Yandere One Shots

Yandere Male Holy Priest x Female Reader

The heavy wooden doors of the chapel creaked open, their protest echoing through the ancient stone walls. A cool draft swept across the floor, carrying the scent of incense and faintly metallic notes of old blood. You stepped cautiously inside, your breath hitching as the towering figure before the altar turned toward you, his violet eyes glowing with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Father Michael. The Holy Priest of the village. The one rumored to speak directly to God Himself.

You weren't sure what had compelled you to come here. Maybe it was the way the villagers whispered about his power, how they said his prayers could save or damn a soul. Or perhaps it was the fact that, despite the peaceful facade of the village, people had begun to disappear. Always in the dead of night, never to be seen again.

And it always seemed to happen to those who dared to question him.

You swallowed hard as Father Michael approached, his movements slow and deliberate, each step resounding like a death knell in the silent chamber. His white robes, embroidered with intricate golden crosses, brushed against the stone floor. He was beautiful, in a haunting way. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim candlelight, and his smile-so warm, so inviting-only added to the growing sense of unease gnawing at your core.

"You've come," he said, his voice low, reverent. As though your very presence was a prayer answered. "I've been waiting for you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "You've... been waiting for me?" you asked, barely above a whisper. You had never spoken to him directly before. How could he know you?

Father Michael's smile widened, but something about it felt wrong. His gaze flicked over you, lingering too long, too intensely. "God led you to me," he said softly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. "He whispered your name in my dreams, showed me the truth of your soul. You are meant to be here."

A strange pull tugged at your heart, a dizzying sensation that made it hard to think clearly. His words seemed to resonate deep within you, as though they were more than just words-something binding, something undeniable.

You took a step back, trying to gather your wits. "I... don't know what you mean, Father."

"Of course you do," he replied, his voice soothing, but with an edge of something darker. He reached out, and before you could react, his fingers brushed your cheek, lingering longer than they should. "You've felt it too, haven't you? The calling. The need to be close. To surrender."

A chill ran down your spine, and you forced yourself to step away from him. "I think I made a mistake coming here."

Father Michael's hand dropped, but his expression remained serene, as though he had anticipated your fear. "There are no mistakes when it comes to the will of God," he said, his eyes locked onto yours, unblinking. "You are chosen."

The chapel suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in on you. You turned toward the door, but Father Michael's voice stopped you cold.

"You don't want to leave," he said, his tone gentle, coaxing. "Not when you're so close to salvation."

Your breath hitched, and your feet refused to move. Something about his words made your body betray you, made your limbs heavy, your thoughts sluggish.

What was wrong with you? Why couldn't you just leave?

You turned back to him, heart pounding, trying to fight the fog clouding your mind. "What do you want from me?"

Father Michael's smile returned, soft and almost tender. "Everything."