#obssesive

Idea from @kseshaships (hope I did it justice)

Fun evening just relaxing and having a enjoyable watch ^^

Yandere! Crush x Reader

⤷ TW: Dark Romance, Yandere Themes, Extreme Obsession/Stalking, Invasion of Privacy, Possessive Behavior, Physical Restraint and Mentions of Sabotage/Academic Ruin.

Everyone at school knew you were completely, hopelessly in love with him. You were the girl who showed up thirty minutes early just to leave a carton of strawberry milk on his desk. You were the one who cheered the loudest from the bleachers, your face lighting up the exact second his tall figure walked into the hallway.

"Good morning, Kenji!" you’d chirp, skipping backward in front of him.

He wouldn't even slow down. He’d keep his hands buried deep in his pockets, staring straight ahead. "Get out of the way. You're annoying," he’d mutter.

But you would just laugh. "Okay! See you at lunch then!"

To everyone else, it was just a daily comedy routine. They pitied you, thinking you were chasing a guy without a heartbeat. They had no idea that behind his sharp words, his chest was actually burning. They didn't know that he kept every single empty carton of milk you ever gave him. He rinsed them, dried them, and kept them locked in his bedroom drawer like sacred relics.

Your obsession wasn't born out of a shallow crush on a handsome, brooding boy. It came from a day you never spoke about, a day that altered the entire trajectory of your life.

Two years ago, during your first term, your older brother had been involved in a devastating motorcycle accident. For weeks, your family lived in a blur of sterile hospital waiting rooms, mounting bills, and the suffocating terror of losing him. The stress had completely broken your mother, and your father was working triple shifts just to keep the lights on. You had to stay strong, putting on a brave face for everyone else, smiling through the agony because if you let a single tear slip, you felt like your entire world would collapse.

One rainy evening, the weight finally became too heavy. You couldn't go home to a silent, empty house, so you hid behind the old equipment shed near the school incinerator. You sank into the damp dirt, pulled your knees to your chest, and sobbed until your ribs ached, tearing at your own uniform out of pure panic. You were entirely alone in the dark.

Or so you thought.

Kenji had been walking past, a heavy trash bin in his hands. He didn't say a word when he saw you. He didn't offer a clumsy apology or ask you what was wrong. Instead, he simply set the bin down, walked over, and sat flat on the wet concrete right next to you. He didn't touch you. He just leaned his broad shoulder firmly against your trembling one, acting as a solid, immovable anchor in the middle of your storm. He stayed there for two hours in the freezing rain, letting you ruin his clean school blazer with your tears, serving as a silent shield between you and the rest of the world. When you finally calmed down, he stood up, wiped the dust off his trousers, and said, "Go home. The rain is stopping."

From that night on, you realized his coldness was just a shell. You promised yourself you’d spend every day filling his quiet world with warmth.

For two years, that was your routine. You became his shadow, and you learned the quiet language of his silence. You knew that when he clicked his pen twice, he was getting bored. You knew that if his shoulders dropped, his severe migraines were kicking in, and you’d secretly slide medicine onto his desk.

There were moments you thought you were actually breaking through the ice. Like the time you stayed late to help him carry heavy papers, and he reached out to adjust the slipping strap of your heavy backpack. Or the time you fell asleep at your desk, and you woke up with his thick school blazer draped over you, smelling like mint.

Whenever you thanked him, he’d look away and tell you to be quiet. But those tiny gestures kept you going. You truly believed that if you just kept smiling and giving him everything, the distance between you would disappear. You were willing to wait forever.

What you didn't know was that your warmth had completely ruined him. Kenji wasn't just tolerating you—he was entirely, dangerously addicted to you.

His real day didn't start at school; it started at his computer screen at 3:00 AM. His bedroom walls weren't normal. They were covered in rows and rows of printed photos of you. Some were screenshots from your social media—photos of you laughing with friends or posing on vacation—but most of them were shots he took himself when you weren't looking. Photos of you adjusting your hair at your locker, tilting your head during exams, or smiling at the sky while waiting for the bus.

Every single night, he drove himself crazy in that room. He would sit in the dark, tracing the lines of your face on the paper, letting his mind spiral into dizzying, heavy fantasies about you. He imagined what it would feel like to finally lock his arms around you, to hear you whisper his name without anyone else around, to make you cry tears that were meant only for him. He would stare at your pictures until his chest ached from a wild, desperate hunger, utterly consumed by the fact that during the day, he had to pretend he didn't want to swallow you whole.

He heavily policed your life from the shadows. Whenever a guy tried to get close to you, Kenji handled it before you could even notice. Last month, a senior from the rugby team had made a crude bet with his friends about asking you out just to see how easily you would smile for him. Kenji had overheard it in the locker room.

The next day, that senior didn't show up to school. When he returned a week later, his arm was in a thick plaster cast, his eyes bloodshot and darting frantically around the corridors. He wouldn't even look at your side of the hallway. Kenji had simply sat at his desk that morning, calmly turning the pages of his English textbook, his knuckles slightly bruised beneath his uniform cuffs. He didn't want you to know about the filth of the world. He wanted you to stay bright, clean, and entirely focused on him.

You went about your days completely oblivious to the violence keeping your world peaceful. To you, life was simple, safe, and filled with the steady hope that Kenji was slowly softening up to you. You were still riding the high of those quiet moments—like waking up with his mint-scented blazer over your shoulders or the rare times his fingers would brush yours when taking the strawberry milk. You truly felt like you were finally standing on stable ground with him, completely unaware that the safety you felt was a carefully manufactured cage. You were so blinded by your own hope that you didn't see the storm brewing.

But a heart can only take so many hits before it breaks.

It happened on a Friday afternoon behind the old music room. You were carrying a stack of papers when you heard voices. Peeking around the brick corner, you saw Kenji. Standing in front of him was Miyoko, the elegant vice president of the student council. She was everything you weren't.

Miyoko held a beautifully bound notebook—their collaborative thesis for a competition. "I want to be the person who stands beside you, Kenji. Academically, and in life. I know I can match your pace."

As you watched, Kenji didn't walk away. He didn't tell her she was annoying. He actually reached out and took the notebook, his eyes locked onto hers in a heavy silence. To your heartbroken mind, it looked like respect. It was a look he had never, not once, given to you and your silly cartons of milk.

A sharp pain bloomed in your chest. I'm just a nuisance to him. She actually matches him. All your efforts over the past two years suddenly felt completely useless.

Your fingers shook, dropping a sheet of paper. The slight rustle made Kenji’s head snap toward the corner, but before he could see you, you turned and ran. You ran until your lungs burned, your bright smile finally shattering into bitter tears.

The change was sudden and absolute.

On Monday morning, Kenji walked his usual twelve paces behind you. He expected you to slow down, to turn around with that loud, bright smile and skip backward in front of him.

You didn't. You kept walking, your head low. When you reached the school gates, you didn't wait. You just slipped into the crowd, deliberately hiding among other students so he couldn't reach you.

When he got to his desk, there was no strawberry milk. The wood was cold and empty. Kenji stared at the bare surface for a full, agonizing minute, his jaw tightening until it clicked. A freezing, empty void opened up in his chest where your warmth used to be.

By Wednesday, you were actively treating him like a ghost.

During lunch, when he purposely walked past your usual spot, you instantly stood up and walked right past him without making eye contact. Your shoulder brushed his arm, but you didn't even flinch. You kept moving as if he were nothing.

The bright, bubbly girl who used to scream his name from the bleachers was completely gone. You still smiled, but only for other people. He had to sit at his desk and watch you laugh warmly with the guy sitting next to you, sharing notes and trading jokes, while treating him like absolute nothing.

It drove him completely, utterly insane.

The quiet control he prided himself on fractured within forty-eight hours. The silence in his head was deafening. He stopped sleeping entirely. He spent his nights standing directly underneath your apartment window, his face pale, his fists clenching until his knuckles bled against the rough brick wall. He even started going through your building's trash at night, frantic to find anything you touched—a discarded note, a wrapper—anything to stop the agonizing withdrawal of your attention. Why weren't you looking at him? What did he do wrong? He had rejected Miyoko the exact second you ran away that Friday, throwing her thesis right into the mud to chase after you, but he had lost you in the dark.

By Thursday morning, he stopped hiding his madness. During the morning lecture, he didn't even pretend to look at the board. He turned his entire chair around, his unblinking, bloodshot eyes locked onto the side of your face for three hours straight. The entire classroom could feel the suffocating, terrifying tension radiating from his desk, but you stubbornly refused to look back.

When the bell rang, you tried to slip out to the restroom. The moment you stood up, Kenji stood up too, his massive frame shadowing your every step down the corridor. When a male classmate tried to hand you a stray pen you dropped, Kenji snatched it out of the boy's hand before it could touch your fingers, snapping the plastic right in half.

"Don't touch her things," Kenji whispered to the terrified boy, his voice a low, animalistic growl that made the entire hallway go dead silent.

You didn't even look back. You just hurried away, your heart pounding with pure exhaustion. You thought he was just angry because his favorite toy had stopped playing with him.

The final snapping point came that evening. The sky was bruising into a dark, stormy purple, and you had stayed late to finish classroom cleaning duties. You had deliberately dragged out the chores, waiting until the school was entirely empty because you wanted to make sure he was gone.

As you stepped out of the empty classroom into the dim corridor, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking your exit entirely.

It was Kenji. But he looked completely unhinged. His tie was missing, his collar was torn open at the throat, and his hair was a tangled ruin from his fingers clawing through it all day. His dark eyes were wide, bloodshot, and burning with a terrifying, predatory desperation.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gripping the straps of your bag. You forced your voice to stay flat and empty. "Excuse me. I need to go home."

You tried to step past him, but Kenji moved with an explosive speed. He grabbed your shoulders, his massive hands trembling violently as he slammed you backward against the classroom door. The heavy thud echoed loudly down the empty hallway.

"Stop it," he choked out, his voice cracking, completely stripped of his usual icy armor. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving directly against yours as he pinned you to the wood. "Stop looking past me. Stop ignoring me. I'm losing my mind."

"Kenji, let go of me—"

"No!" he roared, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder, his long fingers digging into your blazer until the fabric groaned. He was shaking so hard you could feel the raw vibrations in his bones. "I can't breathe. I haven't slept in four days. My chest feels like it’s full of glass. Why are you doing this to me? Where is my milk? Why are you smiling at everyone else but won't even look at my face? I will tear this entire school apart if you don't look at me right now!"

"Why do you care?!" you finally snapped, the heartbreak and exhaustion pouring out of you in a sudden, angry sob. You pushed against his massive chest with all your might, your tears finally spilling over. "Go look at Miyoko! She matches you! She's smart, she's perfect, and she can actually stand beside you! I'm just an annoying nuisance, remember? You told me that every single day! I'm finally letting you go, Kenji! Isn't that what you wanted?!"

Kenji froze, his head snapping up. For a second, he just stared at your tear-stained face, the realization of your pain hitting him like a physical blow.

Then, a dark, completely unhinged laugh escaped his throat. It was a sound of pure, terrifying relief mixed with absolute madness.

"Miyoko?" he whispered, his hands sliding down from your shoulders to lock around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his with a bruising, inescapable grip. His face twisted into something raw, possessive, and entirely desperate. "You think I care about her? I don't even know what color her eyes are."

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your trembling lips, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a suffocating, heavy focus.

"I took that notebook because it had your name on the first page as a reference," he growled, his thumb pressing hard against your jawline, forcing you to look only at him, tilting your head up until you couldn't escape his gaze. "I spent the last three days destroying her family's business connections and ruining her academic standing so she would be forced to transfer schools. She will never come near my desk again. There is no one else, you idiot. There has never been anyone else. If you ever try to erase me from your head again, I will lock you in my room. I will show you the hundreds of photos of you on my walls, and I will make you look at me until you forget how to breathe. You made me like this. You filled my world with your light, and you don't get to leave me in the dark. You belong to me."