#DL x reader

[animeyanderelover]

Can I get yandere sakamaki and mukami (I think that's their name) with a male reader who once were their friends, (during that time, they hide their feelings) but they accidentally kill him and one day they met him. After he was reincarnated and the moment they met is the same how they once first met

Example : reader met Shu in the garden, Shu will met reader when he is in the garden as well!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, stalking, clinginess, violence, sadism, delusional mindset, isolation, abduction, manipulation, clinginess, hallucination, mentions of self-harm in Azusa's part, male reader

We meet once more...

Sakamaki Shu

🎵Just why had you been so adamant on leaving him that day in favor of pursuing your dreams? Yes, you had promised him to return to him in a few years time yet your words had sounded shallow in his ears. The argument that followed is something his mind forces him to replay even decades later. Normally the both of you had never been the type to let your emotions get the better of you but something about your words had irked him and his words had agitated you. As the emotions had risen higher both of you had gotten physical with each other as the argument escalated. It's when you had turned around with barely suppressed anger and concluded this conversation to be over that Shu had snapped. He had underestimated his own strength in that moment as he had pushed you, his ears ringing with wrath he had been feeling in the moment. Your body, only human and unable to handle his unexpected outburst of strength, flew down the stairs before you hit your head with a sickening crack on the ground, laying there motionlessly all whilst the blood created a bloody hallow around your head.

🎵Everything that even remotely reminds him of you has been removed from his life since then as he's unable to bear the emotions he's feeling whenever he lays eyes on something that triggers past memories. Shu completely withdraws himself from the memories of you in an attempt to cope with the pain yet there is no relief for him. He sees you in his sleep, sees you every time he closes his eyes. In one moment you are smiling, in the next he sees your limp body as his mind reminds him that it is his fault that you are dead. It's his loss of control that ended your life and it is from that day on that Shu decides to completely suppress all of his emotions as he deems feelings as something that will only lead to bad decisions. With the complete isolation from feeling comes the loss of any interest and motivation as Shu grows indifferent to anything that is happening around him. He blends out the world around him as he lives seclusively in his own world where the only loyal companions he has are music and the haunting memories of you.

🎵It starts raining on that night as he is lying on a bench in a park yet he doesn't care as cold raindrops hit his equally cold skin. Blue eyes lazily stare at the grey sky before he closes them, blending the sound of the rain out by listening to some music as he closes his eyes. Instantly his inner vision is filled with memories of you, a familiar bittersweet ache grasping his dead heart. He doesn't notice when the raindrops stop hitting him, he only notices when someone grasps his shoulders and shakes him carefully. His heightened senses, previously submerged in a world only he knows, return to him as he hears over the music he is blasting into his ears a voice calling out to him, his nostrils flaring up as he picks up another scent next to the smell of fresh water pouring out of the sky. A hauntingly familiar smell. He cracks open his eyes yet his vision remains filled with the sight of your face looking down on him worried, an umbrella shielding him and you from the onslaught of rain. His heart starts quivering as blue eyes gaze upon you as emotions he swore to burrow reanimate. A hand instinctively shoots out to grab you by the shoulder and keep you in place, his grip slightly shaky. You... How are you...?

Sakamaki Reiji

☕​You've always been impressed with him. Reiji is a walking library personified and you have always sought out his help when you were struggling with your own research. Reiji had taken it up on himself for that very same reason to take you under his wing and teach you about everything as he helped you with your own studies, needing you to be on the same level as him to be a worthy partner. Deep down he just loved the praise and attention you gave him for his impressive knowledge, something he had never gotten from his own mother. One day he took you to the mansion, to his own room as he had been working on a science project and had wanted you to see the final results. A few minutes. He had only left you alone for a few minutes to fetch some documents when he had heard an explosion which had rang louder in his ears due to his heightened senses. The sound had come from his room. An acidic smell had filled his room when he had arrived, the aroma stinging his eyes with water. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of your lifeless body on the ground had been another reason, your face deformed as you had been standing right above the test tubes when the chemical reaction had occured.

☕​Over the years Reiji has done all that he could to downplay his own emotions. After all all had been your fault for getting too curious and playing around with his set. He had warned you to not touch anything unless he was there with you so your death had merely been a result of your own stupidity. Yet the occasional snicker of people like Ayato or Laito has always gotten more under his skin than it should have as they sometimes joke about the scientific accident on that day. After all their older brother who has always portrayed himself as the smartest person of them all had been careless enough to let such an accident happen. Perhaps it is the perfectioniest housing inside of him that starts considering their words more and more. Could he have done more on that day to prevent this from happening? He starts considering this question more in quieter moments and painful realisation hits him when he does come up with ideas that could have prevented you from dying on that day. Why didn't he think of those ideas earlier? He's never able to live this failure down and deep down it shakes up his core beliefs.

☕​He's in the library that day to borrow a new staple of books that have just recently been published. Normally he doesn't like going under humans that much and this library is an especially sore spot for him. Even if it has gone through some major changes over the decades, this is the place where he met you so long ago for the first time. He despises the feelings that always threaten to pour out of him when he is in this place so he hurries up to get all those books. Just as he is about to walk away with all of them in his arms though, a familiar scent invades his nostrils, one that has his brain short-circuiting for a brief moment. Then a pouty voice fills his ears, complaining how you wanted to borrow these books as well for your upcoming studies in college. His head wipes around, pink eyes narrowing in disbelief and shock as he sees a spitting image of you standing behind him, the same sulky expression on your face that you used to always give him. You're startled when he drops the pile of books and swiftly walks over to you, his glare antagonising you as gloved hands suddenly grab your face and pull you closer to scrutinise your features better. How is this possible?

Sakamaki Ayato

🥇​Ayato always wanted and needed to have it his way. That is something you were familiar with with passing time. Here and there the two of you did get into arguments but it never really escalated as you were somewhat forced to take on the role of the calmer person due to Ayato's aggressive behavior at times. He liked having you with him all the time, showing you off as if you were a priced possession of his. In a way you were as Ayato deeply loved you and he couldn't have cared less about the fact that the both of you were the same gender. As long as he kept on being the best he could have whatever he wanted after all in his mind. It was his forceful and aggressive temper that ultimately led to your death though as you had started making friends with new people, something he couldn't have despised more. A shouting match between the two of you where he demanded from you to drop those pathetic friends of yours, a violent hit to your head as you dared to stand up properly against him for the first time since your friendship had started and a dull thud as your body fell to the ground, eyes glossy with the unmistakable haze of death. Why do you humans have to be so fragile?

🥇​None of this is his fault! He didn't do anything wrong! Those are words he constantly yells at his brothers as soon as he even thinks that they're trying to bring the incident up to him. It's all your fault for being so stupid to go against him! You-you should have known better than going against his demands... No matter how often he repeats those accusations, no matter how loud he yells them at someone, they never get through to him as his heart remains unconvinced. Unconsciously he is probably aware that he is at least partially responsible for your death as he should have been better at controlling his own strength yet it is his own arrogance and pride that doesn't allow his mind this realisation. The following decades he tries desperately to feed into his own ego by picking up hobby after hobby, especially ones involving physical activity to master them and convince himself that it wasn't his own lack of control over his own body that was to blame on your death. Yet still he finds himself constantly turning around, green eyes searching for you when he scores a goal or masters a sport only to be reminded that you are dead as his mood instantly worsens.

🥇​Sometimes Ayato finds himself still approaching a certain place that remains special in his heart. An abandoned building at the edge of town that has decayed over the years only more. It's a place where he met you for the first time many years ago and both of you used to play around here though he would always win against you and puff out his chest whilst proclaiming himself to be the best. He's been avoiding the ruined building ever since your death but in the last few years he has occasionally found himself walking down the streets to stare at it from outside the rusty fences. It is the sound of a ball being kicked against the walls that peaks his curiosity and his eyes suddenly narrow. This is his special place even though he hasn't entered in decades... Who dares to tread on it? He effortlessly climbs up the fences though he initially hesitates to step on the property again. His eyes are able to pick up the sight of the intruder from this high though, someone who looks very familiar. You on the other hand nearly jump out of your skin when he storms over to you and grabs you by the hem of your shirt. Is this a fucking joke?? If it is, he is everything but amused!

Sakamaki Kanato

🧸​Kanato has attached himself to you from the moment you gained his obsessive interest. After all besides Teddy he had no one else in his life so he was ecstatic and giddy to have finally found someone who could care for him and spend time with him. It has never been easy to deal with Kanato and his explosive and highly sensitive emotions. The worst thing that came out of it was the isolation that came with being Kanato's victim of obsession. A situation that had always been very dangerous turned into pure peril when he threatened to kill the person you had recently gotten close too, clutching his plushie tightly against his chest as he did so. Why would you betray him like this in the first place? He thought that you were happy with him... Isn't he more than enough for you? You're so greedy and selfish!! Your mistake on that day was trying to reason with him even though no logic would have worked on Kanato on that moment as the accusations piled up. You didn't love him! You wanted to leave him! He didn't want that... He didn't want to be left alone... That's why he killed you on that day in a frenzy as his hysteria got the better of him and stabbed you to death.

🧸​He kept your corpse and pretended that you were still alive until the scent of rotting flesh threatened to shatter his sanity and he had to burn you. Unable to live without you though he instantly created a life-sized doll of yours and dressed it up with the clothes he still had of you so that it would even smell like you. Everything continued as if you were still there as his brain couldn't accept the reality that you had died and that he had been the one who had done it. Yes, in death they couldn't take you away from him but he hadn't considered in the moment of hysteria that he couldn't have you anymore either. As if to brush over this moment as if it had never happened he acted like you were still alive as he held tea parties and wheeled the puppet around the mansion, even taking you to meals where he tried to feed you. None of his other brothers spoke up and mentioned his deteriorating mental health as Kanato's mind created the delusion that you were still there as he even hallucinated that the puppet was speaking to him and answering his question. It was all a delicate delusion though that needed not to be shattered under any circumstances or else he would snap and turn into a maniac.

🧸​Nothing has happened. You were never gone. A protective shield for his mind to not completely shut down. He's currently outside in a field of flowers as the moon shines in the sky, collecting some bouquets for the next tea party he plans to hold at midnight with you again. When he looks up though, he lets out a strangled sound when his eyes land on your form walking relaxed around outside, a cookie in your mouth as you hold a packet filled with sweets you just bought in town. For a short moment there is a crushing dread of realisation threatening to shatter him yet his mind pulls up its walls in the last moment. Cold hands grasp your own and you nearly get a heart attack as you turn around only to see a pale and sick-looking man standing right behind you, asking you with a trembling voice what you are doing outside. Both of you are about to have a tea party and you were supposed to wait for him. Then his eyes land on the packet of sweets which you dropped on the ground. If you wanted new sweets you could have just told him instead of leaving without his permission... Well, he'll punish you later. For now the both of you should return to the mansion.

Sakamaki Laito

🎹​Laito saw the fact that the both of you are of the same gender not as a hurdle and more like a new and exciting adventure waiting to be uncovered by him. After all he truly couldn't care less about what gender you are. He's just taking it for what it is and goes for what he desires without any hesitation. Though he does understand that the time period the both of you are living in wasn't very accepting of couples of the same sex at the time. He didn't need their approval though as all he would have really needed to do was whisk you away and keep you in the mansion where hw ould have been able to do whatever he desired to do with you. Jealousy had already led him to kill people his mother had taken as temporary lovers and it was jealousy that fueled the crime of him murdering your secret lover and by accident you as well when he found out that you had kept the relationship a secret from him though the way you had reeked of someone else had given it away. He hadn't intended to stab you but when you had tried to fight against him to defend your already half-dead lover, he accidentally drove the knife right through your heart.

🎹​To this day he still blames your lover for your death. He didn't let them touch you when you bled out on the ground as he stomped on their hand and broke all their bones in it, didn't listen to their pleas as he had twirled the knife around in his hand with a new icy ire burning in his green eyes and he didn't even stop torturing them long after their heart had stopped beating. Initially Laito simply tried to dismiss his feelings for you now that you were gone and tried to move on. He whored around with other people from women to men to everything else as if to convince himself that perhaps his feelings for you hadn't been anything special to begin with as it might have been simply a fleeting moment of excitement and ecstasy yet his mind always drifts to you whenever his tongue is in the mouth of someone else. There is a sick feeling in his stomach whenever he undresses someone or his current companion touches him suggestively and he gets no pleasure and relief whenever he fucks someone for as soon as the moment of ecstasy passes by his mind is overcome with a disgust he didn't know he could feel. Temporary freedom only lasts for a few seconds before he's back where he started.

🎹​On that night he finds himself going once again through all pubs in town in search for those few seconds of blissful forgetfullness, a dangerous addiction he has developed to escape from the clutches of disgust and guilt. The smell of alcohol is especially bitter when he hits up the bar where he met you nearly half a century ago, green eyes darting around in search of his next victim. That's when his eyes are drawn to a figure sitting alone on the counter and from behind their silhoutte reminds him painfully much of you. His feet move on their own as he steps closer to the counter and the closer he gets, the more a sweet fragrance of blood invades his nose and mind. Green eyes narrow as he lays a hand on the shoulder of the person who turns around surprised when feeling his palm. For the first time in his life Laito is unable to come up with a witty reply as he stares into your face, in disbelief at who he is looking at. His grip subconsciously tightens on your shoulder as if not wanting to let you go and it is only when you let out an uncomfortable wince that he snaps out of it. A smooth grin covers up his shock as he slides down the sit next to you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as he offers to order you a few more drinks.

Sakamaki Subaru

⬜​Subaru has always considered himself to be an unwanted monster that would only hurt the people he cares about which is why he has closed his heart so that he may never get attached to anyone only to be reminded of how unwanted he really is. It's painful for him to see how you slowly peel him out of his shell as emotions he has troubles to properly grasp bloom inside of him. It is all so agonising, confusing and somewhere in between that it is even a bit beautiful yet he is wavering, unsure whether to trust you with his heart. He should have never trusted you to begin with. Of course you wouldn't want him. The pain and heartbreak that assaults him the moment he finds out that you have already a lover and plan to propose to them tear his heart out of his chest and the sheer agony that comes with it has him entering a screaming rage he cannot control. His vision is simmering red as his wrath takes over and has him lashing out. His hands are coated with blood, your blood, when he comes to his senses only to be plunged into his next despair as he realises that he lost complete control and killed not only your lover but also you.

⬜​The stench of blood never leaves his hands nor does the sickening warm and sticky feeling of it. He swears that it's still there, reeking and reminding him that he truly is a monster destined to kill anyone important to him. Sometimes he spends an hour washing and rubbing his hands until they are raw to clean himself of that cursed smell and feeling yet it is a mark that stays with him to remind him of his grave sin. Subaru withdraws himself completely from the outside for a while and hides in his room, locks himself away as if thinking that he is a beast that has to be put behind bars. He most likely thinks that he is. The agony and the grief comes in periods. Sometimes he manages to push it all down so that only his heart is aching and sometimes the walls break into pieces and the flood of emotions bursts out of him. Hot and salty tears cascade down his cheeks as a scream of anguish escapes his lips as furniture is shattered and walls receive cracks as he violently punches around him until he calms down and sits in the destruction his anger has caused with dull eyes.

⬜​Sometimes he even neglects taking care of the roses in the garden, his confidence to care for things weaker than him utterly shattered as he thinks of himself as incapable of even nurturing the flowers. It takes him time until he slowly starts picking up this hobby of his again though he remains distant and cold to everyone else around him, his roses the only thing he seems to care about anymore. Sometimes he visits a florist in town to buy some new buds to plant into the garden of the mansion, although he always hurries with his shopping as this shop brings back too many memories. It is there though that his heart blossoms once again because as soon as he walks in he spots you arranging flowers into bouquets, your eyes meeting his as you greet him cheerfully. He stops right there, his body no moving a muscle as if subconsciously afraid that as soon as he moves, he'll do something terrible. His emotions leave him trembling as he can't help the stinging tears threatening to escape his eyes all whilst you give him a concerned look as he feels his control slowly slipping away from him. Shit! Why after all of this time?

Mukami Ruki

📘​Ruki has always liked to give you more trust due to the fact that you were also a man as he had lost faith in the loyalty of women after his own mother left his father and him for another man, leading inevitably to the downfall of his life. You were supposed to be better than this... You weren't supposed to also leave him behind... Yet his world is shaken when it is revealed to him that you have accepted an apprenticeship far away from the town he is residing in with his other brothers, oblivious to his own horror as you deliver him the news whilst looking so excited. Are you really so selfish that you would prioritise your own dreams over him? All Ruki wanted was to prevent you from leaving, all he intended to do was to weaken your body with drugs so that you wouldn't be able to take the long journey to the new town. A twinge of paranoid fear caused him to put in too much of the drugs into your food though as he wanted to be sure that they'd do their job which led him to give you an overdose that ultimately led to your death.

📘​Responsibilities have always rested on his shoulders as he is essentially the leader of the Mukami brothers and so he intends to focus on his duties instead of taking the time to mourn. He tells himself that he shouldn't mourn a person who wanted to abandon him in the first place and that you probably never loved him to begin with yet even to the eyes of his brothers it is obvious that Ruki is suffering. As soon as they attempt to console them though he shuts them up as he insists with a slightly clenched jaw that he is completely fine and that they are worried over nothing. On the inside he feels like he is rotting away though and as much as he tries to push that thought away, the emptiness that is crying out inside of him becomes harder to blend out until one day Ruki breaks down for a moment, leaving the rest of his brothers to care for him on that day as he just spends his time being a mess before he shakily puts himself together the next day, making all of his brothers swear that they never mention your name again nor his outburst.

📘​For decades no one in the mansion mentions your name and Ruki continuously tells himself that this is for the best as he wants to bury you in the past. There is no remedy for the bittersweet memories though that have been haunting him ever since your death nor for the slimy dread that clings to him whenever he realises that it is his own fault that you died. He's on the other side of the street when he happens to glance over to the other side, staring through the windows of a pharmacy that has been there since nearly 200 years. He remembers the place very well since he met you there for the first time and he remembers the place well because he purchased the ingredients for the drug that ultimately killed you in the same store. In there everything began and also ended. Truly poetic, isn't it? It's not his memories that cause him to stop though as he stares at the pharmacy. It's the sight of a familiar figure that has his body pausing and his throat tightening. He's rushing over to the store in the next second, almost experiencing a tunnel vision as he can only focus on you. He slams the package of pills you've purchased right out of your hands, visions of your dead body haunting him.

Mukami Kou

🎤​Kou has never really given much of a care that both of you were of the same gender. He's been sexually explored by other people as a young child and for that knows firsthand of the evil that others carry in their hearts, regardless of their sex. It's his ability to see through the true heart of people that has him enamored with you as he realises that you have a pure heart which allows him to give you his full trust. One day though you confess to him that your parents have become aware of your friendship with him, precisely of Kou's feelings for you which you remain oblivious to at the moment and have threatened to disinherit you if you do not distance yourself from him. That is when Kou makes a plot to get rid of your parents as he won't tolerate anyone to get in the way of him and you. All was carefully planned out. He'd lure you away before setting your parents house on fire at night so that they'd die in there yet you figure his plan out. The words you yell at him that night before rushing into the burning house will haunt him forever as you admit that you wish you'd never met him before you try to save your parents only to die together with them.

🎤​He could have stopped you. He should have stopped you. You were only a human after all whilst he is a vampire. It's your words that completely froze him though and disabled him to work properly as his mind went into numbing shock after having heard your words. He wanted you to take those words back yet you died in the fire and left those words that told him that he was unwanted by you as an eternal curse that has been sticking with him ever since. Those words echo inside his head and for the first years following your death they drag him down into a hysteric depression. He cannot go to sleep at all as your disappointed and angered face haunts his vision, your voice telling him that he is someone you never wished to have met over and over again so that he wakes up not even half an hour after he has gone to bed, in tears and babbling incoherent words. He writes a lot of songs about you but never finishes them as he either draws a blank and starts breaking down in tears or rips them apart as his emotions get the better of him. Not even his brothers can help to piece his broken self together.

🎤​He's sitting outside on that day, dull eyes observing a lake where the both of you used to hang out often back when you were still alive. He's on his own, something he hasn't been in decades as he hasn't left the mansion since your death and was too broken to be on his own which left his brothers no choice but look out more for him. There is nothing in particular on his mind as he gazes at the lake until a melody catches his ears. Normally he would have just blended it out like he has done music a lot in those years since your death yet there is something very familiar as he listens as someone plays the strings of the guitar. That's a melody you always used to play... Suddenly it's like someone lit a fire under him as he jumps up, eyes flying over the field surrounding the lake until he covers a small figure also sitting here, playing on a guitar they brought with them. Initially he wants to demand from where they know that melody as this is something that only belonged to you and for that shouldn't be played by anyone else but poisonous words die down when he catches a better sight of them and realises that it is you. He stands there motionlessly, listening to the song as tears start to escape his eyes.

Mukami Yuma

🌱​Yuma has been sceptical about the whole situation from the moment he found out that he had feelings for you. Not necessarily because the both of you were men as he had always been an outcast and would have been considered that all the more if the humans would have figured out that he was now also a vampire. It was more the aspect of being in love that made him somewhat doubtful as he had quite an iffy mindset about it all. You didn't know at that time that he was a vampire and he knew what the rest of the village you lived in thought of creatures of the night. Who was to tell that you wouldn't try to cast him out in the name of god as well if you were to discover his true nature? Unfortunately that was exactly what happened and your reaction was as fearful as expected as you instantly tried to get away from him. He tried to explain it to you, tried to get you to listen but you had been indoctrinated with the same nonsense all other villagers believed in. Shut up... He just wanted you to shut up for a moment as he pressed his hands over your mouth, applying too much pressure and accidentally breaking more than just a few bones that were the reason for your death.

🌱​It was on that day that he became aware just how much stronger he had gotten since he had been turned into a vampire as he held your limp body in his arms. He doesn't want to be consoled by any of his brothers though as he turns around or growls at them to shut up as soon as he senses that they want to talk with him about the accident. Yuma doesn't try to blame anyone else for this though as he acknowledges that this is solely his fault. Your reaction was to be expected and he should have known best just how much strength he possessed. There is no chance he wants to give himself to grieve though. He has never openly bemoaned anyone before and for that he doesn't quite know how to do so. Instead he spends a lot of time in his garden and tends to his vegetables and plants, though he can't help but always be reminded that those fragile things could be even easier ripped apart by his hands than you were. Yuma needs a long time until finally he starts cracking as he has just tried to bear the sorrow up until that point and even he is startled by the silent tears that drip down his face without any warning.

🌱​There are some pretty cherry blossom trees in a forest near the city and they have been there even longer than the village built nearby. Yuma visits them once a year when the pink and delicate flowers are in full bloom, a little tradition he has been carrying on even if you have been gone for over a century now. Some of the pink petals rain down on him on that night as he walks through the little valley of the trees, the fresh scent of the blossoming flowers an aroma that surrounds the entire place. At this late at night it is rather rare for people tos visit this place which is why he is mildly annoyed when he catches sight of someone sneaking around, his mood instantly ruined as he wanted to have a peaceful stroll for himself. Until a breeze passes through the forest, carrying next to the scent of cherry blossoms another aroma with it. His previously worsened mood is instantly replaced with shocked disbelief as he instantly recognises that smell. It only takes him a few large strides to close the distance between him and the other person. He suddenly appears behind you like a large and looming shadow, his eyes narrowed as he grabs one of your arms to prevent you from running.

Mukami Azusa

🔪​Azusa has never had the courage to tell you about his growing feelings for you. Yes, he has always been very clingy and attached to you but he has been like this even when his feelings for you were still largely platonic. His behavior did increase though when a different kind of love started blossoming inside of him. Truly, he doesn't care about who his darling is as long as he feels comforted and safe in their presence which is precisely what you give him. Perhaps if he would have found the courage to confess to you things would have turned out differently as he instead has to bear witness how someone else confesses their love to you before he does. He wants to plead you to not accept but his tongue feels like it has turned to led as he instead has to watch how you accept their confession and start a relationship with them. All he intended to do was to threaten your partner a bit yet they had to start acting so rudely and hurt his own feelings whilst flaunting that you only loved them before he started attacking them. You had heard the noises inside the house, tried to stop him and ended up taking the fatal blow.

🔪​His brothers find him sitting in the bloody mess of two corpses, his own body clinging to yours as he keeps on begging you to wake up again, whispering you that your now cold skin terrifies him just as much as the vacant expression in your eyes. They have to tear him carefully away from your body, something Azusa can only object weakly to as he begs his brothers to not separate you from him. He loses all will to live for a while as he asks his brothers shakily if they could stab him in the same place where he stabbed you, tears in his eyes as he admits that he was the one who killed you and even if his brothers do try to console him and tell him that it was a terrible accident, Azusa is inconsolable. He's closely monitored for a long time as his older brothers all fear that he might try to harm himself somehow. Azusa himself withdraws himself from reality as he spends most of the time hidden under his blanket, rarely getting up and not speaking for months. The only sounds he makes are those of silent sobs, the tears never seeming to dry off no matter how much and how long he cries quietly.

🔪​It takes him years before he gathers the strength to leave the mansion again and whilst he avoids the place where he took your life vehemently, he finds himself often returning to the location where he met you for the first time in an attempt to think of the happy memories. It's a random alleyway where you found him for the first place and offered ro bandage his wounds he had inflicted on himself on that day. As if hoping that you'll return if he does it again, Azusa often cuts himself in the same alleyway before sitting down and waiting there, looking like a wet cat with no place to return to. Some people do approach him but he ignores them since none of them are you and if they bother him too much normally all it takes is a rather dangerous look in his eyes and the flash of his knife for them to disappear. Then one day you do appear though, 80 years after your death and Azusa can barely believe what he is looking at as you ask him worriedly if he needs some band-aids for his cuts. In the next moment he is suddenly clinging to your legs, tears dropping down his eyes as he sobs out apologies for an accident you do not know of.

[graveshift-dialovers]

Princess and Staff au where the diaboys are princess y/n's bodyguards and butlers.

[cinnamonest]

Beleaguer

"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc

WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy

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‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’

You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.

You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.

You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.

“Oh my God.”

You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.

Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.

The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.

And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.

It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.

Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.

You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.

You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.

Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.

You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.

This was a way out. A miracle.

In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.

You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.

Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.

You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.

And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.

And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.

You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.

Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.

…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.

You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.

And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.

You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.

You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.

You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.

You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.

It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.

Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.

Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.

"Mm?"

You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."

You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"

"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.

"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.

"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.

"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."

Oh yes, you will.

Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.

Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.

There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.

There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.

The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.

You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.

Come on, get thirsty, drink it...

Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.

Come on, come on!

You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.

So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.

It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"

He was silent for a moment.

"...Nothing."

Ok. Good save.

You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.

You were fine for now— what is he doing.

You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.

Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other.  He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.

Oh.

His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"

Oh no.

"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."

You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.

"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.

He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.

"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"

"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."

"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.

But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.

You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.

That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.

But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.

The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.

You had not been an exception.

Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.

You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.

There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.

Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.

You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.

Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.

The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?

You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.

"You should finish it."

Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.

"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.

"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."

You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.

Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.

“Unless there's something wrong with it.”

Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."

His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."

The last two words came out firm. A command.

"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.

You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.

"...I'm sorry."

He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.

"Where is it?"

You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"

"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.

You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.

For a moment, you were silent.

"Tell me."

You tensed up, biting your lip.

You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.

At your hesitation, he said your name.

It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.

He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”

"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.

Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.

Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.

You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet  — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.

You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.

“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.

You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.

“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”

Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.

But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.

You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.

“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.

Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.

“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”

You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”

“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.

“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”

The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.

Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.

That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.

“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”

The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”

“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”

His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don't get an attitude with me.”

Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.

A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.

“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”

You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.

"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”

You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.

“Come here.”

A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.

You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.

Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”

You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.

It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.

For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.

"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.

You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.

The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.

Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.

And a moment was all you got.

You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.

“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”

“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.

The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.

You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.

You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.

Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.

You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.

“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”

You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.

You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”

“But I—”

You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.

“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”

Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.

“—if you could just—”

Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.

“—give it up—”

And yet another.

“—and learn to behave.”

Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.

“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”

But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.

“It’s supposed to.”

The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”

“You said that last time.”

Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.

“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”

The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.

“—on being stubborn.”

The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.

It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.

"I'm sorry!"

You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.

The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.

Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.

There was only a heavy sigh.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”

There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.

Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.

And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.

Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.

“Y-yes sir…”

Finally, the grip on your wrists released.

“Good.”

You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.

There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.

“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”

Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.

Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.

You'd glared, snapping at him.

What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?

The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.

Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.

It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.

“…”

Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.

Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.

You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”

You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.

“Wait, wait—”

You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.

"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.

You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."

"Just relax. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t just—gh!”

His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.

"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.

Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.

You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.

Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.

“Fight me off.”

With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.

“What? I don't— what are you—”

Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.

“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”

The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.

“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”

Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.

“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”

You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.

“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”

You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.

But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.

“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”

The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.

“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.

Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.

“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”

A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.

“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”

Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.

You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.

“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”

Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.

“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”

Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.

“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”

The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.

A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.

You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.

Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.

“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”

The only reply you got was a single word.

“Good.”

You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.

You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.

The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.

You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.

And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.

Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.

You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.

“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”

You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.

Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.

“This will be good for you.”

You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”

Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”

He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.

“So, it will calm you down.”

You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.

“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”

“You're being overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”

Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.

You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.

Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”

“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.

You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.

“Don't move around so much.”

Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.

“There is no way in hell I'm—”

Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.

“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”

You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.

“…No, sir…”

He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”

You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.

His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.

He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.

“Mm, sorry.”

The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.

Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.

“Night.”

You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Goodnight…”

There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.

You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.

You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.

[violetsaffron5]

Dirty Little Secret (1)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • Chapter 2 →

↳ 1 | Unholy

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Gojo Satoru is many things: family man, politician, someone the public believes they can trust. It’s how he’s gotten where he is in life. Hidden beneath the façade is a man with many guilty pleasures – you being one of them.

words: 7.3k

cw: explicit drugs use, mention of alcohol, infidelity (not on reader), vaginal fingering, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, exhibitionism

an: This was just going to be a oneshot based on the song "Unholy" by Sam Smith, but then I had an idea for a small part 2

an2.0: if you would like to read part 2, that one got tagged with a community lable. Please make sure you have those on, this post will tell you how to enable that as well.

His wife probably thought she was the luckiest woman in the world when he got down on one knee, professed his love and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.

She probably felt even luckier, everything going according to their life plan when she found out she was pregnant with his children, starting a loving family with one of the most prominent politicians Tokyo has to offer.

She’d kick him out if she ever knew the way you stand between his legs, moving your shoulders, chest and hips to the beat of the bass blasting in the club. The way his eyes watch your hands trailing the length of your body before putting his own on your skin.

She’d divorce him on the spot if she knew the way you grind on his hips, the way his fingers caress every inch of your skin when he comes to see you.

She would never let him touch her again if she knew how he touched you, in all the ways she won’t let him do to her, in all the ways he really wants, the ways he enjoys.

Of course you’re aware of the wife - it would be impossible not to be. The picture-perfect family, an ideal trophy wife, two children. That’s his spiel, how he got into office and maintained his position over the years. He’s a father, a family man; understands the struggle and just how hard it is to maintain a happy healthy family - just like the average working person.

A politician you can trust because he’s just like you.

You’ve never seen or met her, steering clear of anything that has to do with Satoru during the day, but from your understanding he spends a lot of time with his kids when he has free time in the mornings and afternoons.

In the evenings he finds himself with you. Long legs spread wide as he sits back on the plush couch, you dropping your hips down onto his, grinding on him until you feel his cock harden from your touch.

It’s a miracle she hasn’t found out about the shit Satoru does behind her back; it’s a miracle nobody has. Sure he tries to be as discreet as possible, entering clubs through the back, paying for private rooms, private dances all the while spending thousands on sex, drugs and alcohol.

That’s how the two of you met. You were on stage, twirling, spinning and sliding your way down and around a pole in the most provocative positions. Satoru walked in with his three best friends; a man with long raven locks, one with a scar over the right side of his lip, and another with several tattoos over his face.

Satoru immediately caught your attention, with his messy hair, white as freshly fallen snow hanging over his eyes, eyes that were covered by dark square sunglasses, shielding them from your view. You watched him lick his lips, talk to your manager and head to a room in the back with his friends.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel his gaze burning into you with every flip of your hair, shimmy of your waist and hips in his direction.

You didn’t realize who he was at this point, not that it has ever really mattered.

It started with him coming to see you, paying to have you as the lone private dancer - sometimes for just him, sometimes with his friends. He’d tip you an exorbitant amount each time, enough of you to buy the Gucci handbag you’ve had your eye on for some time.

Eventually, when he realized you figured out who he is and weren’t talking about the shit you’ve seen him do, he easily charmed you with his honeyed words and wicked ways, inviting you to continue to the party elsewhere when your performances had ended.

Satoru likes to spend money, always seems to have too much of it, if the tips he leaves you with are anything to judge him by. Always enough to buy the latest Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Versace without batting an eye.

All because you’re so good to him, he says.

He likes to get his hands on the finest white powders money can buy; likes to snort lines off your tits before rolling the remaining into dainty joints for you to smoke; likes to watch you with his own lazy, crooked smile as the smooth burn fills your lungs.

You’re consistent, staying out of his life and daily affairs. It’s part of what he likes so much about you.

You never ask for more, knowing he’s not willing to give it. It’s why he keeps coming back to you, there’s no desire to be a part of the drama that would ensue if anyone outside of his circle of friends ever found out about you.

It’s why you had no problem signing the NDA he presented on your first night out together.

Satoru knows when he needs it, you’ll be there; when he wakes in the morning, you’ll be gone. Not wanting any part of the lives you lead outside of the clubs and hotel rooms you frequently find yourselves in.

The bright lights from the city faded from the rear view mirror some time ago. Things are different tonight, seemingly calmer than you’ve ever experienced before with the man sitting to your right over the year you’ve been seeing each other.

He shifts gears while humming along to the tune playing softly in the background as the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. 

The car is extravagant. It suits him and you wouldn’t expect anything less to be honest. It’s the kind of car where the doors open up, rather than out, the leather seats are a dark black while the exterior is a stark white matching his hair.

The small space smells like a mix of his cologne, bergamot and honey, along with the perfume you always put on before going out with him.

This is the longest you’ve ever spent in his vehicle, unless he’s pulled off to the side of the road or in an abandoned parking lot either with you on his lap or spread out in the back seat as he fucks into you. 

Satoru hasn’t spoken a lot tonight, just asked if you wanted to hang out after work and ushered you into his car on an empty street like usual. Obviously he’s taking you away tonight but you’re not sure where and trying not to care too much, so you don’t ask.

Doing that would change the aloof nature of your relationship and you’re not ready for any of those dynamics to be different, nor do you think he would be receptive to it.

“I can’t stay long,” he breaks the silence first, pulling into a hotel roughly forty five minutes away on the outskirts of Tokyo, “and I need to be sober. But, you can have fun and I’ll drive you home later.”

Satoru’s never taken you home before, though with his connections and power you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew where you live regardless. When you’ve stayed the night together before, you’re always up early and make sure to leave before he wakes up. Not only because you shouldn’t be with him, but also because you’ve never been one to stick around for awkward morning conversations or expectations.

You nod with a quiet “okay,” while he hands you a basic black face mask while putting on his own. He also takes off his tie, throwing it in his pocket and undoing a few of the top buttons on his shirt before putting on a matching black sock hat to cover his hair.

Stepping out of the car, you adjust your tiny black dress and hair before looping your arm in with Satoru’s making your way into the glamorous hotel, past the concierge and to the elevator.

Even when trying to be discreet, Satoru and his friends can’t help the luxuries they like to surround themselves with. He says he can’t stay and has to be sober, but that didn’t stop any of them from choosing a hotel with chandeliers, gold decor and marble floors covering every inch of the lobby.

When you get to the top floor of the hotel, there are only a few doors in the hall. Satoru knocks on one a few times before it’s quickly opened, allowing the two of you in. The space is more akin to an apartment than a hotel room - a small kitchen off to one side, a large bedroom with its own door separating the space from what serves as the living room.

There are floor to ceiling windows covering every inch of wall space, overlooking the small, lively city below. Chandeliers hang in this room too, the bathroom has similar marble flooring to the lobby with a shower that could easily fit ten, along with a jacuzzi.

Suguru is sitting on a chair reclined back with a woman who could easily be a model on his lap. He has a joint between his fingers, bringing it to his lips and taking a drag before holding it up to hers. She accepts with a grin, hand on his chest while the other fiddles with his hair.

Toji and Sukuna are sitting on a love seat next to Suguru, doing what they always seem to be doing - cutting too many lines of a soft white powder on a mirrored plate with a credit card before rolling one of their bills and inhaling, taking turns.

There are several other women in the room with a few other guys you don’t recognize - they’re all busy grinding to the beat of the music playing, glasses of champagne in their hands.

You never know who Toji and Sukuna are going to have with them - it’s seemingly a new girl each time you’re around. Aside from yourself and the girl on Suguru’s lap you’ve seen a few times, you’re the only constant.

Then again, you don’t know what goes on, on the other nights of the week that Satoru doesn’t come to whisk you away. You’ve never bothered to ask, never wanting to know how many other women he has, just like you, waiting to have his attention for the night.

Toji walks over, the mountain of a man that he is, emerald green eyes gleaming with mischief as he looks you up and down, biting his scarred lip before saying, “lookin’ great, as always.”

You’re smiling, unable to help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from his intense gaze, but don’t respond because Satoru has moved his hand to your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“Can you fuck off and leave my girl alone?” Satoru says without a trace of humor and you’re reeling more from his words than you should be.

His girl.

You don’t let yourself think too hard about it. You know what this is, what it always will be.

What it can never be.

You’re shrugging as Satoru pulls you away, moving his hand from your waist down to your ass, grabbing a handful before removing his hand completely, sitting on the couch next to Suguru, across from where Sukuna was before, who is now missing.

Satoru likes it when you wear the things you buy with his money - showing him you appreciate what he’s given you. Every once in a while you’ll buy a new handbag or jewelry to show off but mainly you spend it on little dresses to flaunt around in front of him, something easily accessible and removable, the way he likes it.

Sitting on the couch, resting your head on Satoru’s shoulder listening to the way his voice reverberates through his chest as he talks with Suguru, you absentmindedly draw little shapes on his chest wondering why he brought you with him tonight. The only thing you’ve been doing since you got here is listen to them discuss things you’re not interested in talking or hearing about, things that have to do with their work.

A soft quiet sigh leaves your lips as you watch Suguru pack and roll another joint for himself and his guest. Satoru hears and cocks his head in your direction before capturing your lips with his own quickly.

“You can join them. I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“It’s not fun without you,” you’re running your thumb across his lower lip, wiping away the lipstick that’s smeared on the corner. He grins before biting the tip of your thumb, swirling his tongue around it.

After a few moments, you pull your thumb away and he clicks his tongue before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and a little clear plastic baggie with a white powder that was embedded deep within, “this would be fun for you. Just need a little.”

Your brows are furrowed; it’s a different soft crystalline powder than you’ve seen him have before, “what is it?”

“A stimulant,” he replies generically, his grin is wide as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. Satoru tells you to take the water bottle that’s on the table beside you and drink it because you’ll want to stay hydrated and then to wet the tip of one of your fingers with your tongue.

You grin, looking up at him through thick lashes before putting your index finger in his mouth. He chuckles before rolling his tongue on it a few times. Listening to his instructions, you dip your finger into the baggie and suck the powder off - it doesn’t taste like anything. All you’re able to taste is the slight spearmint flavor from his spit.

After dipping your finger back into the baggie you hold it up for him. He watches you, eyes dark, stern and unamused. Satoru sees the way your shoulders slump slightly when he doesn’t accept it and the way your lower lips juts out slightly, pouting - it’s barely noticeable, but he sees it.

You’ve never asked for more from him over the last year, and you’ve been so good to him during that time too.

“Fuck, okay, but this is it.”

“Okay.” You reply quietly, the corner of your lip tugging upwards.

The boys continue their conversation and you’re not sure how much time has passed but as you watch Satoru’s sharp jaw as he speaks, the planes of his cheeks and slope of his nose you also realize his pupils have dilated tremendously. They’re more black than blue at this point.

You’ve also noticed you’ve been drawing little circles on the palm of your hand this entire time - the touch of your own skin feels so good that you can’t help but reach for Satoru and run your nails up and down the length of his arm. He tilts his head towards you, smirks and pulls you closer so your legs are resting atop his as he follows suit on your bare legs.

The contact feels incredible, like little tingles of electricity each time his nails run up and down the length of your legs slowly. Every once in a while he moves his hand up your thigh, towards the hem of your dress which makes you gasp, more and more slick pooling in the center of your panties with each pass of his hand.

“So, the wife is finally suspicious about where you go at night, huh?” Suguru asks smoothly as Toji and Sukuna come back over and sit on the small couch across from you.

Sukuna lights another joint, taking a long drag before adding, “everyone is suspicious about what we’re up to. That’s nothing new.”

Satoru sighs before leaning his head against the back of the couch, “just need to make sure nothing gets out. It’ll affect more than just us and our families if it does.”

“Awe,” you coo, “trouble in paradise?”

Satoru is snide with his remark as he glares at you from the corner of his cold blue eyes, “why? Wish I was married to you?”

You grin, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “you wish.”

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, “hiding me from anyone?”

Satoru grabs the little bag of powder and opens it again, so you do the same as you did last time; lick the tip of your index finger, dip it in and place a little on your tongue before doing the same for him.

“Nope, not worth it.”

This is the first time either of you have really acknowledged your lives outside of what you do when you’re together, typically avoiding any and all topics that have to do with personal lives.

Tonight is different and you don’t know why though you’re not exactly putting in any effort to change it.

Satoru has never worried or cared if his friends made a comment about how good you look or showed interest in hooking up with you but tonight he’s more possessive of your interactions. Holding you closer, letting details of his family and day to day life slip in conversation like he never has before.

“This feels so good,” you rasp out, taking in the feeling of his hands moving along your legs and mostly thighs at this point, so you move to straddle him. Satoru runs his large hands up your thighs slowly and under your dress to your ass, gripping hard as you press your body up against his chest, “need you.”

“I can’t tonight,” it’s a whisper filled with desperation because he wants to.

Satoru’s grip on your hips tightens as he lowers you down onto his lap so you can feel just how badly he wants you too. A whimper leaves your lips when he guides you to roll your hips on top of his before moving his hands to the insides of your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He hisses when he feels your arousal running down your leg and quickly loses his resolve, moving your panties to the side and running two fingers through your soaked folds.

It’s easy to forget, with the way he’s easily able to insert two fingers into your pussy and find your sweet spot, that the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room. Foreheads pressed together, mouths agape as you cup his cheek, rutting your hips in time with his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the brink of your release.

Satoru moves a hand from your hip to your throat, squeezing gently at the base while your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Each touch, each pass of his fingers on your g-spot is euphoric.

There’s slick coating his hand, up to his wrist - you’re wet, wetter than you ever have before and you’re doing everything in your power to move your hips with his hand so his palm stays tightly pressed against your clit. You’re mewling, whimpering, never wanting this feeling to end, almost ready to beg him to keep you like this forever.

You’re so taken back with each others touch, the way you hold him close, card your fingers through his hair and drag your nails through his undercut; the way your breaths are mingling with one another as you’re so overcome with desire and pleasure you can’t even warn him that the thread barely keeping you together is about to snap before you’re moaning out his name and he’s whispering “fuck, that’s it,” as you absolutely gush on his hand.

Capturing your lips again the kisses are messy and needy until you’re both snapped back to reality by the sounds of Toji laughing, “damn, that was quite the show. You gonna need some help with her?”

Satoru sighs, running his thumb across your lips before moving you off his lap and standing, entwining his fingers with yours, “fuck off, Fushiguro. Find someone your own age to hang out with.”

He leads you out of the room and back down to the lobby of the hotel. You’re sure you’re about to leave for the night, before he lets temptation ruin him but rather than leading you out, he stops at the receptionist's desk, where a young man is standing, asking for a room.

There’s a smile that spreads across your face and you can’t even help it, a feeling of superiority spreading through your body that he’s choosing to spend the night with you, rather than whatever obligation was holding him back earlier.

“Hi,” you smile and wave at the receptionist while biting your lip. His eyes are flicking between you and Satoru as he looks for an open room.

It’s thrilling, being out with Satoru - there’s always that underlying thought, the excitement around potentially getting caught, even though that isn’t something either of you actually want.

Your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, either because of the reality of the two of you being caught due to a snap decision on his part to stay the night or because of the drugs you took earlier, you’re not sure but you don’t let yourself dwell on it.

Satoru tilts his head in your direction, eyeing you up and down with a frown, “don’t fucking flirt with another man in front of me.”

“Oh, jealousy is not a good look on you.”

Before Satoru is able to reply, the receptionist cuts in, handing Satoru the keycard to a room along with a pamphlet of information about amenities the hotel provides. When the receptionist finishes his spiel Satoru carefully looks him over.

“If anything leaks from here, I’ll know it was from you and I will make your life a living hell. I will take anything and everything you hold dear to your heart and ruin it. You will be nothing but a broken man by the time I’m done with you. Understood?”

The man stands with wide eyes as he replies in a hurried, shaky voice, “o-okay. Understood.”

And then Satoru grins like an angel before pulling you along with him, to take you up to the room and fuck you like the devil he truly is.

He pulls you into the elevator, hiding both of your faces from the camera by pushing you into the wall of the confined space, lips latched while your tongues glide against one another, hips rutting into the other looking for stimulation.

When the elevator dings, he stumbles backwards dragging you along with him, keeping your lips connected until right outside the space where he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist while he pulls the keycard out of his pocket. You busy yourself with kissing along his jaw and neck while he finds the room you were assigned, swiping the card and kicking the door closed once he’s walked through the threshold.

The room is large, and grand but nowhere near as extravagant as the one you were in earlier, not that it really matters considering the only focus is the plush king size mattress he lets you softly fall onto.

Satoru doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning his shirt and slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room while you slip the dress off, along with your panties, waiting in the center of the bed for him to join you.

And he does, with a salacious grin spread across his face crawling over to you, pushing you further into the mattress while you spread your legs, feeling his long, thick cock press against your soaked entrance.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp out, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek, “condom.”

He stares at you like you’ve just shot him square in the chest before furrowing his brows, “No. We’ll- I’ll- fuck- I’ll pull out, I have to feel you.”

Satoru doesn’t have many rules - first and foremost, above all else, stay out of the limelight and his family's business and do not talk to anyone about the details of your relationship with him without a lawyer present if anyone should find out.

After that it’s simple, really only two other rules to abide by; take your birth control pills on time and wear a condom. And he’s been adamant about that until tonight. He’s always stated he didn’t want to risk getting anything and passing it to his wife because that would be a fucking nightmare to try and explain his way out of, but it would be an even bigger problem if he were to get you pregnant.

All of that seems to be out of the window tonight because he effortlessly pushes in past your entrance. He moans sinfully at the feeling while your eyes roll to the back of your head and arch your back, “you’re so wet, this- oh fuck- fuck, you feel so good.”

“What about your wife?” You manage to gasp out, mouth open, eyes half lidded, nails digging into his shoulder as he moves so painfully slowly that it’s amazing.

The heightened sense of touch, the feeling of him with nothing in between is intoxicating, makes your head a little dizzy, feeling every inch of his length as he pulls out and pushes back in.

“You jealous, baby?” He mutters, eyes hazy with lust, “want me to fuck you the way I do my wife?”

He pulls almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours causing you to stutter out, “fuck, n-no, no.”

“Think I’ll leave my wife, leave my family for a stripper?” His cock twitches at his words but he doesn’t move his hips again, doesn’t give you what you need so you wrap your legs around his waist and rock your hips against him the best you’re able, “I’ve fucking thought about it, having you like this every day.”

His large hands span your hips, halting your movements as he sits back up and pulls out to your dismay.

“Beg me.” He demands, running the red tip of his cock across your hypersensitive folds, nudging your clit a few times in the process just to watch the way you squirm below him, “beg me to fuck you.”

He takes a handful of your tits massaging them roughly before leaning down, swirling his tongue on your hardened nipple. He tweaks the other at the same time he tugs the other between his teeth.

“S’toru,” you whine needy and shamelessly, “I- fuck- please, please fuck me. Just- want to feel you, need you, please.”

Satoru watches you through his lashes the way you wriggle and writhe with your nipple tugged gently between his teeth. Cock is straining, leaking precum from the slit on the sheets of the bed - he’s just as needy as you, dying to be touched, to get the stimulation he’s craving just as badly as you but he’s being incredibly patient tonight.

His length is longer, harder and thicker than usual, twitches with your words and every whimper that leaves your lips but he still doesn’t fuck you - he’s waiting. Waiting for you to say he can fuck you, unimpeded and raw.

“Please, Satoru, baby,” tears are forming in the corner of your eyes, threatening to break free if he doesn’t work to extinguish the fire that’s burning in the center of your belly, to give you the release your body is screaming at you to have, “fuck me, please- so hard- always wanted to feel you-”

He can’t hold back anymore, not when you’re laying so pretty on the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks and begging him to give you what he knows only he can. Before you’ve realized what happened, he has you flipped over lining his cock with your entrance before slamming his hips flush with yours.

You cry out his name as he moves his hips with reckless abandon, finally, finally feeding the flames of desire burning in your core. His crystalline eyes are hooded with lust and desire as he grabs your hair at the roots and tugs harshly, other hand on your hip helping keep you in place as he pumps his hips faster and harder.

“You take all of me so fucking well,” he moans, “nobodies ever taken all of me.”

Wet, lewd squelching noises fill the space of the hotel room. You’re so wet from the jolt of electricity that thrums through your body with every touch and every time the tip of his cock grazes your sweet spot, and you’re only getting wetter as he continues to fuck into your rougher and rougher.

You know he’s comparing you to his wife when he babbles aimlessly like this, but you’ve learned to not let it bother you, not to think too much on it. After all, he’s spending his free time with you.

Sex with Satoru has always been good, he always seemed to know what you needed before you did, but tonight is different. Better somehow.

It’s all so much, so euphoric that there’s no way you’re able to hold back your impending orgasm; unable to help the way your thighs shake when the tip of his length kisses your cervix so deliciously you know it’ll ache in the morning. 

The moment Satoru drapes his body over yours, fingers drawing small tight circles on your clit is the moment the flames erupt, warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins as your walls spasm and constrict around his cock so hard he has to slow his pace and take a deep shaky breath in order to not follow along right beside you.

He lets go of your hair, kissing your shoulders and center of your back several times before sitting back on the balls of his feet before taking both of your wrists in one of his large hands and holding them behind your back.

Satoru moves his hips slowly a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush with his chest. 

“Like it when I fuck you like the filthy slut you are?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before hooking his fingers in your mouth turning your attention to him. Your tongue immediately finds his fingers, swirling over them as you look up to him, eyes so dark and filled with lust you can barely see any of the color anymore. He lets a tail of saliva fall from his mouth into yours and you moan the moment it hits your tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He lets go of your wrist, splaying one hand over your stomach to feel the bulge from his cock each time he recklessly fucks into you, while the other finds its way to your breast, squeezing and gripping as he looses himself to pleasure inside of you.

There’s a mirror across from you, above the dresser in front of the bed - Satoru’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink, down his neck to the top of his chest. Lips parted with eyes on you as he watches and listens to the way you moan and whine from each stroke of his long cock.

“Satoru, cum in me,” his hips falter at your words, “fill me up, please.”

“Baby, I can’t.” But he absolutely wants to.

He pushes you back down on the bed, hand in the center of your back keeping your face pressed against the silky sheets. He takes the opportunity to grip your ass and spread your cheeks, watching the way you take all of him down the base without complaint. He lets his spit fall from his mouth, and watches the way you jolt when it makes contact with your other entrance unexpectedly and slides down to his cock, mixing with your arousal.

Satoru feels the way your pussy has a death grip on his cock again, knows you’re about to cum and he can’t bring himself to pull out. Not when you look and sound so pretty for him, not when you were literally begging for him to cum inside you earlier.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he’s moaning at the thought, getting lost inside you, “I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you so fucking full of me.”

His words are enough to set you off, having your pussy tightening around him like a noose as he paints your walls white, letting out a guttural groan as he rocks his hips back and forth, working you both through your releases.

There’s so much dripping out from between where you’re connected that his efforts to keep it all inside are fruitless. The view is absolutely obscene, cum mixed together and dripping onto the bed sheets below, the sounds are vulgar but it doesn’t stop him from fucking it deep and deeper inside, rolling his neck and head back through the hypersensitivity of his his tip.

Eventually he rolls you over onto your back, both panting, trying to catch your breaths. He’s still half hard, both hissing at the sensation when he runs his cock up through your puffy folds, dragging his wet, heavy cock on your stomach when he leans up and places several languid kisses to the center of your chest.

He licks a strip from your chest to jaw before sucking several small red starbursts on your neck, shoulder and down to your tits. Your nails are on his shoulder and back digging into his skin - he groans, loves the feeling, the sharp to dull pain that comes with it.

There’s been an unspoken rule between the two of you, no marks. Not on him at least. It’s more important his body be free from any unknown scratches and little red marks, should the press decide to have a field day seeing them and decide to investigate.

“Love leaving marks on you,” he whispers, voice low, gravely with desire again. “Everyone knows you belong to someone else, don’t they?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me baby, who do you belong to?”

“You. Satoru, I’m yours.” You answer a little too honestly, holding his face a little too lovingly. He groans at the confirmation, knows he shouldn’t have made you say it but couldn’t resist hearing it.

You place several kisses on his lips and cheek. Everything is getting progressively sloppier, starting to come down from your respective highs. Satoru’s eyes are half lidded, not only from lust but from a tiredness that’s starting to seep through.

He returns the kisses languidly before you kiss along his jaw, sucking a small spot just under his jaw, nipping at the skin playfully a few times in the process. He doesn’t stop you because he knows that despite not being able to give you all of himself, he’s yours too.

Probably even more than he’s his wifes.

Slowly, he presses his tip against your entrance again, easily slipping past the ring of muscles while you wrap your legs around his waist. He hooks one of his arms under your knee, pushing it up so he’s able to get deeper.

Satoru fucks into you hard and fast like this. It’s messy, wet and sticky with your mixed arousal and cum connecting the two of you. Slick wet sounds fill the room again until you’re both on the brink of another imminent release.

“Think I might fucking love you.” He admits, voice low, filled with lust.

You want to say it back, but you know it’s not true, the shit he says when he’s buried ten inches deep in your cunt, cock bruising your cervix as he fucks into you.

“You’re so wet, already so full of me,” he moans at the thought of cumming inside you again. “G-gonna give you a baby, gonna give you part of me.”

“S’toru,” you gasp at his lust filled desires and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want that too so you move your hips up wantonly, eagerly, “yes, please.”

It’s a bad fucking idea, to let him say these things, to agree with him. But you let him move your knees back to your shoulders, holding the heels of your feet for leverage as he presses his hips into you until you’re both cumming again.

He collapses on top of you, heavy breaths fanning your ear. You lay like this, chests rising and falling against one another until you’re overcome by sleep.

There’s light peeking in through semi-closed curtains, a beam of light hitting your face at the perfect angle, right into your eye. Knitting your brows together, you stifle a yawn before stretching out, feeling a warm body pressed into yours.

Your eyes flutter open, focusing on the dim light of the hotel room. It’s the same as it was last night, pristine, perfect. All except the sheets and blankets that are askew on the bed from your passion filled night.

The silky white sheet is covering most of you, but only on Satoru up to his hips. He must have gotten hot last night, threw everything off him in his sleep.

Looking up to him, his eyes are still closed, eyes moving slightly behind his lids. Soft white lashes flutter slightly with each movement while his arm that’s wrapped around your waist twitches slightly.

Your naked body is pressed against him, skin to skin. One leg is tangled between his while one hand is on his chest.

You let yourself take in the sight, not something you allow yourself to do frequently, but last night was indulgent, so this morning might as well be too. Satoru looks peaceful when he’s asleep. He’s always so calm and collected when you’re with him but never quite like this.

Truly without a care in the world with his eyes closed. No stress about someone finding out about you, exposing his lies and his secret life.

You stay like this for too long, watching him sleep, letting your index finger run along the scar on his chest. He says your name quietly, and you smile, just slightly at the thought of him dreaming about you.

You’re still high, you can tell, feeling light and airy and great about everything, but you know better than to let it last. You’ll be coming down again soon and everything will feel mundane, pointless, bothersome.

So you go to move, push yourself away from him to do your normal routine of getting ready for the day, pretending you were never here with him. His grip around your waist tightens, halting your movements.

“Stay…” Satoru whispers so quietly it’s barely audible.

Pursing your lips you look up at him, eyes still closed, no identifying feature signifying he’s woken up and is really, truly asking you to stay by his side, despite all the shit that would come along with it.

Your heart is beating fast, irregular, but you’re sure it’s from the stimulant. It has to be. Any other reason would be less than ideal.

After all, he probably thinks you’re his wife right now. Laying next to him, snuggled in close like she probably is every other day of the week.

You let out a single low wry chuckle at the morbid thought, licking your lips and shaking your head and whispering, “that’s not a good idea.”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and you mentally kick yourself for leaving the incredibly obvious fucking hickey just below his jaw. Satoru’s grip loosens just enough for you to wriggle out of his grasp.

Something you quickly learned after getting involved with Satoru is to have a bag packed at all times. That way in the mornings you can shower, removing the sweat and scents of not only the alcohol or drugs but also his cologne from your skin. It’s important to make it appear like you were never with him, to never leave in the same clothes you’ve arrived in.

After showering, you do your normal daily routine. Moisturizers, hair products, make up. You bring it all and you do it all - it would be no different if you were sitting at home, getting ready for your day.

That’s all this is, isn’t it? Just a routine. Meet a man, party, have mind blowing sex, act as if you’ve never met each other afterwards. Over and over again.

When you step back into the living space of the room, Satoru is no longer lying on his back, but rather his stomach, face buried into the pillow you used last night. His own overnight back is open, evident he had rifled through it for some reason when you were in the shower before climbing back into the bed, ignoring your presence.

Sitting on top is a black Versace sweatshirt. Looking back over to him, he’s unmoving aside from his back raising and falling slightly with each breath. Pursing your lips you quickly decide to grab it out of his bag and throw it into yours.

It’ll smell like him, even if only for a few days.

Picking up your garments from last night, you throw them into your bag before pulling out oversized sunglasses to hide your obviously still blown pupils and throw them on before turning the knob of the door to exit the room.

You don’t bother turning around, checking to see if Satoru watched you walk out. There’s no point. You know he didn’t. This is all routine.

After ensuring the door closes completely, you take a few steps down the hall while the elevator dings and a woman steps out of it.

She’s tall, in a pressed black pencil skirt and blazer. She looks classy with the way her ebony hair falls over her shoulders in soft curls.

She heads down the direction you’re coming from. Neither of you acknowledge the other as you pass by, on your own separate missions. Your breathing picks up, and the air feels tense after noticing the scowl spread across her features. And you all but jump at the sound of her banging on the room door you just walked out of moments prior.

You press the button to the elevator a few times, palms growing more clammy by the second, afraid the two of you might have been caught, that the boy from the front desk didn’t heed Satoru’s warning.

You watch from the corner of your eye as Satoru groggily opens the door, complaining about the loud sound. At least he had enough sense to put on a shirt beforehand, hiding the marks you left across his chest and back.

“You missed our counseling appointment. Is this some kind of joke to you?”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes adjusting to the bright light of the hall and you could swear his eyes flicker to you for a split second before finally speaking.

“No, of course not. I went out with the guys last night and lost track of time. You know how it is.”

“All too well.”

She pushes past him into the room and you know he didn’t have enough time to do any clean up of his own, that the room still reeks of alcohol, sweat and sex. And if she even bothers to look around, he’ll have to explain why the shower is wet from having been used when he clearly hasn’t washed up.

“Good lord. What have you been doing here? And what is on your neck?”

His hand goes to his jaw instinctively to try to hide the mark you left last night, “uh, cigarette burn. The guys were messing around last night and I got mixed up in the fray.”

He doesn’t seem to be too worried about his wife’s line of questioning because he looks over to you, just as the elevator dings, giving you a smirk.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, biting your lip as you return the sly smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open knowing he can’t and won’t stay away from you for long.

Taglist: @petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin

[krispycreamcake]

hello! I really like your writing! If you don't mind may I please request headcanons on how laito would react to someone (a bride or classmate or something) who always tried to make him laugh by telling him jokes and stuff. please and thank you!

Headcanons on how Laito would react to someone always trying to cheer him up

🃏- Now everyone knows Laito is always in the mood for fun

🃏- Well to be fair, his fun and other people's fun are two entirely different types of fun

🃏- Usually he likes to mentally mess with you, tease your mind, make your head spin because he gets a sick thrill out of it

🃏- That isn't to say he's not one to indulge another person's idea of what it's like to humour oneself

🃏- Be it a bride, a friend, a classmate, he'll lend you an ear

🃏- Don't be fooled, his patience is extremely thin and unless you're the peak of comedy, he'll get bored quickly and easily turn the conversation around into something that benefits him

🃏- Now, if you're strong willed and can ignore his words and actions, he'll respect that

🃏- If anything, it makes you more interesting, which then makes him want to listen to more of your futile attempts to make him laugh or sport a smile

🃏- Let's say it's lunch hour and you're sitting at his table. Depending on your relationship, he'll either leave you and your jokes high and dry to go make out with some girl in a broom closet, or he'll entertain you

🃏- Over time of course, his tolerance grows and he doesn't believe himself when he eventually starts enjoying your company and your positive nature

🃏- He's grown accustomed to having you around and subconsciously counts on you to improve his mood

🃏- Maybe he got a scolding from Reiji just before school and he's ticked off, tell him how he looks emo, you might get a smirk (you will)

🃏- He'll probably minimize this feeling as nothing other than boredom (he's afraid to admit he doesn't feel completely numb around you)

🃏- It's such an odd thing for someone to genuinely want to make his day better by giving him something without him having to do anything in return

🃏- See this is where it'll kinda fuck him up

🃏- It's not about the jokes or the great atmosphere you seem to carry around yourself whenever you guys are together

🃏- It's the fact that he's having trouble coping with the idea that someone wants him to feel good without the use of sex

🃏- So maybe you're trying to use him, get closer to him and when he's his most vulnerable, you'll strike at him when he's fully exposed

🃏- He cannot have that be a possibility, he'll lose his shit

🃏- A part of him is glad that despite all his bullshit, you're there for him in your own way

🃏- Another part of him is telling him to run far far away

🃏- By attempting to getting close with Laito, even if it's something as simple as jokes and smiles, he'll consider it a major red flag and might not know what to do with himself

🃏- After all, what if he's wrong and he just pushed away the only person that cared about him?

🃏- Humans, women, people, feelings, society. It's all just too confusing for him

🃏- "Ne~ Bitch-chan, you're so quiet. Ah- I get it, do I need to tell you a joke today? Or should we improve your mood some other way hm?"

[animeyanderelover]

Request: Can I get a yandere ciel and yandere sakamaki with male reader? It's not homophobic but like male reader is just... Confused on how they can fall for a guy. Specifically him please and thank you!

So, I already did something very similar to this before with Ciel and the Sakamaki brothers so I will only add the characters in here that I haven’t done in this previous request.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, harrassment, violence, isolation, abduction, death, male s/o

But you're a guy!

Ayato Sakamaki

🥇​Ayato is already plenty confused himself about the fact that he fell for another guy yet obviously he won't allow you to express the same feelings that he is currently experiencing. In fact he actually gets rather pissed whenever you express any confusion about how you can fall for another man as this isn't the gender you find yourself attracted to. Obviously a part of him is sane enough to realise that he can't just expect you to flip your entire sexuality overnight yet another part of him just hates seeing you being all bewildered as you look at him. Would you stop looking at him like this?! It is interesting to see the mixture of anger, confusion and disbelief playing out in Ayato as he struggles for a while to comprehend what he is even supposed to do with you, although he is the one who abducted you in the first place. Sometimes he starts ranting about how he is better than some dumb, emotional girl anyways before he realises what he is doing and snaps at you to stop laughing even if you don't even do that, his head threatening to start smoking with the embarrassment he is feeling in that moment. He's still going to some lengths to establish himself as the dominant part in this relationship.

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸​Whilst a man isn't his usual target group, Kanato accepts the situation quickly as he doesn't question his attachment too much. That implies by no means that you can even think about relaxing though because he is screwed over in his head. Kanato is extremely jealous, all the more whenever he picks up the signals that you do not consider him as someone you could ever love. Whenever you do as much as looking in the direction of some other girl, he murders her and in the worst case he is even gifting you strands of her hair, her eyes or even shows you the doll he turned her into before he burns it down in front of you so that he can erase her image permanently from your mind. There are some things that don't change, regardless of what gender his darling is though. He will still insist on matching plushies, the tea parties and the outfits to doll you up, though since you are a man he will find you other pretty clothes that aren't dresses. His proneness to violence stays prominent though, especially if you dare to question how you could feel attracted to another man. The pain is the least scary part though as you instead dread it much more when he asks you for names of women who must have seduced you.

Laito Sakamaki

🎹​Normally he has always gone after women and his attraction for a guy is fairly new to him yet he takes it as an exciting and new challenge. There is a new kind of thrill as he goes after you and he doesn't shy away from being a pervert to you as he has been to the women in his life as he enjoys exploring the body of a man for the first time in his life. He's aware of your attractio solely lying in the opposite gender yet he doesn't care about that piece of information as he just goes after what he wants. If you have a silly crush on a girl, he will simply bully her until she avoids you. He hangs around you all the time, prepared to spew hurtful and insulting words to every girl you show an interest in. Lashing out at him is like giving him what he wants as he can't help but be entertained by almost all emotions you display. This openly flirtatious and seducing behavior continues even after the abduction, though now you really have no way avoiding him anymore. You are instead stuck with Laito all of the time as he clings to you, the clinginess only fueled by his intrigue that he fell in love with a man. Now both of you have a lot of time to get to know each better though~

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: May I request Platonic Mukamis with a little sister?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, clinginess, delusional mindset, isolation, manipulation, threats, self-harming tendencies

Little sister

None of the Mukami brothers are related by blood yet their bond surpasses that of even siblings who are related. They have been sticking together ever since they found each other and fought for their survival in the unforgiving world. They find you when you are but a mere baby, a few months old at best, left behind in a side street as if you are disposable trash. Whilst Yuma and Ruki show some hesitation as they don't know how capable they will be to provide for you, especially since you are so young and dependent, Kou and Azusa are immediately enraptured when you look at them with innocent doe eyes. Azusa even starts crying as he begs his older brothers to take you in and ultimately Ruki gives in to his pleas. It is always difficult but they try their best to cater to your needs as good as they can and even give you a name after a lot of small arguments about what name fits you best. Your wellbeing is prioritised over even their own as your presence is like rays of sunlight, warm and welcoming. When Karlheinz offers to transform them, all of them immediately take the offer as they realise that this is their chance to give you the treatment that you deserve.

Ruki Mukami

📘​Even if Ruki has expressed his doubts when the four brothers found you back when they were still humans, he has grown into the role of your oldest brother. Perhaps even a little bit too well. The fact that he didn't immediately want to take you under their care when you were still a baby is something he hides from your knowledge even so many years later and he has urged his brothers to do the same. He fears that if you were to ever find out about his initial hesitance, you would turn your back on him and favor his younger brothers over him. He takes immense pride in the fact that he is your oldest brother as he likes to treat it as if it would give him some special rights in comparison to his younger brothers. Those special rights include making most of the decisions for you as he claims that as the oldest he naturally has the most experience and knows what would be best for you in every situation of your life. If you have anything that worries you, Ruki encourages you to seek him out. He is the one who oversees your homeschooling as his brother and him have all agreed that attending school with humans is far too dangerous for you. He can teach you all you need to know.

📘​From all of your brothers, Ruki is the one who places the most restrictions on you, even as you grow older. His motivations lie largely within his paranoia and his overprotective tendencies because even if you are a half-vampire just like them, he can't stop himself from still seeing that little, toothless baby in you that smiled whenever she saw his face. It is only natural for you to grow older and more independent yet Ruki finds himself despising that process as he worries that one day you may intend to leave the mansion and go on your own adventures. You are his little light and you have always been and he has always been your big brother and intends for you to continue thinking that way. He is quite adamant on family events where all Mukami siblings participate and his brothers have never once rejected that idea because it means spending precious time with their adored, little sister. The happiness you five share is not an illusion and he really wants you to realise that whenever such a family event happens. You could never get the same amount of happiness with anyone else besides them. Do you understand him? It is best and safest for you to always stay with your beloved brothers.

Kou Mukami

​🎤​From the very first moment your bleary eyes met his own, Kou has known that he would do everything for you and turn into anyone if it meant to keep you and protect you. You are a little princess that deserves the world yet surviving on the streets always meant that he couldn't treat you the way he wanted to. When Karlheinz transformed them and gave them capabilities and riches they could have never dreamt about before, Kou finally could do what he hadn't been able to do before. From the very first day since they started their new life to the current day, your second-oldest brother has never stopped spoiling you absolutely rotten. Whatever you have wanted throughout your life, you have always gotten from him as prices nor rarity of the object you wanted have never mattered to him. Kou is quite playful and he proudly claims that title as your favorite playmate. Whether you want him to play with your puppets with you or want to play hide and seek with him, he has always entertained you. Ruki has reprimanded him already due to the risk he sees in some of the games he plays with you but Kou has always reassured him that he would never allow you to get hurt.

​🎤​From the first night they took you in though, Kou has always sung for you. It always made his heart swell when you would start crying during the day or night but would slowly calm down the moment he started singing a lullaby for you. It is one memory he greatly bemoans the older you grow and lullabies start being less important to you yet he still sings for you quite often. He composes a lot of songs and many of them he has written for you during his life, soothing melodies and kind words to calm your frightened young mind as you grew up. You still love his voice and his music though and that knowledge fills him with pride and with warmth and he gladly allows you to try to write a song of your own or teaches you how to play an instrument. He finds himself playfully pouting whenever he notices that you prefer spending time with another one of his brothers, he can't help the tinge of jealous he feels whenever he witnesses that sight. He tolerates it though as he knows that Ruki, Yuma and Azusa are mindful of the time they spend with you. Such jealousy always evaporates the moment you compliment him though or tell him how much you love your big brother.

Yuma Mukami

​🌱​Yuma has his doubts when they initially pick you up because he knows how harsh the environment is that they live in. He has always been tall and physically very strong which allows him to protect those who are important to him. You are still a tiny and fragile baby though. How are you supposed to survive on the streets? Even when Ruki agreed to take you under their care, he still has his doubts. It is the moment he holds you for the first time and you wrap your tiny fingers around one of his that he gathers the determination to defend you till his last breath. After he has been turned into a half-vampire and gained even more physical strength, he has only strengthened that vow in his mind. His tall physical build has always led him to be exceptionally gentle with you, especially when you are still only a small child. A part of him has always been worried that you may be scared of him because of his strength and tall build yet you have never expressed once any anxiety as you always come running to him and stretch your arms out, your large eyes begging him to lift you up and twirl you around. He has never been able to deny those cute eyes of yours, even though he has always been careful.

​🌱​Whether lifting you up, letting you sit on his shoulders or giving you a piggyback, Yuma has always been the equivalent of a human amusement park for you and this is something he takes pride in. He has been taking you to his garden from a very young age too and you are the only person who has ever gotten away with jumping through his patch without getting chased down angrily by him. He enjoys teaching you how to cater to the needs of a plant and how to tell if the fruits and vegetables are ripe or not. Whatever of the harvest you prefer the most is what he ends up sowing and growing the most in his garden just to watch the excited glimmer in your eyes whenever he informs you that it's time to harvest your favorite fruits and vegetables. You are in general quite isolated from other people yet the few times you are taken out, Yuma is terrifyingly efficient to scare away anyone who looks like they consider to approach you. Very few have the guts to chat with you if he is always right behind you after all. All that frightening strength that could easily crush someone's skull is never shown to you though as Yuma has always been only gentle and careful with you.

Azusa Mukami

​🗡️​Azusa has been attached to you from the very start, his heart nearly bursting when he found your little form in a basket all alone as your mother has left you behind. He begs Ruki to let them keep you as he fears that no one else would take you in and that you would end up dying lonely and afraid without having ever experienced love and he even bursts out in tears as he pleads to his older brothers. He even volunteers to take care of you all by himself if no one from that would agree to keep you. He has stayed the most attached to you even up until now, although he has been forced to limit the time he spends with you as you grow older and require a bit more privacy. When you were a baby he would always be right next to you or hold you even himself as you fell asleep, his fingers playing with your small ones and he would read bedtime stories to you, always happy when you came running to him with a book clutched in your hands that you wanted him to read to you. The youngest brother of yours often finds himself bemoaning the time when you were so cute and tiny, even if you will forever be his baby sister for him. Sometimes he still asks you if he can read a book to you.

​🗡️​Whilst his older brothers care for him, Azusa has some self-harming tendencies and they have always been worried that he might set a bad example for you. They care for him and want him to stop because it saddens them to see him like that but they are also afraid that you might pick up on it or would get scared once you are old enough to realise what Azusa is doing. To all of their relief helping to raise you seems to rid Azusa of that unhealthy behavior of his for the most part as he instead dedicates much more time to protect and raise you lovingly. Yet he has some relapses at times, mostly when you have an accident or fall ill. He cares deeply for you so seeing you in any kind of pain induces him with such anxiety that he feels his throat tightening and his vision blurring. In a very twisted sense of wanting to suffer with you, he resorts to grabbing a knife and cutting himself over and over again to show solitude with you. Azusa never tells you the truth behind all the bandages and the band-aids he wears the next time you see him though as all of his brothers have warned him that he might make you feel guilty. Being the reason for your sadness is the last thing Azusa would want.