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yinyuedijun · 1 month

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TOKYO VICE | part 1

You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)

8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!

sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip

part 2 here

You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.

It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.

You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.

The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.

Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.

Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.

When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.

Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.

Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.

Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.

The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.

Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.

You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.

Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.

“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”

At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.

He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.

This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.

Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.

He especially became a worse person with you.

As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.

After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.

Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.

This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).

His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.

The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.

His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.

These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.

“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.

So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.

While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.

You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.

But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.

Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.

Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.

It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.

A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.

Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.

“Come again?”

“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”

“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”

“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”

“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.

“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”

“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”

Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.

“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”

Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.

So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.

“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”

“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”

“You have friends from work.”

“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”

“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.

“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”

“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.

The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.

“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”

“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”

He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.

But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”

This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”

“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”

“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.

“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.

“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.

Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.

Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.

In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.

But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.

I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.

He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.

Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.

Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.

“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”

On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.

“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”

“Business,” Suo repeats.

“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”

“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.

“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.

“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”

“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”

A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!

“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.

“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”

Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”

Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.

“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”

“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”

“...”

You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!

“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”

Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.

“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”

“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”

“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”

You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.

Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”

The drive home is awkward.

Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.

You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“For business?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you make?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”

You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.

“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.

“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”

Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”

Suo blinks. “You… what?”

“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”

He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.

“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”

You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.

To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.

You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.

This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.

“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”

Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“That's all you want? Just to get off?”

You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.

“Yes, that's all.”

No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.

If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.

So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.

Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.

You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.

You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.

It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)

So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.

And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.

“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”

The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.

“You're looking for who?”

“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”

The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.

You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.

It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.

“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.

“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”

“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”

“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”

Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”

You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.

“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”

“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.

Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.

“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”

“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”

Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.

The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.

Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.

You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”

“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”

The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.

A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.

You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.

“You didn't call or come home,” you start.

“I thought it would be too dangerous.”

You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”

“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”

You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.

“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”

Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.

“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”

Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”

Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”

“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”

“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”

“...”

You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.

Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”

“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”

“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”

“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”

“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”

“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”

“Was there anything else?”

He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”

You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”

“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.

Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”

You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”

You stare. “What?”

“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”

Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.

Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”

Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.

“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”

END PART 1

thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!

also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3

#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #i dont even know what other tags the wbk fandom uses sdlfkjalksdflkj either ppl see this or they dont. it is in gods hands

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corollaservant · 4 months

Text

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley.

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said.

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat.

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat.

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic.

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen.

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant.

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human.

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service.

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him.

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you.

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo.

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it.

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time.

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too.

#yandere mha #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #yandere touya x reader #dark content #my hero academia #mha imagines #todoroki touya x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #tw noncon #tw delusion #tw violence

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2-dsimp · 3 months

Note

I finally found time to show up😭 anyway- I need sweet hc or hcs in general about Miki- I’m a sucker for merfolk- pretty please?🥺

-🪷

Cw: Work Wifey

—————-/—————-/—

Yandere coworker who’s an absolute wildcard. He can be sporadic always bustling from place to place so he’s the type not to sit still. He’d always be ranting your ear off about his new fixations and readily cling to you like the suction of a tentacle. He’s funny without meaning to as in he’ll make the most random comment before acting like nothing happened. Getting confused when he sees people laughing when he’s genuinely trying to voice an opinion.

“What’s up with you guys? All I said was shouldn’t Dill’s pickles be called Dickles instead? It’s good for marketing no?”

Yandere Coworker that can be classified as a himbo from how dense he could be at times. Especially when it comes to utilizing human appliances since he originated from the sea. Where he was used to eating raw meats like fish amongst other things he came across while hunting for a meal.

“Work wifey help meee! I think the macrowave thingy is trying to pick a fight with me! What’s it beeping so aggressively for?! Do I need to make an offering or something to appease it?”

Yandere Coworker who’s trying his best to adapt to the human world of civilization. By sticking to you like glue since you were the first to reach out to him and guide him in on the customs. While the others were hesitant at first seeing how peculiar he was. And in the process he’s learned of many terms his favorite being work wifey since he’d always think of you.

Yandere Coworker that Oftentimes reminds others of a shark pup just staring longingly outside the window pane of the office. Waiting for his owner to return, as some coworkers of his joked. But the majority felt bad since they know he’s the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. So they mainly mess with him just to get him to focus on other things. Rather than his lonesomeness without his precious work wife support.

“Cmon you sea guppy don’t you’ve got some errands to run?”

“Errands…? My work wife always liked to run errands. Says that it’s fun to get out rather than be cooped up in the office all day”

“Bro, they’ll come soon it’s not time for them to clock in yet. Since they’re coming in late remember?”

“…Huh? My bad I spaced out, I was thinking about my work wife”

The coworkers collectively facepalm and groan at his inherent neediness for you. And can only pray for you to return so that their newly appointed manager starts working his magic in the sales pitch department. Since they need his expertise in managing to clutch deals with some key figures who happened to like his quirky charms and foolhardy honest aptitude.

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yaboiyandere · 1 year

Text

Yandere Miguel O’Hara

Miguel’s POV

-Miguel decided to deal with some anomalies himself, pounding the weaker ones to a pulp helped him burn off some steam. He’d eviscerated about four until he was in your dimension. It was a rarer sight to see pirate ones, but he wasn’t in the mood to look into it. Just messing them up and sending them home.

-the city looked familiar, in a sense that he knew he’d never been there, but a part of him had. Maybe another version of him? Hopefully, he doesn’t run into him. he approaches the anomaly, the map indicating it’s at an elementary school.

-Ever since he tried replacing his murdered self in another universe, he’s felt empty. It’s not every day you see your daughter and spouse disappear into nothingness. It wasn’t even his family though, was it? After all, he didn’t remember meeting this version of you. He didn’t get to experience your first date, your wedding, or your daughter’s first day of school. He missed it all.

-Maybe it was for the best that he missed it all, considering what happened when he appeared. Maybe he’s just the worst version of himself. Maybe he’s not meant to be happy.

-he entered through the hole in the wall, seeing you trying and failing to wrangle the pirate Doc Ock. Just another spider-person. He quickly scratched at and bit the anomaly, causing paralysis. You fall to the floor, the tentacles sagging to the ground.

-he approaches you, pulling up his holo-watch to identify who you are. “I like your mask” you joke, as he approaches you. “Got one just like it at home”. He stifles a chuckle. He’s almost reached your profile when a little girl runs up to you and grips your leg. “Don’t hurt my (parent)! Please” she sobs. He freezes.

-he takes it all in. His screen fades away. Gabriella, his daughter, chokes out a couple of cries against your leg. Your hand protectively rests on her head. Who are you? And why are you keeping his daughter from him? And why does she look so scared of him?

-“…are you scared of me?” He asks. Gabriella nods. He can’t ignore your little nod. Speaking of you. “Who are you?” And what are you doing with his daughter? “Ah, that’s classified” you stammer. “Fine” he grumbles, pulling up his hologram with your profile. (Y/n) (L/n). Canon event, losing your late husband, Miguel O’Hara.

-He looks at your profile, the photo of your smiling face, and back at you. Even through the mask, your fear is evident. He presses a button to reveal his face. Your shock is palpable, as he introduces himself. “My name is Miguel O’Hara, and you probably already knew that.” He smiles, and hugs you. He wasn’t going to lose this, lose you again. It’ll be better this time, he’ll start over with you two, propose, attend Gabriella’s quinceanera, and maybe even make another kid!

-his eyes well up with tears of happiness as he bites your neck, paralyzing you. He hugs your limp body and calls out to your daughter. He hugs you two close. All is right in the world again. “Lyla, let’s bring these two home.” “Can do, boss” he quickly walks through the portal, still careful to not drop his precious cargo.

-it’s been three days, and Gabriella has adjusted well. His loft is much more spacious than the little apartment you two could barely afford. She also reveled in the attention she got from you since you were banned from serving justice. Speaking of you, you’ve been more difficult. Considering the world you left behind, he thought you would be more happy to leave! Constant crime leaves you with sleepless nights, a crummy job, and missing out on your daughter’s life! He’d make it so you don’t have to miss anything and even cut down his work hours to spend more time with his family.

-you’ve said some untrue things about him, and compared him to “your” Miguel, but he knows you just need to adjust. As he hugs you from behind, admiring your daughter’s cute drawing of your new family, and smiles into your neck.

#spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o’hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere imagine #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel

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sumeruin · 2 years

Note

i feel like i sped ran all of ur posts i’m in luv <33 do u think i could maybe… be…🫧-anon??

anyways here’s me little brainrot on scaramouche/wanderer bc i love him

pervy!scara who would hide u under his desk during fatui meetings and make you suck and kiss his cock, all the while you have to hold back whimpers in fear of being discovered :((

yandere!scara who would slowly isolate you from everyone else until you feel abandoned :( but don’t worry! he’s dealt with plently of betrayals, all you need is him!

thinking about a yan!scara x touch starved/traumatized reader scenario. reader genuinely loves scara, and all their past trauma just makes them that much more attached to him. they look past all the red flags and think that this is the best thing for them!! Of course, scara is happy to receive the love, and gladly gives them everything they want :)) scara controls readers surroundings just to make them that much more attached and needy for him and his help! what a good boyfriend he is!

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

omg nonnie!!! ofc you can be 🫧 anon!!! i will write about these in order they’re just too good :(

tw: noncon/dubcon idrk which one of the two to classify this as, i think that’s it tbh

i love love love the idea of pervy scara!!!! and i think it’s just that much better when it’s not in an au or anything so that there’s the power difference of him being a harbinger :( he’d make sure he got to the meeting before anyone else just so that he could feel your mouth wrapped around him during the boring discussions that just seem to drag on for so long :( if he thought you were having it too easy he’d quickly thrust up his hips, just enough to make you gag around him though, he does still have a reputation to keep :(

tw: yandere, heavy stockholm syndrome, like really heavy, like that’s almost entirely what this part is about you’ve been warned, isolation

i think he’d be the most likely to do this out of all the genshin yanderes, he’s just so so mean and so so lonely (and tbh a little bit pathetic and soggy but that’s part of his charm) he wouldn’t want you to look at anyone but him :( i think if his usual punishments with pain and degradation weren’t working he’d even take it a step further and leave you alone in a room for however it takes you to break :( he’d bring you 3 meals a day and plenty of water though!! he’d just ignore you whenever you tried to touch him or even just talk to him :( he’d look at you like you like you’re just a disgusting speck of dirt to him, and that’d continue until eventually you’d break and end up begging him to talk to you, to touch you again, to just do something so that you know you aren’t completely alone :( i think if what you did to deserve that punishment was bad enough he’d let it go in past that point, waiting until you’re clinging to his clothes, full on sobbing for him to pay attention to you again, and physically not letting him leave, then he’d bend down and gently wrap you up in his arms, cooing soft praises and sweet little nothings at you while he reassures you that, “shh, shh, it’s all ok, i’m here now, you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’ll take care of you, it’ll be just how it’s supposed to be.” :( he’d run you a nice, warm bath and pretend like he wasn’t also the one who did this to you, still holding you in his arms and whispering sweet, comforting little words and phrases in your ear :(

tw: yandere, kinda sorta stockholmish??? definitely not as bad as the last one but it’s kinda there, toxic relationships

i think this one is especially good with scara cause i think he’d be just so sad whenever his darling is mean to him, so when you actually, genuinely love him for who his is, obsessiveness and all, he’s overjoyed!! and he’s even more excited when you seek him out yourself and ask him for cuddles or a kiss or even just to sit next to him for a while :( i think he’d try to test you in the early stages of your relationship, just to make sure you aren’t pretending to love him back while you secretly plan to leave him. poor scara has trust issues, can you really blame him? :( besides, he’s made all his red flags more than clear by now, if you’re dumb enough to ignore them then that’s no skin off his back. after he decides you’ve passed his tests he’d become a lot more comfortable showing his true colors with you, gradually adding more rules and restrictions to your schedule, not letting you leave the house unless you’re with him, adding a lock to the outside of your bedroom door and not letting you have a key, making sure to always keep some rope around “just in case” :( eventually, it’d turn into you not being allowed to leave the house at all, and you constantly being in his arms or tied up when he can’t hold you himself. he knows you won’t mind as long as he continues to ravish you with his love and attention though. you’re just so perfect for him, how did he get so lucky? :(

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spooklies · 10 months

Text

# Invincible - Yandere Mark Grayson (PROFILE)

Type of Yandere: Mark would be overprotective as well as delusional when it comes to his darling. He'll convince himself that you need him for survival since in comparison to him, you're fragile. Of course there's obsession. He'll learn everything he can about you and more, maybe even some things you weren't aware of. When it came to his controlling side that played more into how delusional he can get. He'll convince himself that he's not controlling and that the only reason he's coming off that way is because of what he sees himself needing to do for your own good.

Love Language: Mark's love language would be touch as well as words of affirmation. He's someone that'll need constant reassurance or else his thoughts will spiral and for you that means he'll become more controlling than he already was. It's not hard for his darling to calm him when he's like this. All it would take is for darling to talk him out of it as calmly as possible and then he's back to a more manageable state. The same would be done the other way around. For example; if his darling was freaking out over something he had done, then he'd do everything in his power to reassure his darling in ways that worked in the past.

Their Biggest Fear: Like most yandere's, Mark's biggest fear is losing you completely. He doesn't care if that means making you resent him, as long as you're with him then he'll be okay.

Kidnapping: He would. But he wouldn't call it that. If a situation came where you were leaving him or your life was threatened by someone that could take your life then he would "bring you somewhere safe" where he could ensure your whereabouts 24/7.

How Easy is it to Escape?: Nearly impossible. Mark not only has superpowers but pretty overpowered ones to make things worse for you. I also see this depending on which version of Mark we're playing off. But in every version I'd say he's impossible to escape because even if you somehow manage to leave him then he'd just get someone else to find you with the many connections he has.

Punishment(s): It takes a lot for Mark to punish his darling but if he's ever pushed far enough his punishments will increase in intensity. All of his punishments would be physical. He'd slap you if you talked back to him enough which would be a part of his “lighter” punishments. If you kept leaving him then he'd incapacitate you in whichever way he sees fit. That could mean breaking your legs, locking you in the house, and even completely getting rid of your legs if he's well past his breaking point.

Difference to Other Yanderes: A lot of yandere's wouldn't want to purposely harm their darling but in Mark's case he'd go out of his way to which classifies him as a more extreme yandere (abusive in all forms). There's this certain disconnect with Mark and empathy so what hurts you won't affect him nearly as much as it should.

Additional Notes: Mark Grayson is a naturally caring person which in turn makes him gentle. If his darling were to give in and love Mark unconditionally then this side of him would be drawn out and more. He does, after all, love you. It’s only when he’s pushed beyond his limits where the dangerous side he tends to hide comes out. If his darling did what he wanted (even if his requests can get extreme) then Mark would closely resemble how he is in the show.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere invincible #yandere mark Grayson #yandere mark Grayson x reader #yandere invincible x reader

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oukabarsburgblr · 3 months

Note

Hello! I am new, and wanted to ask 3 things for you:

1.) Is Daichi a type of yandere, and why is he obsessed with the reader?

2.) Are you maybe interested in writing JJK?

3.) Can I be 🎃 anon?

-🎃 Have nice day studying/whatever your busy doing, keep up the good work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Hello there and 3) yes u can be 🎃 anon, reminds me of that one game kubz scouts played for days on end. Pumpkin race? The one with the time that he tried to one up haha

1) to be honest, its been a while since i wrote that fanfiction and ever since then ive been focusing on my ocs so much hshsh. I do think daichi can be classified as a psychopath. A yandere? I wouldnt say he loves the reader (during his third year) and i could say for a fact even he acknowledges he doesnt harbor romantic feelings for the reader until much later (after the training camp shenanigan) however, he did harvest some type of attraction to the reader. An unhealthy one. Where the dynamic is between an object and an owner? Not a pet or a partner, but an object instead. Something he can switch on and off, mold into his liking and reader just so happened to be a perfect victim for it. Although he does grow to be fond of you, ever since how obedient you became. So many screaming nights passed in your house.

Now came the question of why? Why did he do all of this? Why did he instigate it the second the reader came into his view? I tried explaining it in the second part of the fic. Sugawara and Asahi would have treated reader like any other first year if it werent for Daichi. Maybe suga a bit sociopathic but daichi was the match that started the flame.

I think it came from the canon fact that Daichi was the rock of the team, their anchor, their foundation. I thought of him as someone youd look up to, youd rely on but there had to be days where he wasnt feeling himself right? Where he finds all of them a tad bit annoying, but that wouldnt be nice, they were his friends after all. And you came into the picture. On a bad day, where he just felt shitty and you suddenly came stumbling into the club, making a ruckus, curse words from your mouth scratching his eardrums and a thought slipped his mind where he found you so fucking annoying. However, it wouldnt be fair to thrust all that negative energy onto you so he did what he could, ignoring you until he could cool himself down. Maybe the day after he could find himself talking to you again. Wrong. He still finds you annoying and rude. Then there was this urge that came from deep within his stomach, this feral desire to grasp at you, clench at your face, pulling your skin back so you would behave- Too much blood so no can do. He still found you annoying though, hence, the snowball rolls where he decided to just change you. Sugawara and Asahi was a massive help, pinning you into the corner until he had you cumming around his finger.

If given the chance, where there would be no repurcussions, no trace of any evidence whatsoever, Daichi Sawamura would have murdered you, killing you in cold blood and burying your body deep within the mountains. A heavy burden would lift from his shoulders and he felt like the world would work his way again. But there was no solid plan for it so he never took the chance nor thought to.

Can you tell that Daichi is my favourite? Hahaha ive said this like three times now. I loveeeee him.

2) would i ever write jjk! One of my favourite readers have requested a satosugu x bottom male reader in my inboxes and i will consider but heres the thing.

I dont watch jjk😭

Well, i did, until i dropped it. I think it was at episode 20+ on season 1. I used to be a huge shounen person but now im a slice of life fan (although they can be quite boring sometimes) i guess im more into thrillers but in a normal setting? But i know jjk characters.

I used to have an obsession w sukuna haha. Ik maki, ik zenin naoya, ik todo aoi, like ik them and ik what happened to them (rip nanami) but idk i think i have to get hooked on really well for me to watch jjk so that i can write it. We'll see deffo! But i plan to watch chainsaw man first hshshs

#oukabarsburg #bottom male reader #sub male reader #male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu #yandere haikyuu

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ilovemorayeels · 4 months

Note

I hope I am not too late. Can I please get a Genere HCs for Yandere Toge Inumaki with a Mute reader

Yan!Toge Inumaki!!

a/n: please tell me if I got anything wrong!

tags: gn!reader, mute!reader, yandere inumaki

CW: inumaki kills someone (not graphic, it was a heart attack). Stalking, inumaki snoops through reader's room without consent.

type: generic headcanons

credits: sweetparty

yan!inumaki sympathizes with your struggle. Though not the same, he has limited speaking too. It's hard not being able to communicate properly, especially when talking is a basic human necessity. He's very caring towards you, he feels even more connected to you due to your struggle and is always willing to go to any mission that you need a second person to go with.

yan!inumaki enjoys taking walks, just walks. Maybe a trip to the aquarium. There's no need to say anything, one because you can't and two because he only speaks in rice ball ingredients. He enjoys the quiet that comes with being with you, he feels that there isn't even words to describe how beautiful you are. When you first joined Jujutsu High all he could muster was a dreamy "Kelp…". The man is infatuated! Let him be!!

yan!inumaki has definitely killed for you, cursed spirits are one thing, but he has gone behind Gojo's back to kill someone who has gotten too close for you. He cornered them to an alley, the person was a non-sorcerer, a weakling. Therefore, all he needed to say was, "Die". And it was classified as a heart attack, no trace back to him ever.

yan!inumaki has done plenty of stalking and snooping too. The word unlock is pretty useful, considering you always lock your door (why are you making it so inconvenient? do you want him to harm himself while using his cursed technique?). He's looked at whatever you decorated the place with, taking notes, snooping through any drawers, any piece of your DNA.

#toge inumaki #Yandere inumaki #inumaki #Toge #yandere #gn!reader #f!reader #for you #gender neutral reader #m!reader #headcanons #male reader #guess who's back on tumblr!!!!!!

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helpfandom · 4 months

Text

Penguins of the Madagascar 200 follower event :D

So, Uh, this is one of the two that won [the other being We Happy Few], and so I write!

This is going off of a Intern! [Reader] for these, as that makes the most sense in the in-universe.

So, To start things off with a Dave's Intern reader, I should likely explain why you're an intern, and more specifically, Dave's intern.

Dr. Octavius Brine is a scientist, but we the audience know that he is an octopus. Well, he needs someone to take care of PR [Public Relations] and menial things like interviews, so he hires a little intern/assisstant to do things for him.

Now, he's sort of forgetful of you, [as seen by 'accidentally' kidnapping you when he asks you to follow him onto the sub]. Essentially, he asked you to come onto the submarine with him so that then he could talk to you about coming out to the public with a submarine and why does he have it? But then, he got confirmation that he got the penguins and he ordered Geoffrey "rush to Italy!" While you're on board.

Now, if this is the Reader who simply thinks, 'Eh, money is money', then the minute things that happen like his constant obsession with eating fish and adding octopus motifs onto things, are simply things you don't acknowledge. And realistically, it likely is, so that's another thing we're sticking with.

Now, Dave is already Needy with human's attention, so having one that doesn't care about him being an octopus? Well, he's very attached to his little assistant, waving off little concerns about why he needs an intern around so much with just "I'm teaching them, now, don't interupt me." Dave is Needy, as we just focused on, but also Overprotective due to most of the good things in his life leaving him for 'cuter' animals, like humans attention at zoos. He finds himself often coming closer to you when anyone talks to you [whether they be a scientist or reporter] and wrapping an arm [tentacle] around you as you speak to them, trying to ward them off without saying a word. Clingy is more-so another factor of him staying with you, sticking with your personality and person even when the reporters and scientists are long gone, leaving him to slowly crave your praise and adoration, rather than others. Of course, they still give him a dopamine rush, but nothing makes him happier he's making evil plans than hearing you praise his intelligence, listening to how your remarks on his newest research are in-depth and never thought about before.

The Penguins: A bit of a weirder version, as it's 4 differing people with differing personalities. With that in mind, there's no reason for a yandere version of them, so instead, they became yandere due to your shock of Dave's plan, and attempting to subtly help them, leads Private to be a little more friendly, a little more obsessed. Overall, the main traits they all have in common are: Impulsive [Rico], Self-Indulgent [Private, and Skipper, surprisingly], and Kowalski is an interesting case, since he's more-so into your mind, how does it work? What did you pick up while working with Dave? Etc, so he's not any one defining characteristic.

North Wind: Another four person group, so naturally, just the main few characteristics in order to keep this as orderly as possible. After the penguins help you out and the North Wind picks all of you up, you rest with the North Wind, having them pick your mind about Dave, and what he's planning and how to stop him. Of course, with such nonchalance, Classified is a little more skeptical and forgiving with Reader, as Reader is so chill. Main traits are: Possessive, Manipulative, and obsessive, with a major part being possessive, and manipulation coming in with "They worked with Dave! We have to keep them here otherwise they might reveal secrets to the world we can't let the world know" or any other excuse.

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 1 year

Text

If Gyutaro thinks you’re cheating

Requested: Yes! [Ok so, What would Gyutaro (+ any other Upper moon if u want) do if he thought his s/o was cheating on him?]

Warnings: This gets dark quickly but it’s Gyutaro so I feel like it’s pretty in character. Pretty sure this classifies as Yandere? Isolation, mentions of starving, murder, gore, delusions, obsession, screaming, general spousal abuse. Let me know if I missed something!

A/N: 👉👈 Gyutaro, my beloved

Well, taking away the outcome where he’s just so overcome with anger and grief that he just straight up eats you? It could go a variety of ways depending on how deep his suspicion is and how good your relationship is. I’ll just give you the second worst case scenario though (first being the nom nom scenario).

Gyutaro is inconsolable. He starts by becoming distant, talking less, eating less, generally just seeming to shrink into himself. This will usually lead to Ume loudly declaring that you need to fix her brother, whining and crying at you until you try, even if you’ve tried a hundred times before to no avail.

But after grief comes anger, something Gyutaro is familiar with and frequently lets guide him. And people in the direct line of his anger never usually get to stay alive for much longer. The fact that you’re the direct cause of it (offense imagined or not) and are still standing and breathing is nothing short of a miracle. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it.

Cause with his anger comes possessive, greed, jealousy. He’ll never let you out of his sight now, barely let you out of the house. If you so much as look at anyone else aside from him or Ume than they’re dead, their guts on your feet as he’s in your face, screaming as he accuses you of sleeping with them. Of loving them.

His paranoia over the subject might even escalate to the point where he keeps you under lock and key permanently, bringing you food and water, your favorite things. New things. Maybe a nice soft animal like a kitten to pet once and a while.

But if all his attempts to make your isolation nicer are rejected? Fine. Life doesn’t need to be as comfy as he’s trying to make it for you. No more soft tatami mat, only the cold floor. None of your things to comfort you. Your meals can be skipped. No need for a light in your room, only a dark abyss that will slowly chip away at your sanity.

Maybe, after a while of this, you’ll come back around to him? All he wants is you. Can’t you see that he loves you? He’d never do this to anyone else. Never put up with being hurt like this and letting it go so easily. He loves you. He needs you. He can’t live without you.

Please.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #Gyutaro #Gyutaro x reader

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fancyfeathers · 3 months

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Hello! Could i request Yandere Mycroft Holmes (Moriarty The Patriot) with reader who is similiar to Penelope Featherington? Where reader is a wallflower but running a gossip magazine that have a huge possibility leaking classified information? Thank you very much!

Omg I ADORE Bridgerton, my girlfriend and I watch it together, my favorite character is Francesca and hers is the queen which is so valid

Any who I’m getting side tracked…

For those who have not watched the show, in Bridgerton, Penelope is Lady Whistledown, an incognito gossip writer that often exposes secrets and scandals in the nobility and this tends to have one of three outcomes, it could completely ruin someone’s reputation which is social suicide in high society like Eloise Bridgerton being exposed as being a feminist and socializing with the lower class. The second is that it could help someone get out of a bad situation like when Daphne Bridgerton was engaged to a horrible man with no way out, but when she heard about the horrible things this man did she wrote about it and basically said to get out of town which freed Daphne from this bad engagement. Then in some situations it’s both.

Then another thing to know is that the queen has a love hate relationship with the works of Lady Whistledown, likes it when it praises her at first but then grows to hate it when it spites the queen or proves her wrong…

So going into this!

Mycroft’s darling is labeled as a wallflower since the moment she came of age, someone who is quiet does not socialize with most of the ton. How she gets her media for her column is listening at all these high end parties and balls. She listens into all the gossip and whispers that the others speak of.

She watches the matches be made and queen rejoicing in the matches that she helps make and writes of these matches and other unsavory things in the ton and since no one cares about her no one suspects her as the writer.

That until her words iterates the royal family…

Mycroft Holmes is going to speak to the queen in the early morning right when the column comes out…

The moment he comes into the room he sees the queen absolutely fuming, a pamphlet in hand…

“Find her.”

He finally reads the pamphlet after the queen’s command and his eyes widen in shock as he reads the content. It’s about the prince’s affair with Irene Adler; the one who stole the papers though the papers go unmentioned.

The queen was already starting not to like the author, but now this mystery woman has dug her own grave…

Now the face of Mycroft is now seen at almost all the season’s events, watching and socializing with all the aristocracy, looking through all the families of the ton which soon lands on the family of his darling.

He meets her mother and at the ball, introducing him to the other members of her family and then when she looks for her last daughter to introduce to him, she’s gone.

…found you.

The absence practically proves her identity as the author, but perhaps a bit more evidence would do good and not to mention the said punishment for exposing the royal family because something like imprisonment or death would be to severe for a young lady.

He visits their estate in the morning to meet the young lady. He speaks to her mother about to ask about her-

“Mama, have you seen my journal? I thought I left it in the- oh apologies, I did not know we were having guests.”

He sees her stepping into the drawing room doorway as she calls out to her mother, the lady of the house. He turns to look at her and she is beautiful, perhaps not considered beautiful by most but she has an intelligent look about her which is more lovely to him than any makeup or expressive clothing. It is almost hard to believe that this is the woman who is exposing the secrets of the high society, but just by looking at her it all adds up…

The ink stain on her fingertips and wrist…

The slight bags under her eyes that are covered by makeup…

And then the paper cut on her right thumb.

He begins courting her, originally to uncover solid evidence that she is the author. The gifts he gives her at first are things most other woman would enjoys, jewelry, clothing, flowers, but then the gifts begin to change as he begins to know her even more, books, calligraphy supplies, and just his time.

And he begins to fall in love with her weeks of outings, parties, and visits…

He visits their estate again one day and her mother told him that she was visiting her friend at the moment but he was more than welcome to wait for her. He sits in the drawing room to see that her journal was set out in the table, and he reads it…

And in it is all the evidence he needs.

“Mycroft?”

He looks up to see her standing in the doorway, just having returned a moment ago. Her eyes are wide in shock as he holds her open journal in his hands. But then a look of realization comes across her face.

“You knew didn’t you? You were just using me to find out.”

He tries to speak to her but she waves him off, walking upstairs to her bedroom and locking herself within. He has what he was asked to find but lost what he wanted.

In the next few weeks and after a number of conversations with the queen they come to an agreement that pleases them both, a fitting punishment for her and a reward for him.

After his darling returns home after meeting with a friend or two she sees her mother talking to Mycroft in the drawing room, an over joyed expression on her face as she looks to her daughter.

“Mr. Holmes has asked for your hand in marriage.”

Her heart sinks at hearing this and she is enraged, but it’s for the best really and perhaps she will realize that as she is standing in the altar with him, dressed in white. Her punishment is being under constant surveillance, preventing her from writing and his reward is her, and her fate is all but sealed when he says those words.

“I do.”

#mycroft holmes x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yandere mycroft holmes x reader #yandere mycroft holmes #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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starsurface · 6 months

Note

Your writings are very good, they make me happy! Would it be possible to write Shang Tsung from the 3d era taking care of an age regressed reader that uses diapers?

Awh, thank you!!! I'm so glad that they make you happy!! <3

I will admit, i know incredibly little about this character!!!! :D (I tried to do research, but do call me our or dm if I wrote some things wrong, I can totally redo or make a pt 2 or something!!)

Like, . . . I know he’s evil. And has an island. And works for Shao Kahn. And is one of the more first big boss fights?? And that 3d is like, Deception, and Armageddon, and Shaolin Monks (the cutscenes only version of that game is so funny, the storyline is so fast).

And not even zesty evil!!! But like, actually evil. :(

Small Warning (?): It just kinda feels like there are some darker undertones in these?? Not exactly yandere like, but mildly possessive, and little to no hesitation to hurt others for you. It’s not implied that he’d kill, but it is implied that he’d use them as experiments (which I can totally change if anyone gets uncomfortable with!!!)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG 3d era Shang Tsung w/ Regressor That Uses Diaper Hcs

🐛 I know I said he’s evil . . . but I think he adores you

🐛 Your his baby, how could he not love you!! He’s cruel and a villain, but your his Precious, he couldn’t just let you go <3

🐛 While a man of evil and Shao Kahn’s sorcerer, he would never make fun of you for using or needing padding

🐛 Babyspace regressor? You’re very tiny!! Of course you might need some help, and that’s okay!!

🐛 Toddler? Well, accidents happen all the time, and he’d rather be safe than sorry anyways

🐛 Big kid? Well he’d still classify you as a baby, but whatever you say <3

🐛 Middlespace regressor? Everyone can use diapers!! Whether for medicine or comfort, that’s your regression, and no one else’s

🐛 And if anyone were to magically tell you otherwise, well, they strangely disappear!! :O (and maybe end up in Shang Tsung’s lab)

🐛 Might get a bit grumpy if you wake him up at night, but almost any thoughts of anger or upset wash away when he sees how upset you are

🐛 . . . Although he’s also super tired and might put on your padding backwards

🐛 It is literally not his fault, it’s two am, and he has work tomorrow

🐛 Although he’d rather you wake him up than sit sobbing in bed, work or no work, you’re his first priority

🐛 He’ll also get some of those potty mattress protections, just in case you may or may not have an accident again (but only if your cool with it)

🐛 Magic show distractions!!!

🐛 He could give you something to fidget with during the process . . . Or he could use his super cool sorcerer powers and make a little light show to distract you

🐛 From what i’ve seen in almost every Shang Tsung, they have a way with words

🐛 So it’s not him buying your regression supplies, it’s Shao Kahn <3

🐛 Shang Tsung works for him, how could he not also supply for his precious baby that he gets very little time with because of how often he has to work and prepare for the tornoment?

🐛 ^ Lies, Shang Tsung can and will pause any type of working if you regress and come for him

🐛 Maybe unless he’s in the middle of an experiment, but he’s left his studies many times before

🐛 Your not really allowed to talk to Shao Kahn though :\ (Shang Tsung’s worried Shao will be mean or cruel to you in your headspace)

🐛 But you get much time with Dada!! :D

🐛 He’ll make a little regression area in his laboratory!! It’s Shang Tsung’s Island, who would tell him he couldn’t put a secret passage way into a small regression area just for you?

🐛 ^ No one, that’s who, so of course he does it!! (and Shao Kahn gets the bill for it >:3)

🐛 He does make sure to put it more where the potions or his study books are and not where his experiments are (he doesn’t like you seeing them in your headspace)

🐛 Don’t you dare ever try to touch his potions, he will get incredibly upset and you’ll get in trouble

🐛 They’re for big kids and big kids only, plus you could get seriously hurt and Dada might not be able to help you from some of them

🐛 Or you could just regress in Dada’s room, which is much comfier anyways

🐛 If you end up having any type of accidents, he’s very gentle about the process, gently shushing and comforting you, drawing you a nice bath and picking out some comfy clothes

🐛 His clothes to be exact, what could be better?

🐛 If you’re ever embarrassed about using padding, he’d call you silly

🐛 There’s no reason too!! Whether for comfort, or medical, or just because, if it works for you, then he’s more than happy to help with the process

🐛 Your his baby after all, and he’s going to make sure you have the world <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I like the Caterpillar emoji, it's cute. :3 (also they didn't have any potions :\)

#age regression #agere #sfw age regression #mortal kombat agere #sfw agere #age regression headcanons #mk agere #shang tsung x reader #mk shang tsung #shang tsung #cg shang tsung #caregiver shang tsung #mortal kobmat deception #mortal kombat armageddon #< Those two are 3d games #Right??

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misstycloud · 2 years

Text

Yandere!husband x dead!reader

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Character: Emmet Von Arnoult

Summary: Not being able to take your passing, your devoted husband made the decision to do what he knew you’d oppose of; wake you again. Though what he didn’t think of at first, was that things would not go back to normal even if he’d manage to get you back.

———————

The fresh air greeted your senses as you stepped outside for the first time in many weeks. The day was sunny and a warm breeze swept past in a hurry, it lifted the hem of your long skirt. You moved your hand to press it down again and as you did another hand engulfed your own in a comforting hold.

You glanced up to look at the man walking beside you in a peaceful manner, he smiled at you and linked your arms together. His blonde strands flowed gently in the wind and made them seem even softer. You followed his pace and the two of you ended up on a marble bench.

The man still held around you when you sat, like he wanted to help you do it. After making sure you were seated he also lowered himself on the cold bench, not once letting go of you. The greenery surrounding you was a pleasant scene compared to the dark walls of the room you were constantly confined in.

Okay, it was not all the time but t sure felt like it with all of his overbearing emotions he unloaded on you. While you understood why he did it, you thought it was wrong.

Everything was wrong. With him. With the large house you lived in. And most of all, you. You weren't anything like normal people. Hell, you didn't even know if you still classified as a person. If you put a hand to your chest, you wouldn't experience the thumping sensation others did.

It would be completely silent. Completely and utterly dead. Though it had gone a couple months since you first woke up in this world, you hadn't gotten used to the fact that you were not alive. Not anymore at least.

But you definitely were once. It was evident through the paintings with your image hanging around in the house. The paintings that also contained the very man who relaxed next to you. When you first wandered through the home you quickly took notice to the art and how close and loving his grasp on you was. It was clear he deeply loved you. You however did not appear to share his emotions in the same grade.

In your painting you wore a neutral expression in correlation to his happy smile. Despite him telling you the two of you were happily married, you speculated that wasn’t your reality then. It was his. In his mind he’d fabricated that you were very much in love.

“It is beautiful this time of year. Everything comes to life again after enduring the harsh winter cold, do you not agree, love?”

“Ah, yes.” you said and turned your gaze away from him. You wasn’t entirely comfortable with him yet. You thought about his words and thought that everything indeed comes back to life, everything except you.

“You loved the summer,-“ he kissed your hand, “and it was a blessing to see you smile in delight as the cherry tree blossomed. You were so beautiful standing there with all those pink petals falling in your hair.”

The man whose name was Emmett Von Arnoult sighed in bliss remembering memories of the past. The past where you and him were married, husband and wife. A life you do not know of. No matter the proof he turned up with you could not believe all those things had happened. Your recollection was devoid of your life.

A couple months ago you had woken up on the floor to a dimly lit room. The dark walls caging you in had candlesticks and white stearin candles sat safely in them. They were not the only source of light within the room, there were more candles on the floor. Slightly twitching your finger you felt a wet substance underneath you, though you could not figure out what it was because you found it difficult to move.

Being conscious enough to hear, you realised that you were not alone in the dark room. Slowly opening your eyes you could spot a figure not far away. They sat hunched over on the floor, something on the ground was drawing all their focus and they spoke in hurried whispering motions. But they stopped and quickly looked up, gaze meeting yours. The person let out a desperate cry and crawled over to you.

The person was Emmet-though you didn’t know it yet- and had shakily asked if it really was you while being a blubbering mess. You couldn’t answer of course, it was like you’d been drained of every last bit of energy you had and left as a hollow shell. Emmet had them muttered to himself ‘it worked, it worked, it actually worked!’ At the time you didn’t know what he was talking about but you got to know that very soon.

You were dead. It was that simple. Died and come back, that was your story.

When you were still alive you were Emmets wife, Lady Von Arnoult. Regardless that your heart was no longer beating your husband nonetheless was hellbent on acting as if things were normal. They weren’t, you were fucking dead for gods sake!

You didn’t know if that was even the worst part. All your memories had gone when you did it seemed. So when Emmet had declared himself the love of your life you were quite surprised one could say.

Maybe you did feel an inch of love for him once, but now all you had for him was indifference. You were grateful to him, yes. For all that he has given to you and how he's taken care of you. Yet, you could not force yourself to regard him in any greater emotion.

“My love,-“ the man next to you sheepishly smiled as he spoke. You knew where this was gonna go, “do you perhaps….recall anything?Now that you have witnessed one of our favourite places.”

Emmet has tried to get your memory back since the moment you opened your eyes again. It didn’t matter what you tried, nothing you did ever worked. It was weird pretending things were like they were before and you started getting tired of his suffocating affection, you didn't want it. You'd rather 'live' the rest of your days away from there.

"No, sorry."

He tensely smiled, "It is alright, we can not expect everything to return so quickly."

'That's what you said the last time too.'

A half hour later Emmet stood up and said you should probably get back inside, he didn't want you to get sick. "Shall we go inside, the sky is turning darker and I do not want you to have a cold."

You nearly scoffed at the sentence, as if you could get infected.

Herding you into your shared room on the upper floor, he made you wait for him to finish some work, a reluctant frown on his lips. Your husband had early established that he would not leave you alone unless he absolutely had to, the man said he didn't want you to be lonely, however you could easily see through his claims. The truth was that he didn't want others to have the chance of running into you.

It showed that he knew of the consequences of what he'd done, what he'd created through dark magic, a monster and a creature that should not exist. You. At best they'd imprison him, and at worst he'd end up like you six feet under.

In scenario that happened, what would they do to you. To them Emmet was a horrid criminal and an enemy, but what would the living think of you then? As much as you disliked admitting it you needed Emmet in many ways.

As you laid there on the soft bed, you thought about how it would be to live apart from Emmet, to live freely. As free as you could be in your condition that is. Perhaps if you tried hard enough, you could convince him to let you go. You didn't count on it though, why would he ever let you go.

Why would he let go of the person he'd sacrificed everything for?

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authorautumnbanks · 5 months

Text

Twisted Desire (Complete)

Summary: If Kagome knew accepting the role at Jujutsu High would come with two yandere students, she would have stayed at her old job. Too bad for her, once Satoru and Suguru put their mind to something, everyone bends to their will. Even Higurashi-sensei.

Pairing: SatoruxKagomexSuguru

Satoru leans against the wall with his arms behind his head. Supposedly, the new teacher is joining him for a field mission. Yaga said it was to help foster relationships or some bullshit like that. He's fucking a third year. He doesn't need a teacher. Satoru lives and breathes jujutsu.

What could some new teacher possibly teach him? He taps his foot as he blows out a breath. He hates waiting. What he should do is get this mission over with and tell Yaga how stupid this is.

Foster relationships his ass.

Satoru sighs and then stiffens. What the hell kind of energy is that? He moves from the wall and clenches his teeth as the door slides open. His eyes widen behind his glasses. No fucking way.

That is not the new teacher. Her?

He wets his lips. "Yo."

The dark-haired woman smiles at him. "Higurashi Kagome." She bows slightly, and the hint of cleavage peeking through her white blouse is going to haunt him for the rest of the day. He's always been a visual guy. "You must be Gojo Satoru. I'm the new teacher starting here."

Satoru grins. He knows that. He isn't an idiot. His eyes travel down her form. How the hell did someone like her become a teacher here? She looks as though she'll fall over at the slightest provocation. Hell, she doesn't even look like she could handle a grade three curse. "Lead the way, Kagome." He motions with his hand for her to get a move on it.

Kagome's face goes flat. She presses those plump lips together. "It's Higurashi-sensei." Satoru nods, though he isn't hearing a word of what she is saying. The only thing running through his mind is how to get Kagome—excuse him, Higurashi-sensei's lips wrapped around his cock.

"Whatever you say, sensei," he coos.

Kagome sucks in a breath and turns on her heel. His eyes fall to the curve of her ass in that tight skirt. He glances at the desk on the way out. On second thought, maybe he will show up for class from now on. Satoru walks behind her, allowing Kagome to think that she is leading the way to this mission. He doesn't get why Yaga thinks he needs to foster a good relationship with her. As a third year. Hell, as a special grade, Kagome isn't gonna be teaching him shit he doesn't already know.

"So, what kind of field mission is this? Grade three?"

Kagome looks over her shoulder and frowns. "Grade three? Of course not. This is a special grade mission."

Special grade? "Didn't think they did special grade field missions," he says with a shrug. Do they think he needs help, or do they want him to evaluate the new teacher? Yaga ain't told him shit other than doing a mission together is the best way to establish trust. "You're a special grade?" he questions, his tone dubious.

Kagome shakes her head. "No, I'm not classified as special grade since my abilities don't classify as taking out a country. But I can take out a special grade curse, no problem. In short, it's complicated."

"Special grade without the special pay."

Kagome shrugs. They come to an abandoned house. "I'll put up a barrier. This shouldn't take long." She flashes him a smile. The hair on Satoru's neck rises. Whatever this is, is not curse energy. "Ready?"

"No chant?"

Kagome shakes her head. "I don't need to chant to put up a barrier." She walks forward and opens the door. "We should still be on alert. They have this curse registered as a special grade, but you know there's a wide range when it comes to that."

"I get that." He takes a step forward and looks down at her. "What I don't get is why we're both here."

Kagome smiles, and something about that smile pisses him off. It's as though she is trying to placate him. "There may be times where you need to work with a team. Regardless of how strong you are."

Satoru turns and takes a step toward her. Kagome quirks a brow but holds her ground. "So, you and me are a team?" He dips his head and bites his bottom lip. She smells like cinnamon. Sweet. His eyes dart to her lips.

"For now, you're a student and I'm the teacher," Kagome says simply, as though he is nothing but a boy in her eyes. She brushes past him and enters the home. Satoru bites back the scowl. One way or another, he will get her to look at him as a man.

"Satoru? What are you doing here?" Kagome asks, crossing her arms over her breasts. Satoru leers at her for a moment and then remembers himself. It's only been a couple of months since Kagome started at Jujutsu High, but a couple of months is all Satoru needed to know that Kagome is his.

She just doesn't know it yet, but he's a semi-patient man and he doesn't mind bringing her up to speed.

"Passing through. Heard we got some new first years." He brushes against her. Kagome tenses and takes a small step away. It's cute how she thinks she stands a chance. "Actually, I need your help."

Kagome side-eyes him. "You need my help? Suguru should be around if it's help with a mission."

"Nah," Satoru drawls. "I can't ask Suguru for help with this. Besides, ya know, Suguru is busy with his missions, and you're the new teacher and all." Besides, if he asks Suguru, then Suguru will want to join in because he's a pervert, and Satoru isn't sure if he wants to share.

Kagome presses her lips together and turns to look back at the building where the first years are doing their first mission. Satoru grits his teeth. His nostrils flare. How dare she look away from him. Who the fuck cares about the newbies? Kagome shouldn't even be in charge of them. Yaga should be.

Satoru swipes his tongue along his teeth. Yaga is doing this on purpose. Putting Kagome in charge of the first years. Male first years. The hell is Yaga thinking?

"What do you need help with, Satoru? It's not like you to track me down." Kagome taps her nails on her arms. Worry flows off her in waves.

"Come by my place later—"

"I am not coming by your apartment," she replies sharply.

Satoru scowls. "We're coworkers. What's the problem?"

Kagome blows out a breath of frustration. She wets her lips. He tracks the movement. How many nights has he thought about that tongue? "We are not coworkers. You're a student and I am a teacher. That's so inappropriate for me to stop by your apartment later." She glances at her simple watch. If it were up to him, he'd get her a better one. The school clearly isn't paying her, her worth. "Tell me what you need help with now, or drop it."

"Kagome," he sighs.

"Higurashi-sensei."

"Sensei," he says. "You're so tense around me. Did I do something to offend you?" Why is she so gung-ho on pretending conventional boundaries work with him?

Kagome mutters something under her breath. "You tracked me down for a reason. Just spit it out."

"It's embarrassing," Satoru says, dropping his shoulders. His glasses slide down his nose as he makes himself appear much smaller than he is. "It has to be at my apartment. That's where the problem is." He takes his glasses off and hooks them on his jacket. "Higurashi-sensei," he breathes. "Please. I can't ask Suguru for help with this, and you're the only one I trust."

Kagome falters. Satoru bites the inside of his cheek to keep the grin off his face. Just a little more. He steps in front of her and advances until her back hits the fence behind her. Satoru sucks in a breath and widens his eyes. He places one hand on the fence, right by Kagome's head. She is so damn tiny. It would take zero effort to pick her up, flip her around, and eat her cunt through her panties.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Not the time. Soon. But not right now. He needs to keep it together. Just keep it together long enough to get her to the apartment.

"Satoru?" Kagome touches his face. Her touch is soft. Hesitant. She goes to take her hand back, but he catches it with his other hand.

She's soft too.

Satoru dips his head. "Please Higurashi-sensei. Say you'll come by tonight. It can't wait." Kagome flushes. Her skin turns this tantalizing pink that gives him visions of how pink the rest of her is. His cock twitches in his pants. Damn, he wants her. "Sensei," he pleads.

"... Satoru." Kagome glances away and presses her lips together in thought. She looks back at him with those expressive brown eyes and he just wants to see how dark they get when they are clouded with lust. "I guess..."

He squeezes her hand and presses his body closer to hers. She feels amazing. He bites the inside of his cheek again. Taking her like this would be amazing, too. Her arms pinned above her head while he plunges his fingers into her tight, wet cunt. His mouth waters.

Pull it together.

"Please. I can't rely on anyone but you for this."

Kagome blows out a breath. "Fine. Just send me your address."

Satoru bites down on his tongue. He wants to smile. Wants to shout. Wants to hoist her over his shoulder. He wants to do so many things, but he isn't dumb enough to ruin this. Satoru pulls away and gives her hand one last squeeze. "See you soon, sensei." He gives her a wave goodbye as he heads back to his apartment.

There is something he needs help with alright and it's not curse-related. Satoru pauses and tilts his head to the side. People walk by, but he pays them no mind. On second thought, perhaps this is curse-related. Ever since he met Kagome, he's been cursed with wet dreams of her every fucking night.

He can't take it anymore.

It's time she takes some accountability. She isn't as slick as she pretends to be. Satoru sees how she looks at him. How she somehow manages to wear the shortest fucking skirts when he's around. No, tonight she will help him alright. He grins as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Tonight, he's claiming what's his.

Kagome is late. Satoru drums his fingers on the table as the dinner grows cold. This is what he gets for trying to set the scene. He texted her what time to be at his place. She assured him she would be there, and yet here it is an hour past and Kagome is nowhere to be found. Satoru stands. The chair screeches and topples back. He snatches his phone off the table.

"Answer the phone, Suguru," Satoru growls into the phone as it continues to ring. He paces back and forth. On the last ring, Suguru answers. Satoru pauses. Is that Kagome's voice in the background? "Where are you? I hear Kagome."

"Hello to you too," Suguru chimes. "Ah yes, that would be Higurashi-sensei in the background. We just so happened to run into one another."

Bullshit.

"That so..." He flexes his fingers. "Tell Kagome she's late."

There's silence on the other end. "Late for what?" Suguru asks. His voice is hushed. He must be whispering.

Satoru looks at the cold dinner on the table and leans back against the counter. "Just make sure she gets to my apartment."

"Depends. Are you sharing?"

Satoru rolls his shoulders and then balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as picks at his nails. "Get her here in ten and I might. For you," he adds. Anyone else and he would have kicked their ass to space and back. Lack of oxygen be damned. But for Suguru? For Suguru, he can make an exception.

"We can make it in five." The line clicks. Satoru sucks in a breath and tries to calm down. It's fine. Kagome is late, but she'll be here soon. Though he is miffed that she got so damn caught up in Suguru, she didn't think to send him a text or a call? Does she really see him as nothing more than a student?

She isn't even his damn teacher! Satoru sucks in another breath. Calm down. After tonight is over, she'll never look down on him again. He grabs the plates of uneaten food and dumps them in the trash. Satoru pauses. He stares at the trashcan and then opts to put the plates in the sink.

The front door slams open. Satoru grins as he wipes his hands on his pants and strolls into the main room. Suguru jerks his head at him and takes a seat on the couch. Kagome frowns at Suguru as she slides her heels off.

"Sorry, Satoru. I didn't mean to lose track of time." She crosses her arms as she looks at him with expectancy. Satoru clucks his tongue. What's with the coat? Kagome is crossing her arms over that black coat as though it is a lifeline.

"You need help taking that off? This will take a while, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable." He moves towards her and holds out his hand. Kagome falters for a moment and then slides her coat off. Fury punches him in the gut.

She was late because she was on a date.

"Nice dress," he says, sucking his teeth. "Hot date?"

Suguru snorts.

"That's not important," Kagome says. She glances at Suguru and then back at Satoru.

"It's fine. Suguru can know. He won't tell anyone, right?"

Suguru stretches one arm over the back of the couch and pretends to zip his mouth close. He snaps his fingers and stands up. "Be right back," Suguru says, heading to the bathroom. He tugs on his ear as he brushes past.

"Okay, what's going on?" Kagome asks after the bathroom door shuts. She crosses her arms again.

"Do you want something to drink?" Satoru heads to the kitchen. He isn't really asking her, and he doesn't care if she is thirsty or not. "I got soda." He opens the fridge and pulls out a coke. "Was it a far walk?"

"Satoru," Kagome says sharply. He shivers as he pours the drink into a cup for her. "Why are you stalling?"

"Me?" He points to himself. "Higurashi-sensei, I'm not stalling. I'm being hospitable." He flashes her a smile as he goes to hand her a drink, but he pretends to trip and the drink spills over her cleavage and soaks her white dress.

"Satoru!" she shrieks. Kagome closes her eyes and blows out a breath. "It's fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you." Kagome looks at him with slight annoyance.

"Sorry!" Satoru says with a frown. He turns quickly to find a towel and his hand slips just a tad. The rest of the drink splashes on Kagome, and she just stands there looking so put out, he almost gives himself away. "I do not know what is going on with me, Higurashi-sensei," he sighs. "It's like my energy has been all out of wrack lately." Satoru sets the now empty glass on the counter. "You can borrow some of my clothes. That has to be uncomfortable."

Kagome grimaces and tugs slightly at the wet fabric. "If you don't mind. Then after, you need to tell me what the deal is so I can help you."

Satoru's phone buzzes in his pocket. He flares his energy, coating the apartment with cursed energy. Kagome blinks and lowers her hand. "See what I mean," he says, dropping his shoulders. "Everything is out of whack. But let's get you out of those clothes first."

"Excuse me?"

"I meant get you a change of clothes." He smiles as he grits his teeth. Why is she so jumpy? Does she know the thoughts lurking in his mind? The thoughts brewing in Suguru's mind? Satoru resists the urge to look back at her while he walks to his room for a change of clothes. Kagome hovers near the door as if coming into his room is the worst thing ever.

She takes this whole teacher thing too seriously.

He's not a child.

And he doesn't give two shits about the age gap. Five years is nothing in his world.

"I think my problems started back during the star plasma mission," Satoru says, pulling out a pair of sweats and a basic white shirt. "You know, I got stabbed in the head."

"... I didn't know that," Kagome says slowly. "Were you not able to heal your brain fully?"

Satoru shrugs. He breaks his brain down every day and refreshes it with rct. "Who knows? Never got a scan done." He hands the clothes to her. "Maybe we should start there first? Giving bra- looking at my brain?"

Kagome frowns and then nods her head. "Yeah, we can start there." Kagome grips the clothes in her hand and refuses to look Suguru in the eye, who quirks a brow.

"Did it start raining?" Suguru asks.

"Nah, I fucked and spilled on her."

"You spilled a drink on me," Kagome says. She exhales in exasperation. "I will be out soon." She rushes to the bathroom and the door slams closed.

"Easy with the innuendos," Suguru chastises. "You know she's a stickler for rules."

"Rules?" Satoru scoffs. "There's no rule that she can't fuck me. Us," he adds the last part.

Suguru shrugs one shoulder. "In most areas, it is frowned upon because of the power imbalance." He snorts. "Though that doesn't apply to us."

"How long?" Satoru rocks on his heels as he waits for Kagome to come out of the bathroom.

"Not too much longer," Suguru says, undoing the buttons on his jacket. "Wasn't sure how it would work with her holy energy, so I prepped the room first. But it should still take her some time to work it out of her system since she isn't immune to gasses."

Crash.

Satoru grins. That's their cue. He strolls down the hall to the bathroom and knocks on the door. "Higurashi-sensei, is everything okay?" he asks, opening the door. Kagome looks at him with glazed eyes. Satoru swallows. The pants are halfway on and the only thing standing between him and her tits is that strapless bra.

"S-Satoru? Get out of here," Kagome wheezes. "Something isn't..."

"It's okay," Satoru says, stepping into the bathroom. He lifts her up bridal style. "I got you. Why don't you lie down for a bit?" Kagome nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck and lets out a small moan that sends shocks through his body.

"It's hot," she says, breathless. "I need to..." Kagome pulls away and tries to kick the rest of the pants off. "I just need to..." she bites her lip.

"Everything alright?" Suguru asks. Kagome looks at him and freezes. Her body trembles. "Sensei?"

"I need to go home," she says, pushing against Satoru.

"No, you need to lie down. You're in no position to leave." He sets her down on the bed. Satoru swallows. "Fuck, look at you," he coos, trailing a finger up her leg. "You're hot, right? Want these off?" he asks, though his hands tug the sweats off.

Kagome struggles to sit up. "You two are students, this isn't—ah!" She squeezes her eyes shut, but her thighs open and it's all Satoru needs. He cups her cunt as he leans over her.

"I think Kagome needs our help, Suguru."

"But does she deserve it?" Suguru slides off his shirt and kicks off his pants. He leans against the wall as he strokes his hardening cock. "Maybe we should leave her to suffer like this. It must be painful."

Satoru pretends to think it over. "Yeah, you're right. She has been treating us like troubled students." He pulls his hand away and shakes his head. "Guess you'll just have to suffer through this," he says with a sigh.

"What?" Kagome shakes her head. She rubs her forehead. "No, I just..."

"You just what?" Satoru undoes his belt and slides his pants off. He pulls out his cock and strokes it slowly, as though he isn't foaming at the mouth to get a taste of her. He squeezes the head and rubs his thumb over the slit. "No one has to know, Kagome. Let us help you."

"...I..." Kagome looks away, but ends up looking in Suguru. "We can't," she says weakly. "It isn't right."

Suguru sighs as he walks over to the bed. He smiles as lays next to Kagome. "Don't mind me. I just wanted to be comfortable." He slides his hand down and strokes, though he never takes his eyes off Kagome as he does so.

"Suguru, this isn't—ah!" Kagome bites her lip.

"It's painful, huh?" Satoru coos. He takes off the rest of his clothes and sits next to her feet. "It'll pass more quickly if you let us help you."

"What? Do you know what—fuck!"

Satoru slaps her cunt. Kagome's body arches. She's being so difficult. He reaches for her underwear and slides them off and sighs. "Sensei, the one thing I've ever wanted you to show me, and you've been keeping it hidden from me." Satoru glares at her for a moment before he grips her thighs and brings her hips closer to his mouth. He inhales. "You want my help?"

Indecision flashes across Kagome's face. Even with her cunt a hair's width away from his tongue, she is still fighting this. Still fighting them. Suguru leans over. His cock smacks Kagome on the lips as he pretends to reach for something on the nightstand. Suguru pulls back and shifts until he is comfortable once more.

"Sorry about that. I was checking something."

Satoru digs his fingers into Kagome's thighs. "The longer you wait, the stronger and more painful it's going to be," he reminds her. Kagome shivers. Her body is flushed pink. Her dark bangs stick to her forehead.

"No one can know," she says. "A binding—"

"No binding vows," Satoru says right before burying his face into her hot pussy. His eyes roll back as her essence coats his tongue. Oh yeah, this is bullshit. She's been walking around with this delicious treat between her thighs and keeping it from him? He hasn't been subtle about his desires. Satoru groans. Suguru threads his fingers through Kagome's hair as he guides her mouth over his cock.

Damn.

A bolt of desire shoots through him. She can't even fit all of Suguru in her mouth. He licks her until her legs tremble, and she calls out his name.

"Satoru!" she moans.

"Keep sucking," Suguru commands, pulling her mouth back to him. "That's it. Damn sensei, you should have put this in the lesson plan." Kagome makes a sound in the back of her throat. Most likely, cussing Suguru out, but it only spurs Suguru on. Satoru gives Kagome one last lick before he lowers her legs.

She's ready now.

Suguru shoots him a look, but Satoru flips him off. He knew Kagome first. He will have her first. Suguru can wait his damn turn or get the fuck out. He doesn't care.

"Satoru, wait—fuck," she breathes as he bottoms out. Satoru grins, but it's slightly maniacal. Did she really think he was going to stop and get a condom?

Fuck no.

"Sensei," he coos. "Oh Higurashi-sensei, you feel so good." He grabs her arms and uses them as leverage as he fucks her. Suguru reaches over and rips the bra off.

"Hey!" Kagome glares at Suguru, but it's hard to take her seriously when she keeps letting out these moans and her tits are bouncing.

"Sorry, sensei," Suguru amends. "Here, I'll make you feel better." He cups her breast and wraps his lips around her nipple. Kagome gasps. He pulls away and stuffs his cock back in her mouth as he idly toys with her nipples. "Hurry up, Satoru."

"Fuck off." Satoru bares his teeth, though he knows he won't last much longer. Kagome grips him so good, he sees stars. "Shit. At this rate, you ought to stay the weekend. Just in case," he babbles. Satoru releases her arms and reaches between them to flick her nub. Kagome thrashes as if she is trying to get away from him.

Away from this pleasure.

She's a fool if she thinks he'll ever let go.

His neck rolls back as he looks up at the ceiling. Fuck, she feels amazing. "Gonna come just for you," he tells her.

Kagome reaches for him, but he ignores her and fills her until his balls are empty. Satoru sucks in a breath. He doesn't want to leave, but Suguru is glaring holes at him. Satoru pulls out and switches spots with Suguru, who immediately sinks into Kagome.

Her back arches as she presses a hand on Suguru. "Too much... It's—ah fuck. Too much," Kagome wheezes.

Satoru brushes a stray tear from her eye. "You cryin? Aw, Suguru, we made Higurashi-sensei cry."

"That so?" Suguru asks, lowly. He snaps his hips, rocking Kagome forward. "We can't have that. Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy up."

Kagome shakes her head, but Satoru grips her by the cheeks and kisses her. She tastes like Suguru and she tastes like his.

"I can't," she breathes. "Suguru, you're too—"

"You can take it. Just a little more," Suguru says. He fucks Kagome roughly. Fucks her like she is his. Satoru grunts. Any other man and he would have killed them, but since it's Suguru, he doesn't mind too much. Kagome turns her head to the side and bites down on Satoru's arm. He grunts but lets her use him.

It's the least he can do.

"Fuck yeah," Suguru says, pulling out. "Look at how much you're leaking."

Kagome blows out a breath. Satoru brushes her hair back. Her eyes are no longer glassy. The realization must set in because Kagome jerks up. She clutches her hands to her chest as if that will somehow hide her breasts. There is no hiding those tits. Besides, he already has her body committed to memory.

"This will never happen again," she says, swinging her legs over the bed. Satoru rolls his eyes and grabs her arm. "Satoru, let me go. I'm serious."

"So are we. Lie down."

"Let me go."

"We can't do that," Suguru says smoothly. "Stop fighting this."

Kagome looks at Suguru, and then she looks back at Satoru. "There was something in the bathroom. Some kind of pheromone—"

"I think Kagome needs rest," Suguru says. "She's talking crazy."

Satoru nods his head. "Why would there be anything like that in my bathroom?" He tugs Kagome back and pulls the cover over her. "Don't worry. It'll all make sense in the morning." He glances at Suguru. Kagome shifts, tugging the covers until only her face is visible.

"I'm telling you; something is wrong."

Suguru kisses Kagome on the forehead. "Goodnight sensei." He turns off the light and climbs into the bed with them.

A moment passes. Kagome turns on her back. "Are you going to let me go?"

"No."

***

A/N: You don't see this, but if you do see this then Rune I hope this is the dash of yandere you wanted. Satoru and Suguru are 19 here. Take care! Drink your water. And Have an awesome week!

#crossover pairings #gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #getoxkagomexgojo #geto suguru x kagome #gojo smut #geto smut #kagome smut

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