Yandere! Merman!chu Wanning With A Male!researcher!reader Scenario

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

Yandere mafia sukuna au ( Jujutsu Kaisen ) maybe he falls for his favourite waitress who works at his favourite bar or cafe?

Yandere Mafia Boss! Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Mafia Themes, Crime, Attempted Assault (Not by Sukuna), Violence, Broke Reader, Obsession, Possessive Behaviour, Usage of Curse Words, Mentions of Killings, Child Neglect, Punishment, Starvation, Abuse, Branding, Themes of Captivity

a/n: Okay, so this turned out darker than I intended it to be but this reflects more on how I think Yandere! Sukuna acts so it is what it is. Also, I used a new style of writing here lmk what y’all think.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is a cruel man. The head of the infamous Ryomen crime family. An illegitimate child of his father, the former head, and a one of his many mistresses, Sukuna’s childhood was miserable. His father tossed him and his mother out on to the streets. He was forced to watch as his mother suffered in agony, too poor to afford the medicine she needed. The day of her funeral, his father came to take him in, not even sparing him a glance. From that day onwards, Sukuna swore to never allow himself to be weak again. And he kept that vow, clawing and killing his way to the top. Then when the time came, Sukuna rose up against his father and took control of the Ryomen Mafia, massacring anything and anyone who stood in his way.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns the entire city, having expanded exponentially since he took over. He has the media, the police, even the mayor in his pocket. Anyone who isn’t is too afraid to act against him. They’ve seen what happens to those who do. The city has an order, an order that is dictated by Sukuna. You’ve lived in this city all your life. And you’re desperate to get out of the cesspool of crime and corruption that takes place there. But you can’t do that, not yet at least. Hell, you can barely pay rent. So begrudgingly, you start to work at one of Sukuna’s many clubs. You hate it there, the uniform is too damn small; although you’re not really sure you call a pair of shorts that barely cover your ass, a top that squeezes your chest painfully, thigh-high leather boots, and fishnets a uniform, the leering gazes from perverts, and your shitty manager. But hey, the pay is decent and your dignity probably wasn’t worth that much anyways.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna boredly watches the club’s scenery. His men holler and hoot at the stripper who dances on the pole in front of them. Sukuna honestly couldn’t possibly care less. Same old dancers, same old expensive liquor, same old tarts trying to tempt him. Seriously, is there nothing exciting anymore? Has his city run dry of entertainment? Sighing irritably, Sukuna leaves, there’s nothing for him here anyways. Slinking through the backdoor of the V.I.P lounge and into an alway for a smoke. That’s when he sees you, dressed in your delicious little uniform. You’re cornered, by a low-level goon of his who just earned a promotion. Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. He rolls his eyes, intelligence was so hard to come by these days. This idiot was trying to assault some unfortunate server in the clubs employ instead of taking one of the more well-versed participants of the act he was forcefully soliciting.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna goes to step in, that is until to kick the guy in the balls. Sukuna stares in utter shock and amusement. Who knew you had that in you? The goon howls in pain and snarls at you, promising a world of pain. Suddenly, your angry demeanour is gone, replaced by one of terror. You back up and prepare to flee. Then, Sukuna swoops in, effectively knocking the goon out from behind. He asks if you’re alright and gives his arm to hold onto so you can calm yourself. You steady your breath and thank him profusely. Sukuna coolly offers to walk you back to your car, a beat-up rusted thing, much to your embarrassment. You thank him once more before climbing into your car and driving off, leaving Sukuna intrigued.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna who’s had his interest peaked. He’s intrigued by you, that fiesty and kind spirit of yours provided him with the greatest entertainment he’s seen in years! Sukuna has his most trusted associates stalk keep tabs on you. He learns everything there is to know about, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, your medical information, your favourite food, even what time you go to sleep. As he delves deeper into the rabbit hole of obsession, Sukuna begins to follow you himself. A master at the act, Sukuna watches you, anytime he can. He watches you interact with the world. The way you cheerfully greet the owner of the small convenience store you frequent. How your laugh sounds as though it is a symphony from the greatest composers when you’re with your friends. The teasing smile you offer to a particularly attractive coworker that stopped coming into to work for some unknown reason the next day. And by god, Sukuna swears, you’re perfection. And he deserves nothing less.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns this city, so by default he owns you too. And it’s time to bring his prized possession home. Carefully, Sukuna, organizes your disappearance return to him. Anyone who’ll miss you is either bought off or scared off. The police couldn’t care less, after all, what’s one missing server to the amount of cash that they’ll be earning. And so finally, it’s time. You’re walking back to your dingy apartment, you were let go on the orders of Sukuna. He couldn’t bare to let anyone else see you in that number which was your uniform. Strangely enough, the stingy landlord allowed you to remain there, sweating and shaking as he did so. You suspiciously began to look for other jobs, because you didn’t trust the guy, but nobody was hiring. And then suddenly, like a switch, your landlord flipped and demanded that you pay all the accumulated rent. You furiously began to look and apply for jobs but was rejected every time. You’d just been rejected once more, leaving you dejected and walking back home; you had to sell your beaten up car to try and pay back your landlord. Too engrossed in your misery, you didn’t notice the men trailing you. Swiftly, one came up behind you. He quickly grabbed you and placed a chloroform cloth up to your mouth and nose before you had a chance to react. You went out like a light and the men loaded you up in a van to be delivered to their boss.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is incredibly pleased to finally have you. You’re unconscious, tucked under the expensive sheets on the luxurious bed within the extravagant room Sukuna prepared for you. Sukuna hums as he gently holds your chin, tilting it up with four fingers, using his thumb to softly rub circles on your cheek, then tracing it down to your lips. You look so serene, steady, slow, breaths, your hair splayed across the pillows, and wearing the customized silk pyjamas he bought for you. You’re finally where you belong, with him. When you awake, you’re confused. Your bed has never felt this soft before. Then you look around the room, this isn’t your room. Panicking, you try to jump out of the bed, only to find that you’re bound to the bed with chains, the cuffs are padded softly though. You pull at the chains but your efforts remain fruitless.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?”

Freezing upon hearing that slightly familiar voice, you turn your gaze towards the directions of its owner. Your eyes widened and your throat dried, it was the man who saved you.

“You! Did you do this to me?!” You demanded as his eyes bored into yours.

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled.

“Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.”

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob.

“Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.” Your captor says gruffly before stalking out of the room, leaving you to wail and beg for release.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna stays true to his word. As long as you ‘behave’ or do as he says, you live better than you ever could’ve. You eat gourmet food and drink rich, costly alcohol; that you consume in copious amounts in an effort to forget where you are and how you got there. Your wardrobe, although chosen to be suited to Sukuna’s taste rather than yours, is filled with luxurious clothes and items you never would’ve been able to afford. Yet nobody can put a price on freedom, and to be free is all you want. Any escape attempt is futile, you cannot bribe the guards meticulously watching you. And even if you were to slip past the guards eyes, you’d be caught in a number of minutes. All that results in is the torture and murder of guards and in you being punished.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna takes a sadistic pleasure in punishing you. Of course, he likes when you’re docile but he adores your fiesty spirit. It’s really more of an ownership thing to be honest. Nobody else can touch you; Sukuna is the king of the world and you are his consort, his and his only. His to love and his to punish. Punishments can range from starvation to broken bones, all fit in accordance with his mood. But don’t worry, none of it is permanent. Well, most of it isn’t permanent, the brand labeled ‘Property of Sukuna’ looks absolutely gorgeous burned into your skin! Oh, how delicious your cries and pleas were. Otherwise, Sukuna is wonderful towards you, all your wishes, save your freedom, are granted. You live in comfort, it only being cast aside for Sukuna’s pleasure. Afterall, he’s your saviour, so shouldn’t you be a bit more considerate?

Thank you for doing my request on Yandere mafia sukuna au , I had fun reading it ❤️

Thank you for requesting it! I’m so glad you enjoyed it because I feel like I didn’t write exactly what you wanted but you as long as you liked it that’s all that matters.

Okay okay, what i think of Dionysus is the sassy wine aunt- i mean the drunk fun uncle that would spawn a bottle of fine wine while Apollo is just crying on how his recent lover died while Hermes is trying to give back pats as comfort- and Nyx? oh she's a good pick, the only reason why Zeus doesn't touch Hypnos is because his mom [Nyx] will literally punch him into the night-

Your image of Dionysus is exactly what I have in my mind. Could you imagine him as a yandere? Platonic or romantic he would be so chaotic. Oh! And Nyx, I can totally see her as a platonic yandere, she’d be so terrifying. Not to her darling though, she’s the sweetest to them.

ur sukuna mafia fanfic changed my life i love you and him

Thank you! Writing him was such a challenge, I adore the way he turned out and people’s response ☺️

Can I please request headcanons for platonic Yandere Douma for a human child

Yandere Platonic Douma

a/n: I’m so sorry about the delay in my posting, I had some family stuff to take care of, but thank you all for supporting me and the content I have out!

tw: yandere themes, implied abandonment/neglect, cult themes, reader is kinda insulted by Douma, but not really, implied murder, cannibalism, Douma is his own warning tbh, reader tries to pull a Kotoha

•You met Douma on a cold winter night with a harsh storm blowing through the air. The Upper Kizuki had been out, hunting for a meal. That’s when he happened upon the body of a young child, seemingly frozen to death. Oh, how pitiful! The child had to die in such cruel and uncaring manner. Douma would have left if you didn’t make a sudden motion. Swiftly, Douma turned his gaze towards you. You were still alive? That peaked his interest. Such strength in such a puny little thing. How amusing!

•Even though Douma can’t feel true emotions, he can express small things such as admiration. And admire you he does- you’re such a tenacious little thing. You’d grow to become quite useful if given the proper care. Perhaps he could turn you into a demon to serve his master. If you were this strong as a young human, you’d be even stronger as a demon. Maybe even becoming an Upper Moon like himself!

•Douma then took you to his cult where he ordered the cult members to look after you. You remained in a coma for a few days, and then you finally woke up. Confused and scared, you started to panic. Where were you? What were you doing here? And more importantly— who were you? You began to thrash around at the cult members who were assigned to take care of you. Hearing the commotion, Douma went to the room you were kept. The moment he stepped in the room you fell still. Even though you were young, you could feel the intimidating presence behind his smiling face.

•Douma walked over to you and greeted you with false sweetness. You shrunk into yourself, avoiding his gaze. Douma noticing your shyness, found it adorable. Who wouldn’t though? You were so tiny, hiding in the soft sleep kimono you were wearing. Douma decided then and there to keep you by his side. Kind of like Kotoha’s situation, except he wanted to turn you into a demon. Plus, he’s always been fond of children, so this isn’t that unusual. Douma began to quiz you, unsurely, you answered his questions which allowed him to discover your amnesia. That was convenient, you were a blank slate. Someone who he could mold however he wanted.

•Thus, your life at the cult started. The cult members were instructed to treat you well, and they did. Your new life— not that you could remember your old one- was pleasant. All your needs were met, you’d never go hungry or thirsty, you were comfortable. But life there was also strange. You had ‘lessons’ in which you were taught about your apparent saviour, Douma. You were told that he was your life, your entire being belonged to him, and you must obey him. You didn’t really like those lessons, but you did enjoy one thing. Your training in the art of tessenjustu, overseen by a skilled member of the cult. Within, two months time, you grew accustomed to your routine, excelling in both your studies and training. Douma became intrigued with your fast improvement and decided to oversee your training himself.

•That day you’d woken up like normal, eaten breakfast, attended your morning lessons, eaten lunch, and attended your afternoon lessons. And then finally, you would go to your tessenjustu training. However, your excitement faded when you saw him, Lord Douma himself, standing in place of your usual teacher. Swiftly, you fell into a bow. His overly-false friendly attitude still unnerved you. Despite this, you maintained a cool face and behaved politely. The question of his purpose for being here danced on your tongue, but you withheld it. As if he sensed your inquiry, Douma explained that he would be training you as of now. Your eyes widened slightly in shock, then you quickly returned your face to its neutral expression. Douma noted your shock, allowing an uncertain silence to wash over you until he ordered you to attack him. You froze in surprise, he surely couldn’t expect to to attack him! Oh but he did, he then ‘asked’ you to demonstrate your abilities. Although, you both knew it wasn’t actually a request so much as it was a demand. You took a deep breath and got into the proper stance. Then, you launched your attack. You couldn’t penetrate his defence but you were quite good for a novice. Your moves were quickly, with some precision. Just not a lot of strength behind them. The session ended when you were doubled over, panting, trying to regain your energy. Douma was unharmed, the unnerving smile remained painted on his face. Normally, people would have felt ashamed or embarrassed, but you didn’t. Instead, you thanked him for the lesson and left. Your reaction interested Douma, who would train with you every five to eight days when he had time.

•Douma and your training sessions not only raised your skill level, but formed a bond between you two as student and teacher. You began to respect him, not worship him like other humans, or dismiss him as an annoyance like other demons, you simply respected him. The bond began to deepen and Douma found himself training you more often as his admiration for you turned into affection. Then, his affection turned into love. He realized that he loved you after your latest training session finished, you thanked him as usual and went on your way. Douma had decided to turn you into a demon a long time ago, but he didn’t want you to become a servant to his master, Douma realized. He wanted to turn you into a demon so that you would remain by his side forever. He felt elated at this revelation, he could feel emotions, all of which were spurned by you. His heart beat for you, he couldn’t let you go, not now.

•Yet it seems like your utopia was not destined to last long, as you noticed some cult members you were close too were disappearing. Which was totally not Douma killing them out of jealousy. You grew concerned and uneasy, and you decided to discuss the disappearances with Douma. However, the sight that greeted you halted all your thoughts. It was Douma, your teacher, your saviour, the man you saw as a father, eating a woman. You froze, stunned by his actions and questions formed quickly. He was a cannibal? How could he lie to you? Was he going to eat you too? You didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. Douma then noticed your presence, but before he could do anything, you took off, running as fast as you could.

Huffing, you ran as quickly as your legs would carry you through the woods near the Paradise Faith Cult. Your lungs felt like they would burst, and every part of your body ached from pain and coldness. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been running for, almost an hour if you had to guess. But no matter how much your body hurt, you couldn’t rest. Not when he was chasing you. But your body told a different story.

You felt numb, for you’d been running barefoot in a sleep kimono through the snow-filled woods. The wind was harsh and howled as blew. A flurry of snowflakes whipped around, aiding in blocking your vision along with the dark of the night. Puffs of steam left your parted lips as you panted. You previously wanted to hit yourself for putting yourself in this situation, but this was probably a better punishment.

Honestly, how could be so stupid? You’d always been slightly off-put by Douma, but you let your suspicions go as you cultivated a relationship with him. Your lip quivered and you realized you were about to cry. You bit your lip to prevent from breaking into full-on sobs, but couldn’t stop the few tears that welled up. The tears froze as they fell, adding to the cruel cold that overwhelmed you. Still, you pushed yourself to keep going. You weren’t going to die here. Douma himself had said it, you were a survivor. So, no matter what, you wouldn’t die. You’d get out of this alive, you swore to yourself. The trees further up were more open, you noted, squinting to try and get a closer look. A clearing, you thought excitedly, a way out of here!

You sped up, aided by your new-found adrenaline. As you bounded up the snow, something about the clearing seemed off. But you couldn’t turn back now, not when you’d made it this far. Setting your suspicions aside, you focused on getting to the clearing. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you reached the opening. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized what was at the end of it— a cliff! You skidded to stop and stared down to the bottom of it. Gulping, you turned you looked down below. Beneath the cliff was a rushing river. You clenched your teeth, unsure of what to do.

“My, my, (Y/N), you’ve gone quite far, haven’t you?”

You gulped in fear and slowly turned to face him, to face Douma. A rush of emotions flooded through you, ranging from horror to anger. Horrified because this monster had caught up to you, angry because he had betrayed you, sad because you loved him, and guilt because you could’ve saved yourself and others if you just payed attention and listened to your gut. There were so many things you could’ve done, should’ve done in that moment. Alas, you remained still as a deer in headlights.

Douma smiled that unnerving smile of his, but he couldn’t hide the anger in his eyes. “Come along now (Y/N), it’s time to return home.”

You shook your head slightly, then you took a small step back. The edge of the cliff crumbled, alarming both you and Douma. In that moment, Douma felt both fear and anger surging through him. He was angry at you for leaving him. But he was also angry at himself for being careless, he should’ve turned you into a demon sooner. And honestly, you’d be better off for it. Look at the state of you, pale and shivering from the cold. You looked sickly and would surely fall ill. Still, Douma was mostly fearful of losing the only thing he’s ever loved, the one person who made him feel.

“It’s alright (Y/N). You’re forgiven, I won’t hurt you,” cooed Douma, attempting to coax you from cliff. His efforts only caused you to back up further.

Suddenly, the edge cliff crumbled more and the chunk you had stepped onto broke off. You shrieked as you fell backwards. Douma rushed to catch you, panic in his voice as he shouted your name. And then you blacked out, the cold and tiredness having caught up with you. Douma managed to grasp your wrist in time and hoisted you up. He possessively held you to his chest, carrying you bridal style. Your body was almost as cold as his, Douma noted frowning with concern. Yet there was sense of relief that washed over him. You were back in his arms, and he would never let you go again.

Okay so I’m finally posting stuff again and half my drafts got deleted because of sh*tty, glitchy, tech so I’ll have to rewrite it but here’s a WIP of what I plan on posting:

Yandere Platonic Ryuku w Quirkless!Child! Reader

Yandere Romantic Villain!Deku vs Toga for Hero! Reader

Yandere Romantic Deku w reader who works in the Department of Support

Yandere Romantic JJK First and Second Years w reader trying to leave them

Yandere Romantic Douma Oneshot

Yandere Platonic Tengen + His Wives w reader who tries to escape

Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

You write really well! I have a question thoughts on platonic yandere nighteye as your dad?

Thank you for the compliment! I’m thrilled that you like my content and find it well-written.

As for yandad Nighteye, I think he’s definitely one of the more controlling yanderes in the BNHA-verse. He keeps tabs on you at all times, he has the resources to do so. Not to mention his quirk granting him the gift of foresight which he constantly uses on you. Even though he is strict, yandad Nighteye has a soft spot for you. You’re his pride and joy. Pictures of you and your accomplishments, drawings, trophies, medals, ribbons, crudely made macaroni art— you name it, ha hangs them up in his office, sweltering with pride when he looks at them. Nighteye also has quite a bit of money, so he does gift you expensive things often.

Included in the yandad Nighteye pack comes yandere grandpa or maybe uncle All Might. Either way, the symbol of peace adores you, constantly spoiling you with gifts and giving you piggyback rides to show his affection. Eventually, when they part ways, yandad Nighteye tries to block All Might from keeping contact with you, afraid for both him and how his destruction would devastate you. Try as he might, nothing will stand in All Might’s way in terms of you.

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”