, and after a moment of awkward silence, finally muttered. “Young master really loves you.”

You frowned while still smiling wearily. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear at all. The reason why you spoke to him was that you wanted to talk about anything, not him. But you supposed it was inevitable, wasn’t it? After all, you were under his ‘protection’.

“I-I see…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Jimin was still in his meeting, right? Maybe you could prolong this, honestly useless, conversation. “Can you at least tell me what your name is?”

He shifted a little and looked down. Ah, you really made him uncomfortable, didn’t you?

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. “It’s–”

Drops of blood splattered your face as he abruptly collapsed to the floor, dying with a shocked expression that rivaled yours. The bang managed to deafen your ears and froze your body momentarily. Slowly, you looked up and discerned the short figure on the doorway.

Jimin held his gun in one hand, face stony despite the death he caused and the trauma he inflicted on you.

“I really don’t want to do this because I know that not many people like to see real-life violence. But sometimes they need a lesson, don’t they?” He averted his emotionless gaze to you and smiled coldly. “I told you that I’ll kill anyone who talks to you for more than ten seconds. So why did you do it? Are you doubting me?”

“N-no, I…” You began to clamber away as he slowly advanced towards you, but the empty spot on your wrist forced you to stop. “I just… I just wanted someone to talk to me, is all.”

He squinted. “Why? Am I not enough for you until you had to go to someone else? A man at that?”

“… I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me.” you whimpered, eyes stinging from upcoming tears.

“Oh, I know!” You glanced up to him when you heard him snapping his fingers. “You must be lonely, right?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong but… you really didn’t want to hear his next words. It’d be worse, you were sure of it. There was no way he’d be lenient to you anymore after he caught you talking with a servant. As far as you were concerned, it was considered a ‘betrayal’ to him.

Jimin chuckled and swiftly locked his gun. “You should’ve told me! No need for a drastic measure like that!” he chirped despite the irony of the situation. “After we get married, I’ll definitely bring you to my meetings more!”

Your breath hitched. Get what…?

“What… what do you mean?” That was impossible. There was no way he said what you heard him saying, right? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just–

“Get married, of course!” he beamed, oblivious to the severity of his words. “My organization only acknowledges the official members, you know? So if you marry me, you’ll become a part of us too. Isn’t that great? That way, I can freely bring you anywhere.”

No, that wasn’t great. It’d never be great. You might not see another violence, hopefully, but you didn’t want to become a part of them. People tended to lump someone with their affiliations, and that meant they’d perceive you as a criminal, too!

You slowly shook your head, the tears started to spill. “Jimin, no… I can’t. I can’t marry you – I don’t want to.”

Jimin blinked owlishly. “What do you mean? Of course, you want to! You’re my girlfriend, after all!” he chirped. “My parents have seen your pictures, and luckily, they want to meet you tomorrow!”

You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating for a second as the news crashed your head like a brick.

“So I think we should sleep early. It’ll be bad if you start yawning in front of them.” He giggled and plopped down beside you. “Don’t worry, we’ll be eating together from now on. I’ll tighten the security so people can’t come into our room as they please. That way, you won’t be lonely anymore!”

#yandere imagine #yandere scenario #yandere oneshot #yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere bts scenario #yandere bts au #yandere bts imagine #bts yandere au #yandere jimin bts #yandere jimin x reader #yandere jimin #yandere park jimin x reader #yandere park jimin #yandere kpop scenario #yandere kpop story #yandere kpop imagine #kpop yandere #yandere kpop #yandere bangtan

[yandere-daydreams]

So uh...what would YOU, as in daydream, blue, and pissgoblin be like as yanderes? And what type of darlings would you keep?

This started as a joke, I promise. It didn’t end that way, though.

Name: Blue 

Position: Editor

Type: Protective and Sadistic, and whiney about it.

~Bastard. Bastard man. You’ve never seen a boy more bastardly. 

~He genuinely does love you. That’s something you never have to worry about. He loves you, and he couldn’t live without you and he wants you to be with him all the time, but he’d rather die than admit that. It’s a matter of pride, something he can hardly manage to admit to himself, much less to you. It’s concerning, but it makes some of his other habits more explainable, too. 

~Speaking of, don’t get your hopes up. Blue’s treatment of you is a lot of things, but ‘tolerable’ might the best descriptions. You’re given exactly what you need to survive, nothing less and certainly nothing more. Even before he takes you home, you won’t be sure if he hates you, loves you, or couldn’t be bothered to reach either extreme. It’s not lukewarm, nor is it inconsistent, just… confusing. I just hope you’re not prone to whiplash, because there will be a few moments that catch you off guard. 

~No shame about PDA, whether that means flirting with a few unwanted witnesses or pinning you against the wall in a crowded hall, just so he can see how you squirm. Both are unpleasant, but he can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed about either.

~Talks about punishing you a lot more than he actually does. Sometimes you wish he would just punch you or something, to break the tension.

~About the ‘Protective’ part of his classification, I wouldn’t expect to see any of his more sheltering tactics. Don’t get me wrong, other people aren’t allowed to do so much as touch you. You’re separated from humanity like it’s a sport, kept away from anything or anyone that could hurt you, hardly allowed to cook on your own, lest you get another cut he insists on bandaging for you. But, he’s not as strict when it comes to his actions. It’s like he’s keeping you pristine just so he gets the honor of tearing you down, whether that means craving his name into your shoulder because you don’t seem appreciative enough of his protection or kidnapping you just to make your life a living hell. All you can do is hope he’s in a good mood, at the end of the day.

Name: Piss Goblin

Position: Beta-Reader

Type: Possessive and Delusional, meaning she couldn’t be more clingy.

~She’ll piss on you. Do I have to say that? The name isn’t a joke, y’all.

~It’s weird. She doesn’t seem off, not when you first meet her. Everything is fine for the longest time, it’s wonderful, in fact. You couldn’t ask for a sweeter friend or a more patient shoulder-to-lean-on, and she always seems to be there, when you need her. And… even when you don’t need her to be, if you’re being honest.

~Definitely goes from normal to absolutely obsessed the fastest, out of these three, at least. It’s competition that sets her off, the mere idea of another person claiming your attention. You don’t even have to do anything, not really, just a reminder of the fact that you could talk to another person is enough to make her hold your hand a little tighter, to walk a little closer to you, to check in on you one more time because you might be thinking about someone else, and she doesn’t know if she could take that. I should need to say that you’re done for the moment a real threat comes alone. Or, your knee-caps are, at any rate.

~You can throw as many tantrums as you want to, there’ll never be a punishment. PG just can’t justify hurting you. But, your environment will change with your behavior. It’s subtle, most of the time, just a missed meal here and a few less pillows after a particularly nasty escape attempt, but the only thing that really sets her off is… external factors. A report about a missing person, a former friend bringing you up in conversation, the slightest hint of someone else acknowledging your existence will make her panic. You’ll be able to tell, too, if only because your restraints are a little tighter than night.

~She’s made you play at least thirty-six hours of Minecraft. Sometimes you wonder if she only kidnapped you to look after her farms.

~It’s not too bad, as long as you don’t mind all the kidnapping and coddling, being loved by one person and one person only. She can’t control herself, not when it comes to jealousy, but she does try to make things pleasent for you. That’s another sore point, really. Your ‘home-life’ may be a little testing sometimes, but don’t bring it up. If you think her attic is in poor shape, you should see her basement.

Name: Daydreams

Position: Writer

Type: Obsessive and Manipulative, or in other words, a bitch.

~The biggest handful out of the three, really. Based on clinginess alone, really. 

~It’s not even an obsession, not really. Obsessions are loving, obsessions want to be taken deeper, but you hardly even know where you stand with this emotionally-oblivious idiot. You’d guess it’s more of a soft-loathing, if only due to the sheer amount of complaining that goes on between the two of you, usually prompted by your oh-so-adoring partner. It’s a relationship, but you can never be sure what kind. It seems to vary from day-to-day, if anything. 

~If it’s any silver-lining, you won’t be kidnapped. No, no, you’ll just feel like you’re trapped. Daydreams certainly isn’t the ‘overly blatant’ type, you’re not going to get huge, dramatic proclamations of love, but it’s hard to get rid of someone who insists on following you around like a lost puppy, constantly doing small tasks or trying to come up with questionable ideas that might catch your eye. It’s subtle, but things still get a little tense whenever your attention seems to stray. Enough for you to hold your breath whenever one of those ever-constant ‘check-in calls’ is late.

~Affection is surprisingly common. It’s less verbal and more physical, often showing itself as an arm around your waist or a tug on your sleeve, if only because your hand was empty when Daydreams could be holding it. Expect to be pulled in front of a laptop once or twice a week, too, if only to read over a few pages of rambling text when Daydreams’ spouts excuses in the background, asking you what you think before claiming your opinion doesn’t matter, it’s all definitely good work. You just don’t know what you’re talking about if you say anything different. 

~Almost definitely writes fanfiction about you... or tries to, at least. More files than anyone would care to know have been deleted moments after they were brought into existence.

~Praise is going to be necessary. You’re ridiculed, hardly appreciated, but that apathy can’t go both ways. Refusal won’t end in violence, but just how testy Daydreams’ gets might be enough to convince you it will. That’s what keeps you so close, really. Complete and utter fear. You don’t think you’ll ever be hurt by someone who claims to love you so much, but sometimes you reject the wrong advancement or say you don’t want to be touched, and your stared down so harshly by those red eyes, your mind can’t help but wander to less pleasent things. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make you a little less hesitant to comply, next time. Well, that, and just how tightly you’re held, after these little ‘fights’. Like you aren’t allowed to leave.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere theory

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Yandere Ateez Headcanons

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

You are in: The Asteroid Belt 

READ THE TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains mentions and discussion of abusive relationships, threats, violence, death, supernatural creatures, depression, self-harm, disturbing sexual themes and mental illness. The behaviors and relationships depicted below are abusive and unhealthy. These are not examples of healthy relationships, it’s actually the opposite. This is meant to imagine the members of Ateez in a popular anime trope and it in no way represents their real-life personalities and characters. It’s fiction, it’s for fun, PLEASE DON’T READ IT IF YOU KNOW YOU WON’T LIKE IT OR THIS KIND OF STUFF DISTURBS YOU!

Word Count: 6.3K+

Hongjoong

The Perfect Boyfriend

Kim Hongjoong seems like the perfect man and in the beginning, he would be. But it’s an act. Seonghwa and Hongjoong are actually very similar. They both feel little to no emotion and that’s part of why they’re such good friends. But Hongjoong is different from Seonghwa in that he feels desire, but only for one thing. Control. Hongjoong hates feeling small or weak and he gets off on having complete mastery of a situation. Hongjoong is very much aware that his size is the first thing people see and he overcompensates for that in every single way. Think of Christian Bale’s role in American Psycho, except Hongjoong is actually attractive and very manipulative.

Hongjoong would sweep you off your feet, bringing you flowers and food, giving you compliments, being your shoulder to lean on, reading your mood perfectly and always knowing what you want and being available to give it to you. Hongjoong’s control over your life would happen so gradually that you probably wouldn’t even realize until it’s too late. You’ve quit your job, you depend on him financially, your friends are friends with him, your parents love him, whenever something’s wrong they tell him. Hongjoong is everywhere in your life without ever having to be anywhere.

Hongjoong’s best feature is that he’s not delusional. He knows what society expects of you as a couple and he makes sure you two follow that image exactly. He wants everyone to see how good he is for you, how much of an amazing boyfriend he is, his ego won’t tolerate anything else. You have friends because it would be an insult for him if he wasn’t able to control you without eliminating all outside forces. You can still see your parents because it’s expected of you, because he can’t stand if they thought anything bad of him.

He feels literally nothing for you, for a long time. He might think you’re cute and you might amuse him sometimes but that’s about it. But he damn sure won’t let you go and he won’t let anyone else touch him, only because it’s the principle of the thing for him.

Hongjoong does not see you as a person, he sees you as an object, a trained pet. The only reason he doesn’t cheat is because what kind of man would he be if he didn’t have mastery over his sexual urges? He can’t cheat on you and have people think he’s less than perfect.

Hongjoong has an obnoxiously long list of rules that he expects you to follow to the letter and if you don’t you will be punished. Hongjoong doesn’t necessarily enjoy physical punishments, but he doesn’t have a problem with them. He does what he feels is necessary to teach you to obey, nothing more, nothing less. Hongjoong’s lack of feelings toward you will really become evident in times like these, because he has no issue with beating you within an inch of your life and will feel no sympathy afterward. Depending on his mood, he’ll either be amused or disgusted at how weak he finds you and will say things like, “You’re going to leave me when you’re this pathetic? You need me, love. This is your fault, if you weren’t such a moron and knew how to follow simple instructions, I wouldn’t have had to do this.”

A sure-fire way to make your punishment worse is to make a scene or disobey him in public where there’s a risk of tarnishing his reputation. Hongjoong is very good at putting on the big teary eyes, and the hurt puppy dog look so he actually gets all the sympathy, but trust me, he’s not hurt, he’s pissed and the minute you get behind closed doors, he’s going to unleash hell on you.

Hongjoong is unique in that he wouldn’t develop any actual emotional attachment for a long time, possibly years. For all the other members, it’s pretty much an instantaneous thing, but for Hongjoong, it takes time, and there’s no particular reason, it just does. There’s nothing you can do to speed up this process, but following all his dumbass rules will make the process way less unpleasant.

However, it is just a matter of time. He’s guaranteed to feel something for you at some point, there’s just no guessing when that will be.

THIS IS NOT A GOOD THING.

I don’t think he’ll be any more lenient on you after he falls for you, but at the very least he might give you some sort of aftercare, after a punishment.

He will add more rules though and he’s more possessive and jealous now. By this time, you’ve probably learned his rules so well that punishments will be little to none once you get used to the new ones. You’ll start seeing your friends and family less as he desires to keep your presence around more, but you’ll still see them enough that it can just be chalked up to the busy lives that come with age.

He won’t be sorry for anything he ever put you through either. In his eyes, it was all his discipline and punishments that let you evolve from a lowly pet to someone worthy of him spending the rest of his life with.

“See, love? I told you I would make you happy one day.”

Seonghwa

The Ice King

Park Seonghwa has never been able to remember feeling any emotion. Not love, not happiness, not anger, not hate, not curiosity, not anything. He went through life, following instructions, and becoming the pinnacle of success all at his parent’s and relative's own bidding. He had never had any desire before, so never felt the need to rebel against their wishes, completely fine with letting his family push him so hard so he could graduate early and be leading a successful company by the young age of twenty-one.

I see you being his personal assistant or something.

Unlike his friend Hongjoong, the minute Seonghwa saw you, something broke inside him. He didn’t just feel something, he felt everything, and only for you. Seonghwa has no damn idea of how people work, so he just assumes that you feel the same. He expects that you belong to each other the minute you met and the only reason he doesn’t say anything is because it doesn't even cross his mind that he has to. He expects you to know who you belong to and, in his mind, everything about you is his. He thinks the feelings that he felt for you were so strong and instantaneous, that there’s absolutely no way you didn’t feel them too.

In Seonghwa’s mind, the minute you walked through the damn door, you both were in a committed relationship.

However, despite all the feelings that well up inside him when he looks at you, he’ll treat you like everyone else without even knowing it. He’s just as frigid and monotoned, eyes just as dead. He doesn’t look at you or talk to you more than normal or more than necessary.

Seonghwa thinks that tiny ass things like letting his gaze linger on you for two seconds more than usual or using your name when he refers to you or letting you walk in front of him or giving two compliments on your work in a day as opposed to none are obvious signs of PDA, but they’re things that everyone else, even you, don’t think twice about.

The only thing out of the ordinary besides his intense internal obsession is that Seonghwa hires someone to watch you.

He thinks it’s normal, practical even. You’re the “girlfirend” of a powerful man, he has plenty of enemies in rival companies who would love to hurt him and people who would take those he holds dear for ransom so he thinks you should have protection. He doesn’t realize that, even though those things are true, you would literally never be targeted because his displays of affection are so undetectable that no one knows he cares about you.

But this bodyguard doesn’t just protect you. He reports everything, even your smallest actions to Seonghwa. Not just where you’re going or what you’re doing, it’s creepy shit like what color underwear you put on, what position you were sitting in when you watched tv, what body part you washed first in the shower, weird shit like that. He wants to know everything about you, wants to be able to fantasize about you down to the most minute, accurate detail.

You’ll only realize something’s wrong when you’re supposed to go on a date one weekend.

Being Seonghwa’s assistant keeps you pretty busy. A CEO is pretty much a never-ending job and even when he travels, you’re normally with him to assist him. Despite having nothing but a work relationship, you’re actually rarely without him without even realizing it. You don’t mind at all Seonghwa has never been less than courteous to you, if a little cold, but he’d like that with everyone. Besides you get benefits like insurance, a 401K, a “company” car, and tons of other stuff (that none of his other assistants have ever had) along with an outstanding by the hour salary with glorious pay for overtime and traveling with him. Still, the one thing you don’t normally get is free time which is why you were pretty happy to have some time off.

Your date is supposed to pick you up at six but the clock hits seven and they’re a no-show. You’re starting to think you’ve been stood up and you don’t know the person so you’re not particularly upset, just annoyed that you wasted all that time and energy getting ready to go out. You’re about to change into your nightclothes and call it a night when your door suddenly opens and Seonghwa stalks in, key in hand like he lives there.

There’s a flurry of questions in your head. How did he get that key, why is he here, what the hell is happening?

But all of them die down when you notice the spatters of blood on his clothes and your blood turns cold.

Seonghwa doesn’t understand what you were doing by setting up the date. Why were you going to cheat on him? Were you trying to make him jealous? Did you want him to prove his love for you?

He’ll only learn that this isn’t the way relationships work when you tell him and even then, he won’t care.

He feels that he’s in too deep, he needs you, he can’t let you go.

Seonghwa won’t particularly blame you for hating him at first, but he won’t let you go and he’ll use the threat of ruining you and all your loved one’s reputations if you try and make a scene in public or tell someone what he’s doing.

For the most part, he lets you be, as long as you’re in the house. Even though he wants you to touch and love him, he doesn’t feel the need to force you and wants you to do it in your own time.

For the most part, Seonghwa doesn’t really punish you. He’ll kind of just stand there, dead-eyed and let the insults roll off him, might even walk away to do something else, or do some work while you scream at him.

Even when you flirt with someone else or someone hits on you, he’ll kill the person in cold-blood or have them assassinated, but he won’t do anything to you. The only thing you can do to piss him off is tell him that you hate him or, ironically, tell him how cold he is.

Seonghwa absolutely cannot take the thought of you hating him. Disliking him, he can understand. He’s done things that he would never forgive anyone for if they did to him and he has hope that your dislike will go away with time. But hate is eternal for him. When he hates people, he kills them. Do you want to hurt him?

He can’t stand it when you call him cold because to him, it means he’s not enough. He doesn’t express his affection in a normal way and he only cares about you, but he thinks that he’d proven himself to you by doing things for you that no one else would. Things that he’d never do for anyone else. He feels like he can’t even breathe when he sees you, and you have the nerve to call him cold?

I don’t see Seonghwa ever physically hurting you like Hongjoong, I see him isolating you. A dark room with no windows, no smells, no sounds, no sights, nothing. It feels like hell.

To Seonghwa, this is what it feels like without you and he wants to condition you to associate a lack of his presence with this feeling of dark, suffocating nothingness. Even if it takes a long time, it probably ends up working. There’s only so much the human mind can take.

“I killed them for you. You’re all that I care about and I won’t let anyone get in the way of that.”

Yunho

The Damsel in Distress Next Door

Yeosang and Yunho’s headcanons might be shorter and more normal than the other ones cause it’s even harder for me to see them as yanderes than it is for Mingi.

Jung Yunho seems like a normal college student. He plays video games and procrastinates his homework, has trouble remembering to pay his rent on time and probably wouldn’t be able to pay it if it wasn’t for Hongjoong and Seonghwa, once set the stove on fire trying to make ramen, and has an emotional breakdown whenever he sees a puppy or a baby.

Anyone you asked would say that Yunho is the most lovable, gentle, caring boy they had ever met. He just needs to be a little more confident in himself.

They don’t know the half of it.

If there’s one person in the world that Yunho hates, it’s himself. He is incredibly suicidal and self-harming, it’s a testament to his good acting that people don’t know how much he needs a therapist or something.

You meet puppy-boy when you move into the apartment next to his, the last one on the hall.

He’s coming home from getting a few groceries when he sees you moving your stuff in. He’s in his senior year of college, one semester away from a degree, though you’re just a junior, a transfer student who is more than nervous about switching unis so late into your college career.

Yunho is your first friend. From the minute he saw you, he was hooked, it was like he met an angel. You were so nice to him and you genuinely cared about him. Not only that, but you seemed to actually need him around.

Yunho was used to being a burden, someone others coddled and took care of, so it was refreshing when you asked him to help you study or show you around or carry heavy things up the stairs or reach things on the top shelf. He was quickly becoming wrapped around your thumb, he lived for taking care of you. It gave him purpose.

In real life, Ateez has stated before how Yunho likes to care of those around them and brighten their day, make them laugh, make them happy and all that. This would be Yandere!Yunho’s defining characteristic along with his suicidal tendencies.

It’s hard not to develop a crush on Yunho and eventually, you ask him out. And even though he loves you more than life itself, he hesitates.

He feels like he has to tell you about the way he feels about life and the things he does to himself before he can feel secure in a romantic relationship with you.

When you still want to date him, he’s genuinely stunned. That’s when his obsession really begins. He’s found someone that he can take care of but that also wants to take care of and help him and won’t leave him? He thinks he would be stupid to ever let go of that.

Most of the Ateez yanderes have a unique quality about them I’m making them sound like limited edition Pokemon. Hongjoong’s is his delayed affection, Seonghwa’s is his coldness, Mingi’s is his fiery persona, San’s is his duality, and Yunho’s is the fact that he would never ever be a danger to you or others.

He punishes you by punishing himself.

While I do think that Yunho would be the most objectively easy Ateez yandere to escape from, I do think that it would be the hardest to leave him mentally.

You have an attachment to him, you love him, and you can tell he loves you too. But he’s still unbelievably toxic and exhausting.

Yunho will start shirking off responsibilities for you very quickly, flaking out on friends and school and work, just to be at your beck and call and bend over backward for you.

To a certain extent, he expects you to do the same. When you're spending more time with friends or family or work or homework, Yunho’s going to get upset and he’s going to think that he’s doing something wrong and you’re starting to lose feelings. He’s going to punish himself for that and it’s not going to be pretty.

You might not catch on to his habit at first and he doesn’t want you to feel guilty so he’s going to make an effort to hide it from you, but you’ll find out eventually.

It starts taking over your life. You see friends less, forget about responsibilities, and even have trouble sleeping because you’re so worried about him. And because you’re spending even more time with him, the time-frame that you have to spend by yourself becomes smaller and smaller cause he’s so used to having you around.

Even if you bring him with you, he’ll overthink everything. He’ll remember how good-looking your friends are, how much he doesn’t fit your parent's standards, how he couldn’t help you with a certain problem on your homework and he’ll punish himself for it all the minute he’s alone. No matter how much time passes, he’ll always keep these things in his mind and waste no time hurting himself for them.

It makes you not only terrified to leave, but also hyperaware of everything that’s happening when you two are out in public, always ready to give him reassurance. It’s terrifying and exhausting and one day, you bring up the idea of breaking up.

Yunho takes it well, much better than you think he would. He says that he understands and that, even though he loves you, he hopes you find someone to make you happy and give you what you deserve.

But you have a bad feeling in your stomach and it’s only a few hours later, that you’re bursting into his apartment, screaming his name.

There’s no answer and the lights are all off and the adrenaline is pumping through your body so fast, you feel like you might start imploding.

Yunho’s in the bathroom and...it’s not a pretty sight.

His stint in the hospital would have been short if it weren’t for the fact that he needed so many stitches and blood transfusions.

He’s there long enough to get better physically, but his eyes are glassy and he doesn’t talk or move, not even with you. The doctors say it's not anything physical, nothing they can find, and they let you take him home when he’s strong enough because maybe the hospital is making it worse.

He still doesn’t do anything. He’ll use the bathroom if you sit him on the toilet, he’ll chew and swallow if you put food in his mouth, he’ll drink if you put a straw to his lips, but that’s about all you’re going to get out of him.

A week after he gets out of the hospital, you come home and Yunho’s...gone. You left him on the couch, but he’s not there anymore.

You drop everything in your hands and you’re about to fear the worse until he runs out of the kitchen, asking what the noise was and if you were ok. He’s in different clothes than you left him in and the smell of take-out fills the air. How long has he been like this?

You and Yunho eat pizza and he’s so busy chattering that he doesn’t notice that you’re too stunned and scared to touch most of your food, watching him carefully.

He’s acting completely normal, like he was when you first became friends.

You wonder if he even remembers the past couple weeks or if he’s putting on a ruse so he can try and kill himself again when you leave him alone. You’re almost too scared to bring it up in case it sets him off.

Eventually, you settle on, “Yunho, I want to get back together, I’m sorry for what I said.”

Yunho gives you a strange look.

“When did we break up?”

Yeosang

The Secret Serial Killer

Kang Yeosang is very misleading. He tends to wear a lot of dark clothes and has a resting bitch face and he’s very shy though it comes off as being aloof and arrogant. That’s not what he earned his bad-boy reputation for though, even if those things do help to reinforce it.

Yeosang earned that reputation through the only fight he’s even been in on campus. It’s unsure how the fight started or what happened, but by the time it finished, everyone was crowded around to see Yeosang pulverize the other guy.

He broke five ribs which punctured a lung, took a chunk of the guy’s left ear, knocked out several teeth, and completely shattered both kneecaps and his left ankle, effectively ending the guy’s promising athletic career and making him need walking assistance for the rest of his life.

Mingi and Jongho were the only witnesses to the start of the fight and they claim the other guy started it. Most people believe them, just because Mingi isn’t known for lying since he knows people are so scared of him that he doesn't really have to. Also, Yeosang had a decent amount of injuries too. A broken arm, swollen lip, black eye, and fractured rip substantiated what Mingi and Jonho claimed. But, if anything, that made Yeosang even scarier. The arm that was broken was the one he’d used to beat the guy up, how could he be capable of such things when he was so hurt?

No one ever tried to bother Yeosang after that and he never got in another fight which made people think that the guy really did start it, even if Yeosang was still scary.

Yeosang enjoys skateboarding, video games, and flying his drones and it’s while he’s in the park doing the latter that he first spots you walking your pet.

Yeosang stalks you from that moment onward.

He won’t be like Yunho and blow off all his responsibilities to be near you, but he will use all of his free time and carve out a little extra where he can to follow you. Since I’m not a stalker and I have a short ass attention span, so I can’t for the life of me begin to explain why it brings him so much genuine enjoyment to just do nothing but watch you for hours at a time but it does.

He’ll spend about a year watching you and learning every single thing he can about you before he comes into your life like your very own Prince Charming on a white skateboard. You’ll fall for him hard and fast. He’s kind, caring, understanding, and seems to just instantly know you better than you know yourself.

He’s just as clingy as Mingi, and he’s more lenient with you, but it’s more because he puts you on this high pedestal that the rest of humanity is nowhere near. He and Jongho are similar in that they think their S/O is a god/dess that can do no wrong.

It’s always someone else’s fault, never yours.

Yeosang will take you on cute dates and teach you to skateboard and play video games and let you win cause he’s whipped. You’re in love and you think everything’s going perfect.

Because Yeosang’s yandere trademark is that he will be the only one who will make an effort to hide what he is from you.

He is sneaky and you’ll probably never know how sick and fucked up he is.

Yandere!Yeosang likes killing. He likes making someone pay when he thinks they’ve wronged you or your relationship. It gives him a rush of adrenaline and power that nothing can compare to. He’ll purposefully go out and show you off on dates, just to have an excuse to murder everyone he thinks is looking at you longer than necessary.

He’ll get away with it too. He’s friends with Seonghwa, who makes all his seven friend’s problems magically disappear.

Yandere!Yeosang may seem better than the others, because he never displays his toxicity toward you but he might actually be one of the worse ones because he’s a complete serial killer.

“Thank you for being by my side, baby. You’re the only one that’s ever made me feel this way.”

San

The Jekyll and Hyde

Alright, I’m soft as fuck for this adorable sweetheart, it’s gonna take all I got to write him like this.

OK, so firstly.

Choi San is the most two-faced ass bitch you’ve ever met in your life. I mean, seriously. San’s duality is already scary but Yandere San would be on another level, his yandere side came completely out of left field.

San’s first side, the side that you will see for the first few months of your relationship, is his sweet, bubbly, cute side. Both sides of San are hyper and energetic, but this side is also caring and sweet and kind. He’s funny and loves playing games and making people laugh. He’s a social butterfly and has tons of friends and he’s really sensitive and easy to start crying. He’s almost like a child.

Ironically, he also likes reading and watching mukbang videos in silence.

Then there’s his other side. In your head, you refer to him as Other San, because he’s just so different from the regular one. San doesn’t have dissociative identity disorder. Other San isn’t a different personality, and no matter whether he’s being San or Other San, he knows everything he’s done and there are no gaps in his memory.

At one point, you even asked him if he’d ever played around with Ouija Boards or anything demonic and took him to a priest to make sure.

Demonic possession made even more sense than his extreme ass mood swings.

Other San is seductive, hot-headed, sultry, and aggressive. His movements are jerkier and his voice is raspier and the cadence and flow of his speech even changes. But he’s not a different personality and that’s what’s so scary.

San as a whole is very temperamental and emotionally unstable. You’ll be constantly walking on eggshells around him. He can change from San to Other San in the blink of an eye, with literally no warning. Sometimes, he’ll change to Other San for only a few seconds before going back to normal.

Though he almost always turns into Other San when he’s mad, he’ll turn into Other San at completely random times as well.

You CANNOT treat Other San like you do Regular San. He doesn’t want to be babied when he’s in that mode and he will make that very clear.

Regular San is unbearably clingy. He’ll follow you wherever you go and he’ll cry if you don’t give him enough attention.

Other San is down for physically punishing you when you displease him and there are no set rules as to what you should do to keep him happy. With Other San, you can do something that he’s totally fine with and then ten minutes later, you’ll do the exact same thing in the exact same way and he’ll get pissed at you for it.

Like Yandere!Yeosang, both Regular and Other San enjoy killing people. But unlike Yeosang, Yandere!San was a serial killer long before you came into the picture.

“Y/N, why were you talking to him? I told you I don’t like him! Why do you like hurting me?” San sobbed before his body froze. You gulped, your hands, which were previously trying to comfort him, were now pulled away. San wiped the tears from his face before he looked at you, eyes dark and voice rough as he said, “That’s ok, baby. I like hurting you too.”

Mingi

The Clingy Bad Boy

Song Mingi is one of the toughest cases for me. It’s very very hard for me to see him as a yandere at all. Like period. He’s so chill all the time, and I think this would translate to Yandere!Mingi.

He would largely let you do what you want. Go to school, go to work, have friends, etc. The catch? He has to be by your side at all times. Mingi is the resident bad boy at your university. He goes to class because he pays for it, but he smokes, drinks, wears leather jackets, gets into fights, and is generally an asshole. Unlike Yeosang, he’s not quiet at all. He’s loud, fiery, opinionated, aggressive, and hostile. Mingi just seems to have always been filled with this destructive inferno of unquenchable fury at the world for even daring to bring him into existence. His friends made him calm down a little, enjoy life a little more but it’s not the same.

It’s not the same as when he met you.

Yandere!Mingi seems like the type to go for a soft, sweet S/O and when he saw you, he was hooked. Your softness makes him have a little compassion for the world, a little hope that it’s not so bad after all. He knew he was bad, a dark influence on you, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He didn’t want you to be tainted by anyone but him.

Mingi feeds off of your innocence and happiness, which is why he lets you do what you want for the most part. He just doesn’t tolerate anyone looking at you in a less than friendly way. He doesn’t kill, he’s not like Yeosang. He doesn’t have to. He’s not opposed to it, but he would much rather beat your suitors within an inch of their lives and be able to forever take pride in the terror that appears on their faces whenever they see you two again.

Even though he’s lenient about friends, it doesn’t really matter. Mingi creeps your friends the fuck out.

He’s always glued to your side and even though he doesn’t stop you from interacting with them or call for your attention, he just sits there and glares. They’ve never even heard him talk unless it’s to you or his friends.

Because Mingi considers himself to give you so much freedom, he will get all the more upset if you do something that he thinks is out of bounds in your relationship. He thinks it’s disrespectful that he “gives” you so much and you repay him by doing things you know he hates. Mingi’s punishments are going to revolve around sex and humiliation. He’s a hormonal ass teenager and something about seeing his sweet innocent S/O being humiliated by him makes him go feral. I can almost guarantee that you won’t be enjoying these punishments, cause not only would they be physically painful, his degradation would be things that he knows are going to hit you hard emotionally. The number one thing you can do to piss him off and get punished is leaving him by himself. He pretty much doesn’t give a damn what you do as long as you’re together and he doesn’t give a fuck how suffocating his presence is, that’s not more important to him than his need for you.

Mingi needs to be in your presence at all times, it keeps him sane. He thinks you’re like the fire extinguisher to that blazing sun that burns inside his sick mind. You once went away on a school trip for two days and you came back to the entire apartment trashed, stuff was thrown all over the floors, holes in the walls, scratches on the hardwood floors. Mingi didn’t say anything, just stalked over to you silently, knuckles dripping with blood and eyes feral, body trembling with rage. It was the first time that the realization of how big he was, how strong he was, absolutely terrified you. Even his voice, usually loud and boisterous was monotoned and dead, a stark contrast to his murderous eyes.

“Don’t leave me again.”

It’s not a request.

Wooyoung

The Incubus

Jung Wooyoung is a demon.

I’m not kidding, Yandere!Wooyoung is a literal demon. An incubus, to be exact.

Even though Yandere!San and Yeosang are literal serial killers and Yandere!Hongjoong’s a spouse-beating jackass, I just KNOW Wooyoung’s gonna be the one that pisses y’all off the most.

Because Wooyoung cheats. He will literally fuck like three people a day, and no matter how he feels about you or how close you two get, that will never change. He won’t feel bad or guilty for it either. He’ll enjoy each and every fuck and you’re nowhere on his mind when he screams out the other person’s name and finds his release in them.

Wooyoung doesn’t see what his feelings have to do with his sex life and he thinks that you, a lowly human, should be grateful he has any interest in you in the first place.

Since Wooyoung is a supernatural being, he could theoretically just kidnap you and be done with it, but that’s not fun for him.

He plagues your dreams for weeks before he starts showing up in real life. Sometimes, he’ll make sure that only you see him, so people will think you’ve lost it and it can ruin your credibility when you start screaming at him. Sometimes he’ll appear to you in the disguise of other horrific-looking demons so that you think he’s not so bad after all.

He wants to be the only one you can turn to. Him being a demon and all, I don’t see you standing a chance really.

It’ll be easy for him to get inside your head and make you trust and love him, completely willing to ignore how cruel he is to you.

Wooyoung likes for you to be the one chasing him. That’ll be his favorite part of this whole thing. Once he’s broken you, his favorite punishments will be to either ignore you or to make you watch while he fucks someone else and then prove you can please him better afterward.

Yandere!Wooyoung will probably kill people too, now that I think about it. He’d use it as a tool to make you submit to him more and it’s foolproof because he’s a demon. You can’t tell the police and he could easily fabricate evidence that points to you being the killer.

Like I said, since he’s a demon, you don’t have a chance in hell, excuse the pun.

“Always remember, love, you’re only alive because I want you to be. So you better be good for me, hmm?”

Jongho

The Overprotective Guard Dog

Jongho is gonna be absolutely devoted to you. Seriously, if people didn’t know any better, they’d think he was your bodyguard or your servant or something.

Whether you’re older or younger doesn’t matter, he sees you as a divine being and his purpose is to protect and worship you. He thinks other people are disgusting for not seeing how perfect and ethereal you are.

And that means they don’t deserve to live.

I picture Jongho as being exactly like Yuno Gasai from Mirai Nikki. Anyone who’s watched that anime or knows yandere knows that she is the Yandere Queen and the epitome of the whole trope.

For a large part, you and Jongho would be a normal couple. You might go to different classes and work but you always meet up for meals and come home to your shared apartment at the end of the day. He makes you laugh and he’s doting and sweet.

It’s not yourself or him that he has to worry about. It’s other people.

Jongho takes it upon himself to kill, hurt, maim, or terrorize anyone who hurts you. This could be in the form of people who actually physically hurt you, people who bully or disrespect you, or just people who look at you wrong.

If the person is of better use to you alive, then he’ll just hurt or scare them. If not then they’re dead meat.

Jongho doesn’t really enjoy killing, he actually finds it gross, but he won’t think twice about doing it when it comes to you.

Jongho is the only yandere that wouldn’t mind not being your lover. He would prefer to be, but he just wants the honor of being near you, making you happy, and protecting you, in whatever role he can.

Your happiness is the most important to him and if someone else makes you happy then you will have them. Even if they don’t like you back, Jongho will force them to be with you so that you can be happy and they better not ever say anything about his involvement.

He’d be your best friend and really good at acting normal so you probably wouldn’t believe them anyway.

“Your smile is gorgeous, Y/N. I’ll do anything to see it.” 

The Asteroid Belt 

#yandere #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #yandere hongjoong #yandere seonghwa #yandere yunho #yandere yeosang #yandere san #yandere mingi #yandere wooyoung #yandere jongho #yandere headcanons #asteroid belt

[adarlingsnightmare]

Shinya Hiiragi Yandere Alphabet

@yandere-romanticaa​ said:

Howdy, howdy! I recently found your blog and I must say that I adore it!💋 I was wondering though, are you still doing the yandere alphabet? If you are, could you maybe do the alphabet for Shinya Hiiragi~? Thank you darling!💘

thank you, i hope you enjoy!

A- Attribute: What brought on this side of them? What made them suddenly click?

You're interesting. You value his personality and not just his combat skills, which instantly makes him like you. The more he spends time with you and learns more about you, the more obsessed he becomes. You're just so different from all the cruel, merciless soldiers he's surrounded by, how could he not fall in love?

B- Blood- If they're extreme how messy are they willing to get?

Most people are intimidated just hearing the name 'Hiiragi', so Shinya prefers to use intimidation rather than violence. But, he'll always bring out Byakkomaru if really necessary.

C- Cope - Do they try to deal with this jealousy sooner so they don't lash out?

Shinya is a very laidback yandere, he's more into obsessing over how amazing his partner is than who keeps checking them out. Though, if he thought his darling was going to leave him for this other person, he may have to do something drastic...

D-Death, Do they feel any sorrow for their victims at all?

Shinya was raised to survive by fighting against others, so he's rather desensitised to hurting or killing people and no longer feels any guilt for hurting someone. However, he may feel a little bad if it was a friend of his (or yours).

E- Earnest, Are they intense?

Nope, not really. He's not particularly controlling and generally allows you to have a bit of freedom, so you don't always feel suffocated.

F-Fight, How would they feel if you fought back against them?

A little upset, but he also likes a fiery darling and since he's a bit masochistic, he may be pretty into your aggression.

G- Game: How much do they enjoy watching you run and have a fearful expression?

Shinya doesn't particularly feel anything when you are trying to escape, his mindset becomes that of a cold soldier and his only mission is to make sure you stay with him. He does feel sad if you are scared of him though, as you were the only person who seemed to see him as him and now you're looking at him like he's a monster.

H- Hell: What would be your worst experience with them?

When something sets him off and Byakkomaru comes out, it's almost like he's possessed, vicious and violent, making sure anyone who was talking to you shuts up. In this situation, he also has the potential to lash out at you and revert back to the ruthless soldier he was trained to be.

I- Iron: How emotionally stable would you be throughout the events that unfold?

It depends on you as a person. Since Shinya isn't one of the most extreme yanderes, you may still remain pretty stable. Of course, being monitored constantly does take a toll on someone after awhile.

J- Jet- How fast would it happen for them to go yandere?

Honestly, every time you hung out together (or even just spoke briefly), Shinya's obsession would increase, until he was a full blown yandere.

K- Kill- Would they hurt anyone to get to you?

If necessary, yes. You're the love of his life and absolutely no one is going to get in the way of you two being together.

L-Lonely, How much loneliness would they feel if you two were apart?

You're his reason to live, and he can't bare to be without you for even a minute, so he would be very distracted and annoyed if he had to spend time away from you.

M- Might: How aggressive would they be towards you?

As mentioned before, Shinya is unlikely to get aggressive unless you did something extreme. If you targeted his insecurities (especially to do with his family)

N- Next: Would they ever move on after you?

Nope, you're just so unique, if something happened to you Shinya just wouldn't be able to go on.

O- Oppression- How many rights would they take away from you?

The biggest one is your privacy and alone time. The only way you get some peace is when you go to the bathroom, but if you're in there for more than 45 minutes he gets concerned and barges in.

P- Prize: Would they consider this a game?

No, not really. Although he does find it fun to try and win your affections by using extravagant methods.

Q- Quality: Would they to be secretive or be flashy about what they do?

Shinya is proud to show you off as his partner, but he doesn't like to show his more obsessive side to other people in case it gets you taken away from him.

R- Rain: Would they keep you trapped inside forever?

Unless you persistently try to leave him and fight back, he won't keep you inside. But he does need to be by your side at all times, though.

S- Stalker: Would they stalk you? How intense would it go?

Definitely. He's infatuated with you, so he absolutely loves to learn every little detail about your life. Don't be surprised when he blurts out something you've never even told him.

T-Turmoil, Would they force you to team up with them?

Sure! He'd love to work alongside his darling, whether it's a simple domestic task like cooking, or fighting  together in the battlefield (he'll always make sure you're not in too much danger though).

U-Usage, Would they use you to get what they desire?

He doesn't desire anything else but you.

V- Version: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's not as controlling or creepy (at least outwardly) as your typical yandere.

W-Wild Card, a random yandere headcannon.

It may sound odd, but Shinya loves a dominant darling who bosses him around and even manipulates him. As long as you still show him some love (even if it's fake) he'll be happy to do whatever you say.

X- Xenophobia: How much would they get angry from their jealousy?

It honestly depends on the person you're with. If someone like Kureto or one of the other higher-ups was getting friendly with you, Shinya would get extremely jealous and may worry you'll prefer them over him.

Y- Yander: How many crimes would they commit?

As little as possible, Shinya doesn't want to draw attention to himself and he also doesn't feel the need to kill when he can use sneakier methods.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere imagine #yandere headcanons #yandere scenario #yandereverse #yandere #yandere owari no seraph #owari no seraph x reader #shinya hiiragi x reader #shinya hiragi x reader #yandere shinya hiiragi #yandere shinya hiragi

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: I’m growing attached to you (i could never let you go)

Author: @kryouma / @kryouma-writes

For: @bluenurse

Rating/Warnings: building collapse, corpse/blood mention

Prompt: "Kamukura actually feeling emotions and is confused on what he feels towards Servant."

Author’s notes: i love them so much! i was really glad to get a chance to work with kamukura/servant, because i really don't see much love for them and they have so much fanfic potential...anyway, i hope you had a really great christmas and here's to the hope that the next decade will be a great one for you!

1.

At first glance, Servant was just some stray dog. Clingy, inconsequential, boring. He tailed Kamukura relentlessly, never caring whether Kamukura acknowledged him at all. He didn’t do much to make life interesting, or out of the ordinary, and he was boring. Weird, maybe, but still boring.

That is until he opened his mouth for the first time.

Kamukura initially didn't bat an eyelid, not particularly paying attention to what he was saying, but he did turn around when he heard the building collapse. Right on top of the man, he noted. Not particularly saddening or of much concern really, there were worse ways to die. It was painless, quick. Quite merciful for this city.

“Incredible, Kamukura-kun! You didn’t even flinch!”

Kamukura turned around to look at the source, fast enough to give away his slight surprise. But he was there, there was no mistaking the dazed gleam in his eyes.

Or the large number of injuries on him. It sounded like he’d cracked a rib, judging by the intensity of his wheezing. But the man practically dragged himself across the concrete, and in a moment of boldness, offered him the chain on his collar and then promptly passed out.

Kamukura felt slightly flustered, which was slightly more flustered than he was allowed to be. He took the chain anyway, picking up the man and carrying him out of the rubble.

It was easy enough to find an abandoned building in a city where people were either dead, dying or seeking refuge in some underground shelter. Once he’d reached one that was mostly clear to begin with, he’d cleaned up a smaller area and place the man down. Playing doctor wasn’t his favourite pastime, but the talent was currently necessary. It didn’t take more than thirty minutes to clean and bandage the more minor of his wounds, but then he was left with the broken bones. He placed a finger on the man’s chest and gave it a slight press, waiting for him to shriek.

Except he didn’t stir. He had evidently zero broken bones. Kamukura thought back to the man and his wheezing, it didn’t sound like a minor thing. But the fact remained that the man got out of the ordeal unscathed, and was no worse for wear.

In fact, when he came to, he was positively ecstatic. Unexpected from a man who’d just had a building fall on top of him.

“Ah, Kamukura-kun!”

Kamukura grimaced, anticipating another volley of patronising words.

“You should’ve just let me die, you know! You would have been a lot better off that way! Who knew you really had a heart in there!”

The man was borderline teasing him. It was as if somebody had flipped a switch, the man’s nature, while still maniacal, had turned to self-deprecation and passive aggression.

For once in his life, Kamukura wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He felt…he felt something. This was new, to learn and understand, to conquer. He would master it just like everything else.

He turned to the man, eyes wary, to see him smiling crazily back at him. Kamukura thought it quite fitting for his glazed eyes and wild hair.

“You,” Kamukura said. “What’s your name?”

“Ah!” The man gasped, his smile twisting creepily. “Why would someone as incredible and talented as you need the name of someone as pathetic and insignificant—”

“I said,” Kamukura repeated, firm and unyielding. “Give me your name.”

“Is that an order?” The man didn’t miss a beat.

Kamukura couldn't say he wasn’t slightly thrown by that comment. The man’s words were both in jest and absolutely serious simultaneously. Still, he pressed on.

“Yes,” Kamukura spoke flatly. “Now, your name.”

“The name given to me is Servant.” The man replied. “I am undeserving of even such a name. However, you have asked for one, and I truly do only exist for the benefit of others like you.”

“I asked for your name,” Kamukura said. “Not your whole life story.”

Servant held his gaze still on Kamukura as he stood up. Kamukura held the weighted chain loosely. Servant kept staring. Kamukura clutched the chain tightly, watching the collar strain at Servant’s neck. Servant remained unbothered.

Kamukura yanked the chain forward, taking Servant with it. Kamukura looked down at him with disdain, taking in the crooked smile and glazed eyes on his face. He turned around and began walking out of the run-down building, it’d served its purpose.

“Follow,” Kamukura said. “I don’t want to have to tell you twice.”

Kamukura knew that telling him wasn’t really required, but Servant was technically his patient for now. Towa City was boring regardless, and maybe this man would bring a little of something new.

He heard the clinking of the chain and the rustling of fabric, accompanied by a breathy Kamukura-kun, and knew Servant was behind him.

As he looked out, the city seemed a little less desolate, and himself, a little less cold.

2.

Servant was an oddity. When Kamukura first saw him, the man had maintained a healthy distance from him, claiming it was because Kamukura-kun is so much greater than a worthless being like me. Slightly patronising, but not problematic.

Usually, Servant would stay behind while Kamukura looked for food and other supplies in some abandoned house, and when Kamukura would return, he’d be standing right there. There was a certain familiarity in the regime, and Servant constantly trailing him was obvious and inevitable.

Except, this time, Servant was gone.

Kamukura went and looked for him. He didn’t know why it was...instinctive. He wasn’t going to question feelings if he needed to understand them, so he followed them.

That’s not to say he blindly ran after him. Kamukura wasn’t an idiot. He knew Servant, he knew some of his tendencies, and of course, he had his talents. However, unfortunately for him, all three ran against each other and didn’t have any foreseeable alignments.

Kamukura learned that he didn’t have all the answers, and he didn’t like it.

He felt...agitated. Something seemed off —wrong, even— and he needed to fix it. The only real plan he had was Find Servant.

He didn’t know how to respond to these feelings, so he looked for a bunch of particularly violent Monokids. Servant was, of course, completely uncaring when it came to his safety. He’s also painfully adroit at getting himself into situations that fed into his inferiority complex and his luck cycle.

Of course, he also believed that he deserved the beating, so he’d usually just keep quiet and take it. Kamukura listener for someplace with sounds of violence, yet no screams.

Kamukura was right, as usual, but something about what he was seeing just didn’t sit right with him. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen worse before, but something felt…wrong about just standing by this time.

Kamukura rushed forward, plucked a surprised Servant out of the group, and left for somewhere safe. He realised that his feelings of agitation were gone, and everything felt normal.

Servant seemed to be berating him for saving his life, a tangent that Kamukura didn’t expect from his regular obsessive admiration. This unpredictable behaviour was rather...interesting to Kamukura, he was glad that he was finally getting something of a grasp on it.

When they had reached something akin to a safe spot, Kamukura left Servant to his own devices and began preparing something for the two of them with the supplies he’d found. Servant, he’d found, was rather useless at any generic domestic duty. Not that it mattered, really, because it was mostly just an offer and Kamukura could do all those things in the blink of an eye. Though, while performing such menial tasks now, he’d begun to feel...lonely.

He dismissed the thought, chalking it up to being a little more drained than usual. He handed Servant his food, then sat down wordlessly in front of him and began to eat.

“Say,” Servant chirruped. “What despair possessed you to save such a lowly being such as myself?”

For a moment, Kamukura contemplated going back and leaving him, then found himself unable to entertain the thought.

Kamukura didn’t like what was going on.

3.

Kamukura began to show symptoms of a disease he’d never heard of before and was becoming confident in his hypothesis that Servant was both the catalyst and carrier of it.

Servant, whose shadowing and borderline-stalking had initially been a gigantic nuisance, had now become a comforting familiarity. His chain remained secured around Kamukura’s hand at all times. His ridiculous babbling about hope and despair no longer remained a pesky noise in the background, with Kamukura actually beginning to comprehend it.

The most problematic part of this was the feelings.

Kamukura would wake up, Servant’s obnoxiously fluffy hair tickling his face and feel himself heat up, unable to form any actual coherent thought. He’d find himself unable to truly concentrate on most other things when Servant was talking, having a need to give him his full attention.

He’d only ever had to recall talents for more practical purposes, so he wasn't quite sure what else was to be applied to the situation. He’d been unable to diagnose himself with a disease, there didn’t seem to be any clues relating to a previous event, it definitely wasn't something he’d ate because Servant ate the same food and he was just the same...Kamukura didn’t even know if there was a niche talent that could even vaguely fit the bill, even with his detective talent on the case.

They were currently sitting on the remains of the highest tower in the city, watching the sunset. Kamukura had no clue why they were wasting their time here, but Servant seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and Kamukura was physically unable to even try to get him to do anything else.

Servant’s eyes were sparkling. For some reason, the dappled colours of the sky painted the ends of his hair in a way that made Kamukura’ throat turn parched all of a sudden. It was a beautiful view, one he knew he wouldn’t give up for the world, not even for the answer to the symptoms that were plaguing him.

And when Servant turned to him and smiled, a pure one, with no dazed gleam or twisted despair behind it, Kamukura felt himself...melt. He allowed himself a smile back, a small one that barely even showed, but Servant knew it was there, and that was all that matters.

So what if he wasn’t sure just exactly he was afflicted with? If it meant giving up moments like this, he wouldn’t trade them even for a cure.

+1.

Servant looked at Kamukura sceptically. Take off his chain? Why would anyone ask that of him? It was the only way to prevent their shining hopes from getting sullied by his filthy being. And Kamukura of all people. His hope shone brighter than all this disgusting world’s combined!

He obliged, regardless. It was Kamukura, after all.

Kamukura then stuck out his hand, low enough for it to not be a handshake but high enough for it to not just be casually hanging there. Servant waited for the impending punishment, one befitting a person of such a lowly status like him. Kamukura had never punished him before, likely in preparation for an even worse one, just as Servant would deserve.

Kamukura averted his gaze and huffed. Servant stared at his hand. Was Kamukura really not going to punish him? That would be unthinkable; Servant was a horrible person.

“Well,” Kamukura sighed. “Take it.”

Servant’s eyes widened in disbelief, this really couldn’t be happening. But obeying people with beautiful talent and shimmering hope like Kamukura was his only purpose in life, so he did exactly that.

Kamukura smiled, a slight half-smile that only Servant seemed to be privy to. It seemed weirdly romantic in a sense, though someone like Kamukura would never waste his time on someone like him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kamukura said, gaze fixated on him. “I also know that it’s not true.”

Servant didn’t know what to say, and perhaps silence was the right answer. But with Kamukura’s hand in his, even walking over the unseemly corpses and having their blood splatter their shoes, the overwhelming feeling of despair that weighed on him didn’t seem to poignant.

Servant felt...happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long time.

#kamukoma #fanfiction #komahina secret exchange

[vex-bittys]

Snake Charmer: An Underfell Story (Finale)

The lamia skeleton, Edge, may be the King now, but he still owes Grillby a favor. Edge only has one thing that Grillby is interested in: his mate, Red. Red is torn between his ex-lover and his current mate. How can this complicated love triangle be settled? 

Contains: NSFW (18+ only), language, explicit sexual content, fontcest/fellcest (mention), Sansby sex, voyeurism (slight), cuckolding (slight), major character death

READ ON AO3

Sometimes violence proves necessary to ensure peace. After the bloody coup against King Asgore, the Underground changed for the better. Monsters no longer killed for fear of being killed if they didn’t have a high enough LV. The toll of despair no longer drove monsters to fall down. The reign of the new skeleton lamia king ushered in an era of a previously unheard of concept- hope.

At first, powerful boss monsters went into hiding, fearing that they may become the next targets of a ruthless and bloodthirsty monarch. Contrary to the previous regime, Edge felt no need to dust monsters who already acknowledged his superiority, and this philosophy spread through the Underground. Boss monsters staked out territory, and weaker monsters swore fealty to them in exchange for protection. Displays of power settled disputes now rather than outright murder.

Clever monsters with low battle stats offered their services to the Royal Scientist, Alphys, and soon the creepy lizard monster had her lackeys repairing the infrastructure of the entire kingdom. The pittance of EXP that weak monsters provided paled in comparison to the value of labor, so Edge sat upon his throne, unchallenged, watching his domain prosper and his children grow strong before his watchful eyelights.

Edge kept himself busy by breeding his rarely-clothed queen, the skeleton monster named Red, as often as possible while his children were distracted by other pursuits, taking the submissive skeleton whenever and wherever he pleased, including on the floor of the throne room during a particularly uninteresting audience. Red had produced no additional offspring, but Edge didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d grown quite fond of his mate and enjoyed watching him squirm and scream in pleasure when Edge fucked him. The mantle of King truly suited the lamia well.

Though his kingdom flourished under his competent rule, one thing still weighed heavily upon Edge’s mind: his unpaid debt to Grillby. Without the fire elemental’s grudging actions, Edge would have dusted, and the throne left unclaimed, sparking further war and bloodshed in the Underground. The enormous skeleton lamia knew that Red had manipulated Grillby’s feelings for him to coerce the fire elemental into helping him, but regardless of the reason for the assistance, it had been given. Edge waited impatiently for Grillby to collect his favor, but the fire elemental took his sweet time, leaving his new king in frustrating suspense as each hour, day, and week ticked by with no communication.

Grillby took advantage of the changing hierarchy in the Underground to further establish his dominance of Snowdin, where he lived and conducted his business. No monster in the region could match his power, and few monsters in the entire Underground even had the privilege of seeing that power for themselves and surviving. The fact that a fire elemental chose to live in a land of perpetual winter stood as a testament either to Grillby’s tremendous fortitude or his complete insanity; nobody dared to speculate which.

The purple-flamed monster ignored the uncollected debt that the new king owed him. He swept the street in front of his shop, indifferent to the flakes of snow sizzling in his flames. He knew that a powerful boss monster like Edge would hate to have such an open-ended obligation hanging over him, but Grillby opted to let him stew in it. The skeleton lamia only possessed one thing that Grillby wanted, and the fire elemental doubted that Edge would be willing to give up his mate, life debt or no life debt.

Would Red even want to be with him? Grillby recalled his suffering during the time that Red had been missing. He remembered the yawning maw of despair in his mind at the thought that the stocky skeleton could be dust, settled somewhere that Grillby would never find him. He had mentally kicked himself so many times for not confessing to Red how he really felt, for not admitting to emotions that monsters couldn’t afford to acknowledge in a kill or be killed world. Back then, he suspected that Red also harbored the type of love for him that had nothing to do with violence and everything to do with desire for companionship. Now, doubt gripped him, preventing him from even visiting the Capitol since Edge took the throne.

The unanswered question gnawed at Grillby incessantly, stealing away the potential comfort of a peaceful Underground. Time passed, and idle wondering turned into obsessive brooding. Grillby examined the possibilities from every angle, played out every scenario in his head. He had to find out. He needed that closure. Grillby decided that he would make use of his royal favor after all, and once that decision was made, there was no longer any reason to wait.

Grillby visited the palace for an audience with the King.

Edge never deigned to sit properly upon the gilded throne in his Throne Room. He preferred to coil around it as if it were prey that he intended to strangle the life out of and crouch over the spires of the back like a hulking gargoyle. His mate, Red, usually perched on one of the velvet padded arms of the great chair or lounged nonchalantly at the base, leaning against the giant lamia’s thick tail.

The royal children- twelve young lamias and a skeleton babybones- wrestled playfully on the smooth marble floor of the Throne Room under the diligent eyelights of their doting parents. When a fire elemental arrived to conduct business, escorted by the Captain of the Royal Guard herself, the little ones made themselves scarce, scattering into the hidden depths of the palace just as their father taught them. This was Edge’s insurance policy in case a second revolt aimed to unseat him from sovereignty.  No matter what happened, his children would survive.

The slim gold chain connecting Red’s spiked collar to his master and lover jingled as Red jolted upright in surprise. Other denizens of Snowdin, some of them old pals of Red’s from what seemed like a lifetime ago, came by regularly for Royal Guard reports or simply to pay homage to their new king, Grillby had avoided them since the day Red’s children were born, and the rejection stung. Grillby barely glanced at Red who lowered himself back into his position at the foot of the throne, scowling at his former friend and ex lover.

“SSSPEAK!” hissed Edge, eyelights narrowed and body tense. The purple-flamed bartender wanted to discuss business, but Edge wasn’t eager to hear his request. His code of honor forbade him from simply killing Grillby to make his own life easier which meant that he would hear the fire elemental’s demands, however ludicrous they might be, and they proved to be quite ludicrous indeed.

“I’ve come to collect,” replied Grillby, as cool as a monster composed entirely of fire could be. His almost indistinguishable eyes, hidden behind the sunglasses that he wore despite the lack of any sun in the Underground, fell on Red, namely on Red’s collar.

“AND?” Edge’s impatience seeped into the solitary syllable, conveying the nature of the very dangerous ground upon which Grillby tread.

“I want Red.” Grillby pointed unnecessarily to the short skeleton. He stepped out of the way a millisecond before Edge’s heavy tail struck the floor where he’d been standing, shattering the marble and sending splinters of it flying in every direction.

“HOW DARE YOU!” roared Edge, rearing back to strike Grillby. The fire elemental summoned flames into his hands, squaring off with the enraged lamia. Red leapt between them to prevent a fight that could only end in the death of one or both combatants. “CONSSSIDER YOUR CONTINUED EXISSSTENCE REPAYMENT OF MY DEBT,” spat the seething lamia.

“It’s not your debt I’m collecting on, Your Majesty,” sneered Grillby, injecting as much contempt into the title as Edge had injected his venom into the former king. “It’s his.” Once again the fire elemental’s finger jabbed in Red’s direction. “He left Snowdin behind along with a mountain of unpaid bills to my establishment.”

Ever since he met the skeleton lamia, Red had trusted Edge to make the important decisions. Aside from their initial confrontation, Edge always kept Red’s best interests in the forefront of his actions. This situation, however, required Red to speak for himself. His long list of IOUs had once been a running joke at Grillby’s bar, a joke that both Red and Grillby participated in, but somehow that camaraderie had turned to bitterness, with jealousy the driving force behind it.

“ya really think treating me like some commodity ta be traded is gonna fix things between us? i thought ya knew me better than that, Grillbs.” Red’s words were sincere, but they hit Grillby like a slap in what passed for his face. At least the fire monster had the decency to shuffle uncomfortably at the admonishment.

“NOW GET OUT,” added Edge, who harbored no soft spot for Grillby, no patience for diplomacy or logic, and no intention of relinquishing his mate.

“Afraid of a little competition?” Grillby suggested, voice full of malicious antagonism. The air in the Throne Room vibrated with Edge’s mounting rage, and Red feared that he wouldn’t be able to keep the two monsters from fighting for much longer. “How about a compromise?”

If Grillby were any other type of monster, the intensity of the skeleton lamia’s glowing crimson glare would’ve scorched him to ashes. Grilly’s devil-may-care demeanor faltered slightly, and he hurried to deliver his offer before Edge wrote Red off as collateral damage and charged him. He didn’t doubt his skills in combat, but injury to Red was an unacceptable risk. Red may have trusted Edge with his single HP; Grillby did not.

Grilly addressed Red directly for the first time. “Let me have just one night with you, Red. Let me prove myself to you, and if you still prefer him-” He jerked a thumb at Edge. “-then I won’t bother either of you again.”

Edge snarled, showing his venom-dripping fangs. “WHAT MAKESSS YOU THINK-”

“i accept,” Red interrupted, making Edge blink comically in surprise. He had never considered that Red might want to sleep with Grillby, and a seed of doubt embedded itself in his SOUL. Red wore his collar for now, but what if he planned to leave, to choose another monster as his mate? Edge could kill Grillby. He could force Red to stay with him, force Red to submit to him, but he couldn’t force Red to want him.

Grillby smirked, but Edge silenced him with a growling hiss before turning to his mate. “I’M NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH HIM,” Edge stated firmly, and Red nodded.

“ya wanna watch? kinky…” Red chuckled, not blind to the gravity of the situation, but choosing to make light of it anyway. Some coping mechanisms never changed. At least Red’s concession placated Grillby, whose victorious smirk could only be read by those who knew him well enough to recognize his expressions.

“Shall we go back to my place and-”

“YOU’LL TAKE HIM HERE AND NOW OR NOT AT ALL,” Edge cut in. He would not permit Grillby to leave the palace with Red unsupervised and outside of his immediate control. Red nodded in agreement. If it would set his mate’s mind at ease, he could perform just fine in the Throne Room with the massive lamia watching. Red hardly considered comfort or privacy a necessity for sex.

Grillby snorted but didn’t argue. Let the skeleton lamia watch; maybe the asshole would learn something about pleasuring Red properly instead of treating him like a disposable fucktoy. The lesson would start with removing the ridiculous collar that marked Red as claimed property. Grillby reached for the slim leather band circling Red’s neck, mindful of the spikes meant to discourage removal. Red brushed his hand away.

“i’ll take off the leash, but the collar stays,” he said flatly, not allowing any room for negotiation. Red unclipped the leash and let the delicate gold chain drop to the floor. He wore no clothing to remove, so he stood before Grillby, naked and willing, a dream come true for the fire elemental… almost. The collar still irked him, but Grillby took what he could get. If he played his proverbial cards right and Red chose him, he’d be setting that leather and gold atrocity aflame soon enough.

Grillby’s purple flames crackled in a mixture of anticipation and poorly concealed ire at the ludicrous rules. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall onto the polished marble next to Red’s leash, partially covering the symbol of Edge’s ownership with a rippling pool of expensive silk. Next he removed his belt, taking his time with his pants, unfastening them at long last to reveal a thick cock covered in vibrant, undulating flames. Red flushed unexpectedly as the purple light from Grillby’s glowing shaft played across his ivory bones.

Toeing off his shoes to complete undressing, Grillby cast aside his pants and did a quick twirl, more for Edge’s benefit than Red’s. The stocky skeleton had seen the fire elemental naked before, the one and only time they’d had sex. That very same night, Red had slipped away under the cover of darkness, not sure which he feared more- learning that the impassioned sex was simply a casual hook-up for stress relief or allowing true emotions and genuine affection to bloom in the violence and deprivation of the Underground with no sunlight to nourish it.

The fire elemental reclined his well-proportioned body on the dias, not quite daring to take up temporary residence on the throne with the giant lamia coiled around it. Grillby doubted that Edge would uphold his end of the agreement if he fucked Red right on top of him.

“Come,” Grillby invited Red, patting the gleaming marble next to him.

“pfft, i got more stamina than that!” joked Red, but he seated himself next to Grillby, close enough to invite contact without instigating it. The flames of Grillby’s body warmed the frigid stones pleasantly causing the reflective surface to glimmer. If not for Red’s flippant attitude and the threat of two blazing eyelights hanging overhead, the setting might have been romantic.

Grillby didn’t waste any more time with words. His hand snaked out, a single finger trailing down Red’s sternum, featherlight and fever hot. Red magic, the same color as the maraschino cherries that Grillby used for cocktails in his bar, swirled in his pelvis, waiting for Red to manifest it into flesh with a hesitancy that had become unfamiliar to Red since he became Edge’s mate. When the lamia approached him with lustful intentions, Red’s magic snapped into the form of a pussy instinctively, responding to Edge’s undeniable dominance. With Grillby, Red had to focus on what he wanted.

Red’s magic coalesced in his pelvic inlet, developing into luscious pussy lips that swept back and up into the curves of a full, round ass. Grillby admired the new additions to Red’s pelvis. Without his impeccable control, he would’ve tackled Red to the floor and fucked him senseless immediately, but Grillby needed to prove to Red that he was the better lover, the better monster, the better mate. A fast and messy romp on the unyielding floor wasn’t going to suffice.

The hand on Red’s sternum meandered off track to caress the underside of his ribs, drawing him closer. Grillby leaned in for a kiss, and Red tipped his head back to accept it. Grillby let his fiery mouth skim Red’s jawline instead of going straight for a kiss, and he was rewarded with a soft little gasp of surprise. With a mate like Edge, Red had surely forgotten what foreplay felt like, and Grillby intended to remind him, one brush of the lips or slip of the tongue or stroke of the hand at a time. He lived for the moment when Edge had to watch Red come fully undone at his hands.

The fire elemental’s mouth found the leather of Red’s collar next, and he belligerently left a small scorch mark on it as he nuzzled it upwards to tease at Red’s neck with his tongue. Red’s lids eclipsed his sockets. The prolonged wait for the kiss made his magic buzz and tingle, and Grillby’s gentle attention lulled him into a blissful haze of desire. Grillby’s hands weren’t idle either; they toured each foramen and process along his spine like eager sightseers, unwilling to bypass a single dip or divet in Red’s bones without thorough exploration and leaving a trail of heat and arousal in their wake.

Red sank into Grillby’s embrace, loving the way the warmth saturated his bones. Finally, the ghost of the fire elemental’s breath haunted Red’s upturned mouth. The skeleton parted his jaws, and Grillby accepted the invitation, delivering a long lingering kiss in which he sought to communicate the depth of his feelings for Red first through the rough movement of his mouth against Red’s, then with the intricate swirling of his tongue against Red’s, and finally with his hands sliding down to the skeleton’s hips to position his body so that he laid back on the dais.

Breaking the kiss with reluctance, Grillby straddled Red’s body, staring down at him with a surprisingly honest expression that Red couldn’t quite place. Humming so softly that the skeleton struggled to separate the vibrations of the sound from the fire elemental’s breathing, Grillby placed kisses, one after another, across Red’s clavicles, then down his sternum, a parody of a religious gesture that meant nothing to the denizens of the Underground but symbolized a sort of worship between the two monsters on the dias nonetheless.

Grillby dipped his head lower, stroking the supple ecto-flesh forming Red’s pubis with his hands while he tenderly nuzzled the skeleton’s inner thighs. The heat pouring from Red’s pussy matched the heat of Grillby’s flames as the fire elemental slowly spread his glistening folds to expose his swollen clit and fluttering entrance. When the fiery tongue found its way past his plump pussy lips and into his tight hole, Red tilted back his head and let out a satisfied sigh.

The bartender from Snowdin never failed to ignite Red’s magic with his touch, and his very bones burned with a desperate need. At the risk of viewing the experience through the scope of a barrage of fire-related puns, Red held an undeniable torch for the fire monster, yet somehow the sexual encounter with Grillby failed to fan the dying ember into a flame, leaving Red missing something despite the pleasure of Grillby’s tongue curling inside of him.

Sensing the fading intensity of his lover’s reactions, Grillby switched from tongue-fucking the skeleton to fingering him slowly. His mouth migrated to Red’s clit, settling over it and beginning to gently suck on it. Red’s back arched and his hips tilted upwards against Grillby’s hand. Grillby’s fingers were long and nimble, and they found all of the sensitive places inside of Red’s pussy that his tongue had toyed with, only this time with the added sensation of the clit stimulation.

Pleasure overwhelmed Red, and his phalanges scrabbled for purchase on the smooth marble beneath him. Pressure built low in his abdomen; he ached for release as he hovered at the precipice of orgasm. Grillby changed his strategy again, letting Red tremble with the tension of being so close. The fire elemental used one thumb to continue to play with Red’s clit while his tongue joined his fingers inside of the skeleton’s deliciously wet pussy. No meal he served in his establishment compared to the taste of drawing an orgasm out of Red with his fingers and tongue.

Flavor exploded in Grillby’s mouth when Red came, and he lapped it up eagerly. The skeleton’s pussy clenched around his fingers and tongue, and the thought of that same tightness squeezing his cock once again tempted Grillby to rush things. He resisted once again as well. If this was truly his last chance to be with Red, he planned to savor every second starting with licking Red clean of his arousal. Once his saliva slickened Red’s folds instead of the skeleton’s own fluids, Grillby stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking the same tangy stains from his flaming digits, not letting a drop go to waste.

Red’s eyelights pleaded for more, and Grillby would not deny the object of his affection for a moment longer. Breathing harshly, the fire elemental lined himself up with the skeleton’s trembling pussy, rubbing himself up and down the glistening slit to get lubricated. Red moaned, low and loud, coaxing fat drops of pre-cum from Grillby’s cock with only that single sound. No more waiting. With a groan, Grillby sank into the welcoming embrace of Red’s pussy.

Grillby moved slowly, deliberately, letting every inch of his cock stretch Red’s hole as it filled him. Red cried out at the maddeningly languid pace set by the fire elemental. The drag of Grillby’s thick shaft, the way it caught on his entrance as it slid inside of him, so gradual, so controlled, drove him insane with lust.

Red wanted to be utterly destroyed. Red wanted it hard and rough, not soft and careful. Red wanted his face shoved into the floor while his pussy was railed until his throat became raw from his empassioned screams. Instead, Grillby made tender love to him, the steady, unhurried rhythm of his hips at odds with the fervor that consumed his SOUL.

Moans mingled between sharpened teeth and fiery lips only to be swallowed into silence when Grillby and Red’s mouths met. During the confusion of tongues and hot breath, the fire elemental’s hands found his lover’s, and their fingers, purple fire and pale bone, intertwined. Grillby’s powerful thrusts gained speed, rocking Red’s smaller body beneath him.

The fire elemental’s hips stuttered to a halt, slamming into the willing body of his lover with fierce finality as orgasm swept over both of them. Red’s body stiffened, and stars exploded behind his sockets. He gave in to the soothing waves of euphoria, closing his sockets and letting his greedy cunt tighten around Grillby’s cock again and again, milking the searing cum from his flaming lover.

As Grillby’s hot magic pumped into his pussy and the first blinding rush of orgasm faded, Red came to a stark realization. He didn’t love Grillby, and he never had. His relationship with Grillby had never extended past friendship and one desperate hookup to chase away some of the loneliness of his life in Snowdin. Sleeping with Grillby now and subjecting him to a glimmer of hope that would never truly materialize was unfair. He owed Grillby honesty at least, especially considering that he had little else to offer. There is no consolation prize for unrequited love.

How do you tell someone who is willing to give up everything for you that you don’t harbor the same feelings? How could Red explain that Grillby’s saccharine affection was just another rut to fall into, just more motions to go through while the oppressive nature of their lives continued to crush them while they waited for a merciful blow to speed the act of falling down? Grillby’s love followed the same desolate path that Red sought to escape, a path that eventually led to dark, endless emptiness no matter how hard he fought. Falling from a greater height causes a more painful landing.

Red decided to be straightforward. Explanations wouldn’t soften the blow.

“I can give you everything you ever dreamed of,” Grillby murmured against the side of Red’s skull, oblivious to his thoughts.

Grillby had no idea what Red dreamed of. If Red chose Grillby, they would live two miserable lives, together but somehow also separate, and always aware of the gap that existed with no possible way to bridge it.

“I choose Edge.”

The words sounded strange coming from Red while another monster’s cum dribbled from his still-throbbing pussy, but they also rang true. Edge’s savage vitality breathed life into Red like nothing else in the entire Underground. The huge lamia’s protective and possessive nature left Red feeling both valuable and secure, like he belonged in this world, like he mattered to it... and when they fucked? Edge’s hunger for Red was palpable, visceral, inexorable, and insatiable.

The lamia in question’s entire thick body encircled Red, separating him from Grillby and obscuring him from the fire elemental’s vision. Edge flipped Grillby’s clothes to him with the tip of his tail, a clear and callous dismissal.

“YOU HEARD HIM,” hissed Edge impatiently as Grillby quickly and wordlessly dressed himself. “NOW GET OUT OF MY PALACE BEFORE I EXTINGUISSSH YOU WITH MY PISSSSS.” Grillby obeyed without protest, numb to the threat, Red’s words tumbling around in his head and refusing to make sense.

As soon as the door closed behind the forlorn fire monster, Edge retrieved the slim gold chain from the floor and clipped it onto Red’s collar. The lamia then used the newly refastened leash to pull his mate close.

“YOU ARE MINE, AND I WILL NOT ALLOW ANYONE TO TAKE YOU FROM ME,” Edge rumbled, and his words reverberated through Red’s bones and down to his very SOUL.

This was as close to a declaration of love as the lamia would get, but Red had become well-versed in interpreting Edge’s often gruff statements. Red had not missed the brief flash of fear in Edge’s eyelights, despite how quickly Edge’s usual arrogance replaced it. Sometimes even the King needed some reassurance of his place in the world.

Tiny skeleton faces peered around the archway leading into the Throne Room. The presence of the children prevented Edge from reclaiming his mate then and there, but they also served as a reminder of the one final thing that Edge and Red provided for each other- a future to look forward to.

“i love you too,” replied Red, and Edge made no comment about his mate’s translation of his words except for holding him a little tighter.

---------- (The song used here is Almost Lover by a Fine Frenzy) ----------

And when you left, you kissed my lips You told me you would never never forget These images

Grillby stumbled out of the Palace and into the streets of the Capitol, sunglasses-shielded eyes unseeing. Other monsters moved aside to let him pass, assuming him to be drunk or possibly injured. Nobody asked, though Grillby couldn’t have formed the wrenching pain in his SOUL into sensical words anyway. He barely grasped what happened, his mind refusing to accept the reality of losing Red, not to death and dust, but by his choice, to another monster.

Well, I’d never want to see you unhappy I thought you’d want the same for me

The fire elemental hunched his shoulders as the scenery changed from the Capitol to Hotland to Waterfall, unnoticed. He struggled to process the possibilities of the future. Red’s choice to be with Edge wasn’t something he could fight. If he killed Edge, Red would never forgive him. No amount of begging or coercing would change Red’s mind, and honestly, Grillby wanted the skeleton to find happiness, even if it meant letting him go. Unfortunately, letting him go left Grillby with nothing.

Goodbye, my almost lover Goodbye, my hopeless dream

Grillby ignored the blasting snow flurries that announced his arrival in Snowdin. The fluffy snowflakes that rode upon the back of the frigid, blasting winds sizzled in his purple flames, but more than steam rose in their wake. Little grey flakes like ash drifted upwards to mingle with the pristine white snowflakes the same way that the dancing light of Grillby’s flames had mingled with the pale ivory of Red’s bones in the Throne Room.

Goodbye, my luckless romance My back is turned on you Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache Almost lovers always do

Grillby’s feet knew the way back to his bar and restaurant, but the fire elemental himself was lost, unable to move forward mentally and therefore also physically. He stood in the blizzard swirling at the entrance to the town of Snowdin and blinked as if waking from a dream. He had no choice but to accept that Red was gone, forever out of the reach of his aching heart, and nothing else really mattered to him beyond that.

I cannot wake up in the morning Without you on my mind That’s what it came down to. Nothing else mattered to him without Red. But now you’re gone and I’m haunted And I bet you are just fine Did I make it that easy To walk right in and out of my life?

Grillby continued to stand, flaming yet frozen as the wind gathered up his dust and scattered it across Snowdin, indistinguishable from the ever-present ground cover of snow…

Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache Almost lovers always do

… until nothing remained but memories.

PREV | INDEX

#vexy writes #underfell lemon #sansby lemon #underfell sans #uf!sans #underfell papyrus #uf!papyrus #underfell grillby #uf!grillby #fellcest #fontcest #underfell

[brutuskorov]

betrayal never comes from the enemy...

(a character analysis)

basic information

FULL NAME: boris korov PRONUNCIATION: BO-ris KO-rov MEANING: boris - fight, fighter. REASONING: his father named him long before he was born. boris, fighter, if he was a boy. sezia, protector, if he’d been born a girl. for his father, his child (regardless of gender) was to be his legacy -- he meant for the name ‘korov’ to mean something. boris is not as ambitious as his father; he’s more of a follower than a leader, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t follow his father’s words. (it is lesser known that is mother called him borya, little snatches of affection he holds close to his chest.)  NICKNAME(S): brutus, borya PREFERRED NAME(S): brutus BIRTH DATE: december 23rd AGE: 33 ZODIAC: capricorn GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him/his ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual (while boris has experienced attraction towards multiple genders, he only ever acts on it with women) NATIONALITY: russian ETHNICITY: alaskan native; kuyokan-athabascan CURRENT LOCATION: verona, italy LIVING CONDITIONS: simple & stark, though he has the means for a more luxurious life. TITLE(S): emissary

background

BIRTH PLACE: yekatrinburg, russia HOMETOWN: verona, italy (since he was a teen) SOCIAL CLASS: boris was born poor. his father earned well enough through his criminal dealings, but spent it just as quickly -- he was a man who enjoyed life and didn’t believe in the notion of saving. boris himself made his way up  EDUCATION LEVEL: boris’ education is haphazard and all over the place due to the instability of his father’s career. he completed his 12th year in italy, but went back to russia to spend some time in the conscripted army. boris didn’t return to school for a while, focusing more on mafia activities. he did return to school and started a degree in strategic management when he left verona, but dropped the program when he returned to the Montagues. FATHER: vadim korov MOTHER: juniper korov née locklear SIBLING(S): talia korov (deceased before boris’ birth) BIRTH ORDER: i. talia -- ii. boris CHILDREN: n/a PET(S): a moroccoan uromastyx named ‘lizard’ OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: cousin -- ava locklear (located in america); niece -- sonya locklear (located in america) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: n/a ARRESTS?: a couple times for teenage stupidity, but his connections to the mafia meant he always got off PRISON TIME?: n/a

occupation & income

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: private military contractor through almaz-antey SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: montague emissary TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: n/a APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: appx.  € 180,000 / year CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: boris knows he didn’t earn his job -- he was placed there with the intention of smoothing the way for montague goals. he’s specifically assigned to various pharmaceutical and drug companies where he intentionally suggests security plans that leave room for the montagues to take their share. it also allows him to play the part of a bodyguard when necessary. the job satisfies the hum under his skin that demands action but it isn’t exactly his passion.   PAST JOB(S): montague soldier SPENDING HABITS: he doesn’t really spend money beyond essentials. of course, at this point, essentials includes paying off contracted killers, bribing government officials, etc. picking apart a mafia empire isn’t cheap, but he doesn’t really spend money on himself. he’s not thrifty but his income to expenditure ratio means he ends up having plenty in his bank account. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: tucked in a cabinet by his flat’s front door is a getaway bag -- it contains burner phones, travel documents, everything he could need to run again.

skills & abilities

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 8/10 OFFENSE: 7/10 DEFENSE: 7/10 SPEED: 7/10 INTELLIGENCE: 8/10 ACCURACY: 9/10 AGILITY: 6/10 STAMINA: 9/10 TEAMWORK: 5/10 TALENTS: tactics & strategy, far-sighted, detailed SHORTCOMINGS: disloyal, selfish, detached LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: russian (fluent), italian (fluent, but accented), english (passable) DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes SWIM?: no PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: no PLAY CHESS?: yes BRAID HAIR?: yes TIE A TIE?: no PICK A LOCK?: yes

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: martin sensmeier EYE COLOR: dark brown HAIR COLOR: black HAIR TYPE/STYLE: usually short -- he wore it in a buzzcut during his brief stint in military GLASSES/CONTACTS?: n/a DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 6′1″ WEIGHT: 75 kg BUILD: tall, solid -- not buff, but not lean either EXERCISE HABITS: he’s very regimented in his exercise -- runs early every morning, weight trains every other day, practices hand to hand fairly frequently. he likes moving in any form. SKIN TONE: dark brown with warm, coppery undertones  TATTOOS: though he’s often contemplated getting one, he hasn’t found a design he’d like to commit to PEIRCINGS: none MARKS/SCARS: a scar on his leg from jumping a barbed wire fence, a bullet scar on his shoulder, a couple others here and there he doesn’t even remember getting -- he fought too often to remember every scar NOTABLE FEATURES: high cheek bones and full lips; his gaze is very flat USUAL EXPRESSION: stoic, veering towards a scowl  CLOTHING STYLE: he gets cold easily, so he wears jackets well into summer. he prefers neutral tones. dark jeans, beige turtleneck and an army jacket is a very typical basic outfit that he’ll wear anywhere. JEWELRY: n/a. ALLERGIES: peanuts BODY TEMPERATURE: normal DIET: his diet is unhealthy in that he very rarely cooks for himself, but he does eat a variety of food and prefers high protein diets. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: n/a

psychology

JUNG TYPE: ISTJ JUNG SUBTYPE: Type A ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type 8 – the challenger MORAL ALIGNMENT: true neutral TEMPERAMENT: choleric ELEMENT: earth PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: kinesthetic/spatial APPROXIMATE IQ: 110 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: n/a SOCIABILITY: introvert EMOTIONAL STABILITY: stable, his mood does not shift easily OBSESSION(S): damiano montague COMPULSION(S): he’s very particular about the state of things in his home. he likes it clean and neat. PHOBIA(S): n/a ADDICTION(S): he knows his father had a problem with gambling so he avoids it DRUG USE: he prefers alcohol to drugs ALCOHOL USE: he drinks to unwind, sticking to beers mostly. at parties he’ll go for dark liquors but he doesn’t particularly care for booze. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: ha. yes. but he’s tempered his instincts well.

mannerisms

SPEECH STYLE: when he speaks, it is short and concise, never more than necessary. he will answer questions at face value and doesn’t elaborate unless asked. He takes lots of pauses and is slow to reveal his thoughts. ACCENT: his russian is flawless, his italian less so -- the words tend to come out a bit harsher. his english is passable with a strong russian accent. QUIRKS: if boris can walk somewhere instead of taking a vehicle, he will. he hates public transportation however, and prefers motorcycles to every other vehicle. HOBBIES: running, walking, listen to music HABITS: he runs every morning, immediately after waking up. he drinks his coffee black (he doesn’t like espresso). he wakes up at 5:45 am every morning, no matter what time he went to bed. boris is inherently a man of habit, he likes routines. NERVOUS TICKS: fist clenching and setting his jaw DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: revenge, justice, respect, family FEARS: failure POSITIVE TRAITS: driven, reliable, dedicated, detailed NEGATIVE TRAITS: selfishness, fails to see bigger picture, disloyal SENSE OF HUMOR: sarcasm, understatements, subtle humor DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: to emphasize a point. CATCHPHRASE(S): n/a

favorites

ACTIVITY: running ANIMAL: gazelle BEVERAGE: water BOOK: he doesn’t really read. CELEBRITY: natalie dormer COLOR:  navy blue DESIGNER: he doesn’t know designers.  FOOD: pierogies FLOWER: red poppies (his mother’s favorite) GEM: diamonds HOLIDAY: winter holidays in general MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: walking MOVIE: the good, the bad, the ugly MUSICAL ARTIST: jidenna QUOTE/SAYING: “no legacy is so rich as honesty.” SCENERY: wide open lakes that are frozen over SCENT: pine SPORT: boxing SPORTS TEAM: italian football TELEVISION SHOW: 24 WEATHER: cold & brisk VACATION DESTINATION: mountains

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: destroying the montagues GREATEST FEAR: failing his father’s legacy MOST AT EASE WHEN: running LEAST AT EASE WHEN: attending fancy parties WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: getting caught in his schemes before he’s ready BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: returning to the montagues despite his betrayal BIGGEST REGRET: leaving in the first place -- he has to re-prove himself MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: when he was young, he once cried after falling. his father laughed so hard, he never cried over little things again. BIGGEST SECRET: he betrayed the montagues to a russian mob TOP PRIORITIES: slowly dismantling the montague empire

#[ about ]

[orpheusahulani-blog]

-- behind the curtain.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Orpheus Ahulani. PRONUNCIATION: /ˈɔːfɪəs/ MEANING: Perhaps related to Greek ορφνη meaning ‘the darkness of night’. In Greek mythology Orpheus was a poet and musician who went to the underworld to retrieve his dead wife Eurydice. NICKNAME(S): None officially, although they whisper diavolo in his wake. PREFERRED NAME(S): Orpheus. BIRTH DATE: 19th November 1977. AGE: 39. ZODIAC: Scorpio. GENDER: Masculine. PRONOUNS: He/him. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual. NATIONALITY: Italian. ETHNICITY: Half Native Hawaiian, half a mixture of German, Irish and Native American. CURRENT LOCATION: Verona. Italy. TITLE(S): The INSTIGATOR of Verona; Verona’s Robin Hood; Il Diavolo di Verona; variously.

BACKGROUND

BIRTHPLACE: Verona, Italy. HOMETOWN: Verona, Italy. SOCIAL CLASS: Lower class. EDUCATION LEVEL: No formal education, his parents didn’t believe it to be of any use. Everything he knows, he learned on the streets. FATHER: Joseph Ahulani [deceased]. MOTHER: Katherine Ahulani (née O’Leary) [deceased]. SIBLING(S): Hermes Ahulani [deceased]. BIRTH ORDER: Eldest. CHILDREN: None. PET(S): None. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: None, every member of his family is deceased. He is the last Ahulani. PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: He doesn’t have relationships, not in the conventional sense, but there is a string of bodies in his wake. The most notable previous/current/future relationship he has is with Theodora Moreau. ARRESTS?: None, he’s too careful (and too good). PRISON TIME?: No.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Crime. Whether it’s petty crime or organised crime, Orpheus’ web is wide-ranging and many-stranded, and his empire works like a well-oiled machine. SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Measure by Measure, his fight club. He runs bets, he offers prize money, and sources cash through various other legal and illegal channels. TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: A bar he owns called the Grifone. APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: It’s hard to say exactly how much his legions bring in daily, but it’s enough to keep him more than comfortable and to feed and clothe the poor of Verona, to keep their loyalty unwavering. No-one really knows, other than him, and it’s not something he’d ever disclose. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: He’s content, for now, to play the Capulet game, but eventually he plans to flip the table and sever his chains. PAST JOB(S): None, he’s always walked the path of criminality. SPENDING HABITS: He spends little, his only indulgences are good whisky, good cigars, and books. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: A rare first edition of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, his favourite novel. He used it to teach himself Russian when he decided it would be a useful skill to have, and what better version of the book than the very original?

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: Extremely powerful, both due to height and physical size. OFFENCE: His best attack is simply his bulk, his strength. A single well-placed punch is often enough to settle most disputes. DEFENCE: Defence isn’t normally necessary when he chooses to fight, but perhaps his best defence is his high pain tolerance, which enables him to carry on even after sustaining injury. SPEED: He is necessarily quick, as often his job will require evasive action, particularly if a con does not go according to plan, but he is not especially fast, relying more on endurance than out-and-out speed to outlast and loseany pursuers. INTELLIGENCE: He has no formal education, but as with all proficient con-men, has acquired knowledge and skills that will enable him to hold conversation in any social milieu he chooses. He has a fair head for calculations, necessary due to his lack of trust in anyone other than himself to keep track of his accounts, and reasonable emotional intelligence, or at least perceptiveness. ACCURACY: Accurate shot; precise in hand-to-hand combat (when he wants to be); incisive mind. AGILITY: Greater than expected for someone of his stature, a necessary by-product of his operations as a thief. STAMINA: High endurance, both mental and physical, and high pain tolerance. TEAMWORK: He is not one for collaboration or cooperation, preferring to do things himself and trusting himself above all others. He will work with others when absolutely necessary, but has no qualms about jumping ship at the first sign of failure. A notable exception to this is Theodora, with whom, in his own opinion, he works spectacularly. TALENTS: Extensive range of criminal talents: picking pockets; picking locks; cracking safes; confidence tricks. Decent singer and guitar player. Extremely capable fighter. His ability to charm, when he wants to, and his eloquence. SHORTCOMINGS: Cruelty; arrogance; dishonesty; short temper; emotionlessness. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Italian, English, Hawaiian, moderate Russian, some French and Spanish. DRIVE?: Yes. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: Yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Yes. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes. SWIM?: Yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: Yes, the guitar.. PLAY CHESS?: Yes. BRAID HAIR?: Yes. He often keeps at least one braid tucked away somewhere inside his mane of hair, often secured with a metal ring. TIE A TIE?: Yes. PICK A LOCK?: Yes, and crack a safe also.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Jason Momoa. EYE COLOUR: Green, flecked with brown and gold. HAIR COLOUR: Dark brown at the roots, bleached lighter at the tips by years of keeping it long and exposing it to sunlight. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Long to the collar-bone and wavy. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: No. DOMINANT HAND: Right, but taught himself to write with both and shoot with both. HEIGHT: 6′ 5″. WEIGHT: 230 lbs. BUILD: Muscular. EXERCISE HABITS: He exercises regularly, sometimes lifting weights and running, sometimes simply by fighting. SKIN TONE: Typical to that of a Pacific Islander. TATTOOS: A tribal cuff around his left forearm; a skull on his right hand. PIERCINGS: None currently. He’s had various ear piercings over the years, but grew tired of them once he was out of his twenties. MARKS/SCARS: Various: a long, jagged scar down his left side, from a knife, sustained in a brawl years ago; a scar that cuts through his eyebrow, from a shard of glass; various other scars on his hands, inevitable consequences of the life he leads - grazes, burns, scratches, e.t.c. Small oval birthmark on the back of his left knee. NOTABLE FEATURES: Height; wild, untamable hair; burning, intense eyes that never rest. USUAL EXPRESSION: Ever-shifting, one moment amused, the next contemptuous, the next emotionless, the next terrible. He is impossible to pin down, deliberately inscrutable. CLOTHING STYLE: Eclectic, carelessly casual but somehow convincingly put-together. He most often wears white, black, or grey, and never, ever wears bright colours. The only injections of shades that aren’t monochrome into his wardrobe are dark, rich, sensuous colours like burgundy, deep emerald and copper. He knows precisely what looks good in him, wears his clothes as part of his armour, uses them to reinforce his status as king. He’s a fan of some more daring things, too; pinstripes and suspenders and hats that should look ridiculous on him but somehow fit seamlessly into the picture, suit trousers with combat boots, scarves and waistcoats. He owns some leather items, a rare luxury he afforded himself and paid for out of his own pocket, but generally his rule is never to spend more than thirty euros on a piece of clothing, and, if there’s something expensive that his heart truly desires, to steal it from an unsuspecting rich brat who can afford to have his pockets lightened. JEWELLERY: He is partial to jewellery, and more often than not his fingers are stacked with rings of various shapes, sizes and materials, trinkets pulled from the fingers of the victims of his cons, his neck similarly draped with countless necklaces, his wrists bound with golden chains and leather ropes alike. ALLERGIES: None. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None.

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: ESFP. ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Eight.  MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil. TEMPERAMENT: Choleric. ELEMENT: Fire. DEADLY SIN: Wrath. HEAVENLY VIRTUE: Diligence. PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Interpersonal/Logical. MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: None. SOCIABILITY: This depends on the circumstance. If he wants something, extremely sociable. If he wants to be alone, extremely withdrawn, to the point of abrasiveness. If he is spending time with people that are worth testing his patience, then he is noticeably present and paying attention. If the social situation is one he dislikes, then he is noticeably absent and drifts, preferring to observe and compile information than engage. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Prone to outbursts of violence and rage, but all other emotions that might cause him strife (grief, pain, loss) are buried so deep that there is little chance of them resurfacing. OBSESSION(S): None. COMPULSION(S): He has a compulsion to smother all the light he sees, to spread his darkness further and further, would have it cover half the world and more, and a compulsion to cruelty, if such a thing exists. PHOBIA(S): None. ADDICTION(S): Smoking. DRUG USE: Not often. He makes exceptions for Theodora’s faerie blood, but generally does not enjoy the uncontrollable daze that narcotics incite. ALCOHOL USE: Moderate to heavy, but never enough to completely lose control. His tolerance is high. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: Yes, always.

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: It’s as though every word is selected deliberately, weighted precisely, to imbue it with exactly the right feeling, charge it with exactly the right energy, to sharpen or soften its point just enough to provoke the right reaction, to get what he wants. He chooses words fluidly, eloquently. ACCENT: Italian. QUIRKS: Playing with one of his many rings; occasionally twirling strands of his hair. HOBBIES: Thievery; fighting; in private, reading and music. HABITS: Smoking and drinking, so much a part of his life that they have become habitual, almost daily activities. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Hunger: for power; for a greater empire; for inspiring the fear he thinks he deserves; for blood; for legacy. FEARS: Hah. POSITIVE TRAITS: + Charming + Driven + Eloquent + Generous + Quick-witted NEGATIVE TRAITS: - Arrogant - Cruel - Dishonest - Scheming - Vengeful SENSE OF HUMOUR: Dark, warped, and often cruel. Not one for conventional jokes or puns. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: Yes. CATCHPHRASE(S): None. The sight of him is memorable enough, without needing a phrase for people to recall him by.

FAVOURITES

ACTIVITY: A perfectly-planned, well-executed long con. ANIMAL: Wolf. BEVERAGE: Whiskey. BOOK: Crime and Punishment, or The Aeneid. COLOUR: Black. DESIGNER: He’s partial to Gucci and Prada, although he’d never pay for a designer garment, preferring to find... alternate means of acquiring such luxuries FOOD: Steak. FLOWER: Poppy. GEM: Ruby. HOLIDAY:  QUOTE/SAYING: “flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” // “If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.” -- Virgil, The Aeneid. SCENERY: The Castelvecchio beneath a clear night sky and moonlight; pine forests. SCENT: Woodsmoke and leather. WEATHER: Hazy sunlight. VACATION DESTINATION: He’s never been anywhere that isn’t Italy, but the islander in him yearns, sometimes, for the beaches of Hawaii.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: To one day rule over his own empire, free of control or influence, to grind the existing hierarchies that govern Verona into the dust and build his kingdom atop their bones. GREATEST FEAR: Fear resides in the heart, and how can you have fear when you have no heart? He fears nothing, no one. He is feared, not fearful. MOST AT EASE WHEN: Lying, cheating, stealing, generally wreaking havoc and leaving a trail of chaos behind him. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: Asked about his family, although he’s fielded the question enough that it never shows. WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: Currently, losing Theodora, the one soul alive today to whom he feels a true kinship. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: The following he built for himself, the dominion he raised up out of nothing, the loyalty he’s managed to inspire in people that so many had branded ungovernable, untameable. BIGGEST REGRET: That he wasn’t quick enough to save his brother that day. BIGGEST SECRET: The death of his family, and the terrible vengeance he wrought to avenge them.

source: [x]

#( factfile; ) #( character development; ) #[ i may have made some slight modifications but i still did it!! ] #[ now i need a lie down i'm exhausted ]

[renegaderoots]

BASIC INFORMATION

♚┋FULL NAME: Rory Lynch  ♚┋PRONUNCIATION: ROR-ee ♚┋NICKNAME(S): Roy ♚┋TITLE: The Target ♚┋OCCUPATION: contract killer  ♚┋~AGE: 36 ♚┋DATE OF BIRTH: 23 August  ♚┋GENDER: Cisgender ♚┋PRONOUNS: He/Him/His ♚┋ORIENTATION: Biromantic Bisexual  ♚┋NATIONALITY: Irish  ♚┋RELIGION: Lapsed Catholic  ♚┋SPECIES: Human  ♚┋AFFILIATION: Lynch (particularly towards Trish)/Morrison  ♚┋GENERATION: Third ♚┋THREAT LEVEL: High (violent and aggressive, though not necessarily malicious)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

♚┋FACE CLAIM: Boyd Holbrook ♚┋EYE COLOUR: Blue/Green ♚┋HAIR COLOUR: Brown ♚┋DOMINANT HAND: Right ♚┋HEIGHT: 190 centimeters (6′2) ♚┋WEIGHT: 154 lbs ♚┋TATTOOS: various skulls on his body, the most noticeable being on his chest. They’re all in black and white, however. No color whatsoever.  ♚┋SCARS: various scars from stab and surgery wounds, a few of which healed woefully bad.  ♚┋PIERCINGS: Nah. ♚┋GLASSES: Still nah.

PSYCHOLOGY INFORMATION

♚┋JUNG TYPE: ESTP ♚┋SUBTYPE: Logical ♚┋ENNEATYPE: 8w7 ♚┋MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil ♚┋TEMPERAMENT: Choleric ♚┋SCHEMA: ♚┋INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Bodily-Kinesthetic, Visual-Spatial, Interpersonal ♚┋~IQ: 125 ♚┋NEUROTYPE: Neurotypical ♚┋AT RISK? Given hereditary influences and environmental factors: yes. 

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

♚┋HOMETOWN: Darndale, Ireland  ♚┋CURRENT: Dublin, Ireland  ♚┋LANGUAGE(S): English, some Irish ♚┋SOCIAL CLASS: lower middle class  ♚┋DEGREE: none ♚┋SUBJECT(S): none ♚┋PARENT #1: Yannis Romanos Calathes, never met, probably alive  ♚┋PARENT #2: Maryanne Thompson, estranged, alive ♚┋SIBLING(S): none ♚┋MAIN SHIP: Trish/Rory ♚┋RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married ♚┋CHILDREN: none ♚┋PET(S): none ♚┋ADOPTED? Yes. ♚┋RAP SHEET? No. ♚┋PRISON TIME? Not yet. 

VICES / HABITS

♚┋SMOKES? Yes. ♚┋DRINKS? No. ♚┋DOES DRUGS? No. ♚┋IS VIOLENT? Yes, oftentimes bordering on Cían’s misanthropic inclinations. As a sadomasochist, Rory indulges in all kinds of violence with such jubilant gusto that he has risked arrest before. Whether emotional, physical, or sexual - there’s no limit.  ♚┋HAS AN ADDICTION? Well, I mean, if you can murderous intent an addiction... ♚┋IS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? No. ♚┋HABITS: always seen with a card deck, plays idly with a coin when extremely bored, just up and leaves mid-conversation when he feels himself his limited capacity to tolerate social interaction, long-ass baths with lavender-scented bathing foam, excels at pretending to listen to what you’ve got to say even though he doesn’t really give a shit, cannot sleep without socks on. Gross. ♚┋HOBBIES: long ass baths, partaking in eating competitions, falconry, binge-watching every movie on Netflix ( and throwing in annoying one-liners during conversations), crowd watching, eating, acrobatics, magic tricks ♚┋TICS: repetition of words  ♚┋OBSESSION(S): none ♚┋COMPULSION(S): repeating activities in multiples (three times)

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

♚┋HOUSE: Dunno. He doesn’t really fit into any house 100%, but I’d wager Slytherin ♚┋VICE: Greed ♚┋VIRTUE: Patience ♚┋ELEMENT: Fire  ♚┋ANGEL: Mephistopheles  ♚┋MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE:/ ♚┋ANIMAL: Lynx  ♚┋MUTATION: something dementor-esque. Sucking all joy out of a person - that sounds like Rory, all right.  ♚┋WOULD SURVIVE POST-APOC? For a while.

STATUS INFORMATION

♚┋DEVELOPMENT: Underdeveloped  ♚┋SHIPPING: Trish/Rory, Shiplocked. (May possibly get obsessed and possessive of another person, but Trish comes first.) ♚┋VERSE: crime, slice of life  ♚┋VERSE TYPE: crime ♚┋CANON: crime ♚┋PLOTTING: Open ♚┋CREATION DATE: November 2017

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child abuse, suicide

CHARACTER SUMMARY

A life with so much calamity followed by cataclysm promptly incurs sympathy and even pity to empathetic souls. The best advice to give about Rory’s history is to close your heart to such inclinations. You may want to dig deeper and unravel a rational reason for his cruelty; but there are no reasons; no excuses. His childhood, however, hurtled rapidly towards trauma. A father who didn’t want him and pressured his mother to get an abortion. A mother who killed herself in front of her son and a circus director who saw a lucrative opportunity in a nine-year-old orphan. At being a performer, Rory excelled, soon becoming an accomplished fire artist, juggler, knife-thrower, and tightrope walker. After an incident with a trapeze artist, he couch-surfed for a while, earning his keep as a street magician conning naïve pedestrians. When he tried to con a certain Cían Morrison, for the first time, the boy was given a choice – and he made it, consequently being trained to become Cían’s underling. The man’s orders, despite his chaotic being, are like gospel to him and though his usually to himself, Rory is proud to be affiliated with Lynch and Morrison. Here, he’s not judged and here, his perverseness has value.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

Rory’s body has undergone many transformations, from malnourishment to a lanky yet athletic build mirroring his penchant for acrobatics, leaving him with stretch marks to show for it. Naturally, his height is also of interest – at 190 centimeters, he can be considered quite gargantuan. Unware of his size, Rory often doesn’t realize how intimidating he is for tiny people with attitudes. His voice, by contrast, is the usual Dubliner accent with the usually associated infamous intonation, his original roots notwithstanding. On the rare chance that Rory can be bothered to wear clothes, it’s always with some form of skull print to go with the distressed look. As for his eyes, they’re akin to smudged colors, i.e. green and blue. There’s something dull about their expression, something quite unfocused and absent-minded.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

Shockingly enough, the first impression you’ll form is that of a cheerful, fun-loving guy with a jubilant aura about him, always humming upbeat tunes under his breath. If you don’t know anything about the hand he plays in both families, there’s the likelihood you will be inclined to trust him. Even his optimistic streak is quite endearing, whether real or constructed. He’s not one for subtlety or in any way interested in manipulative schemes – those are more his adoptive sister’s domain. Regardless, Rory is an opportunist above everything, comfortably ditching the ridiculous notion that you have to be either realistic or idealistic. In his opportunism, however, he can get lost and messy without Cían’s continued guidance as well as instructions. Having been used by affluent personages of influence, Rory has taught himself not to be affected or fazed by emotions, thus coming across as trustworthy and even rational. It’s simple to get caught up in his cobweb of deviance – because that’s what he is. It’s the adrenaline, the control, the loss of the act which sends shivers down his spine, and you will find that anything humane was really just a game in the scheme of players and pawns. Feral, malicious, impetuous – a dangerous cocktail bound to leave carnage in its wake. If it weren’t for his downright religious reverence towards Cían, Rory would’ve long since lost control entirely and been locked away for good. It is hardly a revelation, then, that this ruthless man resisting any attempts to control him defers to his savior’s authority without question. Lastly, here’s another catch: if you ask him whether or not he has any shred of remorse in him, he’ll gladly tell you that he does; it’s just more selective than for most others.

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

Ostensibly, his training as an acrobat has equipped him with the kind of dexterous athleticism that proves an asset in his line of work. Most notably, however, is his ability to retain his cool-headed demeanor when faced with threats or greater adversary. Indeed, it would be wrong to dismiss Rory as a passionate, disorganized killer of limited intelligence. Despite his lack of a formal education, he knows how to exploit others, though lacks Cían’s patience and resilience to drag on the cat-and-mouse charade for longer than strictly necessary. Under Cían’s tutelage, though, Rory acquired an impressive set of additional skills: a thorough insight into psychology, marksmanship, tactical intelligence, and acute observational abilities. Plus, he can practically smell trouble; a perk picked up during his childhood. Contrary to what one might presume, moreover, Rory is good with children. They’re the ones that stir any resemblance of sentiment in him.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

Dictatorial, barbaric, base – all accurate assessments of his disposition. Whether he is immoral or amoral is a dispute you’re free to have, he will say, though it is not one he is particularly interested in himself. What he upholds and adheres to is whatever Cían instructs him to, not because Rory has any strong convictions of his own. It can be safely assumed, however, that despite his volatile tendencies, he is undoubtedly loyal towards his savior and would never do anything to sacrifice his new family. It may be easy to conclude that his marriage to Trish is one of domestic violence; but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Trish is the only person who, to this date, has never made any attempts to control him or undermine his importance and although he doesn’t love her in the beauty and the beast soap opera sense, Rory respects Trish – most of all because she is willing to give him what he’s always wanted: a son. Because in the end, even he draws a line in his murderous enjoyment. Rory would never harm children.

 INSPIRED BY: the entirety of Kuroshitsuji’s book of circus, various characters from Baccano, Gentlemen & Players (book) 

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