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diary-of-a-quarantined-yandere · 5 months

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I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you..I̵̛̛͇̰͔̳̟̦̩͐̒̒̏̄̚͘I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. ̷͍̗̻̰̹̝́̓̑̍̀̏͆̏ẁ̵̻̱̤͇͍̱̅͐̍̅̅̀͘͘ḯ̵͍̰̹̲͍͎̹̯̓̐̿̓̆̄̈́͝ͅl̴͉̀͂̈́̃̄͌͒̽̚ļ̶̧̯̯̲͙̦̑̿̽̚͜ͅ ̸̯̟͆͆̓̑̂̊̚͜k̸̨͙͉̞̺̬̳̉͆̓̈̽͂̍͘͘̚i̷̯͎̯̇̽͐̈́̎͐̒̐̕l̸͎͐̚ĺ̵̺̥͖̥͒̔̋͗͌͒̍ ̵͚̙̗̑̂͊͗ͅt̶̛̹̤̳͛̒̌̔̂̿̅̽ǫ̴̲̘͈̰̺̝͌̐̾̕ ̴͔̥̘̝͖͇͓̦͉́̎̎̀k̶̡͓̥͍͓̝̙̊͛̈́͘i̵͙̩̺̮̦͖̖͍͛́s̴̡̹̳͎̠̗̞̭̞͐̅̍͝͝s̵̨̨̨̢̢̡͓̭̜͈̓̆ ̷̨̖͍̝͙͓̼̬̐͒̆̐̂̇̇͑̌͝y̷̨̺̞͕̦̦̔̄͂̍̿ŏ̸̖͊̀͋͆͆͝͝ṳ̴̡̡͔̝͖̰͆͜.̷̝̪̮̺͍̖͔̋̄̾̈́̎̇́̈͗̏ ̷͕̾̂́̀́̂̄̂̉͝I̴̮͒̑͂̑́̍́̀͋ ̶͚̲̩͈̝̩̓ẅ̵͉̯́i̵̧̤̱̺̮͚̖̒̒̓̐l̵̤̜͈̹̊͊͌͒̕l̵͔̺̘̼͎̤̠̞͙̯̓͑͂͂ ̸̺͎̦̲̩͕̟͂̃̽́̅̽̓k̴̗͎̖̯̹̈͐ḯ̶̧̙̥͈͚̰̪̥̀͒̓̇͛̊͆͝l̸͖̺̫̺̺̱͈̱͑̋̚l̶͕̓̑̚ ̶̦̼̰̈́͒͂͊t̷̡̥̟̤̭̳̉̋̂̂͐͂͠o̷̡̬̟̝̿̅̑̌̏̒͘ͅ ̵̢̹̹͚͍͆̔̿̆k̸̪̟̱̪̞͆̐́̊̀̉̍́̔͝ỉ̷̛̮̜̈́̆̿͌̾̕s̷̡̰͔̯̠͎̯̰̜̮̑͋̔̓̾s̷̟̜̒͑̀́͆ ̷̢̧̘̦̳̼̜̟͌͝y̵̟͐̽o̴̧̧͍̳͖̎̈͛u̷͓̍͋́͠.̷͎̖̺̙̫͐͋̈́ͅ ̸̢͖͙̺̹̫̊͌͒̉̚͝Ì̸̧̡̞͕̲͔̳͖̦̑̏̿̎͋̀ ̸̠̟̻̬͔́ẉ̷̣̲̼̒̽͛̄̓̑͆̽̚i̷̳̪̫̞͇̳͇͈͂̄̅̀̚̕͘͝l̷̤̗͎̽̾̽͝l̶͚̺̘̀͑̀̔̾̅͝ ̵͖̟͖͙̭̭͉̒̉̈̎͜͝ķ̶̛͓͚̱̠͎͕͋̈́͋͂i̵̳̜̭͖͗̉͒̓̐̉͂̆͘͝l̸͖͇͈͂̇́͌͂͝l̵̡̜̪̩̙̘̂͂̀̂̈́̏̈́̂ ̶̠̩͓̀̎͒̀͗̈̍̓̚ͅt̸̛͙́̀̒̾͝o̵͙̞͔̤̲̮̅̇̐̍͌̃̅ ̸̨̘̈́̽́̄̒͂̄̒͂͝ķ̸̰̮̱̣͎̪̪̆͜ḭ̸̛̭̖͕̖̪̤͎̮͎̋š̸̛̩̰̦͕̰̿͒̈́̔̈́͘s̸̳̦̺̏̄̈̍ ̶͈͓͖̠̃̅y̸̛̥̙̝̍̽̈́̊̋̾́͑̍ͅͅͅơ̶̢̞̙͓͎̣̳̙͉̊͌̄͐̇ư̷͎̲̼̮̪̝̪͛͐.̸̣̲̳̼͎̪̳̩̭͂̇̾̀̈́̿͜͝ ̷̣̥̜̥͎͍̞̼̻̗͂̃͆̆͘͠I̶̭̅̓̒͐̇̇̓̑́͝ ̷͈͇̫͂̓̇̿̍̅͛w̴̧̦͑̐̽i̴̧͔̘͔̠̠̍̀́͘l̶̢̹̙͔̰̳̘̫̻̱̏́͛̀͠l̵̢̠̤̤̄͌̾̔̕ ̴͉̝̈́̎k̴̲̮̙̻̭͉̲̗̣̬̇̎̑͘͘i̴̪͕̙̪̻͚͔̊l̶̠̟͕͉̪̓̉̾̽̂͝͠l̴̳̲͝ ̴̨͍̜̘̤̈́͊͌͛̉̈͒̓t̸̩̤͎̖̲̔̑̔̑̈́͆̕̚o̶͍̖̺̦͔̿ ̷̨̨̭̠͙̠̗̟͕̯̎͗͐̃͠͝k̴̘͛i̶͓͍̭̻͙̮͍̞͗͗̋̏ş̷͕̟̹̯̊͑́͊͑̐s̵͕̰̓̆̅̑͂̽̕ͅ ̵̫̝̫̜̦̹̼͚̱͗͊̎̎̎͌̒̓̎y̴̧̲̥̱̺̅̂́͋̂̇̉͠ō̶̱̼͍͓u̵̬̥̔.̶̙͈̍̂̕͝ ̸̥͉͕̍͜I̵̫͙͇̘̞͗͊͆̑̒̒́̅̀͠ͅ ̸̝͖̜͚̻̞̣̟̘̂̈́̊̂̍̎͊̄̾ͅw̷̡̘̠̙͕̪̗͈̣̟̌̒i̶͔̱͎̔̑͆̄̎l̷͚̖̰͇̜̯̩̃̎͐͗̓̄͊̽͘l̷̼̳̑̚͜ ̸̨̼̘̣̫̜̀̈́͂͆k̵͔̀̂̽̅̑̎̏̂̉ȋ̸̱̺̟͆̆̇̂l̷̡̛̛̗͖͔̗͇͕͋̿́͊̋͛͘̕ḷ̸̑̽̈́̾̀͊͊̍̓ ̵̲̩͚̝͎̣͕͖͉̓̿t̸̡̂̀̂̌͑͠͠ŏ̵̤̗̭̺̟̍̌̽͂̆͛̇̕͝ ̴̬̭̈̽̎̐̏̽͐̈́̚k̶̛̹̣̦̞̞͒̈͑̔͌̆̀͜͝ì̷̪̗͙̯͛̔̀̈́̅̍͜s̷̟͎͉̖̗̲̮̣̋̄̈́̽͑̀̎̅̀s̵̹͕͇͕̥̘̥̳̭̻̈́̑̈͐̀̐̈̕͝͠ ̴͕̖̱̣̀͒y̷̦̹͖͊̌̓͒̚o̸͚̤̦̺̲̦̅u̶̧̮̲̤̻͚̪̣̞̇̑.̶̣͇̂̔̓͑̃̂̈́͆ ̶̨̢̰̭̪͚̣͎̩͙̾͌̄̆̽͋̓Ī̶̢̛̝͍̭̜͇̜͚̊͑͊̇̒̐̄̚ ̴̡̘́w̷̝̩̋̑̈́͋̊̐͛͜ỉ̵̧̗̼̗̪̱͙̮̙͑̑l̵̘̦̈́̐̇ḷ̵̟̒͑̄͌̕ ̷̧̩̰̞̬̥̮͈͒̇̀k̶̢̢̟̩͋́̏̈́i̵̢̝͍̐̄́̓̈́͋̑̕͜ļ̴͚͍̟̮̟̀ͅl̷̩͙̔͗͌͑̐ ̸̺̊͜t̵͍̅̒o̵̢͍̘̤̩͉̫̩͊͑͒͑̌̀̀͋̃͠ ̶̢̥̰̒̽̀̉̈̀͛k̵̪̈́͆̍̊͘͝ì̶̪͑͗͠s̷͙͉͂̏̍͋̑̚͜͝s̴̗̖͉̋́̇̇̑̕̚̕͝͝ ̸̣͙͙̆͂̓̈́̆ỳ̶̭͝o̴̮̪͍̲̣̠͙̫̮̗͊͐͂͛͗͋̈́̐u̷̟͔͂̈́̌͊͒̄̔.̷̟̀̂͌̉̌̀̕͝ ̴̡̰͈͖̪͓̹̲̽̀̇͜Ĩ̸̱̜̠̑̃͒́̍̚͝ ̷̰͉̜͍̭̱̟̫̀͌̃̓̾͗̓͝w̸͖̭̺̓̋̐͑̓̈̄͠ỉ̶̢͔̫̠̘̟̻͕̑̍͠͠͠ͅl̸̤̓̽̾̔̓́̆l̸̹̪͙͇͔̘̈́̕ ̸̨̜̙̖̝͚̪̅̑ͅk̶̞̊́̒͒͋̿͝i̶̧̢͇̙̫͚̭̥̲̼̒̀͐̎́̑̔l̶̯͔͖̫͔͐l̶̯̭͉̭̝͖͈͈̃̐̔̉̀̀͐͝ ̴̣̉͝͠ț̸̺̝̫̜̣̠̯̀̃́͘͜o̴̡̫͔̺̣̼͖̤̿͆ ̶̢̡̡̘̣̖̲͉̓̅̆̕͠ͅk̵̟̞̇̅̔̌̊́̔̈́͠͠i̸̩͎̠͚̲̮̇͗̌̌̈͋̓͘͜͝s̶͕͓̱̩͈͒̆̃̑͐͘͘͠ṣ̸̠̅́͐̄̓̕͝ ̸̝̻̯̦̲̼̻̓̓̓͛͒͜͝ỳ̴͚̗̻̤̲͆̀̏̌̾̉̌ͅo̷̘̯͇͂̈́̏u̴̡̩͖͖͎̦̒̒̔̋́̐͐͂͆͜.̴̙̮̥̗͈̻͈̞̗̦̐ ̴̧̮̹͍̾͝I̵͖̊̑͋͂̍̄̒̂̍ ̸̨͕̲̳̱̙̼̓̊͒̑̕̚͠w̶̻̦̮͇̿̔͋̊̄͊͆͝î̵̛̗̜͇̈̈́̎̀͒͊̚͠l̵̻̭̿̓l̷̡͚̞̬̄̒͋́̽̕ͅ ̷̡̛͍̼̜̝̄̎͛̓k̸̨̪̗̺̼̳͍͔̈́̂́̈̎͑ị̴͔̱̲͓͇͎̮̫͓̓́͑͐l̴̛͕̗̫̰̗̙̆͛̿̽̕ͅl̸̢̞̳̱̿ ̵̮̮̼̗̰͕̺͚̃̈͘̚ͅt̴̬̞̠̣̣̹̩̲͙̞̅̽̀̑̈́̄͒̆̚ǒ̸̩̔̽̉̕̚ ̶̛͖̫̜̰̜̥̣͕̍̽̐̔͑̇̓͝ͅk̸̳̫̩̆́̍̃ḭ̷̼̩̊̾͒͝͝s̴̻̠̻̙̜͙̐͐̎ͅs̸̡̗̖̾̈́ ̸͉̼̌̀̐́͝ỹ̸̝͚̣̗͉̰̦̜̤͂o̴̧̹͉͋͝ū̸͍̤͍̀͗̀̈́.̴̨̠͚͕͚̮̦̝̻̃͑̕

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yanwrld · 1 year

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#who up tryna kill themselves for me #sacrifice yourself for me NOW #lovesick #yancore #yandere #yandere gf #irl yandere #actual yandere #obsession #obsessive gf #yanderecore #possessive love #yandere nblm #yandere blog #real yandere #yandere community #yandere core

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meinebiene · 4 months

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i hope you're as horribly obsessed with me as i am you.

#darlingcore #yandere love #yancore #yandere community #obsessive love #obslove #obsessive thoughts #yanderecore #yandere vent #lovesick #so incredibly lovesick #🥀┊honeyed love . . .

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obsessedsiren · 4 months

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There’s no point hiding your darkest side away from me, why’d you think I chose you in the first place.

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mochixkisses · 4 months

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be more obsessed with me. pay more attention to me. only me. get jealous. be possessive. threaten me. stalk me on everything. send me letters. send me death threats. i don't care as long as you want me. only me.

#mochi's musings #yandere #lovesick #obslove #yandere community #yanderecore #yancore #yanblr #yandere stalker #yandere girlfriend #possessive love #obsessive love #stalking #losing my mind again

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xyanderexdollx · 5 months

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I want someone completely obsessed over me, someone who will save all my pictures, always praise me and tell me that I mean the world to them and that they don't know what they'll do without me♡

#yandere community #yandere #irl yandere #obsessive love #yandere thoughts #yanderecore #darling♡#yancore #actually yandere #yandere coping

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pyonwuv · 1 month

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be more jealous! be more possessive! show me just how much you care about me! ♡

#lovesick #obsessive love #yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere core #obsessive love disorder #yandere community #yanderecore #irl yandere #obsessive thoughts

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2-dsimp · 1 month

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Yandere Spin-offs

Introducing the photographer

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(Bimbo Fem reader!)

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Cw: 🔞MDNI🔞 mutual masterbation, praise, degradation, coercion, dubious consent, thighjob, cum facial, slight humiliation

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Yandere photographer who asks you upfront to model for him in exchange for a hefty fee. Handing you his business card with his name and address in fine print. His name was Covu, he had dark messy wavy hair which covered his tacky circular glasses showcasing dull emerald green eyes. While his body adorned casual baggy clothing with a professional camera slung across his lean shoulder.

Truth be told Covu had his eyes on you for awhile now, so he knew your day by day schedule. From the countless stakeouts outside your job working as a retail worker. With his prized scrapbook dedicated to you, he jotted down everything from your little quirks, habits, to the overall actions you did throughout the day from the photographs he took of you every instance he gets. And from what he already gathered you fell under the ditzy bimbo category who was so sweet and yet so stupidly naive. The perfect match for him.

The photographer couldn’t help but grow enamored with you in every type of way. From your soft sweet curves to your adorable smile and especially from how you make his hands itch with the urge to take candle lit photographs of you in 69 different lewd positions. So today was the day he approached his lovely model, Covu made sure to take extra care in grooming himself to seem like an functional human being just for you. Even though he still looked like a hot bum he was at the very least a presentable one.

“Hey if you’re ever interested in modeling for me. Ring me up and I’ll pay you however much you’re willing to receive”

Covu’s voice was small but blunt and straight to the point as he stared intensely at you trying to burn the sight of his future private model into his lecherous cold eyes. But before he could turn away to head somewhere else to let you think about it, he was abruptly stopped by a short tug of his arm sleeves.

His heart thumped loudly at the sight of you looking criminally cute. As you brightly accepted the offer from a stranger such as himself right off the bat without any care for your self preservation. Licking his lips he couldn’t help but hide the ravenous smirk that spread from ear to ear at your innocent response.

He could feel artblock magically vanish as artistic inspiration began brewing in his mind all thanks to his dearest bimbo of a model. And boy did he have a lot of ideas in mind so best believe he was going to take advantage and put you to work.

"Oh fuck...you're so fucking sexy. Pose just like that for me."

He mumbled under his breath, his delirious green eyes fixated on your enchanting body as you put on the lingerie. You had agreed to model for him under the pretense that the photos will be used for the catalogue of Victoria secret. Diligently he snapped pictures of you from every delightful angle, paying no mind to the tent he was pitching in his baggy sweats. Until Covu couldn't resist the urge to touch himself, his slender hand palming the bulge as he kept his attention on you.

It was time to have you switch positions,

"Now... For this photo shoot we’re focusing on a erotic theme so I need you to start touching yourself down here babe."

Covu uttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to keep himself under control. The temptation of making you his was driving him crazy. As he reached out and guide your hand to your scantily clothed pussy, from observing your confused expression his fingers trailing over your skin as he gave you a tiny devilish smile. From seeing how flustered you were, oh you were just so endearing he couldn’t help but want to tease you even more.

"Yes that’s it work your fingers and follow the natural curves of your body...don't be afraid to explore. Hmm? Why’s my dick out you say? Well that’s to get the sexy mood going on. I am a pro after all and I want to get only the perfect shots”

He announced shamelessly his voice calm and steady as he furiously jerked off at the sight of you obediently touching yourself as per his detailed instructions. Skillfully multitasking between getting nice shots of you in revealing outfits as he continued to work both you and himself into completion. Feeling himself teetering off the edge Covu gritted his teeth and got closer to you, his cock throbbing with need as he jerked off over your body. You both moaned out loud in his art studio unable to hold back any longer.

He watched with foggy glasses as you laid there breathless your juices dripping down your legs. While his mind was consumed with pornographic images of you covered in rivers of his pearly white cum. Taking extra care to examine the thick globs of his cum sticking on your cheeks as it began to slide down. And without saying a word he gently crouched down in front of you shrugging his camera to the side as he angled your blissed out face towards his giving you a sleazy mean smirk.

“You look gorgeous all glammed up in my cum doll but snap out of it. We still got tons of photoshoots to do”

Covu cooed lazily as he relished the sight of you trying to gather your bearing but ultimately failing when he pressed his cold lips against the column of your neck. Leaving a kiss mark on your skin before pressing his forehead against yours staring deep into your eyes as he said in a soft commanding tone.

“Now for this next photo shoot I want to see you on all fours. Presenting yourself to me like the cute little slut you are.”

Once as you got into position, Covu wasted no time in slotting himself behind you under the pretense of fixing your posture via his long. Yanking his sweats down to sandwich his weeping hard long dick between your sweaty plush thighs. Rutting against you in fluid strokes, he made sure to bump the tip of his throbbing cock against your clothed budding clit. Taking out his phone, he recorded your lewd expressions as he messaged and groped at your jiggling fat tits with his other hand.

“Cmon my pretty model~ you need to arch your back and keep squeezing them thick thighs for me. I’m not one for paying slackers you know?”

He rasped in your ear with a impish grin as he toyed with you by bombarding you with his lewd demands. As he stripped you from your lingerie bra to pinch and pull at your full nipples, rolling them between his two fingers. Covu nipped the nape of your neck with his sharp canines. While he pumped his hips, smacking his pelvis against the fat of your ass as his long dick continued collecting the slick from your wet cunt which constantly dribbled down, covering his shaft.

"That's it, baby... just like that you look so fucking erotic does feeling my dick rub up against your wet cunt turn you on that much?"

He chuckled darkly as his nimble fingers found themselves at the hem of your lacy panties, slowly dragging them to the side exposing your quivering pussy. Using his thumb to press against the winking drenched hole, collecting a string of slick your so he could smear it all over his lips. So that he could smell and taste you when he prepared to take things a step further…

Part 2? 👀

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obsessedumb · 3 months

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Me??? in love with you for the rest of eternity???? absolutely.

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salmonellr · 3 months

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。·♡。·˚୨୧゜·。·˚˖˚⋆୨♡୧⋆˚˖ ゜·。·゜୨୧゜·。♡ ·。

we're meant to be together darling, in life, or in d e a t h

。·♡。·˚୨୧゜·。·˚˖˚⋆୨♡୧⋆˚˖ ゜·。·゜୨୧゜·。♡·。

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diary-of-a-quarantined-yandere · 30 days

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I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am. I hate everything I am.I̷͓͇̔̌̎̾̀̇́̀͘ ̴̡̰̙͔͓͎̖̹̭̾̆h̷̛̘̤̋͋͐̈́́́a̶̢̱̼̰̹͍̻͇̳͖̽̄͗̍t̴̨̪̪̗̉ẽ̷̺́͆ ̶̛̞̩̫̖̗̙̗̬̆̊͆̍̓̃̀͐e̸̫͓͕̜͇̼̜̰̲̾̿̓̅̅̕ͅv̷̼̄̔ę̷͙͕͕͑͂̒͠r̵̞̂̋̿͐̓͒͑̄̑ẏ̸̛̹̰͎͊̉͗̅́̅͐̈́t̴̪̥̝̆̌̑͐́͐͂͝h̴͕̰̳̣̻̭̫̩̟̒į̷̯̼̙͓̬̬̹͖̈́̏̃̏̆̈́́̌n̸̹̣͉̽̌͗̄̽̈́̈́̐͂g̵̨͖̣̥̥̥̭̘͑̔͛̈́̏͝ ̶̧̤̩͙̝̻͍͖̖̃͒͊͗̆̔̆͜͝I̷̢̛͍͖̗̺͇̭̼̓̀͊͗͛̊̿ ̴̟͔͆͌̋̐̃̎̈́͘ǎ̵̟̍̍͘m̴̡̛̞̺̻̰̯̔ͅ.̶̞͈̿̓̽̉͘ ̴̭̈͐̽I̸̢̞̱̮͓̜̫͙̿͘ͅ ̵̡̤̯̰̦̳̠͚̩̉̔̈̎̊̋͂͠h̷̖̫̹̫͊́́̃̚ą̷͚̞͇̻̤͖̩̦͎̑̈́͌̀̉͋̓̏́͝t̴̢̧̰͚̼̰͙͆̌͊̄̈̋̂͘ẽ̶̛͉̯̏͒͌̆̕̕ ̴̥͎̣̗̗͓͗͆̃͛̽͗́̏ẻ̷̫̥̮͎̠̰͓̽̏̀ṿ̵̽̎̂̓̇̎e̸̡̡̧̛͔̘̥̮͙͍̞̋̑̔̂̂̾̈́̏̕r̵̼̮̙̟͍̙͓̹̔̾̆́͜y̵̨̢͖͘ţ̷̮̘͚̻͔̝̳̰̥͂̌h̶̢̜͎͍̎ǐ̵̛̩͙͔͕̖͈̰̣̍̃̚̚n̶̛͓̦͍͉̩̳̦̻͆̃́̃̓́̚g̴͈̪̺̬̰͇̝̉̆̌̐̿̒̀̚ͅ ̴̖͔͔̒͒͗͌̓̈́̕͝ͅḮ̵͇̻͙̌̀̃̐ ̷̛͚͓͒̌̾͝a̸̧͇̘̬̩͂̾m̷̼͖̀̓̿̐͆͋̊̚.̷̡͚̩̘̝͚͚̮̑͛̈̿̋ ̴͙̮̰͇͕̑̏ͅĮ̴̟͔̙̗̱̱͑͑̓̊̔̾̋͝ ̵̨̟̲̤̫̼͍̤͎͆̈́̈͋̓̇̏͠h̵̺͉͔̙͎̖̳̙̑̈́͝á̵̧̱̯̲͈̈̉͐̐͗̀͝ţ̴̺͈̼͎͚̼́̒̓̈́e̷̩͎̯̚ ̸̨̡͇̻̺̰̑̎̕͝e̶̠͈̫̪̭͗̐̀ͅv̴̢̰̣̦̯͙̪̑̃͘ȅ̶̼͚̎͆̈̀̓͋͊͜ŕ̷̞͕̪̹̼͊̚͜͠ỹ̵̰̭̺̖̦͙̟̜̈́͋̀̃͘͠͝ṱ̵̡̢͙̹͈̻̤̥̀̃̈́̈́̽̓̚̕ḣ̵͈̰̈́͒į̶͍̖̲̬̦̠͗̑̃́̌̄͆̅͝͝ͅṇ̴͔͖̰̫͙̞̙̖͗̀̇͝g̴͙̼̤͕̤̘͒͋͊̅͘ ̴̨̲̺̦̠̫͔̞͍͐̽̂͊͂̑͆Ī̸̡̠͓͇͈͚̗ͅͅ ̷̦͕͈̣̠̩̌͗ͅa̸̡̨̻͙͚͇͇̝͚͗̃̐ḿ̸̡͇̲̥̭̤̝̈́.̶͚͔̗̝̯̪͗̀̐̉͝ ̶͍̹̣̠͋Ị̴̥͚͇͌́̀̊ ̷̛̠̞̯͓̺̱̤̽̆̈́̂͋͗͘̚ḩ̵̤͇͖̳̥̆̅̋̄a̵̝̽͛̈́ţ̶͎̠̯̖̥͖̠̼͙́͒̏̿̚͠e̶̜̒̈̋̀ ̸̡̧̫̥̱̖͔͚͊̑̏ę̷͓͙̥̙͇͖̞̆̀̀ͅv̸̡̨̛̗͕͔͒̈̋̏̑͊̀́ͅé̸̛̗̻̟̩̝̠̮͌̑̏̌͂̚̕r̵̞̗̫̖̫͗́̀̅̂̈́ȳ̵̗̗͗̒̓̈͐ẗ̵̢͙͍̜̦́̂͒̚ȟ̵̢̢̰̯̥͈̳̓͜i̴͈̮̇n̷͈̹̬̮̄̋̕͜g̶̨͇̫̯͕̥̤͛̐͆̊̿ͅͅ ̵̧̦̦̠̦̟̭̱͐̆͐̿Ĩ̸̳͇̲̱̏͊̓̚ ̶̨̱͕̰̟͔̂̾͋͂̐̾̒ͅą̴̘̈́m̶̙͚̠̞̱͈̅.̷͔̮̼̟̬̤͋͂̋͑͑͋͒̇̆͊ ̴̨̲̮̣̹̠͚̰̦̎̀̊͐͠͝ ̷̫͕͉͇̮͂͊I̷̡̙̟̼̼͉̗͇̗̝͒́̉ ̷̧̢̛̜̲̹͔̼̠̻͙̇͋́̊̕h̶̡͍̬̘̺͓̃̉̋͒̓á̷͔̺̞̣̺̜ͅt̶̳͈̘̏ͅe̸̢̞͛̃̓̕ ̵̧̝̼͓̥̓͝e̵͚͇̣͔͈̾͋̈́̂̄͐̔̚v̵̕̕͝��̫͈̥̲̰̮̯̰è̷̼̓̉̂̆̌̓̕ṛ̴͉̳͈͈̂̂̃͜͜͝y̶̯̲̳̙̟̳̩͎̪̲̑̑̄̕̕t̵̨̡̻̺̮̹̫̭͈̥̾͗͆̂̏͑h̵̼͈̜̩̪̹̣͎͕̉̾į̷̳̝̝̮͕̮̀̎̓͑̋̽̑͝ņ̴̨̹͇̠͆͊̍̅̌̽͒̌̈g̶̗̥͉̮̀͂͐̒̆̂̄ ̸̗̻̪̺̈́̎I̵̼̫̞͕͕̱͔͓̬͉̿ ̴̹͗̈́͗͆ȃ̵̞̹̮͂̂̆ͅḿ̷̡̪̲̩̾͐̏̕.̴̢͓̤͚̠̥̪̣̐̀̍͆̋͆̑̉͗̃ ̷̧̩̽̐̋̽̅̃̀Ị̴̺̞͚͚̪̘̣̳͑ ̸̨͓̯̲̤͂̇̃̾̈̇̋̕͠h̴̡̙̬̪̰̱̫͙͍̑̓͑ͅa̶̩̝͔̞̦̤̣͎̯͑̌͗̒͊̍̇t̵͖͕̲̹̿̄̌͋́̿̄̐͐͜e̸͕̱̳̙̓͒̈͛̐͒̓ ̴̧̻̩̥̠̹̳͗̿̊̂̋̀̐̒ͅe̸͍̺̘͉̬̲̰̞̰̝̽͋̈̈́̈́̐̌̕̚͝v̶͎̻͍̏͒é̷̱̥̯̈́̌̓͘r̵͕̭̜̗̅̍̅̀̄͜͜͝y̸̢̮͕͕̜͍͎͍̫͛̈́̈͜͝ẗ̵̝͖͎͎̜̟̜́̆͜͝ḩ̵͚͔̿̓̏̍͝i̸̧̜͚̖͆͛̈́́͛̚n̶͎̟͙̲̗̯̫̱̲̔̊̑́͗̾g̸͉̓͂̐̒ͅͅ ̵̯̠̬̞̤̗̲̠̇̎̇̚Ǐ̵̢͓̻͎͕͕̓̄͒̌ ̶̧̢̲̜͔̝͇̭̇̉̎̊̈́̀̆͆͘͝a̸̹̥̥̞̝̹͐̒̓̊͆͜m̶̢̠̮̙͕͍̳̊̿̈͝ͅ.̷͚̝̻̝͖̬̎̑̕̚͝͝ͅ ̶̌́ͅI̸̢̻̟̲̥̻̠̓̑͑́̄̓͝ ̴̗̣̣̱̻̻̰̠̆̇́́͒̈́̐̚h̵̛̞͋̈́̑̽͋̈́̂͒̕ä̸̧͇̭͕̺́̏̎̾̕̕ẗ̷̡̳͕̠͉̬̖͕̟͚̈́͆e̸̛̛̹͎͖̔́̾̂̀̿̋͂ ̴̡̛͍̬̋̀̐̏̓́͐͛e̴̠̲̺̬̥̫̲͖͋̀͂͌̐̃̈́͊͜ṿ̷̧̼̫̟̈́͑́̔̽ę̵̲͕͇̩̞͐͗̈́̑͒̓̾̅͘r̴͔̖̻̾̄̿̚ÿ̴̫́͂̈ͅt̴̼̘̦͝h̷̦̙͚̜͓͚̱͊͛̇͑͆̐̒͘ͅǐ̴̡̹̆͑̄̌ņ̴͉̳̣̌͐̐̽̓͗͘g̴̛̼̲̰̀̊͑̆̚͘ͅ ̷̧̧̪̟̻͆̀͗̎͗̐̉I̵̠̖̓̄̂ ̶̢̛̳̮̇͗̅͌̾͜a̶̢͈͓̰̒̿̃̈́̀͐̏̓̿͜͝m̴̟̪̘̻̓̈́.̶̛̥͍̘̠̲̹̇͆̏̒̎̒̈̌ ̵̲͔̬̪̝͎̱̳͒̄̆̋̅́̅̔̕͝I̷̮̱͕͂̇̔͊̈͂͒ ̴̥͙̲̩̻̗͙͐̑̊̓̀̆̃̏͛͜ḩ̴̡̱̼̓̆͛̎̔a̴͈͎͍̻̦̜̰̭̥̐̑̒̊̒ͅt̷̖̩͊͐̆̇̅̈e̸̡̟̰̮̔͋̄̈͊̎̃̕͘ ̷̤̻̈́̄̌̐̾̏̀̚̕̕e̷̠̞͉̘͚͐̔̓v̷̨̞̔e̶̳͕͍̐̓͆͑͛͐̚͜r̴͙͚̅̎y̵̧̨̥̪̳̠͑̉̐̑̄͐͋̿̊͜͜t̸̨̧̹́͌̃̑̊͋̿͝ḫ̵̛͍͔̞̣̻̊͒̈́́̿̄̌͝i̷̧̡̢̦̮̟̯͌͋͐̀̌̚͜͝ṋ̷̲͐̐͘g̸̨̡͚̱̻͙͈̽̀̍̏̊̚ ̵̱̭̠̘̘͙̣̼͕̲͗͋̄I̶̧͕̞͔̘̮̦̱̗̟͌̔̀͘ ̶̼͎̕a̶͇̪͉͈̲̻̓̀͗͐̇̎͝m̵̧̧̹̳̖̃.̸̯͔̯͓̮̲̆̃̍͒̈͆̓̉͜ ̵̲͖̝̈͑͋̔͋̍̐͘̕͝I̵̼̮̳̲͎̋̅͂́́̒̌̍̊̀ ̶̲̞͎͙̱̯̥͔̟̠̿̉̏̓͠h̵̢̧̳̮̖̥̩̥̙͈̿̎͆̀́̌͂̍ȧ̸̡͇͙͙͔̟̙̰͒̈́̉̓͘t̶̪̥͎̻̕e̷̗͚̰͎͖͗̆̋͗͊̐̉ͅ ̸̢͙̝͙͔̪͔̩̗̈̈́̐̔̒̂ề̶̢͖̯̣̦̱͚̪̥͍̀̽́v̸̪̌̄̀̒̂́̂̆è̵͔̰͛̀̃͌̀̀̀́ŗ̶̙̱̮̩͇̩͕̭̬͂͌͑̅̍̃̈́̅ý̷̢̡͍̟̝̣̤̰̌̽̓̊͂͘͝͠͝t̴̯͒̂ḫ̶̛̹̣̹͙̼̤͔̽͂̓̇̃͘͠͝͠i̸̡̫̹̝̹̥͖̬͍͂̀ṉ̷̹̞̓̉̎ͅg̷̢̛̭̝͙̰̳͎̲͍̳̽̉̑̂̃̑͆ ̸̡̡̡̧̮̱̯̥̆ͅḮ̷̜͉ ̶̨̥̫͈̟̺̰͚͑a̵̜̟̥͔̥͐͗̉̋̅͆͂̃͊̾͜m̵̛̭̹̱̝̯̮̫͆͆͊̅͋.̷̢̻͈͑͋̃̈́͊̑̎̃͘̚͜ ̷̲͕̲̝͎͒̑̐͌̎͛͊̍̿ ̸̨̛̖͉͙̫̬̓͑̉̇̃̐Ĭ̷̺͍̟͙̜̿̈́͊̐͜͝ͅ ̸̧̢͖̲͎͈̥̄̓̄h̷̥͎͈̉̀͝a̷̡͇͎̽́̑̑͌̔͝t̷̨͓̾̈͊̀͑̿͛̓́ȇ̷̖̈̐͝͝ ̵̙͇̻͎̺̭̉͑̉̽́̋͛̕ȩ̸̬͔̝̱͆̽̇ͅv̶̧͈͈͓̻̟̣͖̬̑́̕̕͜e̶̮̼̻̜̮̫͎̊̑̑̄́͜ͅr̵̝̔̄̓y̴̭̯̅̈́̇͑̄̃͗͜t̷̼̦̫̳̝̫͒̄́͂ͅḩ̴̥͋̃͠î̵̗̘͍̫̜͙̼͇̏̂͋̆̈́͒͘͠n̴̳̫̜̩̠̮͈͝g̷̤͍̮̋͗̏ ̴̛̛̝̯̞̲̳̩͔͍̩̃̉̐͛̋̽̚͜Í̶̝͖̤̳̲͓̄͐̉̏̒̔̏̕͜͝ ̵̳̭͚͎̉̓̽̂̽̏̐̕͝a̸̡̲̪͑̅̊̔̂͂̏̈͠m̷̡̧͖͚̼͎̗̞̅̀̓͜.̷͓͓̞́͐̓͗͆͘͘ ̷̢̛͕̣͉̬̹͍̗̌͌̾̚̚̚I̸̗̩̱͖̩͋̓͝ ̷̫͕̰͇̱̭͚̭̌͛ḧ̸̙̜̥̥̭̖̀̑͐̌̑̇͑ǎ̷̟̥̦̣̈́͋̐͊́̚͝t̵̨̫̮̥̥͑̾͒̊͗̍̋̽͝͠ę̵̟̥͕̤̩̿ ̴̧̨̤̥̤̹̬̰̩̈́̃̾̅̓͊͌͑̀e̴͔͍̖͂v̶̢͍̰̪̥̜̟̜̹͉̑́̈́e̶̦̺͕͎̱̗̜̹͉̒̃ŗ̵͈̞̝͖̄͒̓̽̍͆͠y̶̧̬̙̥̰̼̬̩̌̓̾̄t̷̨̙̲͚̥̱̳̘̓̄̎͒̐͑̉̄̚h̸̢̧͍̦̙̔͑̊͠į̷̱̘̹͍̈́̌̈́ń̵͔̥̾̕g̶͓͓͙͚͔̭̯̰̳͆̆̆̄ ̵̙̰͎̘̑͑̍̈́̒́I̵͓͉̺̦̱͕̻̞̿̋̾̀̇͌ ̷̛̼̺̖̂̆́͊̄̓̍̿̏á̷̢̜̥̳̯̪̦̐̐̓m̸̧̜̠̪͈͚̣̪̮̗͐̏͑̔̋̽̄͒̒̽

#quarantined yandere #yandere #yandere community #yanderecore #obsessive love #posessive yandere #yandere blog #yandere girl #yandere aesthetic #yandere vent #bpd problems #bpd vent #bpd thoughts #actually bpd #bpd #bpd fp

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sweetmourningdoll · 4 months

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you’re mine, all mine <3

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running-with-kn1ves · 1 month

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hii! i wanted to ask if you could do a yandere kidnapper x yandere darling? like rich depressed yan that can't imagine living without their darling and ended up taking drastic action, only to find out that darling is way more insane and obsessed passionate than they thought

A/N: I've never been super big on the yan x yan trope but I think this came out kinda cool! Hope this is what you were looking for <3

Synopsis: Sneaking into your beloved's bedroom bent on getting pictures for your stash, you're quickly found by him, who's surprisingly enthusiastic to find you breaking in.

CW: Kidnapping, mutual obsession, shrine dedications, murder (offscreen lol)

WC:3000+

“Nice… new pics for the blog.”

Your camera click click clicked with a shutter noise each time you rapid fired its capture button, eye so close to the screen you might as well be looking through the viewfinder solely itself.

“I can see it now… his unkept bedroom revealed, beautiful little face plastered beside this… heap.”

You looked at the pile of dirty clothes that had yet to be picked up by the estate's cleaning ladies. Well, if you were as filthy rich as he was, you’d probably do the same. Who would waste time cleaning their room when you have the whole world to see? Or in his case, a million press conferences to attend.

Your eye was drawn to a slightly ajar closet, an odd lock seeming to have been hastily unfastened, now leaving the doors peeking open. Something red was inside. Oh boy, you could hardly contain your excitement.

What kind of secrets would the famous, wealthy heir Elijah Walsh have in his teensy private closet? Mayhaps some drag dress up that no fan would expect? Dead bodies? Or even, the rumored cocaine stash his poor daddy was accused of hiding?

You knew Elijah like the back of your hand, unable to imagine any kind of hidden truths that you haven't already discovered. For you, a superfan, (and ultimately, the soulmate he doesn't know about yet) were aware of far more than the average tabloid who didn’t cross trespassing boundaries for love like you had.

You ripped open the doors without hesitation, snapping pics before even turning the light on.

But what you saw, was something you weren’t sure you’d want to keep on camera.

It was you. Well, a picture of you, from some yearbook or singled-out group shot that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact year from. Around your awkward grinning face was a series of items, pinned on a pretty red board like it was a crime scene of sorts. Or maybe… a shrine?

“What the f… is that my underwear??” You looked at the old pair of stretched out undies you had since middle school. Definitely not the pair you’d want some kind of stalker or investigator to get their hands on.

You saw a few old chapsticks taped to the board, one of which you had been searching for in some old bag you swore you left it in. “I was looking for those!” You grabbed the chapstick and a broken brush, the exact same you thought you had thrown away months ago.

Out of all the things you hoped to find-- used Q-tips, one of his musky jackets, maybe even some dark sex toys-- this wasn’t on your list. But you couldn’t help the spike in your heart, the flutter that made your toes point inward.

You had been running this journalist (really a stalker-ish) blog on Elijah since before he got big in the press. You went to the same elementary school and for a short time in middle school, and ever since you couldn’t get his name out of your head. Now, you had a justified reason to keep tabs on him, since his family was currently in the public eye for a variety of deeds.

Along with professing your obsession with him since childhood, your blog dated the shocking events of his controversies-- keeping it all under an anonymous pen name, of course. You had information news sites couldn’t get their hands on; the dedication you put into watching him was a trait of pride you could never let go.

Memories of him comforted you at night, and seeing his pretty face in the grocery store magazines hoarded under your bed made you drift off to daydream land where, maybe, you’d be more than just some heavy breathing keyboard jammer fawning over him from a distance..

And here was, you. Your things. In his room. Even from the times you climbed the tree beside his window, you never saw this… anomaly of items.

“What’s this even… mean.” You whispered, dumfounded and growing antsy. Elijah would be coming back now any second, the route of his driver dinging on your phone.

‘Wait.. does he, know? That I’ve been watching him? Is this all evidence to… incriminate me??’

Worry was creeping up inside of you. But there was no time, not when a heavy vase clunked against your head from behind, letting out a resounding ‘crack!’ from the contact. The chapstick fell from your fingers, camera sliding with you as it lingered loose around your neck.

The last thing you could think of before darkness hit, was ‘man, I hope I don’t fall on my camera… can’t replace it again. ‘

The unconscious darkness blinding your eyes was snuffed out what seemed hours later, replaced by a buzzing yellow light hanging from the ceiling. You groaned outloud, feeling groggy; an aching pain throbbed in your slumped neck and a sore bump on your scalp.

‘Got a killer headache…’

You tried to pull your hands up to the bump to feel for a bruise, but fell flat with your arms tucked behind your back. You jerked them around, not realizing that they in fact were stuck together-- tied by rope, or some kind of fabric.

“Thank god, you’re awake. Thought maybe I hit you too hard-- I don’t know what i’d do if that happened.” A familiar voice rang out in the musty, echoing room.

“What…?” You croaked, trying to look up without facing the wrath of your headache the more light entered your eyes.

“Here, drink some water.”

A bottle came in front of you, so close to your lips all you had to do was bend down to touch it. You did so without thinking, tasting the sandpaper of a tongue you were stuck with. As soon as the cool water touched your throat, you thought about potential poisoning. Who was this person bottle-feeding you water, why couldn’t you do it yourself??

You were too thirsty to care about the consequences, gulping it down as the bottle lifted higher to accommodate you.

Letting out a pant, you sat back, trying to rub water off your lip with a shoulder shimmy.

“Where am I? What’s going on--” It all started to come back to you, being in Elijah’s room, trespassing on private property, seeing the closet hoard of you. “Wait, please don’t report me, I promise it isn’t what you think it was…”

“Report you?” The masculine tone scoffed, a hand falling to your shoulder. “I was worried I’d never get a chance like this… you made it so easy, how’d you get in? The window?”

“...Yeah.” You sheepishly replied, looking up at your captor. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Oh shit. That was Elijah right in front of you. In the flesh, pretty pearly teeth grinning only inches away from your face as his hand rested on your left shoulder, gently massaging it.

“Is your head okay? I feel bad but.. I wasn’t thinking, could only think about how to keep you here.”

Keep you here? Oh no, does that mean the police are on their way??

“Now.. I don’t have to worry about sending people out to your apartment anymore.. No more security cameras, no more blackmail… just you.” He stroked the side of your cheek that was inflamed from falling against the floor. “Damn. I thought i’d have to go through the trouble of taking you in the middle of the night, I had just sent my driver out for my tools too- but, looks like that’s not even an issue anymore!”

Well, sounds like your fears about the cops was no where near the truth. But now, you were even more confused. Taking you? Stalking? Blackmail? It almost felt like you were listening to yourself talk for a second.

Behind the dark glare covering his eyes, you could see Elijah’s trademark dimples, his pinkish lips covering the slight overbite he had, constantly showing off his front few teeth. You knew those downturned eyes were there somewhere, even with their shine dulled by the shadows of what looked to be a dark cellar around you.

His hair was unkempt, thick, dark strands covering his ears and going so far to the base of his neck. Wow, you had never seen him look so scruffy, even when watching from outside, seeing him brush his teeth in shirtless pajamas. He looked worried, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“And I’m sorry to say.. But don’t even think about trying to run away now. I made up my mind long ago, and if I find out that--”

“Urk, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw, the uh, dedication board. Or, shrine?”

At that, Elijah stopped. His baby blue eyes went wide for a moment, forgetting that was where he originally found you until now.

You hid your head down in discomfort.

“I have the same one…of you, in my apartment… in a box under my bed. There’s even a piece of hair from middleschool that I c..ut, from you.” You held back a nauseous gag at the admission. But here you were, this was your chance to prove how much you loved him, how much dedication you put towards understanding his every move, every like and dislike, the intricacies of his family history. “Do you know why I was in your room?” You asked, wondering if he already had seen your worship blog.

Elijah took a step back, lowering to sit on a pulled out fold-up chair across from you. His knees touched yours, still dressed in his black slacks and matching loafers, rolled up sleeves on his cream-colored button up that showed he had taken liberties to get more comfortable for the night.

“I’ll be honest I hadn’t contemplated that… just about how perfect of a chance it was, that you-- my uh, small, obsession since fifth grade.. Was here.” He looked down, a small red tint creeping from his cheeks to the rest of his face. He was bright crimson, like a kid again confessing to his crush behind the bleachers. “But you remember me?? From so long ago? I can’t… Its hard to imagine, i’ve been watching you for years and thought you had completely forgotten about me.”

“Are you kidding?” You watched Elijah rub his eyes, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles. “You’re all over the news, even if I wanted to avoid you. But I haven’t stopped following your every move since, I can’t remember. Every house change, new school, shopping trip with your mother… anytime I was free I dedicated it to watching you, or my--”

You cut yourself off, stepping one foot off into the deep end on a subject you desperately wanted kept hidden.

“If I knew any better I’d say you sound like a bit of a stalker.” Elijah tried to hide his grin behind his hand, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “What were you going to say?”

“My…blog.”

“Blog?” He parroted.

“It’s a…. Dedication blog. To you.”

“Oh, like an obsessed fan?” He jeered, laughing with bright teeth as he braced his shaking from on his knee. “Don’t tell me-- you snuck in here for content to your blog?”

“No-! Well, yes. But some of it was going in my private stash…” You pouted, knowing you’d never get that chance again now that you’ve been discovered. Your days of fawning were going to come to a close.

“So you must be the one who keeps finding a way to get pictures when I never see any reporters around. By, breaking into my home.”

“That sounds really bad.. But I promise I wasn’t going to try to steal, or hurt you!”

That only made him laugh harder.

“I can’t… can’t believe I never saw you..” He wheezed, face flushed as you sat rotting in embarrassment and shame. “I had drivers chase after you for hours when you disappeared-- but you were five steps behind me the entire time!”

Drivers… your brain clicked two and two together as he tried to stop from giggling while hunched over.

“...Drivers?” You question. No way this is what yout thought it was.”So you’ve been spying on me?”

“Don’t sound so offended, little stalker,” He settled down, a permanent smile still on his mouth as he dragged the steel chair somehow closer. “ You’ve been hard to catch, but i’ve been keeping tabs on you, as unseemingly as it is. I couldn’t do it myself but I wanted to make sure you were, okay. Before it was safe to bring you home. Though I had nothing to fear about you forgetting me at all!”

You swallowed, mouth having gone back to a dry desert as you contemplated what this all meant. YOUR Elijah was spying on you in your home? Sending out underlings to watch and make sure you were safe? The man who you’d lay your life down for? You fantasized, imagining him at your window, you-- freshly out of the shower…

“What do you mean by home? You don’t mean.. Here, in the estate, right?”

Elijah observed you so fully, it made you nervous. He had never given someone this much attention in interviews, nonetheless in the photos and videos you managed to snap of him alone. And he was looking at you, with those eyes.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Smelling his sandalwood with his knees pressing against yours, his finely ironed shirt toned against him-- right here, in the flesh. You always thought you’d be at a distance, never able to come in contact with him.. And now, you were tied up in his family’s wine cellar.

“Of course my darling. Where else? I can’t possibly send you back to that dungeon of an apartment. And you,” He stood, intent on coming closer. “Came in so willingly, huh? Didn’t think you’d return my love so… earnestly.”

“W-well who said anything about staying?” You sputtered, looking at his eyes glower in an exceedingly dark fashion. “I mean…. You love me? I’d accepted I’d never be seen by you but… you’ve been watching, the entire time?”

He stood up from his chair with a slight creak, causing your neck to strain upwards to look at him. A small touch caressed the end of your chin, his finger smoothening as it lifted your head to meet his gaze.

He hummed, Elijah’s eyes full of an expression you’ve never seen him wear before. Something in the mix of a sentimental possession, and a lover. But it was so tender, you couldn’t look away. It was so safe, so familiar. You recognized that look in the mirror, visible in your own eyes when you planted kisses on his printed photo taped to your vanity.

“Haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since you plucked that leaf off of my spoiled head. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. I need, you.”

His gaze was so genuine, your eyes soothed by the glazed over grin he gave you, leaning down to hunch on his knees to be closer to you.

“I…” You breathed, wondering if this was a dream. “I’ve wanted you to see me.. for so long. Is this real?”

You stopped working. There was no chance that he had been watching you, wondering and waiting for you to recognize him, when you were longing for his attention, having convinced yourself long ago you’d only be able to possess him from a distance.

Soft fingers that hadn’t worked a day in their lives creeped up your knees, Elijah’s face only inches away as his eyelids lowed, looking sultry as he watched you squirm.

“I pray it’s not.” He exhaled.

“...Well, I’m not staying tied up in this chair, no matter how much you beg. Though… I can’t say I’d mind staying with you. Being with you.. Here, together.”

“Good. It wasn’t really a matter of choice, anyway.” He grinned, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.

You involuntarily hummed in content, pressing closer to his lips as you arched out of the chair, longing to touch his warm body. He was kissing you; somebody get you out of these ropes before you jump the man.

Elijah couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, drugged on the way you relished his touch and pressed your chest forward to him. He rushed kisses to your chin, bites to your ear and licks to your neck with a groan.

But a sudden stop brought your blissfully closed eyes to an open.

“I’m sorry… want you too much, it’s getting to the better of me.”

“I’m not sorry,” You mumble, hoping that if this was a dream, you wouldn’t ever wake up. “Please, don’t stop.. I’ve killed for this, don’t stop now.”

“You tempt me too much,” He chuckles, gripping the sides of your chair seat to stablize himself leering over you. “So lucky you were my little creepy stalker, and no one else’s. Wouldn’t be able to control myself otherwise.”

“Stalker, murderer of your old lovers… I have many names.” You joked, but the bitterness on your tongue remembering those placeholders you got rid of was sour.

“Many talents, too.” Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the one that caused my fiances to dissapear? I wondered how they kept doing that,” He looked keenly, seeing right through your little ‘joke’. “Even I couldn’t shoo my mothers’ arranged partners away.”

You tried to look away, embarrassment showing on the way you bit your lips clean and your heartbeat wrapped. “I did it in your name…. I couldn’t stand them thinking they were worth being so close and casual with you! It was infuriating every time I saw it I-- I just couldn’t take it anymore. Even if it meant I’d never have you.”

Elijah buried himself in your hair, holding you tight. The squeeze was so personable, hungry and desperate to hold all of you.

“You have me now, you have me completely. I want you-- what a favor you have done, and you hadn’t even known.”

It felt so good, praised for such hard and hateful work you carried out. Their bodies were mangled, your rage manifesting in the corpses buried under the old golf course near your dingy apartment complex-- and he was happy you did it. Oh, you wanted to hold him, to smell him fully. These binds were stopping you from caressing the lover, the dream you had fantasized holding you to sleep so often, spooning the jackets and dresshirts of his musk in replacement for comfort.

Elijah still snickered in your ear, playing with the tips of your hair.

“But now, I have to see this blog. I’m too curious-- though I can’t say seeing it will help my small obsession for you. A stalking blog-- too cute.”

You were still so shameful of it, now that he brought it up. You didn’t want your soulmate to see the virtual shrine you had dedicated to him, your unseemly thoughts and hungry urges that were far too detailed and graphic to be shared with their perpetrator. But what choice did you have? He’d find it, one way or another.

“F..fine. But you’d you atleast untie me now? My arms are getting sore.”

That seemed to cease his light-hearted expression, frowning against your skull as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. It was the same as he remembered, now a decade later.

“You’re not gonna try to leave, are you?” He murmured, caressing pinching your ear with a light tone. But something dangerous was held behind it. It was frightening.. But oh, as if the possessiveness didn’t fuel how much more your insides craved him.

“Do you think I’d really try to go anywhere? Not when you’re so accessible to me now.” You looked over. Elijah’s lashes looked so long up close, sweetly deadpanned eyes watching as if you were being tested, hunted.

He seemed to find your answer appealing, getting up and pulling something out of his back pocket. Leaning down once more, you saw the switchblade bobbing between his hands, a pretty and simple hunting blade. He leaned over you, pressing it against the knot above your wrists.

You focused on feeling for the blade as to not get cut, only for your attention to be pulled back to the spoiled one-percenters lips pressing yours directly. It was a shock, more than anything. You wished you had seen it coming, wish you had been better prepared to share your first kiss with your darling!

Elijah left your mouth nowhere to run as he pressed up against you, fervidly ensnaring your lips between his.

You gladly accepted the pull away for a second kiss, leaning up as much as you could while hiding your desperation. He was so soft, lips gentle and big as they enveloped your bitten ones.

“Sorry,” Elijah broke away slowly, not straying far. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” You watched his eyes stare wonders at your lips, fingers brushing against your trapped ones from behind as the task at hand was forgotten.

“Me too.” You uttered, pulling forward to kiss him again with an open, insatiable mouth.

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h3ll0kittygf · 10 months

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mochixkisses · 4 months

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i feel like a fucking addict. i'm craving your attention so bad. i can feel you under my skin. i feel you in my fucking veins. why aren't you responding? i thought you liked me. i thought you were obsessed with me. why aren't you paying attention to me, then? huh?

#mochi's musings #going insane #im so normal actually #yandere #lovesick #obslove #yanderecore #yancore #yanblr #yandere community #yandere gf #yandere girl #obsessive love

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

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Yandere! GILF Headcanons

Warnings: Implied Smut, Older Man/Younger Reader, Age Gap, Spanking, Jealous Dominic, Manipulation, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Hector had only loved once before meeting you. Likewise, he had only loved once after meeting you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in you.

♡ On the contrary, when Dominic had pulled up to the sprawling manor Hector orchestrated, expecting to see Marilyn at his side yet seeing an unfamiliar face in her stead, his curiosity was, admittedly, peaked. No small achievement considering this man has done and seen everything this world has to offer.

♡ Dominic explained – in monotone French – that Marilyn was sick, hence she couldn’t come. He’d brought you – a family friend – in her place. You couldn’t ignore the waver in his voice, his pointed stare up at his father, who resided in an almost throne-like armchair behind a mahogany desk.

♡ Hector looked through Dominic and gazed at you. You could see now where Dominic’s predilection for sharp, underhanded stares originated; the founding father of Dominic’s cold architecture.

♡ You felt as if his eyes combed over your very being, unravelling all the tangles in your make-up and laying you down to your most base, threadbare foundations, seeing you for what you really were.

♡ “Very well,” the older man grumbled, only taking his eyes off you once Dominic cleared his throat. Beside you, his son’s fingers twitched.

♡ You were excused shortly after with Dominic taking you outside, almost jogging down the steps with a haste you’d never witnessed before, and bringing you to a most isolated spot. You’d noticed a collection of staff – chefs, maids, caretakers, gardeners – crawling about the mansion. None of them resided near you now.

♡ “Don’t talk to him unless you’re with me,“ Dominic warned. In his eyes watched a man you’d never seen before. Something vaguely…human in the colour of his irises. Warm. Afraid.

♡ Interaction with Dominic’s father – Hector – was uncomfortable at first. You’d tried to juggle Hector’s hostile hospitality with Dominic’s warnings, ultimately toing and forming between the two since they never inhabited the same space for more than ten minutes whenever meals were served.

♡ One day, when Dominic had to leave the manor on important business, unable to take you with him, he’d instructed you to stay in your room. He tried to smooth over the jagged brickwork of his command with a suave charm that could put the incarnation of panic at ease, but you could tell – for perhaps the first time – that it felt false.

♡ Dominic left. Hours passed. You grew bored.

♡ You left your room.

♡ And who did you happen to meet whilst trawling the halls, searching for any form of entertainment?

♡ Why, the very man Dominic had forbidden you from seeing.

♡ Hector came down the hall on certain footing, obviously having taken great care of his mobility in his younger years to be able to traverse the many staircases and rooms this residence held. So why did he have so many caretakers?

♡ You scarcely had time to wonder as, before you could hide, he spotted you. Ordered you to come to him. You did, hesitant. He gave you a monotone look.

♡ “You. Come with me.”

♡ You followed him to a door that felt familiar. Inside, his study. On his desk, a pre-set game of chess. He sat at his desk. He motioned for you to join him.

♡ You, with a pounding heart and a strong sense of being out of place, played chess. Hector taught you the best way to win – “For when you compete against Dominic.”

♡ You bantered, lethargic at first, until you found even footing on subjects that weren't just Hector’s only son.

♡ You wondered what it was about his father that Dominic was so keen to isolate you from, to conceal from you.

♡ Nothing you cared for, honestly. Especially when Hector showed you just how solid his sense of humour was, how intelligent he was. How lively he could be despite his initial coldness.

♡ Of course, he was still icy, very blunt most of the time. But you could tell it wasn’t his choice – he was made this way. By who or what, you couldn’t be sure. But what you did know was that you weren’t about to let Dominic’s personal vendetta ruin your budding friendship with his father.

♡ No longer did you hide from Hector’s judgement as you scampered back to your room, the shutting of the front door reverberating through the manor’s great walls; you sought refuge from Dominic’s as he came storming down the hallway, his footfalls faster than he’d have liked them to be as he rushed to check on your condition, to see you after being forced to leave you in his father’s un-care.

♡ After that, you made more of an effort to see Hector. Especially as you had few other people to talk to – Dominic especially as he seemed more and more swept up in sudden business meetings and last-minute supply chain issues.

♡ The longer you spent in Hector’s presence – in the garden, in the library, in his study for more games of chess – the more you began to see slivers of him in Dominic. Scratchings of silver beneath rock; the inclinations of a vein of purest ore.

♡ Though, that did not mean the metal that lay dormant beneath was pure in itself.

♡ On the contrary, when you weren’t around, Hector made full – and I mean full – use of the maids, caretakers and staff at his disposal. Anyone who bore a similar enough resemblance to you was subject to any manner of his objectification.

♡ Lasting stares, increasingly lewd requests, commands to snoop through the few personal belongings you’ve brought with you – the sort of thing any powerful older man will do for the object of their affections.

♡ Sexual matters aren’t off the table, either.

♡ Far from it.

♡ In fact, it’s bent over the edge of Hector’s desk, whining and whimpering and at the mercy of a man far more experienced than his old age could belie.

♡ He’s so nasty with it, too. He knows his workers will do anything he asks of them – for the right price. And he’s got nothing but money to burn.

♡ God forbid his most recent toy talks back to him, lest they be subject to a thorough spanking by Hector’s belt.

♡ He’s still more than capable of getting himself off without the assistance of his employees, though. He just enjoys the power he has over them. Enjoys the taste of the influence he’ll have over you.

♡ Guy’s a wealthy man, he’s got cameras everywhere. And Dominic knows this. Hence he’s always around to cover you up when you’re getting changed – even if it makes him look somewhat questionable.

♡ You’re for his eyes only, but he knows his father will find a way to try and sneak a peek of you – to show Dominic that, while in his house, you’re both under his rules.

♡ As was the case now as Hector requested for you come to his study for afternoon tea.

♡ While there, making light conversation, he dropped a question that hung, heavy, between you in a way you couldn’t quite describe/

♡ “Did I ever tell you,” began Hector, knowing full-well he’s not once recounted this tale to you. His old age will afford him the disguise of senility, if only for a short while. You’ll listen, politely.

♡ “About Dominic’s mother?”

♡ You tell him no, that not even Dominic has ever mentioned his mother – or his family – to you before. Hector hummed. Grumbled, more so.

♡ The void in his chest sank lower as he recalled to you the greatest love of his life.

♡ “Too good for this world,” he said, regaling her acts of altruism, of philanthropy. “Someone upstairs must’ve known it, too.”

♡ You had a feeling that ‘upstairs’ transcended far beyond the many dusty rooms Hector had advised you and Dominic not to go exploring during your time here.

♡ He told you, with practiced malcontent, how Dominic’s birth would be his mother’s un-birth; her escort from this life to the next. Hector sniffed, though not for tears. You still jolted forward to comfort him, though.

♡ And he wasn't one to reject your offer.

♡ The portrait of his wife – young and beautiful for a cruel infinity – watched over the two of you.

♡ “So you see,” he continued, “That’s why Dominic doesn’t visit – or I’m willing to guess, talk about – me as much as you perhaps do with your parents.”

♡ Of course, you understood perfectly where he was coming from. Something in him grinned at the idea of even a drop of a villainous hue staining Dominic’s curated disguise, making him scrub and scrub at the veneer until it wore away and revealed the corpse beneath piloted by parasites.

♡ You tell Hector that if he ever wants to talk, you’re always down to listen. Hector grants you a small smile. Artificial warmth. Gently, he slides his hand atop yours, pats it.

♡ You are the singular object his son desires. Hence, you are the object he shall steal from him, for there is no better form of discipline than loss.

♡ And Hector wants Dominic to know what it’s like to lose everything.

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