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erosiism · 2 months

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𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐘 | yan!priest x male!reader | nsfw

WARNINGS: extremely dubious consent, graphic and explicit smut. please do not read if you are not comfortable, or if you are triggered. In no way is this disgusting yandere behavior meant to be romanticised. This excerpt is taken from my fic on wattpad, twisted faith.

PAIRING: yandere!priest x male reader

SCENARIO: after one too many attempts of rebelling against him, the priest (anton) decides to punish you.

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

You knew. You knew the minute you were brought to Anton's home — you knew the minute you were washed and fed by several maids, and was brought right before the priest.

A sickening part of you knew.

You had always wondered when. When Anton's obvious desire for you would finally break, when the final straw would be until Anton would take you

And now you stood right before him, washed—your hair still a little damp—robed, trembling.

Shit. It was about to happen. It was about to happen. It was—

You didn't know what to do. You were utterly terrified, utterly helpless.

"To first cleanse your sins," Father Anton said quietly—his hands resting on your back, tracing circles, "you must purify the body." The motion was smooth, gentle, supposed to be comforting, but instead all you felt was an unwanted heat traveling up your spine, along with deep seated dread. Thick, sludgy dread.

This was part of the plan, you thought, swallowing. This is part of my plan.

Someone had already warned you, had they not? That with the priest, he was looking for something else with you. Something deeper. Something akin to lust, akin to desire.

"Yes, Father Anton..." you whispered. You wanted to close your eyes, but you feared the consequences that came with it. Instead, your own trembling (e/c) eyes were forced to stare at pools of liquid diamond—the color that belonged to the priest's eyes.

"You want this, don't you?" Anton purred, "you want this. You admitted it yourself. You needed purifying. And now I shall give it to you. Everything. I will purify your heart, your soul, your body..."

First, your shoulder. You found breaths shallow and quiet when Anton used one finger to slowly undo your clothes, starting from a simple slip of the shoulder, until your collar bone was exposed.

Exposed, for the priest to see.

You no longer felt like it was you. Your mind was growing hazy, your body was responding to Anton's touch in such a way that you were horrified by it. You could feel his own unwanted arousal slowly burning your insides, and before you knew it, you were pressed down onto the cool sheets of the bed, stripped of your clothes—Adam and Eve once roamed the Garden of Eden in their naked form freely, you recalled, before the serpent made them sin.

Was this what Anton meant? To return to the roots of mankind, before sin had existed?

It wasn't long before the priest started to undress himself, and you nearly wanted to kill yourself there and then when you saw just how—just how huge Anton was—because fuck, how the hell were you supposed to fit him inside?

You watched as Anton dipped his fingers in sweetly scented oil—perhaps even the liquid from a while back, in the confessions room—and coated it liberally on his own cock. The oil was costly, but perhaps, to Anton, there was no better purpose than to anoint one of heaven's own.

Fuck, you started to breathe heavily, feeling Anton's hands slowly grasping at your hips, his touch bruising, and lining his arousal up—you could feel it. Every inch of him.

Deep breaths. In and out...

"Ugh—" you let out a soft sound that was quickly muffled when you pressed your face down onto the pillow, ears burning with shame.

There was no greater pain and pleasure than this.

Anton pushed forward ruthlessly into your body. Anton did not stretch you out or give you advance warning. If the initial intrusion was painful, it was meant to be, as part of your penance.

"Cleansing," Anton purred, his voice sending shudders running down your spine, "punishment. This, my dear Y/n, is divine punishment."

Fuck, you teared up as you gripped the sheets, yes. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was an atonement of your sins, your crimes towards your own humanity. Perhaps you deserved this for spitting such cruel, careless words at your sister, for showing his weaknesses so blindly to your friend...

"Anton," you gasped out, the delicate flesh of your insides was battered and pried open by Anton's enormous girth, "I—I..."

Anton pressed into the hilt and then stopped, giving you time to adjust, and enjoying the trembling shudders of the bruised and violated muscles clenching around him.

"Give it all to me, turn everything over to the Lord and let me purge the sin from your flesh. Let me morph you; Y/n; let me purify you.”

"Slower," you begged him, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. You felt so utterly helpless—so pained, yet there was that deceitful pleasure crawling up in your insides, telling you this was what you wanted. This was what you asked for.

In a way, it was. In a viscerally twisted and distorted way...yes. You had planned this, did you not? You had orchestrated this plan to seduce the priest for your own survival, and you would fall down into the abyss with it.

There was no foreplay. Nothing. Nothing that could have told or prepared you of the pain that had shot up in your stomach—nothing that could have told you that you would be throbbing with pleasure, aching with sin. Your body felt filthy instead of pure, and the tears staining your face felt like they were burning. Anton kissed it all away—but that did nothing but to send feverish heat and silent hatred worming into your insides.

"Oh, Y/n," Anton cooed, his fingers trailing every inch of your skin, exploring every curve, every flat, "you were made for me. Made to be a vessel for me. You saved me, Y/n...you saved me."

Anton felt God would forgive the sin of his omission—after all, he was the closest being to godhood, and you were so beautiful and precious and pure. God's creation and the wonders of nature—from your mesmerising eyes, from how the arch of your back highlighted the delicate curve of your spine.

You made a strangled sound, biting back your moan that was about to slip past your lips. The pace remained brutal; relentless, and when you tried to grip on the sheets for some sort of stability to the madness, it failed.

"Confessing," Anton whispered, "is something you were never good at. But perhaps this gives you clarity. Perhaps this will help."

With suddenness, Anton stopped— instead, he pulled out, leaving your walls empty and clenching around for something. Just anything. Anton pressed one finger to the opening, almost like he was teasing you. Teasing you with inviting warmth, but not giving it to you. The priest was the one who reduced you to such a state, so how dare he? After stripping you of your innocence, claiming he would purify you…

You had never hated someone so much before. You hated him.

"C-Confess?" You managed to choke out, voice hoarse, "y-you want me to..."

Anton pressed the finger in deeper. More. You wanted more. It was not enough.

"Confess, yes." Anton tilted his head, his other hand pressed against your shoulder, the touch firm and gentle. It was strange how he seemed to treat you like you were so precious, like you were made of glass, but then his actions would contradict and you would feel the lower part of your body searing with deep, hot pain.

Blood. You could feel it trickle down your leg.

Anton waited until your breathless pants slowed and then spoke, "You may begin."

Your voice was thick with tears as you spoke, "Bless me father, for I have sinned."

The priest's hips began a slow and steady pace, pressing in deeply and then pulling out until the head of his cock caught on the thinly stretched rim. It kissed it slowly, slowly pushing until half way inside. You let out a strangled gasp, sobbing.

"Continue."

Oh, but how? You found it hard to find words scattered here and there, when your brain was a mush and you didn't even feel like you were you anymore. You weren’t yourself anymore—you weren’t innocent. Anton had ripped away any last remnants of sanity and purity that you had, claiming it for his own, marking you as a sinner.

Y/n...Y/n...who were you even, now? The feeling of derealization pierced your chest.

Anton's cock looked impossibly large as he pressed it against your gaping hole. It looked like it could split you open. You trembled from the stretch — you wanted more, in a horrible sense, and the only way you could get that was to atone. To confess all your sins to the greatest sinner in the world.

Your stunning (e/c) eyes went wet with tears, but it only made your submission sweeter and it only made the priest's cock throb harder as your body worked to accommodate him; flesh clinging and gripping deliciously as he pushed deeper with each second, but never quite hitting the end.

It was a tease, a long drawn punishment.

Anton's hot gaze dropped so he could watch your belly bulge each time he entered you fully. The evidence of his physical penetration into you— his innocent, innocent savior—only made the dark feelings in his stomach swirl, twist, knot.

"I'm sorry," you found yourself begging, "I'm sorry, Father Anton—I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have—"

I shouldn't have existed.

"I shouldn't have went outside the church walls," You sobbed, "I shouldn't have met anyone else, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't even say that." Anton's voice was serene yet so damned. "What else?"

"I shouldn't have murdered the man." You babbled on like your mind was shattered; broken beyond repair.

"I shouldn't have talked to her—"

You felt another sharp pain crawl up your spine when Anton rammed inside you. The priest's hands went to cover your mouth, stifling your moans that threatened to slip out.

"Ah, no," Anton whispered, his voice sultry and deep, "we can't have you making such noises, can we?"

"Just—just..." You felt the tears roll down your cheek, felt the way your chest heaved and your hips ached — all this felt too much; too overstimulated.

You released; arching your back and feeling your fingers grip on the sheets with reckless abandon. Your thoughts were pounding in your head and so was the slow, subsiding heat: what have I done? You thought with misery, with fuzziness and dazed eyes, what have I done?

Anton smiled and leaned forward.

"You have been purified."

The second time, it was because you had disobeyed him. You ran away — at least, you attempted to. But it had been foolish, and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. You willed your trembling form to straighten, choking down a sob.

“I’m sorry.”

"That's what I thought." Anton smiled in amusement. "Here I was praising you, darling," Anton tipped your chin up and you swallowed, fear started to flood within you. "But it seems that once again my trust in you has been misplaced."

"I'm sorry," you started to say—to beg—"don't put me back there. Don't!"

Fear rotted between your teeth and gave you that toothache feeling: the slow thudding of realization, the slow ache of cavities worming into your insides, staining your mouth. The sweetness had been too much. Too painful.

"I won't."

"...Then..."

What will you do?

"It's been long since you were purified."

Inwardly you shattered once again.

"Slow down," you gasped, feeling Anton's cock enter in, unrelenting, brutal, merciless—you dug your fingers into the expanse of his back, taking it down, causing a soft sigh to elicit from Anton. "Please," your voice took on a begging note. "Please."

Anton paused for a while. His fingers cupped your cheek, and his eyes were almost dazed with pleasure.. But they still held a certain maddening clarity that you were afraid of.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Anton tilted his head. You felt the cock inside you press further still, your walls squeezing it, your body welcoming it, with pleasure spilling in your gut. Unwanted pleasure. "You wanted this, darling. And so I give it to you."

How long had it been? The tears were running down your face but your body betrayed yourself. For there was your own answering arousal between your legs, the way your hips lifted and responded to Anton's fast, full thrusts, the way moans slipped off your mouth like nothing. You wiggled your body a little, squirming, trying to find a better position—but another ram into you, another buckle of your hips and a sharp cry—stopped you from being able to do so.

"Slower," you repeated once again— begging him, before Anton shoved his fingers down your throat, causing the yoo choke on your words. Saliva coated the priests's fingers but he did not seem to care. Kisses were planted on your bare form—the shoulders, the nose, the lips—Anton seemed satisfied, actually. More than that. Darkness was twisting in his eyes. Anton loved it—loved ravaging your, loved having sex with you. He pulled those fingers out and your mouth felt empty.

"You're doing such a good job," his voice was so gentle, so sweet—you could have cried. Yes, there was the constant pleasure in your body that Anton managed to induce—the kind of pleasure that made you yearn for more, the kind of pleasure that made you moan into the kisses that Anton provided, obscene and all, but oh, it betrayed your mind. "Continue on. You have barely managed to take me yet."

I'm disgusting, you wept, oh, someone save me. I'm so disgusted with myself.

"I can't," you panted, your fists gripping the sheets. "Anton...I really can't."

The only answer was a push that pressed you flush against the bed. Anton's fingers wrapped around your jaw slowly and turned your face to the side, peppering kisses on it. It was a soothing gesture—Anton was marvelous at what he did. He would torture you mentally, sexually, but treat you like porcelain physically, treating you with such tenderness and gentleness at times that you werebdazed by it. And it worked now.

"Good job, darling." Anton cooed, almost relishing in the soft moans that you were desperately trying to keep down your throat. You felt tears roll down your cheeks slowly, you felt the pain down there, swollen and overstimulated. You knew the sheets were stained with your earlier releases, and now would be what, the third? Fourth? Fifth? Anton was brutal in his pace.

How far had you fallen, already?

Behind Anton you could make out through your teary vision, a small cross. And now that cross taunted you. Watched you ws your purity was slipping away from you.

Tears rolled down your cheek, and you felt yourself slipping into darkness.

To feel anything would make you deranged.

After Anton had…purified you — you had scrubbed endlessly at your skin, hoping to remove any memory of him. But with that purification, also came a change of treatment. Anton grew gentler, kinder, and you grew more tired, more willing to be deceived.

Simply put, you didn’t know how to place your rage anymore: there was the rage that was simply rotten, incurable love—there was the rage which were all the tainted truths and desires—and then there was the rage that was like a unanswered prayer, rattling in your mind, ricocheting off the walls.

You had learnt a long time ago that your body betrayed your mind. That your mind betrayed your heart. You feared that you had grown to love Anton, in some sickening, undeniable way: but was that not inevitable? A human will crave fire, though deadly, in the light of cold. And in this case Anton had stripped you of everything you ever had, and now you were craving warmth.

And Anton. He was that very warmth. You wanted his embrace — you wanted it so desperately, the feeling of being loved, cared for, tender and sweet. After all, Anton had never hurt you before, did he? Everything earlier had been some sick farce, some disgusting aversion to all things good. But it was alright. You had learned your lesson.

You needed only Anton, and yet Anton seemed to withhold from sex, like he was dragging it on. You wanted it carnally, biblically. You could feel the sins and evil swarming under the layer of your skin. You wanted it. You wanted to be made pure again, you wanted that sin purged from your flesh. You wanted it eviscerated. You wanted it to be painful, almost.

But as luck had it, Your purification this time was not one of pain. Anton was always tender with you —but the purifications were always painful, rightfully so, as penance.

The sheets were soft and silky, as luxurious as you remembered. It was the same bed that you had laid in during your first time. Oh, how rebellious you had been. How unwilling. But now you are older, wiser. You knew to behave—you knew this was for your greater good.

You have made life miserable for yourself. Why did you bother trying to resist? It had taken coaxing—and you had been so delightfully and wonderfully patient with you. Anton had already been so sweet even when you had been feisty and sharp-tongued, but the priest treated you with honeyed, saccharine sweetness. See, Anton seemed to tell him. See, you should have obeyed me earlier. This way, no one would have died. You could have carved out your own ending.

And now Anton bit at your lip until you could only groan. Supple, strong hands removed whatever clothes you had on— you were kissed until you were lightheaded and breathless, until the only thought that remained was the priest. Anton, Anton, Anton—until those thoughts flooded your mind, strong and vicious.

The priest’s hands were warm as they trailed down your bare skin. You wanted to lean into the warmth: you wanted to tattoo it on your flesh, you wanted it imprinted, made permanent. You could have said that these desires were ignominious, even, humiliating, hideous. But you were no longer blind by the evil that had blinded you. This was good. This was good for you. You had utter faith in Anton.

Your feelings once had been raw and ambivalent. And now they carried on within you, strong, unwavering, comforting.

Anton pressed onto your chest, tapping at where your heart was. “This, Y/n,” Anton’s voice was heavy and commanding. “This belongs to me.”

You took a hitching breath, swallowing.

Anton moved to kiss your neck. “Only I can purge your sinful urges. And only I, my darling, can consecrate you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, “yes, I do.”

Anton smiled. His gaze was heavy, like his words: shadowed, dark, dangerous. It was clouded with haziness, and his arousal was pressed against your thighs, his arms spreading your legs apart. You whimpered, but offered no protest. Your muscles shook from the stretch, but you remained obedient. Sweet, darling lamb. Yes. You would be a sweet, darling, obedient, loving lamb.

“You have been so good lately,” Anton purred, “and there are no more lies. You have changed—I was right, wasn’t I? Around you there was only a plethora of distractions. And now it’s just…” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You and I. You have morphed, Y/n, you have become perfect.”

Hell was a man’s own creation, so was heaven. And you were a piece of heaven that had been carved out for himself. You were his, fully his — you were no longer anyone else’s. His, his, his.

Anton pressed his fingers against the wetness of your hole, slowly slipping into it. You gave a startled pant: where was it? Where was the pain you were expecting? This was no penance, this was—

“See,” Anton said softly, pressing further until you gave another strangled sound, breathier this time, when his fingers brushed against your prostate. “See, Y/n? Your sins have been absolved. By submitting yourself to me, there is no pain. No penance.”

“Please,” you panted—the fingers were not enough. Where were you? You were still so impure, so dirtied— you wanted it.The pained ecstasy. The purification. The Anointment. “Why won’t…why won’t you give it to me?”

Anton tilted his head, smiling. “I thought you wanted this. I remember you begging me last time: to be gentler, to be tender. What’s wrong, Y/n?”

You could not even place it in words. Breathless moans left as your throat when Anton pressed deeper still: you swallowed, before you shook his head. “I…don’t…know,” was all you managed to choke out, “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” Anton murmured. “Very well,” he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “you are loose, Y/n—you are so loose. Were you thinking about me? Were you waiting anxiously for this? Did you want this?”

“Yes, Anton,” you managed out in between your breaths, quick and dirty. “Yes.”

Anton pulled his fingers out abruptly, and you were left trembling. Your eyes were watery, almost: your back arched, your fingers fisted around the sheets. You almost caught your breath before you felt the same feeling again: the feeling you wanted, of origination and sin and purification—You could feel the delicate flesh battered and pried open again. You gave a soft moan—Anton pressed to the hilt, and thrusted. You started to scream—but it was of pained ecstasy.

It was nowhere as painful as the first time. This time was more mellow. Anton’s touch was bruising against your hips, leaving behind imprints of blue and black. The thrust pinched everything from you, all your breaths and your thoughts and all that horrifying, twisted doubt—all those reservations.

Anton continued. That same feeling plunged all the way up to your gut—it crushed your prostate entirely. You felt yourself start to release guttural, muffled sounds: you tried to swallow back your sobs, unable to discern between the wretched desire and pleasure that kept pulling, yanking at you—and the pain. Anton was still certainly gentler than last time. And this time round, Anton had prepared you.

You screamed, your hands flying out to claw at Anton’s back. You could feel yourself nearing your first orgasm; so painful, so soon, and tears flowed freely down your fever red cheeks. Your hole stretched painfully around the girth of Anton’s cock—Anton continued this pace, but oh—he was so gentle with you.. It was almost like the priest was praising you.

Good job, Anton seemed to be telling you, with the kisses peppered on your face, with the gentle, supple tugs of your hair whenever you started to wobble—good job.

“You are doing so beautifully,” Anton cooed, “so, so well.”

You could barely think through the hazy pleasure. Anton set up a rhythm like this, Anton sliding out just right to see you clinging almost whorishly to his cock—then pressing, pushing, spreading you open with a force that made your throat raw from the obscene sounds you made. Anton’s voice was calm and soothing, low, almost menacing, a juxtaposition to the violence below. But it wasn��t his fault. Anton had wanted to be gentle, you had refused. You wanted the pain, it was your punishment. You would claw Anton’s back, Anton’s lips would capture your own with each cry you wanted to release. His kiss was always breathtaking—literally, in a sense that all coherent thoughts and all your breaths were ripped away from you; and then Anton would chew on your bottom lip, biting it, allowing a stream of crimson to bleed out.

“Anton,” you moaned out feverishly, “Anton.”

The priest continued to fuck you with a blind frenzy, eyes dark and hooded and the grip on your hips so tight—so that you wouldn’t dare to even crawl away. So that you wouldn’t even dream of it. So that you would remain pilant and soft and warm and obedient.

“I’m sorry,” you started to say, your words punctuated by sobs, “I’m sorry I was so…”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Punish me all you like. I deserved all of it. I deserved every single bit of it. Every inch. Everything. Everything Anton did—was it not what you were practically begging for? Anton had given you so many chances, but you had failed him each and every time.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” His voice was calm and soothing, not matching the violence below. “You have repented. And that, Y/n, is the most important.”

Anton pushed again—and this time the sound you made was almost inhuman: when you finally, finally—felt the warmth flooding into you, when you finally felt your insides being filled, your sin being washed away. And you were filled so completely, so much of it that some spilled from your hole, that you felt like you were choking on it. You released at the same time—the electrifying heat spread all the way to the tips of your fingers, enveloping you whole, leaving you dazed and weightless from the ecstasy of it.

Anton kissed your tears away, and his face was one of pride when he touched your forehead gently.

“Good job,” Anton whispered, his voice lilting and insidious. “Good job, Y/n.”

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nyctoaerah · 3 months

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⋆♱⋆DOLL SMITTEN

SYPNOSIS: In which, Suguru Geto can’t bear to let you go and was unable to accept your death, so he made a doll version of you instead.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Dark themes, Disturbing things, Stalking, Unhealthy Obsession, Slight Gore, Suguru is a total creep, not so normal ‘dolls.’

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

━━━━𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒.

━━━━𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 them earlier to “attend to important business” probably to massacre some non-sorcerers — or some of the curse collecting monkeys had come, the hasaba twins grew bored in his absence.

It was dreary outside the manor walls after all.

But it was more boring inside.

Thus, the twins had wandered the sunny courtyard, swatting lazily at browning blossoms drifting down from the gnarled cherry trees and played some idle games to waste time, but fuck, was it pure torture not having suguru for two reasons.

One, they had no one to bother.

Two, there’s currently no electricity.

And damn, did they missed Suguru.

“How boring,” Nanako grumbled, coffee colored eyes heavy with discontent as they drifted towards her sister. Mimiko lay nearby, back pressed on a tree with her eyes fluttered closed and her small doll hugged tightly to her chest that heaved with every breath.

Nanako pouted to see that her sister was already adapting in suguru’s absence.

“C’mon, mimiko! don’t sleep on me yet,” Nanako implored with a slight whine, as she placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder and began to shake.

At the sound, Mimiko opened her eyes, long lashes fluttering up.

“I know... we’ve got nothing to entertain us,” she said with a sigh to match her sister’s mood.

“So let’s just sleep instead.”

“Boring!”

Nanako said as her eyes scanned the sky, looking at the clouds and trying to find anything stimulating when a question suddenly popped unbidden into her mind.

“Mimiko,” She called out. “Have you ever wondered about Master Geto and why he always kept his room locked?” she asked.

At the name, Mimiko’s brow furrowed deeply in thought, her gaze drifting away slightly as she contemplated about nanako’s words.

It was true that suguru had always kept his room locked, and no one was permitted entry to his private place.

“Like, aren’t you curious?” she asked, tipping her head in a way that caused strands of caramel to spill over her slender neck.

“I mean, why would he keep it locked all the time?”

She leaned back against the old oak tree, placing both hands behind her neck in a leisurely stretch.

Mimiko tightened her arms around the doll in her lap, peering at her twin from beneath long lashes.

“Come on, nanako... stop insinuating stuff,” she scoffed, though a spark of curiosity flickered in her eyes despite her words.

“We should respect Master Geto’s privacy.”

Nanako pouted theatrically, jutting her bottom lip out in a look Mimiko knew meant trouble — the girl was probably planning on snooping on suguru’s room.

“I’m not! I hold him in the highest regard! I love him too much to talk shit about him”

“Well then, if you hold him in high regards then learn to respect his privacy.” she muttered, wanting desperately to change the subject but unable to look Nanako in the eye.

Although, mimiko is curious, and as tempting as it was to give in to curiosity, she knew better than to poke her nose where it didn’t belong.

Mimiko gave nanako a dismissive wave, but nanako just wouldn’t budge.

“Indulge me just a little, Mimikoooo!”

“Can’t a girl be curious...?”

Mimiko rolled her eyes, trying her best to ignore the images that now flashed behind her lids — images of what stuff they might find in his room.

“Fine, fine,” she sighed, shoulders slumping

“I do admit that at times i kind of wondered about it..” Mimiko admitted slowly,

“but i mean, he has every rights to keep it locked. and want no one to enter. It’s his room after all.” Another heavy sigh escaped her.

“Mimiko, what if Master Geto is hiding a dildo in his room?” Nanako blurted out bluntly, her words dropping like a bomb.

Mimiko’s eyes widened in disbelief, her head whipping around to face her sister.

“What.” Mimiko looked flabbergasted as she stared at Nanako as if she had just sprouted a third eye. The idea seemed ludicrous, almost comical in its absurdity.

What the hell is wrong with nanako?

And why on earth would it matter if Suguru had a dildo hidden away in his room?

“What would he even do with a dildo? I mean, he has a...” Mimiko’s sentence trailed off abruptly as she let out a frustrated sigh, her hand meeting her forehead in exasperation.

“Even if he did have one, it’s none of our business,” Mimiko stated firmly, trying to reason with her sister.

“Come on, Nanako, we really shouldn’t be talking about this kind of thing, it’s wrong — we’re underage for fuck’s sake...”

“Hmph...” Nanako huffed, she knew that Mimiko had a point.

They both knew they shouldn’t be discussing this. Suguru would probably give them a stern scolding if he ever caught wind of the conversation.

The image of Suguru, standing with his arms crossed, delivering at least three hours detailing every reason invading his privacy was wrong flashed through Nanako’s mind, making her suppress a giggle.

But then, the urge to satisfy her curiosity was too strong to resist.

“What if we just...” Nanako’s voice trailed off as she leaned in closer to Mimiko, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

“Sneak into his room?”

Mimiko’s expression was a mix of disbelief and trepidation as she stared at her sister.

“Nanako, shut up.” she finally said, her tone firm and resolute.

“We are not going to sneak into master geto’s room.” Mimiko knew the consequences of such a risky move, and she wasn’t about to entertain the idea.

Nanako raised an eyebrow, a stubborn pout forming on her face.

“Come on, Mimiko, I know you’re curious too," she insisted, reaching out to grasp Mimiko's wrist and gently tugging her.

“Quit it. Invading master Geto’s private space is crossing a line.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re just as curious as I am and you know it. We’ll be really careful — he’ll never find out. Please, Mimiko!”

Mimiko frowned, hesitating as her sister's contagious excitement took hold. Part of her did yearned to satisfy their curiosities, even if it was risky. But she knew Suguru’s strict rules were for good reason.

But then...

Surely, they won’t be in trouble if they did sneaked in his room, right?

As long as suguru won’t find out.

Mimiko sighed loudly, her narrow shoulders drooping with the weight of exhaustion as she eyed Nanako.

She wanted to refuse, but nanako’s puppy dog eyes and pleading smile were hard to resist.

Mimiko bit her bottom lip as she considered giving in, wondering if exploring was really worth the risk of getting in trouble if they were caught. She let out an annoyed groan, dragging out the sound to further express her reluctance.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll go,” Mimiko said with another sigh. Nanako squealed delightedly and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“But how are we even supposed to get in? You know that master geto padlocks his door everytime.”

“Ah don’t worry about that,” Nanako replied with a mischievous grin, waving her hand dismissively. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bobby pin, holding it up between two slender fingers.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at using these bad boys to jimmy open locked doors. We’ll be inside that room in no time, just wait and see!”

Mimiko looked at nanako with a deadpan.

“Nanako, you’re a menace.”

━━━━𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

Nanako’s fingers fumbled clumsily with the bobby pin, a tumult of trepidation, enthusiasm, and anticipation, swirled chaotically within her, sending flutters of anxiety coursing through her veins.

Fuck, why is she suddenly nervous about this?

Taking a deep, steadying breath to quell the queasiness in her stomach, she pressed on, jimmying the pin with shaking hands until she heard a soft click as the lock gave way.

Beside her, Mimiko clutched her doll tightly, as her brown eyes peered nervously in Suguru’s bedroom.

Suguru’s room was tidy and sparse, as was his way — books neatly lined the shelves, papers stacked in orderly piles upon his desk. Her gaze drifted to the photographs taped to the far wall, snapshots of them.

All seemed normal here.... Nothing out of ordinary.

“i think... i’ll be staying here outside.. as look out.” mimiko said.

“you sure?”

“mhm.”

“okay then...” nanako mumbled as she took a deep breath.

Stepping further within, Nanako’s eyes suddenly widened as they locked at the floor-to-ceiling collage affixed to the wall above Suguru’s work table.

It was strange.

Among the framed pictures hung neatly on Suguru’s wall, one photograph caught Nanako’s eye. She stepped closer for a better look.

Within the frame was a girl with [H/c] hair and [E/c] eyes. However, her face is scarred. Like really scarred.

Who is that girl?

Intrigued, Nanako’s gaze flitted hither and thither, assimilating further details.

Nanako gawked, for there were numerous photos of the same maiden were strategically arranged.

Her gaze drifted at another photograph, the same girl again, wrapped in a laugh as Suguru hoisted her onto his back.

A third snapshot looked like a stolen shot though . It showed in suguru feeding the [H/c] haired girl a puff of blue cotton candy, unaware her moment with Suguru had been seized by his camera lens without her knowing.

There was a polaroid showed the girl clad in Suguru’s oversized clothes, appearing snug and at ease, while Suguru gazed at her with an unmistakable adoration in his eyes, a love so evident it seemed to leap off the photo.

And as Nanako continued to peruse the photos, a sense of unease began to settle within her.

One snapshot depicted the girl peacefully asleep in her bed, another showed her lathering under the shower’s cascading water, and yet another captured her nonchalantly eating a meal.

In one particularly unsettling image, the girl was giggling alongside another man, his face blurred out with a bold red ‘x’ mark, his blonde hair contrasting sharply with Suguru’s dark locks.

Counting now, there must have been nearly a dozen photographs featuring this one girl prominently. And yet Suguru had never breathed a word of her existence.

Who the hell is this girl?

Whenever Mimiko and herself pried for juicy dating deets — or literally anything about suguru’s love life, he would wave them off, insisting his love life was dull as a doornail

So what gives?

Who was occupying so much valued wall space in Suguru’s private quarters?

And why the secrecy?

Nanako’s body suddenly jolted as Mimiko’s voice cut through her reverie.

“Nanako,” her sister called out again, an undercurrent of alarm rippling beneath the surface of her normally calm tones.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Nanako dragged her eyes away from the unsettling Polaroid on the wall.

Her gaze trailed across the floorboards until coming to rest upon Mimiko’s petite form, hunched defensively over a large drawer.

“What?” Nanako began, the single syllable emerging as little more than a hollow rasp.

“Look at this.”

“Look at what—” Yet before she could continue, words failed her entirely. For as Mimiko wrenched open the drawer with a force that belied her slight frame, a ghastly sight was revealed that turned Nanako’s blood to ice water in her veins.

Clasped loosely in Mimiko’s grip was a life-sized doll—its lifeless porcelain features contorted into a rictus of torment, wisps of tangled [h/c] locks spilling over slender shoulders.

...

Fuck, it was the same girl in the picture.

...

The unblinking stare of those glassy eyes unsettled Nanako far more than any picture ever could.

What the hell possessed suguru to recreate another in such a voyeuristic manner? Nanako’s thoughts whirled with confusion as Mimiko wrinkled her nose.

“Blegh.. this one smells so bad...” she remarked, hefting the doll away.

Nanako winced — for it was true, there was the cloying stench emanating from its sodden dress, the putrid scent of decay and something even darker she dared not name.

“I didn’t knew master geto liked dolls... but he had a shitty taste in them..” mimiko said bluntly.

Nanako crept forward, crouching low to examine the doll more closely. As she lifted it to inspect further, the unmistakable stench of decay assaulted her senses, and she has to breathe through her mouth to ignore the shitty smell. Cunning crimson stains marred the fabric, and it looked like it hasn’t been washed for ages.

“It looks so shitty... And smelly... It looks like it’s in need for some stitching...” Nanako turned towards mimiko. “don’t you think so?”

“I’m certain I could have repaired this for Master Geto, had he only asked,” Mimiko continued, though Nanako’s mind reeled with confusion.

She was still feeling creeped out, because not only did Suguru keep countless images chronicling his obsession, but he also had a life sized doll of the girl...?

Her eyes traced the staining to a zipper hidden amongst the matted fabric. A dreadful premonition took hold as she grasped the zipper between her fingers. she pulled the zipper down slowly—and froze, petrified by what lay beneath the veil.

There, curled amidst the stuffing, was not cotton nor fluff, but viscera and gore of flesh once living.

human flesh.

━━━━𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐀/𝐍: this story is gonna be much more darker than my other fics:333 and no, it’s not gonna focus on suguru being obsessed with the doll, it’s gonna be diff soon bcs the reader’s soul is inside the doll. aswell as her body.

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: faster updates here.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

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aajjks · 1 year

Text

mess (m)

synopsis. There’s only one way to make sure you stay. And he’s willing to do anything.

pairing: yandere oc x fem!reader.

wärnïngs. yändêrê, mäsöchïstïc tëndëncïês, öral (fém récîevïng), délüsïònál béhâvïöûr, präïsè kink, ëxplïcït smüt, ëxtrëmë yändere, MDNÏ

part one — part two.

note. please share feedback and send in asks for ezekiel, ENJOY!

You look like you want to kill him.

Ezekiel removes his hand from your wrist, and immediately falls on his knees. You are visibly fuming, the way you’re chewing on your lower lip has him quivering in fear.

Although you look so sexy at the same time to him, glaring down at him with those E/C eyes of yours, your teeth nibble on your lip,

okay not the right time, stupid!

He stops his train of thoughts and barely manages to look into your eyes, “y-yn…” you cross your arms to your chest and clench your jaw.

Oh you really want to kill him..

“P-Please don’t misunderstand!” He begs you, his voice is loud and panicky. “I don’t know why she was here!” He confesses to you.

You look around the hall, it’s empty! Why can’t you focus on him instead, all of the people are busy attending their classes.

He has to go too but no he won’t, not when you’re so quite, when you’re fuming. And he could always catch up later.

Right now his priority was only you.

He needed to fix this mess that his ex girlfriend had created.

“Who the fuck was she huh?” You spit at him, oh your eyes are turning dark, he’s in so much trouble, it excites him.

“M-My ex…” he grabs your legs before breathing in. “I-I broke up with her almost a year ago, I-I don’t know why she decided to study here!” He feels so frantic.

You have to believe him! He’s telling you the truth!

“Hmm..” you mumble something he can’t comprehend… he can’t tell what you’re thinking, you’re so good at hiding your emotions. Your eyebrows furrow all of a sudden,

He feels like he can finally breathe again.

“An ex huh..?” You seem to be in a deep thought, Ezekiel nods his head and looks at you with his grey eyes, filled with desperation.

“Let go of me.” You command him, your gaze is empty. He panics. No he can’t let you go, he has to please you, he has to make sure you don’t abandon him!

He can’t afford that, oh no he’d rather die by your hands than let you go.

“N-No please d-don’t leave me! L-Let me make it up to you yn!!! Pl-Please!” He only holds onto you tighter, “l-let me please you!”

There’s only one way to make you stay. And he would do anything to make you stay. He grabs your legs tighter, and pushes his face into them, inhaling your scent like a dog.

“You sick fuck.” You curse at him, “such a slut aren’t you?”

“Only for you..” you smirk at him, he feels his heart thump in anticipation, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

He wants you so bad.

He follows behind you like a puppy, you keep searching for the janitors closet and he’s starting to get impatient, “look there!” He points it out for you,

Oh please let’s just get in, already!

“I can see it.” You roll your eyes at him and open the door to see if anyone is in there, once you are sure, you signal the impatient guy to come in.

And he immediately complies, he doesn’t wait for your command to lock the door, and you don’t stop him either.

He turns around to look at you, staring at him with a bored look in your eyes, “come on.” You sigh, “take off my jeans.” You point your fingers to your jeans and his eyes light up.

He walks over to you, his mind feels so hazy, he can’t see but you.

“Y-Yes t-thank you yn..” he gets down on his knees, his fingers reach your zipper and he tugs at it, taking off your jeans eagerly, his eyes bulging out of the sockets as he stares at your underwear.

His fingers trace the lace, his mouth is watering as he slides it down to your legs.

He shudders as he stares at your bare cunt.

And he feels so much hunger.

“So beautiful…” As you spread your legs for him, he lets out a shaky breath. Ezekiel’s shaking, he pushes his face between your legs and takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent once again.

You smell so good.

Your thighs trap him and you feel his light stubble on your skin, he drags the tip of his tongue along your slit, his spit getting all over as he gives it a few kitten licks,

It feels so good.

It’s hard for him to take it slow, he wants to eat you out feverishly, but he wants to savour the feeling of you on his tongue.

“F-Faster, don’t fuckin tease me. I need you.” You grab his hair and pull on it harshly, his teeth graze your bud and you gasp when he bites on it gently. He quickly pushes one of his digits inside you, pumping in and out, making you squeal.

You’re dripping.

He feels so feral and attaches his mouth on your cunt once again, lapping at like a starved man, the lewd sounds of your cunt are making him feel so hot, he’s di hard, it’s painful but the way you’re tugging at his curls is so hot.

You use your other hand to push his face deeper into your pussy and he almost cried from happiness, you’re enjoying yourself.

He doesn’t waste his time to spit on it and then continue to eat you out like a feral animal, he knows that you like it rough, messy and nasty,

And who is he to deny you?

He feels so lewd, with your nectar and his drool running down his jaw, he can’t stop, your moan’s burn in his memory,

He loves those little weak whimpers coming from you.

“S-So tasty, fuckin suffocate me, y-yes please clench around my tongue, o-oh yes!” You only moan louder at his dirty words

“G-Gonna cum, puppy ‘m gonna cum…”

Oh he’s about lose the last the bit of his sanity.

He drags his tongue all over your cunt, sucking all over your thighs so his marks stay, he loves you so much, you drive him absolutely mad.

“D-Don’t stop… don’t f-fuckin stop.” You command him, you use your hand to push his face deeper into your pussy, again.

He’s in heaven.

You want his tongue to feel so deep inside you, so how can he deny you?

He tilts his head to the side and your back arches, “love you s’much, only you.” He is slurring out his sentences at this point.

“Cum… please f’me.” He begs and you let go, your hips buckle up and he squeezes it, you gush around him and he takes it all, “O-Oh puppy..”

“Y-Yes that’s it… give me all of it!”

He slurps it all up like a good boy, you have his mind shutting down, he cums on the spots too, his boxers feel so fucking heavy but it’s okay.

It’s all because of you.

You make him a mess, and he loves it.

#yandere smut #oc x reader #smut #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader insert #yandere boy #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere au #dark yandere #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere fic #male oc

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salvy-deldroid · 10 months

Text

Yandere! Wesker, who didn’t give you much thought when you first joined.

Yandere! Wesker, who would find you annoying, to say the least.

Yandere! Wesker, who would always give you the cold shoulder.

Yandere! Wesker, who you didn’t think much of either at first.

Yandere! Wesker, who was just supposed to be your boss.

Yandere! Wesker, for whom you’d start to yearn.

Yandere! Wesker, the silent man whose mysteries you wished to unravel.

Yandere! Wesker, for whom you fell first.

Yandere! Wesker, who was paired with you during one fateful mission.

Yandere! Wesker, who you protected when things went haywire.

Yandere! Wesker, who is now confused over his feelings for you.

Yandere! Wesker, who is now a bit warmer towards you.

Yandere! Wesker, who was snapped to reality by one of the STARS members joking to him about his apparent closeness to you.

Yandere! Wesker, who started to shut you out, because you were going to be a hindrance to the plans of Umbrella.

Yandere! Wesker, whose disregard started to sober you up.

Yandere! Wesker, whose neglect pushed you to move on from him.

Yandere! Wesker, whose coldness helped open your eyes to the feelings harbored by others for you.

Yandere! Wesker, who was trying to make sense of his feelings for you.

Yandere! Wesker, who was confused as to why it was so irritating to see you treat the other male members the same way as you did to him.

Yandere! Wesker, who loathed how Chris suddenly became way closer to you.

Yandere! Wesker, who wanted to now bring you along with him to the new, better world.

Yandere! Wesker, who fell harder.

Yandere! Wesker, who would slowly start to affect your schedule.

Yandere! Wesker, who would make sure any threat to your love would be eliminated.

Yandere! Wesker, who would ensure your complete isolation at work.

Yandere! Wesker, who would slowly try to incorporate himself as deeply in your life as possible.

Yandere! Wesker, who would start to sneak in little soft touches here and there.

Yandere! Wesker, who had started to creep you out.

Yandere! Wesker, who didn’t take your rejection lightly.

Yandere! Wesker, who wasn’t above manipulating, gaslighting, drugging, or kidnapping you.

Yandere! Wesker, who believed that you were made to belong to him.

Yandere! Wesker, who would mock your tears and pleas.

Yandere! Wesker, who now won’t let you go at any cost.

#yandere x darling #yandere albert wesker #tw yandere #male yandere #dark yandere #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #re5 wesker #resident evil 5 #re5 #yandere albert wesker x reader #yandere wesker #wesker #prolonged obsession #dark fic ideas #headcannons

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angel-purger · 7 months

Text

⁰¹ As Lovers Do - Yandere! Geto Suguru x Gn! Reader

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Cross-posted on Quotev (@.oc34n1d) and Wattpad (@.heart-stricken)

9,100+ Words.

— Request by the very pleasant Nana ! It took me quite some time to be able to finish this but I really liked how this turned out and I hope you all did too. Again, if you want more detailed one-shots or headcanons, don't be afraid to explain to me in detail about what you want! Writing Geto's shift to obsession was really enjoyable and he's a really complex character. Alongside that, but accurate characterization for both the reader and Geto is so hard to write, so apologies if this took some time to be published. Scroll down for more notes.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will; devour what is evil. Protect humans, do everything in your power to do so, but never expect to be appreciated by the public eye, shun away from society's admiration— instead being a topic if scorn for being different.

⠀ ⠀Geto abides by his ideology, engraving it in his mind without thought.

⠀ ⠀Protect humans, you are a jujutsu sorcerer for that sole reason.

⠀ ⠀Are human lives worth saving?

⠀ ⠀He can never eviscerate the bitter taste of curses. An unwashed, soiled, and iniquitous taste of death. Like a rag used to repeatedly wipe vomit, feces, and every vile chemical mixed into one. He can taste death, he can feel it lump at his throat at every second; ascending gradually with its acuate, protruding claws. He wants to cry, but every time tears well in his eyes, he is faced with the constant reminder of her death.

⠀ ⠀Riko Amanai, a failed mission, a dead vessel, subsequently leading to the stillbirth of immortality's mortal body to be renewed with Riko's body. Subsequently leading to a doomed future for the lives of people within Japan— a haunting reflection of his failures, failures he could've avoided if he was fast enough, strong enough to predict that fucking bullet.

⠀ ⠀Why wasn't he fast enough?

⠀ ⠀The very morals he so pridefully upheld, all crushed with one single mission. He is a disgrace.

⠀ ⠀Gojo was wrong. Geto and Gojo will never be the "two strongest" sorcerers. There can only be room for number one, and Geto will always be second. Second strongest, second best— so much so to the point that his presence doesn't shine as bright as it ever will be once Gojo is in the room. But that's alright, right? After all, he believes that working under the shadows to mitigate human deaths, without the feel to need gratitude from the very lives he saves, is what is right. And what is right is what is just, right?

⠀ ⠀He discovered that the water inside the shower is frigid when you are alone with only your thoughts accompanying you; like ice shards expending down on his back, like the stab of that human monkey (who defeated him so easily, he can't bring himself to admit). It stabs and it stabs and it stabs. And then he spirals, eyes diluting at the images of defeat. Then suddenly the world around him becomes an audience to his silent suffering. He can hear the cult members smiles, feel every bit of bile rise up his throat, taste the sin of death once more.

⠀ ⠀Geto is done showering.

⠀ ⠀Every day is a loop. Rinse and repeat. Wake up, eat, bathe, missions, more missions, explore some uncharted areas of the city, guarantee that it is safe from curses, go home, rest, dinner, sleep. There are moments where they interchange, but they never change.

⠀ ⠀Very few mention Riko Amanai. After all, she is a topic taboo now, especially since it heavily affected both Gojo and Geto's mentality. In more than different ways in fact.

⠀ ⠀He wants to stop thinking about her. Distractions are not needed in an era full of brimming human life— life that Geto has to, again, protect.

⠀ ⠀Just as he is about to leave his dorm after putting on his everyday school attire (making a mental note to skip breakfast and eat lunch alone), he is notified of a mission. A mission where he has to accompany a rookie sorcerer, a student like him admittedly, and it was a concept he wasn't accustomed to. After all, he was surrounded by talented people, and in a sea of talents, he felt more like a drop of dew— so maybe, despite the strange request from his Sensei, Masamichi Yaga, this would provide him a new opportunity.

⠀ ⠀He hopes it does. Your profile exhibits your meek countenance, like any normal civilian, but you seem strong enough to be scouted. There's not much of a significant presence you display when he read through your documents. Or so he thought.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀You became his new, temporary partner (he insists on that status on you, donning a pretty fake smile through his growing eyebags). It was surprising, really, to see you up close after reading through your files. The moment he met you eye-to-eye did he realize you share the same height as him, a few centimeters taller, he could estimate.

⠀ ⠀Geto's preliminary view of you was taken aback when you, albeit awkwardly, mingled with him after both greeting each other. You treated him warmly- like any normal person would- despite being strangers in the eyes of passerby's. Walking on the sidewalk, pretending that the mission you both (more-so you, than him, as he was simply there to accompany you in case of a problematic event) were to undergo didn't involve harrowing exorcism and countless condolences from any deaths involved.

⠀ ⠀Before he could mutter anything further, to proceed on the site of your mission, you'd drag him into, as you state, your favorite chain of street foods. Did you want to distract yourself from furthering your shared mission, or were you idiotic enough to forget to eat breakfast that you'd have to drag his bleary body elsewhere to satisfy your needs? He was pleasantly (or was it hesitatingly?) surprised when you beckon him closer to buy any street food that catches his attention, as long as it is within your school allowance.

⠀ ⠀As he was about to differ from your offer (he didn't want to seem rude to you), your lips thin to a line and your eyebrows furrow (though your entire expression does not scream of angered. Perhaps you are befuddled with yourself?), and you beat him to it, insisting that he was going all his way to entertain you and all; that despite being acquainted only for a short while did you notice how his stomach grumbled loudly and how he didn't even notice the noise his own body made. He realized he was the idiot here, that he ignored his human need to consume actual food rather than curses.

⠀ ⠀Prior to his knowledge of you, you're more caring than what he envisaged. Soft. The qualities very unlike a jujutsu sorcerer should possess unless one wishes for death. Yet, that momentary lapse of emotion in your face tells him you are more than experienced in the field work of jujutsu than what he expected— you are soft, but you are dominating. Caring, but challenging.

⠀ ⠀His mind blanks.

⠀ ⠀Then he finds himself licking off the residue of the bits of fish flakes on the side of his mouth after you both decide on takoyaki. You're both on the sidewalk again, with him stealing (prolonged) glances at you— you acting like nothing has happened, matching his pace as- as equals would.

⠀ ⠀It was strange, for him, to experience this type of casual kindness after a period of solitary confinement from his peers. You were merely treating him, as one co-worker does when wanting to pay a favor to a higher up after given assistance. But why, compared to his other classmates, who in more cases than one pay for their occasional food excursion, does he like it when you domineeringly persisted that you should pay for him. Was he becoming soft? Or was it you that tamed a part of him that he swore was nothing?

⠀ ⠀There were cases your body draws nearer to his whilst you try to make small talk - could you even sense how much he could sense you? - where he could feel the visceral heat off the barrier of the pitch-black fabric you wear. Geto swears he didn't mean to, but he could smell the faint perfume you're donning— it was way different to the smell of crimson he's perpetually exposed to.

⠀ ⠀Your smile. The indistinct crinkle of your eyes, eyes that bounce bashfully from his eyes to the surrounding nature. It's as if, despite your mouth moving automatically, attempting to forgo the small-talk that he started, those sneaky eyes of yours always find it way back to meet his.

⠀ ⠀Were you perhaps admiring him after he regained some energy? It wouldn't be the first time. After all, compared to his white-haired best friend, he was always the more charming one of the two, often attracting ladies he seemingly never bat an eye on. And maybe you were just like them; he would forget you after this mission, and you would simply see him as an unreachable force, a special grade sorcerer whose talents would be a force to reckon with—

⠀ ⠀But maybe he wanted you to idolize him, in a way where you couldn't stand as an equal in power, but you could stand beside him with the power to overcome him more intimately, just like how you, a few moments ago, stood your ground; softly glaring at him like how a lover would to their naturally self-neglectful partner.

⠀ ⠀What was he thinking?

⠀ ⠀If- if maybe he could have known you longer then he would've loved to share his ideologies with you more, share a deeper questioning of society. With how understanding you are, you would empathize with him in a heartbeat. With how quick you slip into the grasp of blunt truth, how easily your eyes would flitter about once faced with a ridiculous statement ("I think it's funny how oblivious humans are, no? They could be killed at any opportunity by curses. How unfortunate is it to be born with nearly no cursed energy... Shouldn't- shouldn't sorcerers just let them be? To rot? After all, saving them means attaining nothing on our part.") he would docilely express— you'd rebut him, but at the same time you would do so with the thought of his ideas in mind.

⠀ ⠀How invigorating must you be?

⠀ ⠀If you share the same sentiment with him then—

⠀ ⠀Then he'll finally have someone to rely on. In a world full of corrupt notions, you could be the only one who would comfort him

⠀ ⠀And God, your presence was really relaxing compared to the odd bunch he surrounds himself with— like a breath of fresh air amidst the fetid scent of curses he devours.

⠀ ⠀The most tantalizing part of you? You haven't even demonstrated your cursed technique, nor your fighting style to him— you've both just arrived at the scene of the crime too. Yet he's convinced that you seem to hold a lot of power over him.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

⠀ ⠀Protect human lives, sacrifice your own if you will.

⠀ ⠀The more that oh-so inspiring phrase repeats itself in his head like a broken record, the more he's stuck in a predicament of wanting and unwanting the want. He should protect them, the people, no?— God, humans are filthy, they're weak. And sorcerers; they don't deserve to be hidden, treated less...

⠀ ⠀You don't deserve to be undermined, especially by that loathsome family of yours.

⠀ ⠀A few days pass and he finds himself seeking your presence out, alas he couldn't. You were a lower rank than him, stuck with lower-ranking missions— and he's a special grade, dragged into countless complex commissions that would surely tire anyone. Anytime he tries to seek you out, he would find himself in another mission assigned by those abhorrent superiors; and that is merely another day without you.

⠀ ⠀Another day where he drowns in melancholic thoughts in the shower; drowns in what-ifs and the motifs of his supposed success of saving Riko. Yet the more time he spends in the showers without seeing that demulcent, yet potent expression of yours; Geto's imaginations drift from the need to finding any meaning of being a jujutsu sorcerer to yearning for the normalcy you unveiled.

⠀ ⠀When was the last time he was able to inhale so freely without feeling the sharp claws sinking its ways to his hard? When was the last time he exhaled without bile climbing up his throat? It's you he's thinking of again. You he associates with peace.

⠀ ⠀The erratic sprinkle of water from the showers doesn't sound like the cult members' laughs anymore... When he turns it off, the accustomed silence accompanied by pitch-sharp wringing was replaced by whispered voices; all the same sounding, yet they make his tense muscles relax. They all sound like you.

⠀ ⠀And...

⠀ ⠀The urge to strike another conversation with you struck itself into his nerves once more.

⠀ ⠀But he couldn't, even if he wanted to- definitely would.

⠀ ⠀So he- he simply has to find another way to know more about you; to check if you always wear that expression of yours, the one he wishes to engrave in his brain. Not only that but, he needs to evaluate your strengths so he could - in his mind - protect you, right? All throughout the mission you were efficient with utilizing your cursed technique, but in the end you had still ended up with minor injuries; some bruises, others scratches. They could turn major if he wasn't there to watch over you once you're faced with stronger, more complex opponents, no?

⠀ ⠀The idea terrorized itself into the core of his amygdala. He feels fear. He has to know more about you.

⠀ ⠀Because he couldn't find you in the period you both are working, with minimum time for breaks, Geto convicted himself to obtrusive methods of locating you.

⠀ ⠀By locating, that means he simply resorted to stalking you, hence how he discovered your not-as-kind family.

⠀ ⠀Your parents, monkeys, with no ounce of cursed energy whatsoever. Whose talents don't even do jackshit for society— who has the audacity to ridicule you like you're nothing but dirt. Rummaging through files he shouldn't have access to, Geto was revealed with information that you were scouted by the school after they found you coping furiously with your cursed technique after an argument which led you to being kicked out of the house you used to live in.

⠀ ⠀You were unaware of your skill, yet you managed to achieve what other sorcerers take time to master. He finds you not only endearing, but enough to be revered by others. But his prior admiration turned into aggravation soon enough after scanning through your files again.

⠀ ⠀You have nowhere to live other than the highschool you both reside in, no one else for a support system, nothing at all. Hell, you're even financially dependent on the allowance of the high school, yet you even went as far as to treat him like it won't cut your budget. Again, you have nothing.

⠀ ⠀But he could change that.

⠀ ⠀He will give you everything you want.

⠀ ⠀If he finds a way to at least convince the higher ups to be given missions that require your presence - he could convince them that he shall be your temporary, no, longterm mentor - then he could be everything for you, and you could care for him too. You both could depend on each other, and he won't be so lonely, no? Won't feel so utterly useless, with no meaning to live life. You could be the very reason he still maintains his cool, the reason why he hasn't killed off those monkeys yet.

⠀ ⠀He will find a way.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru always finds a way. He is, after all, a jujutsu sorcerer.

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⠀ ⠀And so you were suddenly wormed beside Geto once more, though you were convinced that this wouldn't be the last time you will be paired with the mysterious man who keeps a composed smile, opposite to when you first met him. His eyebags, too, were smaller, like he has been regaining sleep once more. You couldn't deny that it made him even more handsome than your first impression of him.

⠀ ⠀His curt smile broke into a beam once he noticed you eyeing him up and down.

⠀ ⠀Compared to last time, he seemed healthier. Was there something that induced a sudden change in him? Of course, you can't really assume anything since you have met him only once, but there's something about him that you couldn't pin-point. Despite shining brighter than before - you could describe him akin to the serene atmosphere of winter - there was a hidden undertone to him that scorches you, and you don't know why but you chose to ignore it in favor of prioritizing the newly assigned mission.

⠀ ⠀Looking back, the superiors' evaluation of you suddenly increased; and now you were paired with the special grade again, with no arbitrary explanation as to why him specifically. But it didn't really affect you personally, so there's no need to worry about anything.

⠀ ⠀In the blink of an eye, he was meticulously closer to you, right hand finding its way to your chin as his index finger beckons you to stare into his eyes. He mutters something under his breath, words you couldn't catch on. Then his smile grew wider than ever, you couldn't deny that it charmed even you.

⠀ ⠀"You sure do love staring at me, huh?" Despite the back of his fingers tenderly rubbing the sides of your chin, you couldn't bring it in yourself to pull back, a magnetic force compelling you to linger in your compromising position. Noticing barely any signs of discomfort, Geto's left hand finds itself holding your right and he brings it up near your chest and squeezes it affectionately.

⠀ ⠀Is he flirting with you?

⠀ ⠀"You must be undressing me with your eyes." He purrs, taking it further and kissing your knuckles whilst maintaining eye-contact with you. To that, you unhurriedly take your hand away from his grip (you swear that you nearly feel his clasp on you tightening for a slight second), and chuckled lightly.

⠀ ⠀Your response was curt, "Well, it feels like you are doing the same thing, no?" It's as if you were pretending the abrupt, sensual action he did didn't affect you one bit. He is, you couldn't deny one bit, incredibly attractive and you'd love to reciprocate the flirting but a reminder that he was a year above you and that you barely even know him clashes its way to your mind. And, for the most part, you only met him once. In that one singular meeting did he not display such provocative insinuations. It was just now that there was a sudden fondness that was triggered.

⠀ ⠀Can you really stand your ground against such a courteous man? Although he was a tad raunchy, maybe it wasn't only towards you? Does it really matter?

⠀ ⠀You're overthinking it, you figured as you snap out of your trance. Looking back at Geto once more, you gaze at him, leisurely, with not a negative thought but instead with goals aligning to your mission once more.

⠀ ⠀It was back again, your tender visage salted with rationale mentality. You've no knowledge about Suguru's increasing fondness of you, but you do know you would, by all odds, reciprocate his adoration of you soon enough.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru is a man who works between the line of preservation and consumption. To preserve the preciousness of human lives is a goal he doubts, and to consume curses is an everyday activity he comes to dread— but he was willing to preserve only your life whilst ultimately letting the image of you consume him.

⠀ ⠀Instead of you treating him to a snack before your mission, you find yourself entangled with Geto-kun - he insists on you calling him informally albeit the short time spent together - in your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite foods and beverages, and chattering with him casually as "friends" do— after the mission. You were about to refuse his invitation but you halted as you were well aware that you did the same for him and it would be hypocritical of you.

⠀ ⠀Geto snickered lightly at your modest display, but was most definitely pleased as he reiterated what you said at your first meeting.

⠀ ⠀"Your stomach grumbled on our way out. You should eat, my treat. After all, a way to a man's heart is through food, yes?"

⠀ ⠀At that statement, you smacked him lightly in the arms and glared, amused, at him with thin lips— your expression then broke out into a laugh as you walked alongside him.

⠀ ⠀At least you could confidently say that by the end of the night that you had thoroughly enjoyed conversing with him. He was not only intellectual with words, but he was persuasive all throughout your debates with him in the restaurant. There were moments you disagreed with his sentiments, especially about humans born with no cursed energy, as you did. Though if you were to weigh it all out, you have made more agreements with him than disagreements and you weren't afraid to voice out your reasonings without invalidating him; he seemed to really like that about you, as you note his pleasant smile all throughout. He never broke his eye-contact with you too, eyes following your mouth forming the counterarguments whilst also acknowledging his assertions.

⠀ ⠀This was the first time in a while that actually liked the concept of debates, since Geto was so pleasing, so receptive of the things you say; like every word matters.

⠀ ⠀You really, really like this man.

⠀ ⠀Since you're aware of the new position assigned to you as his colleague despite not being in the same grade— you find yourself wishing for these "dates" to occur more often by the near future. And by future, you mean at least every week.

⠀ ⠀Perhaps it was a shared sentiment, but you really do feel a spark between you two, a linked closeness that transcends more than just acquaintances despite it being a second meeting. Or... you are perhaps consumed by fatigue from the mission as it is trickier by default when you find yourself working with a special grade.

⠀ ⠀And... Maybe your brain was too preoccupied, but you have never once had the thought of Geto knowing all your favorites cross your mind.

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⠀ ⠀Hours turn into days, days into weeks, and finally weeks turn months— and within that time frame did Geto Suguru experience a blizzard of emotions. All these burst inside of him like fireworks blazing through the midnight sky.

⠀ ⠀Everything was going well with you, of course. Every single day was a period of time where he was able to keep track of you; the time you wake up, eat, shower, even sleep. He knew your hobbies, too, after visiting your dorm whensoever. He even memorized the smell of your room, the various trinkets plastered around your walls, he could locate your bed without hesitation even with a blindfold— Geto could even recall the spots where the early sunlight hits your bed.

⠀ ⠀Every moment spent with you was an opportunity to know you better, on more personal levels. He was the first to know about your habits, those that you typically hide at face value, the ones you were embarrassed to show to your friends— ones only he (not even you were aware) notices and treasures.

⠀ ⠀It was only fair that he lets you know about him in an equal amount. After all, every known boundary he has ever set were practically nonexistent when it comes to you.

⠀ ⠀So he lets you in on his deepest darkest secrets. He whispers to you, nightly, about his interests, about his passions, about his greatest fears— the one thing he fears the most, one he has never told anyone; not his family, not his friends, nobody but you— is the alienation he feels from everyone. He has been through everything, he tasted death, and no one could relate to the taste of rot, not even his closest friends. Only you would know, you'll be the only one who holds his heart in your hand, even if he knows that you could betray him at any given moment.

⠀ ⠀But you won't.

⠀ ⠀He tells you all about all the vulnerable parts of him in hopes of garnering your attention on him. And yes you did, every part of you felt pity for him, and he loves the way you react. Geto loves your expressions. Loves the way your face twists to disgust one time, when he described what a mouthful of curses taste like. Or when you'd press your body behind him (he loves just how much you trust him enough to be intimately close to him), arms wrapped around his back, eyes tightly closed, and mouth slightly agape as the cool breeze of the air hits your face violently, as he flew both of you to take an arial view of the city at night, using a curse, of course.

⠀ ⠀Every face you make, obscure or not, triggers intense reactions from the man. So much so he feels like he could die from perspiration the first time you reciprocated his flirting, by kissing his cheeks, taking him aback. Goodness, he won't ever let anything get in between you two, and he most definitely would never forget the instance you smiled lopsidedly at him right after, a slight flush on your face.

⠀ ⠀Menial conversations became in depth discussions when it came to you, even if your responses would sometimes have frivolous undertones in them; Geto would still want to crawl deeper into your brain, have a need to disect every single information you know. Every course of action you make, the black-haired man would always find examples to love about you. Sometimes, it feels like you're a specimen living under his care, but God does he worship you like you are divine in every way.

⠀ ⠀And Geto wasn't merely a special grade sorcerer for nothing (and they are known for using eccentric methods to get what they want). He was right to assume that the more he initiated on displaying his liking for you, through actions especially, the more you grow increasingly fond of him, but not to his levels of... obsession.

⠀ ⠀But you bask in the attention of your sensual sorcerer, so it wasn't a surpise that, well—

⠀ ⠀It only took a little bit of time to pass - though it felt a very long period of Geto; he had to remind himself that patience and perseverance is key - and then suddenly you two were finally official.

⠀ ⠀And like lovebirds, everywhere you went, you were accompanied by Geto. Hand holding, hands on your waist, eyes finding its way to look at only you, even if there is another person in the room trying to talk to him— it's like he wants to connect himself to you in every way possible. You don't mind it at all, though, already aware enough of his circumstances when it comes to attachment issues.

⠀ ⠀You have been so close before, but even more intimate now, to the point his colleagues and teachers alike were aware of your tight-knit relationship. Even Gojo Satoru, resident tormentor of Jujutsu Tech, teased Geto about his increasing PDA with you, often guffawing in the background whenever he spots you two inseperably cuddling and pressing kisses into each other's cheeks like immature, hormonal teens.

⠀ ⠀You had even slept in the same bed as him.

⠀ ⠀When he woke up the next day, with your head nuzzled into the crevice of his neck, his arms squeezing your body against his, warm sheets entangling both of you together like a cocoon... When you utter random noises in your sleep, snuggling closer to him whenever your dreams become unpleasant... He watches over your slumbering form, sometimes even shifts to make sure you're in a better position, to make sure that the duvet covers you entirely.

⠀ ⠀Geto has never thanked any being above, never intended to, believing that sorcerers are the truly divine beings that humankind should worship— but he laudes whoever is out there, his ancestors perhaps, that for once he was endowed with someone beyond anything he would ever want. You are everything Geto needs in his life.

⠀ ⠀So why is it that..?

⠀ ⠀With everything going so well, so perfect...

⠀ ⠀It was all so perfect until...

⠀ ⠀The notion of prosperity came tumbling down, like a world-ending meteor, when one of his close juniors died from a curse, with his fellow partner in the mission suffering gravely after him. Haibara Yu, a bubbly underclassman who you was also your classmate, so it was no doubt that you, too, grieved.

⠀ ⠀He never wants to see that solemn expression in your face again...

⠀ ⠀The lump of flesh that was presented to Shoko Ieri and the other students, all shoved inside a cadaver bag, reeked of flesh— a scent all jujutsu sorcerers were accustomed to, but never coped with if they bare the knowledge that that someone is familiar with them. He shouldn't have been so affected; in ways where despite caring for his junior... He feels a mixture of animosity brimming inside him.

⠀ ⠀He shouldn't have been so jealous of a corpse gaining the slightest bit of your spotlight, shouldn't be so envious of the way you spill tears over someone else... But most importantly, he hates it when you'd be stuck in a dissociative trance afterwards, just like the one he was in when Riko died.

⠀ ⠀Everything snaps the moment he remembers his discussion with that fellow blonde-haired special grade, the dead-beat who never did her job. Geto didn't enjoy conversing with her, finding her reasonings meaningless, her words of persuasion only reserved for her interests. He didn't indulge in her as he did you. But that particular conversation cemented itself in his brain, and now he's stuck with questions swirling his mind, questions he knew would be answered with vehement solutions.

⠀ ⠀Then he was back at it again, after rediscovering his memories, in a spiral of neverending speculation. Why do sorcerers need to protect those foul monkeys? Why is it that it is the sorcerers who have to adjust to the norm? Why are they regarded as the odd bunch? Why do they have to die for useless beings lower than them?

⠀ ⠀Amidst all the questioning he does, there were relevant ones that struck a particular nerve in him.

⠀ ⠀It all circles back to you. You, you, you.

⠀ ⠀Why would it not be you?

⠀ ⠀And what if...

⠀ ⠀What if you had died instead of Haibara?

⠀ ⠀Tears, salty and brimming with bitter feelings, for the first time in ages, trickled out his eyes, sliding uncomfortable against shivering skin. Uncontrollable and inevitable. What came with despair was also hysteria.

⠀ ⠀He couldn't cope with that idea. No, not at all— he wants to extinguish the very possibility that you, of all people, could die very early just because— because you would forfeit your life for worthless ones. You're way more than just a sacrificial lamb; you're Geto's everything. He couldn't afford to lose you, couldn't even grasp the prospect of your death.

⠀ ⠀The shower water plummeled down his head like a hailstorm, to his torso, until it nipped on his feet with its unforgiving frost.

⠀ ⠀But he knows you. He's aware that despite the rocky relationship you have with your family, or the demeaning comments from your supposed friends, that you would die for those untalented monsters. You're too considerate. He wants that consideration all for himself.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it, he hates everything whenever you consider everyone but yourself. He will take care of it, of you. But how could he? Not when you insist on sitting quietly and receiving all those harsh treatments forced on you.

⠀ ⠀ He has never felt so helpless before. It devours him, inside and out, like insects crawling on his skin, nipping and biting flesh— like he himself was merely a corpse for maggots to pig through.

⠀ ⠀ It's almost class time, and even if he dreads coming to the class of three (minus one, as Gojo is now consistently busy with missions), burden running down his spine at the notion that you would be in a separate class.

⠀ ⠀Geto overlooked the fact that, despite suffering from the solitude of the bathroom showers, he isn't as alone as he thought, not anymore. For in his misery, you share the sentiment.

⠀ ⠀ You await him, in his room, eyes sore from incessant tears, body especially nearly letting you down after countless bouts of harming yourself over being unable to comfort your boyfriend over his turmoil. Yet you're unwavering from your seated position, ready to confront your boyfriend shall he ever lead into a path of self destruction.

⠀ ⠀Geto stumbled out of the showers, somber mind neglecting the very schedule he has plastered all over his head, a display of utter patheticness. At this time of the day, you were always loitering around his dorm.

⠀ ⠀ How could he have forgotten? As he rubs fatigue off his eyes, he ceased in his tracks, ears picking up a slight wringing. His wet hair drenched the t-shirt he threw on, but the sharp, frore water isn't the cause of his shivering— it's you, who he saw in the corner of his eyes, sat on his bed.

⠀ ⠀He should've expected it, it was already part of your daily routine to visit him, yet it still shook him when he found a blob of your hair color in his peripheral vision— so much so to the point that even breathing betrayed him.

⠀ ⠀Why was he crying again?

⠀ ⠀ There's no other way to describe Geto's situation, other than that of a trapped dear, with no way to outrun a speeding car in the middle of the road— but you're not the type to harm him - maybe in bed you would, pleasurably - but you wouldn't hurt him because you wanted to. Yet he still fears showcasing vulnerability, afraid of betrayal, especially from you. So all he could do was stand, feet losing sensation, unable to move an inch; to even breath was to move, and he couldn't.

⠀ ⠀ But it was you who cut into the thick atmosphere, standing up, footsteps unheard, towards Geto who was rooted on the floor, body tense.

⠀ ⠀ The first thing he saw when he glanced up with ruddy eyes was your gentle gaze.

⠀ ⠀ He visibly relaxed, albeit unmoving. It doesn't matter, though, not to you at least— because you see his tear-stained cheeks and puffy, tired eyes and uptight body that tells you he won't be emotionally recovering soon. You want do to nothing more other than to spoon him wholly and tell him you'll deal with everything. But you can't. You can't because you're not of the same status as him, not strong enough you stress. And you can't because you're tired, too, just like him and all the others, but especially him. And although you tell yourself that you're an intrepid Jujutu sorcerer who should bare no weaknesses; you can break as easily as the others.

⠀ ⠀ But you have to be strong for him.

⠀ ⠀ Holding his hands in yours, you give it a gentle squeeze, looking down on him with loving eyes. You beat him to it, beat him at his game and questioned him if he's alright, if he needed space to think. To which his answer was to strongly grip your palm a second after the question, gaze hardened on you, as a confirmation that he did not, in fact, want you out his room, for others to look at you and comfort you.

⠀ ⠀ You ask him what's wrong, only for you to sputter back and tell him that he's not obligated to answer any of your questions should he not be stable enough.

⠀ ⠀ Not a single response... You ask again, eyes now harboring a demand for answers, but there's nothing.

⠀ ⠀ Slight irritation follows your countenance when all you were met with was silence...

⠀ ⠀Then your stark personality displays itself once more, your voice a deeper octave as you palm his face and stare deeply into his eyes; he falls in love all over again That's when you began mumbling to him, like you're sharing secrets nobody else could access. When you tell him that he has every right to grieve and be frustrated at the same time, that he shouldn't hold back tears; he felt bare naked in front of you. But you weren't scrutinizing him, even if all that comes out your mouth is the truth, ones that should've hurt him for making him feel defenseless in the arms of danger, but didn't. Because those words were from you.

⠀ ⠀Your word is God, and he calms down just enough to stare back at you, shaky figure and everything, and brings his hands to cup your palm, rubbing lovingly.

⠀ ⠀ You peck his cheeks, giggling when you felt the sheer wetness it was drowned in. But before you could pull back as quickly, Geto's head moved faster to kiss your mouth, passionate and seering, hands resting on your waist. It took a few seconds of nuzzling into each other, but it felt like eternity before he withdrawed, palms tenderly rubbing your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀Geto Suguru didn't just love you— he loves you, every part of you. And he decides, from now on, whether you'd consent or not, that you'll never leave him. Familial bonds are nothing to you, now that your parents have finally passed away (and you've no idea on their cause of death, nor the fact that they were brutally mauled by an amalgation of curses), your friends are nothing compared to him— you are the- the only one that matters to him, and he wishes you would reciprocate that notion.

⠀ ⠀So a choice (one where you, perhaps, will never have a say in) was set in Geto's persistent mind; now or never.

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⠀ ⠀Geto hopes you would forgive him after everything. He hopes that you wouldn't mind it if you were to be permanently separated from the entire civilization, only to be admired by his greedy eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 'Protect human lives?' No, he will not even spare a glance at to those monkeys. He'd prioritizes on a new goal— to protect your life, firstly. From any harm, any danger; from something as small like a prick of a needle to even death itself.

⠀ ⠀ He loves it when you look at him, eyes shining with adoration every time he saves you from momentary danger. So he'll do it again. Though, only now will you be permanently safe, where no filthy nothings may lay hands on you.

⠀ ⠀He hopes that you wouldn't notice how he has an apartment set up just for both of you, that you wouldn't wonder why all your belongings - that were left in your bygone, desolate house - were now moved into the multisectioned rooms designed just for your taste.

⠀ ⠀ He sets a date on his calendar for the day you would be relocated in a new space far more homely and spacious than the dorms in Jujutsu Tech.

⠀ ⠀ By the time the moon engulfs the sky with its dim light, he'd drug your favorite dinner whilst you're comfortably oblivious to his ministrations. He'll be conversing with you while sometimes feeding you portions of his food, as couples always do (except for the part his tongue would linger a bit long on his chopstick after he fed you with it), laughing tenderly with each others' jokes and simply enjoying the solitude of being together... Then after a while you would be too hazy to comprehend anything, and Geto, being your ever-so loving boyfriend, will guide you to your now shared dormitory, and he'll tuck you in, not after you briefly snuggle with him in bed— and, well, he didn't want to get up from your tight embrace. But he has to, for the sake of your safety and his sanity.

⠀ ⠀ The travel would be made as smooth as possible, with silent promises that you won't even feel a wee bit of discomfort despite your heavily drugged state; he'll guarantee you won't awake from your slumber— he would curse himself if he wasn't gentle with your while you were in your most vulnerable state. The look he has on his face as he stares at your closed eyes and stable breathing is so soothing, just like all the times you've treated him nicely. He'll be so... so good to you. He'll secure himself with the position as the only one you'll ever need in your life. If he can't abide by his promises, then he doesn't deserve to be called your lover.

⠀ ⠀ You'll- you'll give him another chance, wouldn't you? Even if the chances see your friends (they're unworthy of your presence, never appreciating you for all the things you've done for them) or family (as if you have any to come back to; he eliminated those worthless beings) would be zero— you'll understand, no?

⠀ ⠀ You don't have to do any arduous chores inside the apartment. Everything would be given to you as long as you stay with him. Everything. You'll be granted limited access to internet, with all your history rooted into his tracking devices— though you'd have every means of entertainment you want. Food isn't a problem, your device would only have access to Geto's phone, so you could call him any time your stomach buzzes with hunger, and the fridge is always stocked with your favorite snacks. Every hobby you would garner would be indulged in— you had once briefly mentioned your interests in crocheting, but never having the opportunity to due to clashing schedules between school and personal life. Now is the perfect opportunity to do anything, as long as it stays within his radar.

⠀ ⠀ All you have to do is, as hard as it may be, is to accept your new living environment. Nothing else would change, even if you choose to fight him back at first— because Geto loves you, and he'll deny his heart the turmoil of ever losing you.

⠀ ⠀ So once you'd arise from the bed with an unfamiliar, yet cozy blanket, (that he bought specifically catering to your tastes), he would be at your beck and call before you could even properly sit up (still sober from the heavy dosage of sedatives your boyfriend forced on you without your knowledge).

⠀ ⠀ Any concerns you would ask, it would be entertained with Geto plastering a silvery smile, even if your tone harbored unease. If tears ever came running down your eyes, Geto wouldn't shut you up, but he definitely wouldn't leave you be, to your thoughts alone - like he was back then - not at all. He'd approach you so steadily, careful if you'd flinch the slightest bit once his legs hit the mattress, and he'll hold you so tightly (worst part is, you've no chains or ropes tied on your limbs, no evident scars that was whilst Geto was on the process of kidnapping you. You have nothing to be mad about. He is just so gentle), apologizing profusely as if he wasn't the reason why you're even weeping in the first place once he thoroughly explained the reason for your abduction.

⠀ ⠀ He hates it when you cry, but God does he love it when, despite susceptible state of anguish, you'd reciprocate his hold; as if even your mind, body, and heart couldn't deny that it ultimately belonged to Geto.

⠀ ⠀ So you have to bargain your way through this, not out of it— you're logical enough to know your strengths and weaknesses and you know that in terms of strength, your lover would win. You know him better than everything, and you don't accept easy defeat, you want to fight your way out of this but... The look of adulation in Geto's eyes is way too familiar, that you're the one falling in love again, albeit the strange circumstances.

⠀ ⠀ Then you weigh everything that has been happening for the past for months, and all the signs hits you in the damn face. Geto didn't flirt with you with the intentions of playing with your heart as you have thought so in your second meeting— because if he did, he wouldn't have known all your favorites, didn't say all the words you wanted to hear. He planned everything from the start. Yet you don't feel an ounce of malice from him, you didn't do anything wrong— you weren't abducted because he wanted to torture you; you were abducted because he wants you. For himself, away from the world that wants to tear you to shreds. You brought this onto yourself, so willing to give your heart and soul to the man you thought you love, the man you still do love.

⠀ ⠀ Fuck. A new batch of tears painted your already tear-stained face. You stare at him, his furrowed brows, his handsomely sculpted countenance - the one you held so fondly, kissed a thousand times, worshipped eternally - yours so incredulous, so filled with utter disarray. Why do you forgive him after everything? Why, nothing more or less, do you want him to tell you everything is alright, since he's there for you?

⠀ ⠀ Perhaps it's the emotions building inside you that bursts like a dam. The resentment you built upon your childhood, or the tears you've wasted on past crushes, or the whole entire world pressuring you to endure through its own faults. Maybe you were similar to him in more ways than one.

And maybe that's why instead of convincing him to let you go, you tell him you won't be going anywhere. His appalled reaction motioned you to continue, to tell him that you're tired, of life, of everything that's been going on so far. You never wanted to be a sorcerer, but you've no choice lest you wish to sleep on the cold sidewalk of the streets. Every single day was constant pressure, dread that one day you may be disposed of by the high school you reside in shall you ever display a single flaw.

All the built up secrets that you confided in him shattered his heart to pieces. And it breaks him even more knowing he shares the same sentiment with you. No more. The abrupt kiss to your mouth promptly shut you up, before you could even continue, and you let it be. You willingly open your mouth when he softly nibbled on the bottom of your lips, wet tongue already attacked by another the moment his entered your mouth. The bitter ache in your heart receded. You let him be.

There was nothing inherently sexual with his and your actions, it was nothing but romantic in your eyes. Tongues entwining, saliva mixing, choaked moans, and all doubts and burdens ceasing in one heated moment— your kisses never lasted long, nor did it ever lead into a make-out so intense like you're both fusing; but it's exactly what you need right now: To get drunk off the passion of Geto's heavy lips and the lack of oxygen that comes after...

It's enough to make you sleepy, as you gently push your boyfriends slightly ruddy face off of you, at a distance where he was close enough that your noses could still touch. Your face flushes even more at the string of saliva interconnecting both your mouths, but your eyes find itself back into his already piercing eyes, clouded with dizzying passion. Every part of you feels like it would burst into flames the more you relish under his intense gaze, so you opted to move quickly and bury your head into the side of neck, hands lazily plastered on his waist, mouth readily nearing his ears. He reciprocated your actions, chuckling fondly at your affectionate gestures as his knees adjusted to pin both your thighs together, whilst his arms act as a cage to trap you against his chest.

Before you could utter a word, Geto beats you to it, telling you that you should both sleep already. Despite you having been knocked out for an entire day, with a buzzing headache and numb limbs, it's no doubt you were still tired, and he was too... You move your head from the comfortable position nested on his shoulders and look back at him, at the small eyebags that once again found itself on his face— it takes you back to when you first met him. Burnt out, mellow, but undeniably handsome. You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time, nodding as you shifted to lay on the bed, leaving space for Geto, who is still seated, watching you with an indiscernible expression.

Beckoning for him him drowsily, to join you, you've promptly felt the confines of sleep taking you further into the world of dreams. Dreams where you'd wake up with your loving and compassionate Geto, rather than that of escaping the cage he set up for you. It took a few seconds for your boyfriend to finally move, laying down beside you with arms creeping to your waist. Not a single word was said, only the ruffling of the blanket was heard. You're the one who spoons him when it comes to sleeping in a shared bed together, but his hands found itself moving your head to his chest - the thumping of his heart entrapped in his ribcage tells you he's calm enough, trusting that you won't escape from his ministrations - as though to tell you that only you can have his heart in your hands, nobody else. It didn't take long for you to slowly shut your eyes once more, admitting that his heartbeats was a comforting source for slumber.

⠀ ⠀'You're just so adorable,' he thinks to himself, drifting into the same land of dreams as you, holding you tightly and never letting go.

⠀ ⠀ ...

⠀ ⠀ Geto Suguru is a man of a few words, who dons a plethora of promises, shall you ever be wanting. When he first saw you whilst looking through your files, he at first thought you were average, unmemorable by standards. But even in first impressions would there always be a magnetic draw, strong enough to make it last eternally. (Un)fortunately for you, Geto has always loved you without even knowing it, and the way your first night together - you being away from the tainted hands of civilization - was beyond tranquil, unnatural traits from a prey who was taken unwillingly.

⠀ ⠀ But nothing else matters. Not the concept of healthy relationships, nor the opinions of family or friends, and most certainly not the ridiculing of society's norms.

⠀ ⠀ Nothing matters other than the two bodies entangling themselves on a bed for two, settling in for the night, as lovers do.

Fin.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

— PLEASE ! Leave comments, follow me and share this to anybody if you enjoyed this one-shot. It would be appreciated greatly. I've been through writer's block for nearly a year or two now, and writing this helped me combat it. I thoroughly enjoyed making this, and I hope that it's good enough for the readers too! It took me very long to write all these out, as I am rusty wirh writing (and I struggle with English), but really, I would appreciate interaction and likes over anything else! I might publish this as a stand-alone one-shot in a separate book. As always, don't hesitate to request! Thank you for reading this!

26.1 Pages

Published: 02/25/2024

Word Count: 9100+ words

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ────────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

#.devilwrites #. jujutsu kaisen #.geto suguru #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #Yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #yandere suguru geto #dark yandere #sub yandere

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oharabunny · 1 year

Text

The Grass is Greener on the Other Side

Description: It's Miguel's birthday and you want to surprise him with his childhood favorite foods. With you living in his home, he has rules, and you broke the most important one.

Story is connected to my yandere!caretaker!Miguel fic.

Word Count: 5170

Warning: 18+, mdni, yandere!caretaker!Miguel, fem!afab!Reader, spanking, manipulation, slut-shaming, Stockholm Syndrome, infantilization, physical pain, non-con, not beta read

Please read warnings before proceeding. The following behaviors are abusive and I do not condone them.

You wake up one morning from Lyla’s alarm and see Miguel isn’t next to you in bed. That is typical of him because he has to go to work early or the rare times he stays there overnight (which he will always give you a heads up on).

He will almost always come home every night so it doesn’t particularly bother you. (But it definitely bothers him because he just wants to spend an eternity in every waking hour caring for you, but alas the multiverse isn’t going to take care of itself. It’s not like he can entrust the fate and balance of it all to the other Spiders.)

You slowly begin to wake up and slide yourself out of bed. Another day without Miguel as your only friend and husband to keep you entertained.

That is until you realize what day it is.

You memorize this specific date because it is one of the few things that Miguel will tell you about himself (you pestered him a long time to tell you).

Today is his birthday.

You feel saddened by the fact he is not home to celebrate, but that gives you the chance to surprise him if he comes back home tonight.

You ask Lyla what Miguel’s favorite cakes and birthday food are.

Lyla says he really likes the pan dulce sold at this specific bakery downtown. Unfortunately they’re a prideful business that does not do delivery.

That is a problem.

Ever since he took you under his wing to live in his apartment, he has many, many rules for you to follow. They only get stricter after marriage and childbirth.

Rule number one is you do not leave the apartment for any reason (unless it’s for safety and Miguel is not there to save the day).

Lyla, his AI assistant, is also sure as hell not going to let you go either.

You have a child now, a daughter of 9 years, so there is even less incentive to let you go outside.

You think to yourself, wouldn’t your daughter also want to help set up his birthday surprise?

You immediately wash up and dress in one of Miguel’s favorite dresses that he likes on you. You even put on the style of makeup and hairdo the way he likes them.

You go to your daughter’s room and softly knock on her door. “Hey, Y/D/N, can I come in?”

She swings the door open, and says while yawning, “Hey mama, good morning.”

You step into her room and sit on her bed. You pat the bed to gesture to her to sit down next to you.

“It’s your papa’s birthday today. And I think we should surprise him with his favorite foods when he gets back.”

Her face lights up in excitement and bounces up to her toes. “It is?! Oh can we, mama?”

She pauses, “But wait, you can’t cook.”

It was another one of those rules Miguel set for you: you are not allowed to cook. You can at most use the microwave, with Lyla’s supervision.

“I know, sweetie, but I know a few places we can stop by to pick up his favorite foods.” You counter.

“But papa says you’re not allowed to go outside, it’s too dangerous for you.” Your daughter looks to the side with uncertainty while playing with her fingers. She does this whenever she feels pressured.

You sigh, “I know…that papa can be protective of me. But sometimes…he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not as weak as he thinks. Besides, I want to spend time with you outside! I’ll promise to take you to your favorite ice cream spot, if you’ll show me.”

With just that, her face lights up again in glee. She has always wanted to bring you to her favorite places in the city that she usually goes with her papa. You never got the chance to see the outside world beyond that brief time in Spider Society and when he brought you to the hospital for her birth.

You lean into your daughter’s ear, “But we’ll need to trick the alarm system and Lyla if we want to make it happen.”

You have to convince Lyla into disabling the alarm system without her alerting Miguel.

You also have to make your trip super quick because he likes to video call you randomly.

There are very few ways to convince or even trick Lyla. None of which would pop up in your head if you aren’t particularly tech savvy.

And you aren’t.

“Lyla.” You called her.

“Hey there sweetie. What’s up?” The small yellow woman appears on your shoulder and tilts her head in question.

You pause to gather your words and organize your mind. It doesn’t really work.

“It’s Miguel’s birthday today and I want to surprise him.” You start slowly to gauge her response.

“Ah, yes it is, and oh dear…” Lyla pauses, “He doesn’t particularly like his birthday, much less surprises.”

“Well, I still think he should have a little something. Maybe not like a party if he doesn’t like those, but something like getting his favorite foods. And before you tell me I’m not allowed to cook, I know. And… I need to go outside to pick them up.” You clasp your hands together and look down to help with your words.

You can see Lyla is already about to cut in.

“I KNOW, I know, rule number one. But, it’s close by. I’ll make it quick. Y/D/N will be with me.”

Lyla sighs and readjusts her pink heart-shaped glasses, “You know Miguel is still not going to be happy about that.”

“You don’t have to tell him! I mean, you’ll be with me and if anything happens you can call him. But, I swear, nothing will happen to me!”

“I’m sorry gal, I just can’t let you do that.” Lyla could only give you a sympathetic look.

“He deserves something special for a special day. Even setting aside his whole birthday, I just want to show him how much I appreciate him for everything he’s done for me.” You could feel yourself becoming dejected.

“You can paint him a picture.” Lyla suggests.

“I painted him a thousand.” You counter.

“You can crochet.”

“I do that every day.” You are getting frustrated and sigh, “And don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that I’m not allowed outside. I can walk just fine. You can take your diagnostics. Even I need a change of scenery every now and then.”

“Girlie, you know you two have talked about this. Miguel set that rule in stone. I can’t do anything about it.” Lyla is still on the fence.

“I just… I just want to get him something that reminds him of home. I haven’t seen him have that pan dulce at all before. He deserves it for all his hard work. Don’t you think?” You plead and plead in hopes to appeal somewhere in her algorithm for Miguel’s sympathy.

“Well, I can ask one of our Spiders to fetch it for you.” Damn you Lyla.

“I can’t trouble the Spider people for this!” You quickly said.

And then you remembered something.

“Hey Lyla, don’t you have customization mods that you’ve been bugging Miguel to let you have?” Your eyes look devious.

“...no?” Lyla narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“Well… if I can get him the pan dulce, he’ll be very happy. And you know with happy Miguel, I can convince him to let you have your customization mods.” You wink.

Lyla doesn’t immediately answer and looks up in thought. “Hmmm… Well, as long as you make it quick…”

“And he cannot know!”

“Deal. At least he won’t berate me about it.” Lyla twirls her hand. “But you have to make it quick!” She emphasizes and points at you.

You smile and nod.

You quickly go and grab your laptop to order the pan dulce for pickup. You also map out a couple other stops to pick up his favorite empanadas, tamales, sopapillas, etc and your daughter’s ice cream spot as you promised. Nothing can go wrong.

You tell her to get ready to go and Lyla to disable the alarm system.

“Hey Lyla, could you also temporarily disable the live tracking on my watch?”

She gives you a bored look. “He quite literally checks every 30 minutes. Sometimes 5. Oh and including the camera feed in the apartment as well. He’s gonna notice.”

“Could you, like, distract him at work? Maybe another anomaly case or what not.”

“Fortunately for you, he’s out in another universe catching an anomaly right now. But it’s an easy one. I can try and distract him a little, but he’s going to finish up pretty fast with this one.” Lyla conjures up her own digital screen to analyze all her possibilities. “I can probably shoot another case for him to do.”

Honestly anything is fine as long he’s distracted long enough for you to go to all of your stops.

“I’ll try and be fast.” You promise her. “Oh and Lyla-”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” You smile at her genuinely.

“Aw shucks.” Lyla smiles back.

–

On Miguel’s end, he is finishing up his capture on several anomalies and heading back to HQ. He just can’t wait to go home soon since today is slow and nothing else should be happening. All projects are being handled by the other Spiders, so he can take it easy and go see you.

That is until Lyla pops up on his shoulder and screams, “HELLO MIGUEL–!”

He flinches and covers his ears from the banshee levels of frequency. “What the shock Lyla! Don’t scream into my ear!”

“Haha sorry, sorry. I just wanted to let you know that there’s another case on Earth-2348 that needs your attention.”

“Send another Spider for that. I need to go home and check on Y/N.” Miguel raises his brow at her through his mask.

“You have a point, but this one requires your special attention.” Lyla shows him the data.

Miguel gives a gruff sigh and rolls his eyes, “Fine. Let’s get this over quick.”

–

You and your daughter are making your way downtown. Walking fast, faces pass and you’re… at Miguel’s childhood bakery!

The walk with your daughter has been a breath of fresh air. You’ve been trapped in that godforsaken apartment for the last 9 years, basically ever since your daughter was born. But even before then, Miguel wouldn’t let you go outside unless it was a date or state of an emergency. He hasn’t taken you out on a date since your daughter’s existence. And emergencies rarely ever do arise, if ever.

But now, you get to have your own time with your daughter without being shackled to him and the shared apartment. It’s not like you hate him; you just wish he lets you have the freedom to choose and make your own decisions.

Why can’t he see that?

Picking up the goods is quick and easy, even if there is a bit of a wait in some shops. You know you don’t have time to stall and admire your surroundings.

You still take your daughter to the ice cream spot that she boasts about going with papa. You’re happy that you get to also share this moment with her as well.

“What flavor does papa get with you?” You ask your daughter. Maybe you can pick up a pint for him.

“He usually gets cinnamon-basil.” Your daughter scrunches up her face in disgust. “I usually get the peanut butter fudgesicle.”

Noted.

You turn toward the male worker to place your order, “Um, hi there, I would like the peanut butter fudgesicle…”

You turn to your daughter, “On a cone?” She nods.

“On a cone.”

You continue, “As for me, I would like the [your fav ice cream flavor] on a cone as well. Oh! And one pint each for the peanut butter fudgesicle and the cinnamon-basil.”

The transaction goes smoothly and he hands you your order. He decides to add, “You are very pretty ma’am. I hope you and your daughter have a nice day.”

You blush at the compliment. Miguel is usually the one feeding you compliments, but it’s nice seeing someone else other than your husband acknowledging you.

You smile back cheerfully, “Thank you!”

–

Miguel quickly finishes up on this “special” case that Lyla claims to be. Strange, she usually isn’t wrong with her calculations and data processing. Did something happen to her programming?

He fidgets his gizmo to check up on you since he hasn’t planned on taking on an extra case today. The camera feed of the apartment shows no signs of you or your daughter. Then, he pulls up his map of his Earth to find your pinpoint, but it’s not there. He searches for your ping frantically and it’s not there.

“Lyla.” He calls in a low tone.

She pops up and tries not to look guilty, mentally cursing you for not being fast enough.

“Why did you give me such an easy anomaly to take care of?” His voice is threatening.

Lyla can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry! Y/N wanted to surprise you for your birthday. She didn’t want you to find out because you know…you’d freak out.”

“You know the rules. You’re not programmed to respond to her commands.” He crosses his arms as he gives her a heated look.

“Well, you deserve a little something, and she really wants to show her appreciation for you. You can’t fault me for that!” Lyla protests.

He just glares at her in the most deadpan expression.

“Okaaaaay. It’s mostly because she promised me that she’ll help get me those mods you never let me get.” She rolls her eyes.

“Where. Is. She. Now.” He emphasizes each word, barely holding on to his anger and state of panic from breaking loose. He notes to himself to reprogram her, thoroughly.

“She should be on her way back to her apartment right now! She went to that bakery you grew up with and the ice cream spot you take Y/D/N with.”

And with that, he heads out.

–

You beeline towards your apartment as you check for the time. Luckily Miguel hasn’t called you all day or else you wouldn’t know what to say or how to react.

You and your daughter reach the second to last block of the apartment when suddenly you get approached by some shady, hooded figure.

“Hey there, pretty lady! Hope you can spare a few minutes with me~” He steps up towards you, a little too close for comfort.

You kind of freeze up in place, and are unsure of how to respond. You are too polite to tell him off. “U-Um, excuse me.”

You take your daughter’s hand tightly, who is shooting daggers at him, and try to move past the stranger.

He stops you by grabbing your shoulder and shoving you back into the alleyway behind you, causing you to lose your grip on both your daughter and bag of food.

You hit against the brick wall aggressively, with your head smacking against it. You start to feel lightheaded and the area of impact pulsating.

He tries to reach for your purse, but is soon met with a loud, booming punch against the gut from your daughter. He is sent flying 50 feet away and smacks against the wall causing him to pass out. (She might have killed him.)

“Mama! Mama! Are you okay?!” Your daughter frantically rushes to your side, gripping the skirt of your dress.

“I-I’m fine. I just need a moment to collect myself.” You hold your head from the impending headache.

Not a second later, you are suddenly hoisted up like a potato sack causing you to scream and flail until you recognize whose back you’re seeing belongs to.

It’s your husband, and he wastes no time to leap to the top floor of the apartment building with not just you but your daughter also, one on each hand, without breaking a sweat.

“Lyla, open the door.” He sternly commands.

The door opens on its own, and he gently sets both you and your daughter down. You are still shaken from the whole ordeal that your knees give out. He swiftly catches you, almost as if he expects you to.

He carries you bridal style, and walks you to the living room to set you down on the couch. He takes off his mask, and you can see the tension contorting his face, stabbing you with guilt.

He grabs your chin to scan for any signs of obvious injury, and a quick visual across your body.

“Lyla, scan her for vitals.”

Quickly, she does and concludes, “All vitals seem normal. Heart rate is 120, likely due to panic and stress. Increased blood flow to the back of her head due to external impact, but no signs of head trauma.”

He drops his head and leans in. He runs his fingers through your hair in the area of impact and massages your scalp. You can feel your headache already melting away, and you lean into his touch.

“Just why…” He whispers into your ear. “Why would you go outside?”

“I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday.” You put your hands on his wide shoulders and give him a light squeeze, trying to placate him.

It does nothing to sooth him. He shifts himself to sit beside you and pulls you into his embrace. You are led to sit on his lap with your face laying on the crook of his neck as he continues to massage your head. His other hand rests around your waist.

“Y/D/N, come here.” He doesn’t stop his ministrations.

She has been standing near the door fidgeting her fingers anxiously. She walks over to you two, and with the smallest voice she says, “Am I in trouble, papa?”

He sits up a little, but assures you that he won’t drop you by tightening his embrace.

“No, but tell me what happened. Every last detail.” He says firmly, yet tactfully.

She tells him everything, including the part where the ice cream guy complimenting you. You can feel his grip getting harder and tighter as he grinds his jaw. His jealousy is apparent.

“Thank you for being honest with me. You’re a very good girl for protecting your mother. You take after me which is why you are strong. You are also a smart girl. You must understand that your mother is in no shape to go outside without me. Never let her persuade you again.” He emphasizes “never” to drive home the point. “If she tries to go outside again, tell me.”

And at that, you pull yourself away from him. His arm around your waist doesn’t budge, still straddling you to his lap. The hand that was on your head now rests on your neck.

“That’s not fair, Miguel! I am a grown woman! Your wife, her mother! You can’t keep trapping me here in this apartment.” You protest.

“I’ll…I’ll go crazy.” You barely whisper whilst choking back a sob.

“We already had this discussion before. It’s just not safe. Look at what happened today! Do you really think you’re in any position to be demanding to go outside?!” He glares at you.

You don’t listen. You try to tear yourself from him but his grip is relentless. You push and kick with all your might, but you’re like a mouse fighting against a lion.

You turn your head to your daughter, “Y/D/N, I am your mother, please don’t listen to him.” You plead in hopes that she won’t bar you from ever going outside again too.

Alas, Miguel is the one with authority here.

“Don’t drag her to your impulse. You also endangered her by taking her with you.” He chastises, and forces your head back down to lean into his, to look him in the eyes. “You may be her mother, but you can’t protect her.”

Somewhere in your heart breaks. You slump as all the energy in your muscles give out.

Yes, considering today, you never would have been able to protect your child. Yes, it is in fact your own child, who hasn’t even reached puberty, that saved your life. What would have happened if she was taken while you were distracted? You have no survival skills.

“Y/D/N, go to your room. I need to talk to your mother in private.” He orders and watches as she scurries off.

With her bedroom door shut, he calls for Lyla, “Activate soundproofing.”

Your heart begins to race in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He gets up from the couch while holding you (causing you to koala hug him) with one hand on your bum and the other your back.

He carries you to your shared bedroom, and unceremoniously plops you to the bed. He flips you over so that you face down to the bed, and slides you towards the edge so your ass hangs off.

“I’m going to punish you now. This is your lesson for disobeying my most important rule.” He says in a cold tone.

Goosebumps form and your body shivers in fear. You never would have expected to be here. He has always been so gentle, forceful at times, but gentle nonetheless.

You fucked up big time.

“P-Please wait…!” You hold your arm out to stop him.

He swats it away and simply says, “Stop moving.”

He hikes up the skirt of your dress over your ass revealing your pretty lace panties, and grips the skirt in place on your lower back.

“You didn’t wear safety shorts under the dress? You’re either a slut or an idiot.”

Before you can answer, he gives you a hard smack on your left ass cheek. You yelp from the sudden impact. It stings and burns.

You squirm, but you don't move out of place from the heavy weight pressing you down your abdomen.

He gives you another smack, this time on the right cheek. His touch is not kind, not tender like you’ve been used to for all these years. Your heart races so intensely; you can feel it beating against the mattress.

“P-Please…” You attempt to get the words out through your heavy pants. “I…just want to…give you a birthday present.”

He kneads your cheek harshly, and you instinctively hiss from the contrast of earlier hits and round your back to escape his hand. He pushes your abdomen back down.

“And yet, instead, you had not only made me worry, but you endangered yourself unnecessarily and for what? A couple baked goods? I can get them any time.” He hard smacks your cheeks a couple times earning him a scream. “Not very considerate of you on my birthday.”

You sob from his words and the pain from his strikes. He doesn’t loosen his hold and continues to strike your ass in rapid succession.

You groan into the sheets while you grip them tightly to hold yourself in some form of leverage.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls your panties up. The cloth wedging itself into your cunt.

“You’re getting wet.” He scoffs. “You’re getting off on this.”

He rubs the inner side of your ass near your cunt with his thumb. He pulls on it to spread your cunt out for him to see. He glides his pointer finger across your glistening hole.

“You’re very wet.” His husky voice is low and you can sense he’s beginning to feel aroused.

He pulls your right leg up and anchors your foot down to the mattress. “Keep your ass up.”

You do as you’re ordered and he smacks the area close to your dripping pussy. He smacks again and again. You can barely hold on. That area is far too sensitive.

Especially when you’re becoming impossibly wet.

Your cunt is clenching around nothing and you try to push down the neediness that’s building up in the pit of your stomach. Your clit won’t stop pulsating.

He pushes your hiked up leg back down to focus the assault on just your ass. He forcefully pulls down your panties and inspects your pussy again. While it’s not the first time he’s ever seen it, for some reason, you’re so much more embarrassed being presented in this way.

“I-I’m sorry Miguel. I w-won’t do it again.” You want to be out of this demeaning hold as soon as possible. You can’t contain your tears and sobs flowing into your bed.

He again kneads your ass, but in thought. As if considering your apology, “If you’re truly sorry, then you’ll continue to ride out your punishment.”

Your eyes widen as his hand crashes down on your ass again.

Your skin is fiery hot and raw. Your mind is blanking out. Strings of saliva fly out of your mouth.

He stops for a moment after minutes of nonstop assault on your poor ass to knead and console your sensitive skin and muscles. (If your skin is pale, your ass is beet red, almost glowing like his webs.)

You make a guttural throat sound in response; the shock shooting your brain awake.

“Forgive me! Please, forgive me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Please stop.”

He stops but his hand does not leave your ass as he gives you a quizzical look. “You didn’t know? Like you didn’t know this would happen?”

You make a poor attempt at a nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think someone would attack me.”

He lets go of your dress and grabs you by the bodice pulling you off of the mattress. He drags you to the front of the full size body mirror where you can clearly see the dramatic height difference between the two of you.

He grabs your waist while holding your face out. “Look at yourself!” He yells.

You take a good look at yourself. You’re a mess. The tears streaming down your face ruined your makeup. Streams of black from your mascara stain your cheeks while your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. Your hair is disheveled. Your eyes are red. Your dress is wrinkled.

You don’t quite understand what he’s looking for. All you see is a mess.

“Do you have any idea how captivating you are? Why do you think I love this specific dress on you? And your makeup? You can tempt any man around you. You can’t possibly think no one would try to take you?” He says while pressing his hard-on on your back.

Sure, the dress hugs your body in all the right places. It shows your cleavage. But still, nothing overly liberal and out of place for a casual stroll in the city. Not when other more scantily clad women are a dime a dozen. Especially in Nueva York, in a time that’s far more advanced and liberal than your own.

“I d-don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m not that pretty.” You struggle to stand, but his grip on your waist keeps you from falling.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” He grips your jaw harder as he glares at you through the mirror.

“I’m really not. I don’t even know why you married me!” You sob. “I’m weak. I’m useless. There are tons of girls who are better and prettier than I am. Why did you choose me? All I do is give you reasons to do more work at home than you already have.” You can’t help but sulk and spill all your insecurities.

His gaze softens and drops his grip from your jaw. He spins you around and brings you close to his chest. He strokes your head like how he used to comfort you. Your gentle Miguel is back.

“Shhh, I know that you can’t do a lot of things like other people, but it doesn’t make me love you any less. Isn’t that enough?”

You pull your face away from his chest and look up at him. “But I want to be your equal. I want to be worthy.”

“But you are worthy. You don’t have to be my ‘equal’ for me to love you.” He counters. Good point. He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. He lightly wipes away your tears.

You have nothing more to say. Perhaps you’ll never understand why he chose you, why he loves you.

“I love you more than you can know.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “We have a beautiful family now. I can’t risk losing you, any of you. I hope you understand that.”

His eyes darken. You can see that his words mean more than what he tells you. You don’t know what he really means.

You have no choice but to accept him anyway. He is your rock in this world. Your entire fiber of being and existence completely and solely hinges upon him and his will. Without him, you have nothing, you are nothing.

He is your savior as much as he is your captor. He is your caretaker as much as he is your jailor.

He is your God.

You two linger in each other’s hold as if time stood still. His scent calms you down, and you begin to relax more and more in each breath you take as you sink into his embrace.

Until your stomach growls.

He chuckles as he lets you go slowly. “Looks like someone’s hungry. I’ll go whip up some dinner for us.”

He walks away for a second to grab a box of tissues. He wipes away all of your tears, makeup smears, and dripping nose (which he tells you to blow out while holding up the tissue for you).

“B-But the pastries and the ice cream I got for you. They got left behind.” You sniffle.

“Don’t worry about it.” He pauses to think. “How about this? I’ll take the next weekend off and we can go together, as a family.”

You smile up at him; you couldn’t be more happy. “Thank you, Miguel. Thank you.”

He softly smiles back and kisses your forehead, “Now, go rest, I’ll come back to get you when dinner is ready. I’ll wash you up after.”

You nod to that. You make your way to your bed and plop face down. Your ass is still stinging and burning so you can’t lay on your back. Your eyes flutter shut and begin to drift off.

Good grief is what he thought watching you pass out on the bed. You’re going to catch a cold. He lifts you up to untuck the blanket and covers you with it. He carefully tucks the blanket in every crevice around your neck, ensuring no part of you is bare to feel the cool air.

He stays for a second to look at you and brush away the strands of hair from your face before walking out and closing the door behind him.

A/N: Well...that was intense. The second part will be fluffier and smuttier. (づ￣ 3￣)づ I spent like at least 12 hours just on part 1 in both writing and proofreading, only to not even get to part 2 yet. Feedback is welcomed. This is not a comfortable read.

Also I want to thank @wreakingmarveloushavok for giving me the idea of what Mexican pastry that's eaten on birthdays! Everything else I googled, including any inaccurate health related mentions.

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itachislbeloved · 5 months

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Forced Breeding

"Do you feel that, baby, huh? Do you feel me deep inside you?" he asked as he thrusted deep in you, your face and cheeks red from the heat that your body was radiating. You couldn't answer as his thrusts were too powerful and left you a moaning mess. All you could do was a nod and his hands travelled to your throat, holding it and pressing it slightly, not too hardly. "Words baby, I need words." he put pressure on your throat, "Y-yes, I feel you." you said between your moans and with your eyes closed feeling too good. "Should I breed you, hm, baby? Should I pump you full of my cum? Wouldn't you love that, hm? Wouldn't you love my cum dripping down your pussy?" his words made you open your eyes wide and stare at him in panic. "N-no, don't, please don't." you said as you tried to push him from on top of you but he just chuckled and held both of your hands in his one, "I don't take no for an answer baby, I will breed you and make you mine. You don't have any other choice than just to be bred by me." he said as he thrusted deeper in you and you could feel your tears trickling down your cheeks, you came around his shaft and you could feel hot liquid pour into you, you knew he did it, he came in you when you were not on the pills. "You are mine, baby, only mine to breed." he said as he came into you with a dark chuckle leaving his mouth.

---------------------------------------------------

Itachi, Obito, Madara, Tobirama, Kakashi, Pain, Geto, Sukuna, Gojo, Toji.

(I couldn't think of other characters so please let me know if you think of others.)

(Come on you know Uchihas would love to breed their partners <3)

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lilacxquartz · 1 month

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TO SAVE A BROKEN SOUL • suguru geto x cursed spirit fem!reader

ao3 link • masterlist • next chapter >>

summary: roaming around the forest as a neutral cursed spirit spirit, you stumble upon a temple, not quite knowing what sort of nightmare awaited you from the inside.

tags/warnings: dead dove, (upcoming) non-con, violence, yandere, reader insert, weekly updates, dark, multi chapter, horror

Chapter 1: Found

Wandering around the forest in the dead of night was essentially second nature to you. It was survival, plain and simple.

It was how you got by.

Moving from one point to another without a single destination in mind, never knowing where you’d end up next—that’s just what being a cursed spirit was; to be stuck in a perpetual state of endless, aimless drift.

Your journey was lacking direction and your benign existence had swallowed away any purpose you could have had. Regular humans would call this being a ghost, but it felt much worse than that.

To have no purpose, nor an escape.

And despite calling yourself a neutral entity, you stayed far away from human settlements, never daring to get too close. You knew better than to risk it. Accidents were inevitable if you lingered a little too close to people (or a little too long), so you simply didn’t gamble the chance to begin with.

It was easier that way.

It was safer.

The fine line of what separated you from being a neutral spirit and a malevolent one was very thin though, but could have been defined by how you fed. Rather than tempting fate with the potential of human flesh, you chose restraint, resigning you to either not feed at all or to keep your feasts confined to what you found within the forest.

(But the desire was always present; gnawing away at your gradually lapsing self control, clawing at your core—so desperate to let slip… waiting for that perfect moment.)

Sustainability wasn’t that much of a necessity for you otherwise. After all, you weren’t truly alive; at least not in the same way that humans (and living things overall) were.

But sometimes you couldn’t help but crave it. The scent and taste of human flesh—so sickeningly sweet and almost intoxicating—seasoned with the essence of their negativity. A delicacy so potent yet so forbidden.

In that aspect, you were always starving, but you also didn’t mind. The hunger kept your senses sharp which in turn, kept you focused. It was a bitter reminder of who (or what) you could become should you ever let it consume you.

So instead, you roamed. You wandered. You cruised through the trees not bothering a single soul, as a neutral, almost dormant being.

However, this neck of the woods that you found yourself within different somehow. Despite passing through it countless times before, you somehow never stumbled across this particular temple.

The realisation that you were treading on human property hit you all too late, noticing the structure only when you were halfway up a path of rooted stairs. Extinguished lanterns hung above, charred ashes escaping from the blackened wicks, swinging off of overgrown wooden beams that framed along the path.

At first, you thought that it was abandoned.

But just as you were about to take a step inside, intending to take refuge for the night…

…A sound froze you in place.

Footsteps.

Quickly snapping out of your daze, your innate response was to retreat in fear of being spotted. Not everyone could see cursed spirits, but you couldn’t afford to take that chance, knowing that in doing so, you risked compromising your very existence.

But you were all too slow.

A young girl had already caught a glimpse of you; her eyes locking onto your position. A wave of panic swept over you and without thinking—you bolted—desperate to fade back into the inviting darkness of the woods. Back into the shadows where you belonged. Away from the prying eyes of people, or worse, by the unforgiving gaze of sorcerers.

To be seen, to be even be acknowledged for a split second, was to invite danger and that was a price that you simply could not afford to pay.

In your rushed escape, your arm caught on a loose branch that tore into your marbled flesh. The wood cut deep, chipping away at your body like brittle stone. You seethed in pain, emitting a high-pitched whine as inky black blood spilled from your wound, trailing behind you and painting a dark path that led to your position.

You attempted to tune into the forest, to isolate whether or not someone was behind you; hearing the twigs that snapped underfoot like spreading wildfire closing in behind you in a stalking cresendo—they were right behind you—ready to close in at any second.

Your own nerves betrayed you, catching you off guard as your clarity soon became clouded with a surge of panic. Every instinct screamed at you to run in all directions at once, daring you to abandon all sense of logic and to give into your instincts, maybe even…!

But it was all too late.

They caught up to you.

(And whoever it was, they weren’t the least bit kind.)

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as strong hands clamped around your shoulders, wrapping fingers that dug into your flesh to keep you solidified in place. Such horrid pressure that radiated off of the assiliant that felt almost suffocating in how they grounded you. Not only did they manage to capture you, but they also have managed to have rootyou to the spot, sealing off your final window of escape.

Unable to say a word, you instead choked as your breath tore harsh against the air, feeling yourself be thrown backwards. More blood continued to pour as you tanked the landing impact, watching with unease as a tall figure caged you in. You remained statued as they pushed your body right up against the bark of the tree, demonstrating such strength that it began to crack and splinter.

Their touch felt unforgiving, despite the unmistakable scent of being human.

(So who was the real monster here?)

Your mind continued to scream danger, urging you to move, to do anything that didn’t result in remaining still. Every remaining instinct urged for you to fight back before your demise was met, before your existence was erased entirely, before—

“Trying to slip away so soon?” a chilling male voice asked, catching you in the midst of your spiralling thoughts. Their tone was cold, yet somehow deceptively gentle, only seeming to unsettle you further.

You couldn’t trust them.

Not with an introduction like this.

You faltered, your sights submitting to the looming figure before you. Your instincts continued to run wild as your mind warred with itself, begging—pleading—for you to get away, to please, please escape. In a last ditch effort, you tried to push past the man, clawing at his skin in a bid to push him away from you.

But in doing so, you only managed to piss him off further.

Before you even knew it—before you could even react—you were dislocated, struck down and dislocated.

Did he get a hit on you…?

Without a moment’s pause, you involuntarily slumped against the tree, your legs giving way. Your vision blurred as you desperately attempted to focus on the man before you, the moonlight just barely illuminating his face.

From what little you could make out, he could have been a shaman or perhaps even a monk. His attire was traditional, something you recognised as a religious garment.

A peculiar thought crossed your mind: since when were buddhist monks so violent?

He flicked his eyes to the wound you inflicted on him before meeting with your gaze again. “That hurt.”

Once again, you tried to back away, your words barely coming out to defend your cause.

“I-I haven’t even, I haven’t touched the temple,” you blurted out, your delivery barely coherent. “Please, just… let me go.”

You stared him down with an intense glare, hoping to challenge him into finding reason but instead all he did was mirror your gaze; leaving you pooling with confusion (and maybe even dread).

Maybe he wasn’t a regular human, but rather a sorcerer instead.

You really hoped not though, because then you would be in some serious trouble.

His eyes narrowed, his tone remained serious and cold as he spoke up once again, “So you’re admitting that was you lurking around the temple?”

Nodding, you scanned around the vicinity seeking an opportunity to exit, but there was none.

“I won’t come back if you let me go,” you promised.

However, the man didn’t waver. Instead, he seemed to be almost entertained(?) at your attempt to negotiate, as if your behaviour was oddly human to some extent given your status. “Bit of an odd one, aren’t you?”

He crouched down, extending a couple of pinched fingers to tweeze your chin and point your jaw towards the moonlight. You writhed under his grip, feeling unsettled by his invasive and unyielding stare.

“Quite pretty too,” he murmured with backhanded praise, “…for a cursed spirit.”

“Let go of me, I’ll leave and—“

“—hm?” he caught you mid plea. “Who said anything about you leaving?”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice carrying a hint of reluctance the longer you remained in his company. You weren’t naïve; you understood fully well what sorcerers were capable of.

What their jobs were.

“Kill you?” he mused, his expression remaining unreadable. “I could. I might. But for now, I’m simply curious about you,” he paused, taking a moment to admire your appearance once again, “so, why don’t you come with me?”

You shook your head violently, attempting to back away as far as you possibly could but he didn’t let you get very far, if anywhere at all.

Instead, he pulled you to your feet as he stood up, his voice adopting a threatening edge, “Let me rephrase that for you,” he leaned in just a bit closer, “come with me or I will exorcise you. Your choice.”

Feeling torn, you finally resigned your fate to the hands of the strange monk. Your stomach gnawed with furious hunger, begging for you to sink your teeth deep into his flesh as both a punishment as well as a chance to buy time to escape. Yet, there was something about him that at the same time that overrode such an urge, something that made you drop your guard around him at long last—and—against your better judgement, to even trust him.

So in the end, you gave in after all, choosing to follow him back to the temple.

Unaware of all the dark plans that he had in store for you.

~~~

this is part 2 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

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thehauntedetheral · 2 months

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hi, how are you doing? If is not a bother can you make a yandere ex fuckboy x insecure reader, she is insecure of his past and the girls he used to stay with before they start dating and is terrified of him cheating on her, that bothers the yandere a lot and he goes to the extreme to prove to her that he doesn't want anyone else.

Hello I am doing well and hope you are doing well too. I hope you like this work.

Yandere Ex Fuckboy X Insecure Reader

Requests are open!

• You were always on edge thinking that your boyfriend is with some other girl cheating on you when he is not with you.

• You love your boyfriend a lot. And he has been an amazing boyfriend to you all the time being caring, protective, sweet, understanding towards you. But his past. His past always haunts you and makes you feel insecure.

• In the past before you two got into the relationship yan was the Fuckboy of your college. Girls always surrounding him and being attracted to him like a moth to a flame as he was tall, good looking, rich and extremely good in bed with his smooth as butter flirting skills and charming personality.

• Some even say that he slept with more than half of the girls in campus.

• But after meeting you this man gets changed for forever. He has never felt something so strong like this for anyone ever.

• He tries his best to court you. Begging to you on his knees to make him your boyfriend. This man becomes a simp when it comes to you.

• But you ignored him knowing his infamous Fuckboy image.

• To get your attention he follows you around like a lost puppy, Spoiling you with flowers, meals, coffee anything you want just please let him be your boyfriend and let him love you.

• Frustrated by his constant chaos you finally give him a chance and say yes.

• He tries his best to be the best boyfriend for you not wanting to disappoint you on the chance you have given him. And true to his words he is a really good boyfriend to you.

• You don't know that this is the first relationship yan ever had. Yes he slept around a lot but never dated anyone. You are the first.

• When he gets to know his love, his darling is feeling insecure due to his past he does all the possible ways to show you that he belongs only to you and no one.

• Wearing tshirts which have things like this written all over it " My girlfriend is hotter than you" or "I love my girlfriend" while walking around the campus showing everyone. If his tshirt doesn't have this written on it then it definitely will be a photo of you printed all over his tshirt.

• Wears the handmade bracelet you made for him 24/7 not taking it off ever.

• Always wears your hair ties on his wrist in case you need it and to show people he is already taken by his beautiful girlfriend.

• Is one of the best player of the college's football team and whenever he earns a goal during the matches he dedicates his goals to you pointing at you and screaming "I love you y/n" infront of the whole crowd.

• By the way he changes his jersey number to your birthday date number showing his jersey back to everyone.

• When a girl from his past approaches him he straight up says "I have a beautiful girlfriend whom I love to death so please leave"

• This man is so in love, committed and loyal to you that it's sickly disgusting for others to watch.

• Everyone thinks you have done some kind of witchcraft on him because he has suddenly became the most loving boyfriend for you from the college's Fuckboy.

• This man would do anything for you to never be insecure again that he would even say this "We can get engaged or even better married if it puts your mind to an ease y/n."

Meanwhile reader : "........"

• This man would kill himself before even thinking about cheating on you and hurting you. The thought of some another girl other than you now makes him nauseous let alone even think about touching them.

• Yan is utterly whipped and in love with you. He would even bring the fucking world infront of your knees if you want.

Let me know what you think about this fic.

Requests are open !

For more yandere reading

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nyctoaerah · 5 months

Text

⋆♱⋆WISH GRANTED CH: 1

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS In which Eyeless Jack developed an infatuation for a grade A detective and ends up granting her wishes in a twisted way.

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Infidelity, Death, Yandere Behaviors (duh) Other triggering stuff.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Fem! Detective! Reader

⋆♱⋆NOTE Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

TAKING OUT A PICTURE of someone who was reported missing from your briefcase, you smoothly placed it on the table. With a quick movement, you grabbed a red marker from your briefcase and decisively drew a bold ‘x’ across the person’s face.

“Another missing person that got killed,”

You let out a weary sigh as your eyes remained focused on Jhenicca, your closest confidant and fellow detective. Both of you were dedicated to solving crimes together, forming an inseparable partnership in the field. However, it was important to note that you held a higher rank and possessed more experience in comparison to your junior colleague, Jhenicca.

Jhenicca’s brows creased as her emerald green eyes bore into your [E/c] ones.

“Seriously? Another one?”

Jhenicca let out a deep, anguished groan expressing her displeasure at the fact that an increasing number of individuals were disappearing, only to be discovered lifeless later on.

“Yeah, seriously.” You uttered those words, your face devoid of any emotion.

“Ah, well, it doesn't really matter anyway.” Jhenicca uttered in a low voice, her eyes wandering aimlessly, diverting her attention from yours.

“Just give the damn information, [N/n]” Jhenicca asked for the necessary information and specifics during your conversation. You set the red marker down, signaling the start of a conversation that was about to take a somber turn.

“The victim was named Katarina Smith. She vanished four days ago after entering a forrest. Her lifeless body was discovered in an abandoned building inside the forrest,"

You revealed the information. As an exceptional and highly skilled investigator, you were entrusted with leading the inquiry into the mysterious disappearances, wherein the victims were consistently discovered with horrifying injuries or their vital organs, such as the kidneys, inexplicably gone. This disturbing pattern of events has persisted over the course of the last four months, leaving you feeling increasingly weary and overwhelmed due to the sheer volume of cases being assigned to you.

“We can go to the crime scene later and look for some evidence.”

You suggested and jhenicca nodded solemnly.

“So what do we know about the previous victims?” Jhenicca questioned you as her brows knitted, obviously disturbed.

You reached into your briefcase once again and pulled out a file containing the information you had gathered so far.

“There have been fifteen victims before Katarina,”

You began, flipping through the pages. “All of them went missing under similar circumstances—last seen entering a forrest, and then found dead on different sides of the Forrest.”

“Fifteen.”

Jhenicca breathed out and slammed her fist on your table, creating a loud banging sound and you sighed in exasperation, placing your hand on your forehead as your brows creased and your jaw locked.

“I know, i know.”

You mumbled, exasperated.

“Fifteen fucking people have been going missing for about 4 months now and we still can’t fucking get a single trace or clue about the perpetrator!”

Jhennica’s seethed with anger, clearly expressing her deep disappointment regarding the sluggishness of your progress. However, it is hard to deny her feelings, as you yourself are also disappointed with the current situation.

“Calm down.”

You tried to calm her down.

“What do you mean calm down?”

Jhenicca glared at you, running a hand through her blond locks.

“[Name]! We can’t go around relaxing when people are going missing and dying!”

Jhenicca exclaimed, causing you to feel increasingly frustrated. However, despite your annoyance, you made an effort to maintain your composure. Deep down, you acknowledged that Jhenicca had a valid point. It wasn’t as if you were idly lounging around; in reality, you had been pushing yourself to the limit, tirelessly working nonstop in order to achieve any sort of progress—And you were tired, so fucking tired.

Feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, you let out a heavy sigh, massaging your temples with your fingertips to alleviate the mounting tension.

“I know, i know” You spoke incoherently and indistinctly, barely making any audible sounds. “However, it is essential for you to regain composure initially, for it will enable us to thoroughly evaluate the circumstances at hand and make an accurate assessment."”

With a slightly narrowed gaze and furrowed brows, you expressed to her, causing Jhenicca to let out an exasperated huff and divert her gaze from you.

“Calm down my ass,”

She mumbles.

You experienced a sudden involuntary contraction in your eye, causing it to twitch.

“Cease behaving in such an immature and obstinate manner, don’t be a fucking brat” Feeling exasperated by her obnoxious behavior, you let out a disapproving sound while your level of professionalism momentarily dissipates. Jhenicca, in response, disdainfully looks away, disregarding your reaction.

“Fuck you.”

She glared at you.

“Fuck you too.”

Jhenicca releases a sarcastic laugh, displaying her annoyance towards the unexpected and abrupt eruption of emotions from you.

“Okay, whatever, but we still need to find any pattern or connection between these victims,”

Jhenicca made a suggestion, her voice hinting at a lingering annoyance. In response, you scornfully chuckled, casting your gaze downwards.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you took in a deep breath before quietly uttering a small apology for your earlier outburst.

However, Jhenicca breezed past your apology, choosing to disregard it completely as she proceeded with her speech.

“Do you think it could provide us with valuable clues regarding the murderer's identity? Is there anything notable connecting all of the victims that you've observed?” she asked.

Once you regained a sense of inner tranquility, you visibly expressed your agreement by giving a reassuring nod. Resting your hand gently upon your chin, you directed your gaze towards Jhenicca, deep in thought.

“The victims share several similarities among themselves. Firstly, they all belong to the young adult age group, specifically individuals in their twenties. Secondly, they had a common habit of visiting and spending time in the same forest. Lastly, their disappearances occurred exclusively during the weekends, further emphasizing this pattern of occurrence.” You provided a clear explanation.

“Based on the autopsy reports, it seems that their kidneys were removed post-mortem, suggesting a potential organ trafficking angle. However, the brutality of the killings indicates a possibly cannibalistic tendencies as well.”

You have provided an explanation regarding the reason behind those individuals having their organs removed. It is feasible to consider the possibility of a cannibal being involved, particularly since you had previously delved into the topic through various cannibal documentaries during your college years.

“We need to gather more evidence and dig deeper into the victims' backgrounds.”

You said, tapping on your chin.

“We need to find any connections they might have had, both among themselves and with potential suspects. We’ll also increase surveillance on houses that are close in that forrest, for they frequented in the hope of catching any suspicious activities.”

You informed and you were taken aback when, out of nowhere, the entrance to your workspace abruptly swung ajar, unveiling the presence of your beloved partner, Earl.

Earl is also a skilled investigator who happens to be employed within the same institution as you. He had a pile of papers held in one hand while balancing some cups of refreshing iced coffee in his other hand.

“Good morning, Love”he greeted with a pleasant tone, his words carrying warmth and friendliness. With a gleeful expression, he curved his lips upward, directing his gaze towards Jhenicca with the intention of acknowledging her presence as he nodded approvingly.

“Good morning to you too!”Jhenicca extended a warm welcome. You let out a frustrated breath and directed your gaze towards Earl.

“Kindly knock on the door to gain permission before stepping inside the room.” Shaking your head in dismay, you expressed your disapproval through scolding, while Earl nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, revealing his indifference.

“* apologize for the interruption, but I have something of utmost significance to share,” your partner apologized politely, presenting you with a substantial collection of documents and carefully arranging them on the surface of your desk.

“Really?” Jhenicca’s eyelids fluttered momentarily, as a reflexive response to stimuli.

“What is the matter?”

You inquired, fixating your gaze directly into the deep, mahogany irises of Earl.

“There has been an increase in the number of individuals who have disappeared, and upon closer examination, it is evident that the specifics align with the characteristics observed in the previous instances.”

As your eyes briefly skimmed across the pile of documents placed right in front of you, a complex blend of unease and exasperation manifested on your face.

The news you were presently receiving was far from ideal, pushing against your desire for a different outcome, particularly since you and your diligent team had invested an immense amount of time and effort into probing the perplexing string of disappearances that had preceded this moment. Jhenicca, noticing the identical emotional response on her own countenance, mirrored your sentiments precisely upon digesting the given information.

“Anyways, i brought some coffee for you, love,” As you observed, Earl gently placed the refreshing iced coffee onto your desk, and a sense of appreciation washed over you, causing a grateful smile to adorn your face while simultaneously feeling a soothing wave of relaxation engulfing your being.

“Thanks love—”

You initiated speaking, however, Jhenicca interjected, causing you to immediately cease speaking and keeping your lips sealed.

“No coffee for me? I’m feeling left out you know?” Jhenicca’s eyebrow arched in amusement as she voiced her playful disappointment regarding the lack of coffee being offered to her. As you observed the situation, a flicker of surprise crossed your face, signaling that you were starting to grasp the peculiarly close bond between Jhenicca and your boyfriend. A peculiar sense of discomfort started to take hold of you, yet you struggled to identify the exact source of this unease.

‘Since where were they this close?’

You pondered quietly as you watched the two interact.

Earl couldn’t help but chuckle in response to Jhenicca’s witty remark, as he placed yet another refreshing iced coffee on the desk, hoping to soothe her slight disappointment expressed through her adorable pouting expression.

With a wide smile, he uttered,

“Here, don’t sulk.” Jhenicca beamed with happiness as she conveyed her appreciation. Earl emitted a light-hearted laughter, brushing off the situation, which left you with an indescribable sense of being left out, lingering persistently within you. Earl comfortably took his place on the nearby chair, gently resting his head on your shoulder as he curiously asked,

“Anyway, love, Can you provide an update on the current status of the situation? Have there been any advancements in identifying and apprehending the person responsible for the incident?”

He asked and as you were preparing to articulate a response, Jhenicca abruptly interjected once more, causing a subtle expression of displeasure to form on your face. It became increasingly apparent that since Earl’s arrival, Jhenicca had consistently been interrupting your attempts to contribute to the conversation.

“Welllll”

Jhenicca said, making sure to stretch the word.

“Nope!”

Jhenicca’s wide grin appeared on her face, attempting to portray an endearing demeanor that caused you to cringe internally; she resembled someone who was seeking attention—a fucking pick me.

It would have been more appropriate for her to exhibit a serious demeanor, considering the gravity of the topic at hand. It perplexed you how she could switch from being angered to acting as cheerful as a ray of sunshine. The sudden shift in her behavior left you contemplating whether to request her to remain silent and allow you to express yourself, but you opted to restrain from doing so.

“Unfortunately, we’ve been giving it our all, but we haven’t found any leads,”

You finally explained with a sigh and Earl frowned once he heard that information, he felt disappointed.

You then took a deep breath.

“However, I do have a theory. It’s possible that the serial killer is also a cannibal.”

Earl blinked in disbelief, but he considered the idea.

“Really? That’s quite an unexpected twist.”

Before you could elaborate and explain all the details about your theory, jhenicca interjected once more so you just chose to remain silent, a tinge of annoyance crossed your expression but it quickly disappeared.

“I agree! I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Jhenicca said.

“Ah right! Do you know that there are similarities between the victims?”

Jhenicca began to converse with your boyfriend and as you sipped on your refreshing iced coffee, Earl glanced in your direction, expressing his acknowledgement through a subtle nod. Soon after, the two individuals initiated a conversation which took a meandering path, encompassing diverse topics.

However, a significant portion of their discussion revolved around the various homicide cases you had been diligently investigating. As you attentively observed Jhenicca and Earl engrossed in their dialogue, it became apparent that a strong connection existed between them. Unexpectedly, the serenity of the moment was abruptly disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing, breaking the tranquility in the air. Jhenicca’s eyes blinked, briefly closing and opening again.

“I thought you had your phone on do not disturb?”Jhenicca inquired, and you shook your head.

“Not quite. As a detective, every call or text holds significance, you should be aware of that,” you responded, slightly exasperated. Setting your coffee aside, you retrieved your phone from your pocket, and your eyes widened as you read the message. your eyes suddenly lit up and a faint smile made its way to your face.

Finally, an evidence, after four fucking months, there was finally an evidence.

“Ouch, so harsh.”

Jhenicca's expression turned into a pout at your stern words.

Your eye twitched in annoyance, caused by the tone she adopted. Normally, she spoke to you in a different manner, but this time it was almost childlike, which bothered you without any clear explanation as to why she was behaving that way.

Earl curiously asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s the headquarters. They’ve discovered some evidence at the crime scene,” you informed, and Earl hummed thoughtfully.

“That’s wonderful.”

Earl said with a smile.

“Really? That’s an excellent news!” Jhenicca beamed

“Yes, I’m glad too”

You replied with a closed eyed smile

Then suddenly, a phone call interrupted,you looked at your phone to see who called and it was the headquarters, perhaps they had something important to say and you couldn’t risk missing it.

“The headquarters is on the line,” you announced.

“Oh.”

Earl seemed disappointed since he wanted to talk to you more while jhenicca didn't have a reaction.

“I need to have a private conversation with them, so I’ll leave you two here,” you informed, gently shifting Earl’s head from your shoulder before standing up.

You planted a tender kiss on Earl's cheek, eliciting a smile from him.

“I won’t take long, don’t worry.”

You reassured him because you saw his disappointed face and Earl’s face lit up from your words.

“Alright, Stay safe,” Earl said, returning your smile as you made your way towards the office exit.

However, from the corner of your eye, you caught Earl discreetly wiping off the kiss, causing a frown to form on your face. And the way Jhenicca glanced at your boyfriend was different, stirring a sense of unease within you.

Your intuition was telling you that something was wrong.

Tension pervaded the atmosphere within your office, akin to an unuttered secret that lingered ever since your departure to answer the call from the headquarters. Earl’s face carried the weight of guilt, mirroring the guilty conscience that resided within him, while Jhenicca appeared unbothered, portraying an effortless and carefree demeanor that juxtaposed the tension.

It was astonishing to earl that he and jhenicca had embarked on this path. The hidden relationship between him and Jhenicca had been going on clandestinely for a significant period of nine months. Initially, it had been a mere coincidence, encounter in a bar where their paths crossed unexpectedly. However, as fate would have it, the influence of alcohol led them to hook up that night. From that moment, their connection deepened, and it evolved into an ongoing affair, causing Earl to experience overwhelming guilt for cheating on you.

“We are truly betraying [Name] by engaging in secret meetings,” Earl whispered, causing Jhenicca to recline comfortably in her chair, propping her feet up on the desk without a care, even if it meant potentially crushing important documents beneath her soles.

With a piercing gaze, she interrogated, “Between the two of us—Me and [Name], whom do you love more? Me or her?"

Feeling his throat tighten, Earl mustered the courage to respond, “You.”

Jhenicca let out an exasperated sigh, her frustration apparent as she exclaimed,

“Then what’s the big deal? We love each other, don’t we? Don’t worry, [Name] will never find out.”

...

As their conversation fell upon your ears, tears began to well up in your eyes, their meaning hitting you with full force. Suddenly, everything started to make sense. Their closeness, the way Jhenicca gazed at Earl with adoration, it was all clear now. They had been hiding their secret involvement from you, deceiving you right under your nose. The pain that came rushing over you was nearly unbearable, as the person you once loved and cherished had betrayed you with none other than your best friend. The mere thought of Jhenicca turning out to be a backstabber had never even crossed your mind. Clenching your fists tightly, you fought against the overwhelming urge to burst into the room, confront them both, and scream at them.

In that moment, your heart seemed to shatter into innumerable fragments, completely consumed by an uncontrollable whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, and most of all, a profound feeling of betrayal.

As you clutched your chest, your face contorted with pain, the weight of their conversation pierced your heart like a sharp knife. Earlier, you had received a brief call from headquarters, urgently instructing you to gather important documents and return to your office. Obediently, you started making your way back, determined to fulfill your responsibilities. However, fate had different plans for you that day. Along the corridor, their familiar voices reached your ears, luring you in with an irresistible curiosity. Against your better judgment, you couldn’t resist the urge to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Little did you know, the words exchanged between them would shatter your heart into countless irreparable shards.

The shock and disbelief hit you like a ton of brick. Anger immediately surged within you, a fiery mix of self-blame for not recognizing the signs sooner and directed towards those who had so callously betrayed you. It was all becoming too much to bear.

Overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably. The pain you felt was indescribable, as if your entire world had come crashing down in an instant. Without a second thought, you hastily abandoned the familiar surroundings of the police station, leaving your colleagues behind. Although they called out to you with genuine concern, their voices only seemed like distant echoes in your ears.

Racing through the chaos of your own thoughts and emotions, you let instinct guide your trembling steps. The city streets blurred into a haze as you hurriedly made your way through the crowd. Every footfall was a desperate attempt to escape the anguish that threatened to consume you entirely. People glanced in your direction, their curious gazes fleeting, yet you were oblivious to their existence. All that mattered at that moment was finding solace.

Filled with a potent blend of frustration and exasperation, you hastily made your way towards the vast expanse of the parking lot, an irrefutable reflection of your inner turmoil. As your trembling hands grasped tightly onto the cold metal of your car keys, a surge of determination propelled you to forcefully insert the key into the lock, unleashing a resounding ‘click.’

Seeking solace within the confined space, you were driven to hastily enter your vehicle, forcefully slamming the door shut with an air of finality. Unchecked tears cascaded down your face, a poignant manifestation of the amalgamation of anger and heartbreak that tightly gripped your soul. “Can’t believe i’m so fucking dumb that i didn’t even get the hint,”

“I helped you, i was there for you, and this is your way of showing gratitude?” you exclaimed with sheer rage, your jaw clenched and your hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. The deluge of intense feelings engulfed every fiber of your being, causing your eyes to well up with tears as you were overcome by an inconsolable fit of sobbing.

“After two fucking years of our love story, you threw it all away as if it held no value or significance?” You were consumed with intense anger and frustration, directing all the blame towards jhenicca. Your anger escalated to such a level that it led you to harbor a desire for something that, upon reflection, you didn’t knew you would later deeply regret.

“I wish you two die in a painful way.”

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

You eventually drive away and returned home, consumed by anger, and unleashed your fury by destroying everything in sight: vases, picture frames, and the gifts Earl had given you. You smashed the vases, threw them on the ground and the wall, tore the pictures apart and ripped the gifts to shreds, you even trew your chair on the ground, and The room was now littered with shattered remnants of your rampage.

After four hours of relentless tears, your eyes were swollen and dry, leaving you devoid of any more tears to shed. Your throat felt parched, and fatigue washed over you, making you drowsy. Your break down caused too many destruction. And In the midst of this overwhelming exhaustion, your phone rang.

you grimaced.

“Probably that cheating bastards.” you muttered angrily, retrieving your phone and reluctantly opening it. The harsh light caused you to wince, but to your relief, it wasn't Jhenicca or Earl on the other end, but rather the headquarters.

With a mix of apprehension and frustration, you answered the call. A chill coursed down your spine as you listened to what they had to say.

“Your Boyfriend and Best friend was found dead.”

#⌞𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 夜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬📝 ⌝#yandere x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x you #dark themes #cw: gore #dark yandere

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stargirlwrites · 1 year

Text

so naive

Jungkook x f.reader

-> smut • huge tw.

-> request

-> warnings: a lot. It's really fucked up so if you're soft to cnc smuts don't read!! • unprotected sex • cnc sex • age gap (older jk) • mentions of drugs • kinky. • slight ddlg • slight pet play • humiliation • pussy slapping • dirty talk • dom!jk

"Here's your stuff ___, I think you should stay the night here. I don't want you going around town high off this stuff alright?" Jungkook said as he handed you the packet of pills. You really didn't give a fuck where you were you just needed the ibuprofen to ease your pain.

Yeah "ibuprofen" is what you thought you were getting. You were such a dumb naive little girl you really thought Jungkook was giving you the strongest dosage of ibuprofen you can't find in drug stores. Little did you know they were actually perks. Jungkook was way older than you. You were only 19 and he was 28, he knew what he was doing.

He'll give you perks and get you extremely high off of it, then he'll use your pretty little body. He'll fuck you for hours, having you dripping cum out of your stupid little pussy, he'll abuse your hole and throat and take photos. You'll remember having sex but you'll always think it was you who wanted to make "love" with him but there was no love you were just so gullible and would believe anything Jungkook would tell you.

"Kook.. I don't f-feel bad anymore.. needs to to sleepies, cuddle me!" You were talking nonsense again, just what Jungkook wanted. He needed you to get even more brain dead to fuck you into next week

"Okay baby, I'll cuddle you to sleep then I'll go sleep on the couch. Does that sound good?" he was so good to you. So you thought.

"mmmhh" is all you let out, letting him know that you're ready to be put to bed.

and that's how Jungkook found himself dirty talking to you while playing with your pussy.

"so fucking wet for me bunny. you're such a fucking idiot, thinking I'm putting you to sleep but I'm just playing with your chubby cute cunnie." He says as he rubs his fingers up and down your slit. You were dripping buckets. So much pre cum dripping out of you that Jungkook slapped your pussy and when he'll pull his hand away, strings of slick would be on his hand still connected to your cunt.

"Fuck getting so hard playing with this cunt. You ready for my cock? You ready have this pussy stretched so wide that you're drenching my cock in your purity blood?" He talked so nasty, but he knew it turned you on even if you were half asleep.

You responded by letting out little whines and whimpers. You always would reach for him and try to get the warmth of his body on yours. You really like to cuddle him. Him and his big muscles.

Jungkook got completely naked, he started stroking his huge cock making himself hiss. He wanted to choke you with his cock. Maybe he'll slap his dick all over your face. He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to make you into his nasty baby whore. This was a huge kink to him, he went all out too.

He'll go to kinky stores and buy cute things to fuck you in. He'll buy little cute pajamas to put you in, cute pajama jump suits he'll put you in and fuck you hard. He'll go to the pet store and buy leashes and collars.

"Fuck it I'm gonna fuck you while you're wearing a doll dress." Jungkooks goes and grabs a dress you'll usually see on dolls. It was a vintage maid look kinda dress but in human size. He took off the rest of your remaining clothes, putting you in the dress.

He then positioned you so where your legs are wide opened, laying out on the bed like a dead corpse, but you were very much alive and very much moving and awake.

It didn't take long for him to put a collar on you and stuff you with his cock. You were moaning and calling him daddy. Saying slutty things like "faster" and "harder". Telling him what a good husband he was and that he needs to take the kids to school tomorrow. You were such a cute mess.

His cock would drill your insides. It was so nasty but you really did love it. It made you feel a little too good. The way his cock would rip you inhalf always had you limping the next day. He fucked you so good, he was so generous, always giving you his cock.

The night went on. It was long. It was full of cum. No protection what so ever. He came in your little cunt about 6 times. You squirted and made a mess everywhere. You were definitely expecting a little jeon soon.

#jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jjk smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #fanfic #fantasy #yandere jungkook #yandere!jungkook #yandere #jungkook yandere #yancore #dark yandere #dark writing #ddlgkinky #breeding toy

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kittysarchive · 5 months

Text

Types of yandere, Txt

This is from my old account

Warnings - drabble like, yandere, mentions of kidnapping and punishments. The contents ahead are yandere so please let me know if I missed anything

Yeonjun

obsessive and possessive

To Yeonjun, you are his whole world. He will do everything and everything to keep you to himself.

The obsessive and possessive come into play when he first lays eyes on you, knowing you were the one for him, Yeonjun from that moment on tried everything to get into contact with you.

"Do you live around here?"

"Your necklace is pretty!"

"Good morning" Every small exchange you had was everything to Yeonjun. In fact it only took 4 weeks until Yeonjun saved you! Actually being with Yeonjun is very rocky. He expects you to love him, care for him and never think about anything else! He wants you all to himself and will punish you if you don't listen to him.

Soobin

Controlling and jealous

To Soobin, he owns you. You are his and always were!

Controlling was always there but jealous comes into play when he actually saves you. Seeing you glance at another male or even just nod your head politely will cause him to get all and jealous :(

"Why are you looking at him?"

"Can he fuck you this good?"

"What punishment do you want?" Being a Yandere, Soobin will control every part of your life, to managing your phone calls to when you can go outside, Soobin controls every aspect about you. Living with him isn't so bad as long as you are indoors. There he believes you are safe and won't try to escape but once you go outside, Soobin will tightly hold hands with you, making sure you don't try and run away :)

Beomgyu

Unhinged and Bipolar

You are Beomgyu whole world, why can't you see that?

Unhinged and bipolar merge into one as Beomgyu is both in love with you yet always trying to put you in your place.

"I love you so much!"

"kneel"

"Are you backchatting me?" Beomgyu shows his love...very differently. He will be cuddling you and kissing you then get all annoyed and punish you if you don't kiss him back.Dealing with Beomgyu means you have to be fast and responding and kisses him back as well as not taking his harsh words to heart :(

Taehyun

Delusional and obsessive

You and Taehyun are in a perfect relationship, right? Thats what he believes in his mind!

Taehyun believes you both love each other, sometimes he has to hurt you a bit, so you understand :)

"Smile for me!"

"Your shaking?"

"Why are you crying? It's only a small cut".

He not only believes everything is perfect, but he believes you are a little...dumb and he has to protect you! Living with Taehyun may be the most difficult because you are constantly being called a dumb little girl as well as Taehyun being easy going/ too relaxed when you try to fight back.

Huening Kai

Isolating and possessive

You belong to Kai and Kai only, so why are you struggling in his grasp?

Huening Kai will not only isolate you in his home, but he will control you from withing. Restricting your food intake, time outside and time out of the small bedroom you are kept inside of until you learn how to behave.

"Why are you fighting with me?"

"Go. Now"

"Do you want me to remind you?"

With him being all possessive and isolating, it is almost like you are his prisoner, which you are. Having to live life with him is painful. There is no freedom. You have to earn it. Your only way op survival is letting Stockholm Syndrome take over you.

#txt imagines #txt post #yandere txt #fem reader #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop yandere #dark yandere #soft yandere #kpop yandere smut #dark yandere kpop

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missglaskin · 2 years

Text

An Eye for an Eye

Note: THIS STORY WILL NOT HAVE MUCH HAPPY MOMENTS/ENDING

PART 2

Reader takes Lucerys’ place. And to be exclusive, the reader is adopted but has Targaryen blood. This is my first time using plenty of dialogue in hcs. Sorry if this is terrible, I was a bit hesitant to post this

TW: Sadistic/Dark!Aemond, Explicit: Noncon/Dubcon, hunting kink, knifeplay, forced breeding, dacryphilia, manhandling. Violence: blood, abuse, animal death, bruises/scars, choking. Kidnapping & cursing.

If you won’t give him your eye, he'll take something far more valuable.

Your mother tightly clutched you, shielding you from Alicent's wrath. “It was an accident,” you told her more than once. The sight of Aemond holding your brother by the neck as he reached for the rock forced your hand. It didn’t matter to Alicent as she reached for Viserys’ dagger, charging at you.

When Alicent cuts your mother’s arm, the chaos is abruptly put to an end. Alicent drops the blade and stares in horror as everyone witnesses your mother's hand dripping with blood. “Don't mourn me, mother.” Everyone's attention turns to Aemond, who is standing with one eye stitched shut. “I may have lost an eye, but I’ve gained a dragon,” he assures her, leaning against his mother's chest.

As he says this, his safe eye catches yours, and you are met with a frightening glare. In response, you cling tighter to your mother. As Corlys leads the way to the maester, Rhaenyra extends her safe hand to yours. Looking back, Aemond's gaze has never left yours.

Though you'd like to think you're glad to be back home, in reality, you hardly feel that way. The vibrant paintings, various dragon motifs, and statues in every nook and cranny are all gone, all life and color sucked out; in their place, you are met with the gray walls and a seven-pointed star.

While walking with your brothers and taking in the training grounds, you felt some solace that they had remained largely the same. However, when everyone's attention turned to you, your moment of contentment was quickly over.

A commotion draws your attention, and you push against the onlookers, standing between your brothers to watch. The silver hair immediately catches your eye, and you feel a small flutter of fear upon recognizing the figure.

The crowd applauds when Aemond emerged victorious. You gape in awe; Aemond did grow to become quite of a formidable swordsman. “Good job, my prince” You heard Criston say, “Soon you’ll be winning tournaments in no time”.

"I don't give a shit about tournaments”, was his response and without looking, he addressed your brothers. "Have you come to train?" He asks, facing them. Maybe he's just ignoring you; you wouldn’t blame him if he did.

"Niece," he finally acknowledges your presence before Jace could respond, violet moon-eye glancing in your direction. You swear you saw his eye dart up and down. His smile was unsettling, and Jace held your hand as if sensing your feelings. The conversation abruptly ends when the gates are opened.

Each one stands with their respective families during the court petition. The entire time, you have a sneaking suspicion someone is watching you. When your eyes finally lock, you are unable to turn away lest you appear weak.

During supper, you’re heading to sit next to Helaena. She's such a sweet girl and, unlike her brothers, never seems to harbor resentment toward you.

“Niece?” Your heart pounds as a smooth voice calls out to you. It's Aemond, "Come sit by me," he says, calling for a servant before you can even respond, ordering them to bring a seat right next to his.

"What are you doing?" Jace asks, face contorted with anger. "I just want to spend time with my niece," Aemond says "I haven't seen her in so many years, not since-" “Aemond” His mother warns him. Everyone has stopped doing whatever they were doing to watch the interaction, and wanting to avoid any possible conflict, you agree.

"You don't have to do this," Jace whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder. Rhaenyra gives you a worried look, as if she's asking if you wish for her is to intervene. Reassuringly, you pat your brother's hand before settling down next to Aemond.

The piercing gaze that he casts on you can be felt, but you choose not to meet it. Instead, you continue drinking your wine with your heart thumping the entire time. Finally, you've told yourself the truth; you’re terrified of him. And he knows.

The dinner went smoothly until the pig arrived and Aemond started making his toast. An altercation occurred with Jace punching Aemond, but he didn’t flinch, simply pushing him to the floor. Luke goes to help his brother but is pushed to the table by Aegon. Daemon intervenes, and Jace and Luke are sent to their rooms.

As he turns to walk away, you don’t miss the quick glance Aemond gives you. As Aegon is compelled to leave as well, you glare at him, and the prince returns your glare with a mocking smile. Your mother reaches for your hand. "Go to bed, my sweet girl. Pay those boys no mind." You nod as she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

As you leave king's landing, you feel quite glad. As you're about to head out to Dragonstone, you look up the bretèche with an eerie feeling. Luke follows your gaze and finds nothing. "Let's go", he tugs your hand.

Rhaenys returns with news shortly after you settled back in Dragonstone. Viserys, the king, your grandfather is dead, and Aegon has usurped the throne. You were one of the first to know of this, being there when your mother was informed.

During the council, your brother intervenes when your mother mentions sending ravens to allies. “Send us,” and your mother reluctantly agrees. You volunteer, "I'll go to Storm's End,” and judging from the surprise on her face, it seems she hasn’t even considered you a part of her plan.

Your mother’s protectiveness over you was well known, and you deliberately chose Storm's end, as it was the nearest and safest. Luke will go to the Vale, and Jace to Winterfell. Your mother made the three of you swear to go as messengers, not warriors.

Before you can follow your brothers, your mother stops you; seeming to notice your worry. She assures you, "Borris is a proud man; he'll be honored to have a princess as his guest, and you'll be most welcomed". She kissed the top of your head as soon as it was your turn to go.

Riding on your dragon, Dame, you already had trouble; storm's end was near, but the weather made the journey challenging. If the storm is any indication, the weather won't get any better, and you were hoping Borris would offer you a room to stay in. Your mother won't certainly mind if you arrive a little later than you should.

The guards didn't appear in the slightest surprised by your arrival. As you land your feet on the ground, a roar that absolutely shakes you to your core can be heard. Upon turning, Vhagar was there and her sheer size made her seem bigger than the castle itself. The presence of Vhagar meant the presence of Aemond.

You were tempted to turn around and head back, but what would your mother and everyone else say? If Jace and Luke had been here, they would have carried on and done as they were instructed. Heading back means spending the rest of your life being called a coward; a sheep. So you went in, the doors opened by the guards, and there you were, met with Lord Borris seated in his chair.

When your eyes shifted to the side, you held your breath. A young lady, who you presumed to be Borris’s daughter, standing next to Aemond. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it as he turns to face you. He might have thought your mother would’ve sent one of your brothers instead.

He gives a half-smirk as the guards inform Lord Borris of your titles. Aemond notices your natural inclination to reach for your sword and raises his brow, seemingly daring you to do so. But you don't, reluctantly putting your hands to the side.

Your eyes move away from him upon greeting Lord Borris, handing him the letter from your mother. When Lord Borris summons the maester, the latter takes his time. Your eyes returned to Aemond, who his hands behind his back, still having the same amused expression.

The measter whispers to Lord Borris. “Remind me of my father’s oath?” The loudness of Borris’s voice causes you to flinch. He claims that the king at least came with an offer. What offer does yours bring? Your eyes nervously cast a quick glance at the three young ladies standing in line next to their father. It wasn't like you could offer yourself.

“My brothers aren’t free to marry, my lord,” and at that moment, he orders you to leave. That he’s not some dog for the queen."I’ll give your answer to the queen, Lord Borris," you sternly address the lord, taking care to say it with disdain.

When you turn to leave, the guards move to make a path for you. “Wait," you hear the voice that you’re all too familiar with. For a short second, you stand there, almost weighing your options. Still, you turn to the prince, mentally telling yourself to be brave. He can see your fear. They all can.

The lady who was standing close to him gives you an unknowing look as she walks away. He chastises, "Did you really believe I'd let you fly away trying to steal my brother's throne without cost." For the time being, you are unsure of where the courage came from as you moved a few steps forward.

"My mother's throne," you correct him, narrowing your eyes at him with such contempt, "that was taken away by your drunken, perverted brother." The sight of his jaw clenching gives you a small sense of satisfaction, but you are also slightly sickened by your overwhelming fear.

In an almost preemptive manner, he holds himself straight. You take it as something else, "I'm not here to fight you, I came here as a messenger." He chuckles and says, "A fight would be a little challenge," almost as if the idea of you fighting him was just comical.

You’re startled when his hand reaches for the eyepatch and pulls it off, exposing a blue sapphire in the place where his eye once was. "No, I want you to put your eye.”

As soon as he says "as a payment of mine." you take a step backward and look at Borris in fear, but he says nothing. He does nothing. Despite the shared concern, nobody in the hallway moves.

He reaches under his surcoat and pulls out a blade, saying, "An eye will do," before hurling it at your feet. "Don't you think it's a privilege? "I'm giving you a choice, one that I wasn't given." His tone almost makes you wince. You were reminded of his mother's words years ago, and you wondered what the likelihood was that he would give your eye to her.

You swallowed, working up the courage to say "no" as you looked down at the blade. It didn't come across as you had hoped it would; instead, it came off as much more hesitant and demure.

He screams for you to give him your eye, and all the resentment he has been suppressing all these years comes to the surface. 'Not in my hall!' Borris screams, finally stepping in, but why did it take so long?

The guards direct you outside, and you run to Dame. When you look up and see Vhagar gone, your heart sinks. You can feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown, and Dame can sense your panic. She nudges you with her head and you rest your forehead against hers. Trying to calm her, but trying to calm yourself more.

With the wind and rain blowing in your face, you hardly see anything as you ride through the storm. More than anything, you are terrified that you can't seem to find Aemond.

Looking up, you assumed your heart would drop the moment you see a figure three times the size of Dame. As he circles Vhagar around you, his laughter and taunts can be heard. Several times the dragon has opened its jaws, and if Dame hadn't been so quick, you would have been dragon’s food a while ago. Sometimes you also have to dodge the prince’s arm reaching out to you.

You make an effort to remain calm. Dame can sense your panic and it will only serve to divert her. Through the confined passageways of the sea cliffs, you briefly managed to escape Vhagar's grasp. However, there was a too-large gap and Vhagar suddenly appeared. Dame backed away, trying to protect you and herself, causing her to slam her side against a cliff's edge.

As Dame screeches in pain, you nearly fell over, holding on so tightly that your palms were burning. As Dame slowly descends, you can feel her wings fluttering as she tries to force her way upward. You are no longer guiding her at this point while she makes her way to a small island. The moment she’s near the ground, she collapses. It caused you to stumble and land on the ground next to her, feeling a sharp pain in your hip.

You feel lightheaded as you reach for the side of your head and see blood on your fingers. The rain is still there, but not as intensely as it was before. Dame is hurt; badly. Seeming to have sacrificed all of her remaining strength to get you both to safety.

But after hearing Vhagar’s roar, was it truly safe? You feel the ground tremble where Vhagar lands and Dame tries to move in and shield you but is too worn out to do so. The prince getting off his dragon should have made you fearful, but Dame's state filled you with fury instead.

"I ought to have taken your other eye!" You screamed across. It seemed the sword had been lost in flight, but you still had your dagger, removing it from its sheath, and lunging at the prince. But he grabs you by the wrist with little to no struggle. Your other hand tries to move, but Aemond is much quicker.

In a desperate attempt, you raise your foot to kick him in the knee; it causes him to falter briefly, but it also makes you stumble back down, wincing from the pain in your ribs.

As soon as he regains his composure, you’re struck across the face with the back of his hand. You start to lose your balance, your ribs aching more and more as you try to breathe and your mouth has a strong taste of copper.

In your almost blurry vision, you can make out the dagger that was dropped when the prince struck you. Trying to reach for it, only to scream in anguish when Aemond slams his boot on your hand; your knuckles aching.

Your shriek causes Dame to make a faint noise. Still, she’s unable to move. With your hand still under his sole, Aemond reaches down- taking your dagger in hand.

All of a sudden, you are on your back. Gasping when you feel a strong weight on your stomach. As you struggle to open your mouth to breathe, you are on the verge of screaming in agony, but the pain is so intense that you can only emit low shrieks of pain.

For a brief moment, you’ve come to your senses. And there you felt. You see it. A dagger inches away from your eye; your left eye. Out of instinct, you closed them. Wincing when feeling the tip touch the surface of your eyelid.

You cry out, "You-" trying to get the words out, "said it was a fair trade." Then a hand reaches for your throat. Struggling to breathe, desperately clawing at the hand, incoherent noises slipping from your lips.

"A fair trade?" He tightens the squeeze, baring his teeth as his face nears yours. "You made me a fucking cripple," he spits out. The panic on your face remains as your attempts to claw at his hand weakens.

Then he releases his grip, and you can finally gasp for air. Still, the dull rip-piercing pain persists. As you try to breathe properly, you can hear him speaking to you, but they sound so faint that they almost sound like murmurs.

You overhead him utter the word ‘whore’. He called your mother a whore. Your guilt weighs you down as you say nothing to defend her honor. As you do nothing as he continues to throw insults at your mother. It was you she loved the most, he said, her only girl.

His hand reaches for your face, catching a glimpse of your attention. Instinctively, you try to shrink away, but his weight keeps you down. Your hair stood on end when feeling his gentle touch, tracing his finger from the edge of your mouth to the eye he had just threatened to gouge out. Finally, he speaks, “I won’t take your eye, but something far more valuable.”

Gazing at him with confusion and dread; pondering his implications. At the realization, a bullet of panic rises in your throat. The smirk on his face, the way his gaze slides down your body, and most of all, the glow of lust in his eye.

No, no, no; you kept telling him, pleading with him. He moves away, his weight leaving you. Then you're pushed to your stomach. His hand is holding the back of your head. No, you persisted. He wouldn't. You prayed he wouldn't.

The rain eventually stops as the storm begins to dissipate with the rising sun. One may think it was a wonderful sight, a beautiful day oblivious to the horror that’ll occur.

Your voice cracks, pleading with the one-eyed prince. Tears and snot spilling down your face. Still, the prince tugs at your trousers, chuckling at the hearing of your pleas. "Virtue is all a lady possesses,” your septa said.

Gods, how could you ever face your mother and brothers after this. Would anyone believe you. He will ruin you, and what madman would want you after this. What disgrace will you bring to your house, to your family, to your legacy.

Your cries have grown more frantic. In the distance, you can faintly hear a low growl; Dame. Aemond scoffs when you try to call out to her. He tilts your head farther to the ground, turning to look at your dragon, laughing at her helplessness.

By the time your trousers are fully down, exposing your lower body to the prince. His gloved hands caress your thighs, and you move them in response, causing him to grab hold of them. With his other hand, Aemond bites the glove off.

His bare fingers touch your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds. His other hand, gloved, grabs your hip roughly, holding it in place. He chuckles when feeling your wetness. Humiliated, this time it's you lowering your head to the ground. Recoiling at the taste of dirt on your tongue.

Gasping in surprise when he pushes two fingers inside of you. You don’t want this. You kept reminding yourself. But your body betrays you as pleasure overtakes you, hating how your body nudges itself back, sinking further into his touch. Even as the ecstasy floods your entire body, the pain from his hold on your hip still pierces you.

Your gaze lands on Dame. She has been groaning and growling the entire time, but you've seen that for a while. She hasn't made a sound. Her stomach was no longer lurching up and down, and her eyes closed. Your sobs intensified when you realize her current state. Behind you, Aemond seems unconcerned, not even giving her a glance as he carelessly takes off his trousers.

You're turned on your back, facing the prince now. Once more, you plead with him. Trying to push against his chest as he clamps your hips down and layers his body on top of you. But your efforts are feeble. You understand it's too late now.

And then it happens. Exhaling painfully on instinct. His hard cock slides into you and you resent how almost easily it eases into you. Yet there is so much pain, hushed groans, and cries slipping out. And his unforgiving pace doesn’t give you the time to adjust to him.

He buries his face into your neck. "Fuck," he curses, "you're so tight, taking me in like a whore". Then you felt him bite into your shoulder; harshly. You were certain that the bite would cause bleeding. He leaves your hips, his hands reaching underneath your back. Bruises will be found later on. If you survive in the first place.

His hips meet yours, almost in an apparent attempt to bury his cock as deep inside of you as he can. As much as you try to resist him, your walls still tighten around him and he groans in return. “You take after your whore mother, don’t you," you say nothing, only tightening your fists.

Then, as his hair feathered your face and his lips inches away from yours, he removes his eye patch. You quickly turn your head to the side, refusing to stare, only to quickly come to regret it as you see Dame's freshly corpse.

A hand grasps your neck, forcing you to look at him, to look at the sapphire. And your gaze must remain fixed on him as he feels himself move deeper with each stroke. He's reminding you; you figure. That everything that led to this moment was caused by you and you alone.

Hoping to maintain some part of your sanity, your mind wanders. All the while, Aemond places his palm on your stomach, gazing at your tummy bulge; how he must love how well you take him. Almost as if your body was made just for him.

The touch of his lips brings you back to reality. His lips met yours roughly as if trying to flatten and demolish your mouth. As your mouth opens in surprise, his tongue brushes against your gritted teeth. He could test the blood in your mouth, gripping your head tightly as if he were trying to keep you from fleeing.

Against your lips in a breathy tone, he asks if you've gotten tighter. His sloppy thrusts have roused you, and your eyes are wide as you stare at him. You are aware of what he is about to do. So you try to shove him away. To take your maidenhood was one thing, but this. This was too far, even for him.

He doesn't give a damn, and you can tell by the bites and bruises he left on every skin he can touch. He cradles you, mockingly asking what’s the matter, all while trying to maintain his ruthless pace. “You’re fond of bastards after all,” referring to your brothers, or as he likes to call them, the strong boys.

He whispers in your ear, "It would only make sense for you to have one.” You continue to struggle and even manage to hit him, but your slap was feeble. So feeble like you. When hot cum floods your senses, filling you to the brim, tears stream down your face.

It took him a few more thrusts, and then he finally pulled away. Standing ups he puts his trousers back on. He nudges your thighs with his foot, and you instantly know what he wants. Unwilling to struggle, you open your legs, and you can see how much he enjoys the sight of his cum dripping from your cunt.

You can also see how much he enjoys the sight of your strained face and watery eyes. The way your wet hair sticks to your forehead. The way your neck and shoulders have scratches and marks all over. The way you're in pain. The way you're helpless. The way he ruined you.

For a moment, you thought he would abandon you on the island. What a slow death that'll be. Perhaps you'll die from the infection in your wounds or from starvation. Your body might be found by a sailor, but it's more likely he'll find it when it's decomposed into bones.

Instead, Aemond grabs your ruined trousers and forces them on you. Pulling you to your feet, but your knees start to tremble, forcing Aemond to support your side. When you see him guiding you toward Vhagar, you try to veer away, but he is far stronger. He forewarns if you do anything, Vhagar will turn you into dragon food, even if he orders her otherwise.

At king's landing, Otto and Alicent are horrified at the sight of Aemond dragging you to the council in the state that you're in.

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