I love your work! you have such a fun take on yandere's and I would love to see what kind of yandere hcs you could cook up for a host-club / paid to go on dates with you yandere ❤️ double points if you can make it so that the reader is never really one to cross a line or think the yandere really likes them...
If you don't want to do this prompt tho I completely understand ❤️
The idea makes me a little nostalgic as it gives me Ouran vibes. Also reminded me I've never played 'Men of Yoshiwara' past the prologue, which also has male courtesans ready to service you. In any case, it's definitely something I can expand on! :)
Yandere! Host x Reader
You've never considered yourself to be the type frequenting host clubs. Yet the loneliness is becoming noticeable and perhaps it's your lack of experience keeping you out of the dating scene. Mingling with paid professionals could prepare you for a future boyfriend. Except your assigned host has other plans in mind for you.
Content: gender neutral reader, inexperienced reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation
Ah, you definitely don't belong here. He can tell within seconds and he hasn't even reached the table yet. You're nervously readjusting the sleeves of your shirt - do you usually not wear such outfits? - and merely glance around the room for a brief moment before casting your eyes back down in sheepish modesty. Well, not necessarily a sight of unpreceded novelty. Many people are intrigued by the idea of a host club, so even just idle curiosity is enough incentive for one to end up among the charismatic crowd of paid affections. Today it's you who has stumbled into the hungry mouth of the wolf, and he happens to be the one to entertain you away from whatever unpleasantries are currently consuming you.
He gently stretches his slender fingers across your shoulder, a feathery touch light enough as to not startle you. You look up and acknowledge his presence, ready to stand up for introductions. His hold on you is firm, letting you know there is no need to leave the comfort of your sofa. "Now then, this isn't a job interview. You don't need to be so formal." He explains with a chuckle. You nod. Embarrassingly enough, your eyes are glued to his face for longer than what you'd consider polite admiration. A waste of good looks is your immediate thought. Surely someone as stunning as him could've worked as a model or actor. You suspect he isn't as enthusiastic to meet you as his voice leads one to believe, so the ability to pretend certainly isn't missing.
One peek at the table next to you, and the answer quickly presents itself. An older woman is inspecting the menu, surrounded by multiple bottles of champagne whose name even you recognize. You doubt the average acting career could provide this amount of luxury. The corners of your lips curl slightly upwards in a pitiful self awareness. Sadly for this guy, you're not a big spender. Whether he, too, is aware of this disappointing fact is impossible to tell. His handsome features remain cheerfully relaxed. "Tell me about yourself. What brings a darling like you here?" He inquires graciously, resting his chin on the back of his hands as he settles before you with an intent gaze.
You narrate your hardship: whether because of your looks or your awkwardness, something impedes you from having acquired a partner; and so the idea of gaining experience through less orthodox means came to fruition. Your host listens carefully, refilling your glass every now and then with a compassionate frown, lips parted in unspoken sympathy. Of course, he understands. Naturally. Once you're finished, he straightens himself in newfound determination: worry not, he will be your coach in love.
Thus begins the unusual partnership. You hadn't expected the man to readily agree to such a ridiculous request. A handful of visits have made it clear to you he's in high demand, most likely one of the top earners. Why would he waste his precious (and otherwise profitable) time with a humble customer like you? Maybe it's bad form to refuse lower paid offers too often, so he's keeping you for balance. You'll never know. His professionalism betrays no hint of annoyance.
You cannot help but marvel at his masterful lying. It becomes quite clear to you why so many people fall helplessly in love with paid hosts. Everything is executed with the utmost care for detail. The loving caress of the cheek he occasionally initiates, seemingly unprompted. The long, ardent stares into your eyes, as you must practice your eye contact. His hot lips brushing against your fingers while he spoils you with diminutives and sickly sweet words of appreciation.
You frequently have to remind yourself that everything is dictated by a contract. A code of conduct meant to be replicated for you and all other clients coming afterwards. How many other poor souls fawn over this alluring devil? You wouldn't want to burden him with an additional customer who forgets boundaries. You know your place too well.
Admirable manners. Frustratingly so. He wishes you'd just give in already and drop the shy act around him. You've caught his interest from the moment he spotted you in that cluttered, crowded room reeking of overpriced alcohol and solitude. Everything about you signaled blindingly clear: you're someone others can easily take advantage of. To think you would've landed right in his hands, to be molded as he pleases. The little sob story about being inexperienced with men, your clumsy attempts to follow along his flirts. Oh, you're just begging to be defiled. Again, and again and again, until there's nothing left of you. Then he'd caringly patch you back together and start anew. His very own corner of innocence.
The indecent daydreams are cut short when you proudly announce, during one of your dates, that you finally feel confident enough to pursue a genuine partner. You have booked a nice hotel room for this occasion; One last gesture of grandeur to show your gratitude for all the advice and love (even though it wasn't genuine). He's sitting on the edge of the plush mattress, dumbfounded, fiddling with the thick, ornate border of the bed runner. Huh? What the hell are you talking about? He's spent all this time getting to know you. What gets you flustered and bothered, what makes you excited, sad, anxious, angry, bored. He taught you how to come out of your shell. Why, so you can go ahead and waste yourself on some fucking idiot?
"My, aren't you eager. You haven't even had your first kiss." He says with a cheeky smile. "I think I can manage-" you want to say, but he quickly interrupts with a curt: "No one likes an amateur kisser". You're immediately silenced. His voice sounds cold, with a hint of anger in it. "I'm sorry, darling love, it's true." He resumes in an entirely different tonality, dragging his words with an eerie kindness attached to them. He tuts a little, turning towards you and patting his knees. There, there, don't look so deflated. If a simple observation like his hurt you this much, how would you handle the much meaner, downright heartless world out there?
Such is reality. Men are cruel and you had the bad luck to be born with a gentle heart. He delicately guides you to sit in his lap, cupping your burning face between his large hands. He knows this expression too well - you're humiliated. And thus, can he truly allow anyone else out there to see you so vulnerable like this? No, this kind of intimacy is reserved for him. You must understand. He has disciplined you to his liking, and simultaneously learned all the nooks and crannies of your being. It's too late to go back to a simple host and client relationship.
"Why don't you practice with me first, love?" He breaks the silence, placing his lips against your forehead in encouragement. You feel a sudden pressure faintly throbbing underneath you. "T-the kiss?" You ask hesitantly, trying to ignore the sensation and squirming in his tightening hold.
"Everything."
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I was asked awhile back to make my version of a Yandere Gameshow Host so here is my take on it. This is set in a dystopian world that relies on a game show to set people up together with their ‘perfect match.’
Yandere Short Stories: Meet Your Match
Yandere Black Gameshow Host x Afab Reader
Meet Your Match was an incredibly popular game show in this dystopian world. One where singles would rush to be a part of since the host perfectly matched each individual to their ‘ideal’ match. People sung Andre Kantz’s praises ever. Single. Time. They called the man Cupid for a reason… and not just because of his whimsical style and appearance.
Andre had skills in match making that were almost inhuman. He’s never failed a single time to match a pair up. Andre always had a hundred percent success rate.
To enter this show, one would have to include a detailed description of themselves and send it to the host in hopes to be picked to be on it. It sometimes took months, even a year to get on.
So why was (your name) invited to join this show when she had never sent in a description of her own? (Your name)’s never had much interest in romance since she didn’t grow up surrounded by love so why has love come knocking on her door? Was this perhaps fate?
(Your name) nervously shifted in her chair whilst the contestants all happily chittered amongst themselves. Why did she feel so anxious when this should be a happy moment for her?
“Hello and welcome to Meet Your Match! I’m your host Andre Kantz or Cupid!” The audience cheers when the camera moves towards the charismatic host. His white teeth shined brightly under fluorescent stage light as his cinnamon eyes scanned the crowd’s faces until they stopped on the figure of a familiar young woman. His heart fluttered a bit when they made eye contact but he quickly went back to work. Yet his cinnamon eyes flitted over to (your name) with joy. They have finally been reunited after all these years! Andre was so happy she came! He knew it was destiny.
The ebony man’s crystals in his locs clanked together when he moved his head to scan the audience. He clapped his hands to catch everyone’s utmost attention.
“Today I have matched all of you in pairs to finally Meet Your Match and there is a grand reveal at the end of this very special show!” The audience cheered but Andre was too focused on (your name). His eyes never left hers despite the way the audience went wild. “Reach under your seat to pull out the envelopes under your chair! If the color matches someone else here, then that’s your match!”
(Your name) reached under her chair and was surprised at the pink envelope under her cushioned chair. Pink… why was hers pink?
“Oh! It seems someone had gotten a pink envelope!” Andre made his way off the stage to stand in front of (your name).
When he finally stood before her, she could finally get a better look at him. His black locs had rose quartz wrapped into them with gold wiring which made him even more mystical. His infectious smile was even brighter now that he was in close proximity. Andre was a handsome man, there was no denying it. And… was that incense she could smell?
Andre’s scent of incense and patchouli infiltrated her senses. There was something almost magical about this man… and eerily familiar. (Your name) just couldn’t put a finger on what was so familiar about him…
Andre bent down to be at her height as he gave her a bright smile. “You’re a very special contestant… you’ll have to come onstage for your match.”
(Your name) followed Andre upstage as he match made the singles that were in crowd. The people began to cheer and holler in excitement.
Andre lead her behind the stage with haste and into his dressing room.
(Your name) froze when Andre reached into his vanity’s drawer and pulled out a matching blush pink envelope. The man trembled so much, she swore he was about to explode in tears.
“I’m so happy… I’m so happy for you finally have my match.” Andre then opened his envelope to show (your name) a list of her interests and hobbies. How did he get those?! How did he know so much about her? “Ever since grade school, I had always admired you from a distance. You were always so calm and cool while I was a people pleaser but the more I saw of you, the more I realized we have so much in common! We’re both spiritual and we like the same foods! Your favorite show is mine as well! We’re perfect together!”
Wait… Andre Kantz. How could she not have realized this all beforehand… that Andre was her old stalker from school?! The one who scared her away from romance for over a decade?!
(Your name) slowly began to back up towards the door but Andre slammed it shut with his ebony hand. His breathing ragged and his eye a bit crazed.
“Can’t you see this is fate? We’re meant to be!” Andre leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Andre reached in his pocket to pull out a small remote that turned on a camera behind him. “So what do you say to being my match? Yes or… yes?”
(Your name) gulped when she stared into the blinking red light that broadcasted her kabedon worldwide. Say no for her own peace of mind or say no and be dead socially for the rest of her years?
Andre smiled when she hugged him and buried her face into his chest. He was so happy to finally have her in his arms… she was finally caught in the perfect trap.
“See, (your name)?” Andre pulled her body close to his, his fingers affectionately ran through her scalp. “You’ve finally met your match.”
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“They love me, they love me not.”
Yan!Pervy cupid x gn innocent succubi/incubi reader ♥︎
[mdni, or do, i don't care enough to block y'all tbh. NSFW, first time in a while writing it so apologies ack. tw/cw: mentions of violence, blood, religious stuff kinda. lmk if i have to add smth else too! also?? sorry for disappearing i got stuck in the hospital, ouchies!! also holy fuck this is 2.k words ive never wrote that much...]
Nova wasn't...normal. Well, to be fair, it wasn't their fault he was created this way. It was Father’s fault.
Being born a Cupid, but being unable to feel most emotions, or even love. How ridiculous. Pathetic, even. Compared to their brothers and sisters, he was useless.
They grew up alone and isolated, no one wanted a Cherub whose expression was always bored. No one wanted a Cherub who never wanted to play with the others or found joy in small things.
He grew up in one of the few orphanages in Paradise, some human souls for foster parents who weren't able to have kids themselves, happy to have any.
Angels were meant to be cheerful and optimistic, they were neither. Many thought he'd grow up to be a Guardian Angel or an Archangel.
Never a Cupid. Especially a Love Cupid. Maybe a Heartbreak Cupid, even Erotic Love Cupid, but Love? They didn't even truly understand what the word meant. Or so everyone thought.
Angels were meant to be non-judgemental. Meant to be “kind” and believe in everyone. Angel’s are not. Angels are just as judgemental, perhaps even more than humans.
The other Cupids always watched him in disdain when they were training, he always dragged their class down, being worse at it than most of the others.
But then, in high school, something changed. See, Angels and Demons typically don't like each other.
Angels hate Demons for falling, and Demons hate the lies Angels say. But in the end, they are one and the same.
Only one’s halo is broken, the other’s is perfectly fine. No, not halo, horns. If there was one thing special about Nova, it was their “halo“, or horns.
They were a beautiful baby pink color that matched the pearly white hair that reached his shoulders, with pretty gold and bright pink streaks, that made their purple eyes pop.
Even though Nova couldn't feel anything, he was beautiful. Freckles were made in the forms of constellations scattered over brown skin, and white eyelashes that looked like snowflakes.
They were beautiful. Ethereal. An Angel, through and through. He never imagined they'd fall willingly, even hating the thought.
But, maybe for one person, he would. That person is YOU.
The Demons and Angels made an agreement, there was an academy built, for both Angels and Demons of all ranks and backgrounds, a sort of truce.
Nova was one of the angels chosen, amongst many others. They didn't care about it, just wanting it to be done already. To get the embarrassment over.
Days turned into weeks of staying in the shadows, going to boring classes, eating lunch in empty classrooms, studying all night, and repeat.
It was boring, but it's not like Nova had anything he could do about it. Another day of stupid school, of stupid wars between haughty Angels and Demons who liked fighting.
Except this time, Nova got caught in the crossfire. Cuts covered their skin, golden blood leaking down and ruining his beautiful clothes.
One of the Demons had them pushed up against a wall, claws to his throat, and they stood there blank gaze. Nova raised a brow as the Demon got pushed, and went to walk away.
Then YOU came. You seemed confused at the fight, trying to make peace despite it being fruitless. You paused at the sight of him, before gasping and quickly running over.
“Ah, you're bleeding! Gosh, I told these dummies to stop fighting, they just don't listen!” You frowned, trying to appear upset but you just looked like a kicked puppy with a pout.
You pulled them off to the side, reaching inside a black messenger back absolutely covered in cutesy stickers and pins from different bands.
Nova took the time to look at you, really look at you. It was strange. Why was his heart beating so fast? Wings fluffing up? You were beautiful. One of the prettiest Demons they’d ever seen.
That's what clued him into what you were, an Incubus or Succubus. Really, there was no difference between the two except for their behavior. Incubus tended to be more assertive, and Succubus more passive.
Before Nova could think about anything else, you pulled a first aid kit out, opened it up, and pulled a pack of bandaids out.
You started disinfecting their wounds, before putting those cute, colored bandaids on each wound.
Nova looks silly like this, mostly black, Gothic ensemble, even with his pastel eyes and horns, they still looked less like an Angel and more like a Demon.
And there you were, broken halo turned into a pair of horns, dressed in cutesy clothes, putting brightly colored bandaids on the mean-looking Cupid.
With every fleeting touch, Nova felt embers light under his skin, his cheeks warming even further. ‘...What...What is this feeling? I don't...’
Before Nova even realized it, they were leaning even further into your cold, almost dead touch. You paused, before giggling and roping your arms around his shoulders.
“Wow! You're super friendly, I like you, your hair too, it's super duper long! What's your name?” You asked, playing with his long hair, curling it around your fingers.
“Casanova. But people call me Nova, usually. What's yours?” Nova looked up at you, a lovesick hazy look in his purple eyes, heart pupils. How amusing. A Cupid falling for an Incubi/Succubi. What are the odds?
“Oh! Right! It's—” Before you can finish, a teacher begins herding everyone to their classes. Nova’s pissed —‘How...Why do I feel so angry?’— but goes along with it, delighted to see you wave with a sheepish grin, fangs showing.
Nova doesn't know your name. But he doesn't need to. You're his angel in their mind, the one and only made for him.
Very quickly you become a prominent part of his life, their parents even allowing you to stay at their house while the program goes on, happy to see their child so happy for once.
With so many emotions suddenly hitting him all at once, it's no shock they fall harder than he should, becoming obsessed fast and hard.
Nova begins realizing things they'd never realized before. The curves of your body. Those soft eyes he wants to see sobbing from pleasure. Those lips open, gasping their name—
But it ends far too soon. The program is forced to close, and you're gone just as fast as you came. Nova hates how empty he feels when you're gone, wondering how he ever lived without you.
He feels cold inside, a part of him disappearing with you. Something they can NEVER get back. He tries to be normal, smiling when he should, crying when he should, just be normal.
It's easy for a while. To pretend. No, BE normal. Far too soon, or maybe far too late, he graduates high school. Then college.
Years fly by, “friends” come and go, lovers he didn't give a shit about disappear after they get bored, and more and more blood then just his is on their hands.
But you weren't always gone. You'd sneak out of hell and sneak onto paradise sometimes, and hang out with them. But it wasn't enough. He wanted all of your time and attention on him. Just once, they want someone to be there as a constant.
Eventually he lands a job at Soulmates Corp. A Cupid work place, and he starts working. It's actually pretty simple and interesting. Sure, they don't use bow and arrows — usually. But being able to look through humans lives, to choose who they fall for. It's interesting.
And then, one night, you innocently invite him to a club in hell. They instantly agree, after all, it's YOU. His angel, their savior, his LIFE LINE. Their EVERYTHING.
Funnily enough, over the years the two swapped clothing styles. Nova wore more cutesy, sweet, pastel color clothes, and you wore darker, more “sexy” clothes.
Nova arrived at the club, absentmindedly toying with the pockets of his pastel blue cardigan. Tonight would be the last night of your freedom - independance, after all!
Nova walks in, you on his side, some of your friends accompanying the two of you. He could care less about these bastards, and soon makes sure to seperate you from your “friends”.
He watches you with loving eyes the entire night, making sure you get drunk so bad you can't stand. It's easy, you're too trusting. Too innocent for this world.
He'll save you, just like you saved them! Eventually they take you to their place. At first it's tame. Friendly.
“N—Novaaahhhh...C’mere, I hic! wanna see yer pretty faceeee...” Your voice is whiny, the alcohol really hitting you hard. Nova coos, walking over.
They yelp, quite loudly, as you drag them onto the bed, curling into his side. It's innocent. His thoughts should be too.
But all they can think about is your chest pressed against their arms, how easy it would be to just slip your shirt to the side, and touch. Feel.
He shakes his head, even if you're both drunk, he can't take advantage of you like that. They refuse to taint you, and that pretty little head of yours.
Stuck in their own thoughts, Nova doesn't even realize you straddle him until it's too late. Your eyes are hazy with lust and alcohol, and he can't help but gulp nervously.
“Angel, really, you...you need to sleep.” Nova tries to reason with you, but reasoning with a horny, drunk Demon, much less an Incubi or Succubi is like arguing with a wall.
You whine, lips lazily smashing against his. Nova can't help but melt into it, and they hate how hard they are from just a touch, a single kiss.
This is wrong. Both of you know this. Yet neither of you can stop it. One kiss turns into two, into three.
“An-Angel!” Nova gasps out as you nip at his collarbone, their neck already covered in love bites and pretty blue and purple bruises.
“Mmph..Wan’ more...Need more, Nova...” You growled out, one hand playing with his chest the other curled in their hair.
More marks. More bites. So many. He looked so pretty like this, a crying mess under their ‘innocent’ friend.
Still, he held enough restraint to stop you, not wanting to ruin your first times together. But, due to your insistence, they do give you some pleasure~
Nova sits on his knees, you splayed out on their silk sheets, your slick dripping onto the bed as you whined. Hips jerking up to meet his tongue, hands curled around their halo.
Nova’s tongue swirls against your sex, whining from the taste of your juices against his tongue. It was better then he imagined all those nights, hand playing with their cock, desperate for some relief.
With every swipe and sucking of his mouth, you get closer and closer to that sweet relief you desperately need. With one last gasp, your eyes roll back and hips buck against Nova’s mouth.
Nova laps up every bit of your sweet essence, fucking you through your orgasm. He's gentle after you finish, murmuring praises into your ears as they carry you to their bathroom.
During the bath you end up falling asleep, Nova carries you to bed and the two fall asleep, intangled in each other.
It's morning. Your eyes flutter open, yawning softly as you groaned. Fuck, that's a horrible headache. You glance around, pausing as you feel a weight beside you. What the...
Your eyes glide to the person laying beside you, and you pause, your cheeks warming. Nova. You're in Nova’s bed.
Nova, the Cupid boy you met as a kid. Nova, the Cupid you fell for, hard. Nova, the Cupid who always seemed so clueless and innocent.
And they truly look like an Angel right now. The sun shines against against his white hair and skin beautifully, wings folded behind them.
Your face feels even warmer as embarrassment fills you as you see bite marks all over their neck. Bite’s are how Demon’s mark their claim, usually on their mates. Angel’s too.
He let you bite them. And yet, you can't find yourself to be mad over it. Nova’s eyes flutter open, glancing up at you. A soft smile appears on their face, as they lean up and kiss you.
The Angel traps you in his wings and you giggle, curling into them. He's yours, and your his even if you don't know yet.
You took their heart a long time ago. It's time he takes yours too. ♥︎
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