#Stockholm neighborhood

[mothmiso]

Nynäshamn (2) (3) (4) (5) by Andreas Sjögren

[spenjelly]

Odd things that have occurred around me:

> childhood neighbor with house full of dolls who may or may not have poisoned her husband to death got their house randomly cleaved in half by a fallen tree

> our black cat named midnight disappeared never to be found again on Halloween night

> our other cat lived longer than her body functioned and refused to go even after the first shot to put her down. She was 23.

> My mom left a traveling group early. The next day they all got in a crash. Most died, one was made paraplegic.

> Got rear-ended in a car-totaling crash that shoved us right between a light pole and a steep hill

> Told my cousin I didn’t believe in ghosts and was rewarded an hour later with a store cooler door swinging open as I passed it for no reason.

> Heard what sounded like radio chatter very quietly in my headphones on and off for a couple weeks

> Had a visceral, vivid dream that I got kidnapped, lived there for years with other kids, then the police and our families came but none of us wanted to leave because we felt it was home. I can still remember exactly what The Compound looked like, where I kept my things, my secret stash, my team, and the area we trained in. (I have had many vivid dreams but this one messed me up for days)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (1): Yandere Isekai 

When you woke after an especially tiresome day the last thing you’d expect was to reawake in a room that looked nothing like your own

The house, the neighborhood, your job everything was not your own

Instead, it’s resembling a webtoon you remember seeing the marketing, edits, and spoilers for

And if it was all adding up right you’d find the horrifying truth behind the controversial protagonist of the story would be incredibly true

“Look I’m sorry I yelled…I love you…I’m really hungry. Can I eat today?”

The beautiful and practically perfect protagonist was the one who trapped their love interest inside their–now your basement

Chained to the floor on a chair in the dark with unfinished surroundings was the poor victim of the yandere protagonist

Haruko, is an average guy who previously caught the protagonist’s attention by standing up to one an influential pair of elitists in defense of their crush but that’s hearsay

In the former protagonist's atmosphere the children of the rich were victims to their family’s whims often protecting their wealth rather than their children

Which caused Haruko to defend his friend from their overbearing parents

That is when the protagonist suddenly fell deeply in love with the average fellow 

Obsessively stalking him and eliminating their rivals by any means necessary

finally snatching their love and running to a small little home where they planned to have their dreamy life 

Of course, after breaking his spirit and having Haruko develop some kind of stockholm syndrome

To find that you’ve been isekai’d is jarring 

But being a protagonist that had the internet raving for years about how unhealthy they were is awful

But it was nothing when you were standing at the top of the stairs and watching the malnourished man call out to you

“Yeah….sure.”

Naturally you calm down, enough to make the poor guy something to eat and drink

Excusing yourself to have a breakdown in the bathroom before coming up with a plan to fix it all

“Y-you’re letting me go?”

“Yes, I won’t stop if you want to go to the police…but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.”

You felt so selfish 

But you weren’t the one who imprisoned him

Now that you were though you were going to turn a new leaf

After feeding him, clothing him, and giving him a hefty sum from the protagonists savings 

You go to their place of work where they’re in line for a promotion

“I quit.”

“E-excuse me (L/n)?! But your about to become the vice president of the company!?”

“I know. Sorry?”

You almost feel bad turning down the CEO who visits to try and reason with you

In your opinion, the protagonist didn’t deserve any of their success

They technically didn’t need it because they were stacked

Same could be said for the detective thats been constantly asking the protagonist questions

“You are actually agreeing to talk with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hit your head?!”

With the knowledge from spoilers and ads you’d seen, you knew that the worst part of this story is that the protagonist is doing just fine while Haruka continues to struggle with his captivity and manufactured feelings

You want to do this right, whether you were meant to live in this world from now on or would one day return to your own

But in the meantime you’d do what you felt was right 

Turning their life—now your life around to somehow try to condone for all the crimes they’ve done

Unfortunately, though things don’t seem to want to go your way

“Please Please take me back!” 

“What?”

“You heard me! You were right you’re the only one who loves me! I love you! Please! Please! Take me back in your basement!”

“Okay?”

It seems that once you released the poor guy he returned to society

Expecting to be welcomed by his friends and family upon being missing for years

Who instead had moved on or had benefitted from him being declared dead

He tried to go back to working but he couldn’t get you out of his head

Not the one that ranted about adoring him and the one that would go days without feeding him

But the one that cried when you saw his skin bruising in his chains

The one that fed him a hot meal 

The one that helped him relearn to use his weakened legs

The one that keeps apologizing for every little thing you do

That’s the you, he likes

And he’d much prefer he turn back to being a victim trapped in your basement if it meant having you back in his life

“I don’t mind if you stay here if you need but I’m not keeping you trapped here. I won’t do it anymore.”

He cries and bangs his hands on the floor when you officially tell him

But he’ll take you up on your offer to move in with you

“Good morning (Y/n)! Since you quit your job you’re getting up so much later now. You’ve got to be careful waking too late.”

“Uhm how do you know I quit my job?”

“Unless you're locking me in the basement you don’t need to know!~”

He’s like a weird roommate who occasionally asks that you restrain him in some way

Purposefully rummaging in your storage to find ropes that you haven’t thrown away yet or buying them himself and leaving them out

“Ooops~! I did leave a chain out while cleaning! I’m so bad, being so careless even though you’ve been so against it. I should be punished! I know, you should tie me up! Right? Right? Right?”

He’s going insane everytime you refuse his demands to be locked away

You’re even sweeter now that he’s not locked away and that’s not helping

He’ll ultimately decide he should try it

“Hey (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“You still feel guilty about what you did to me right?”

“...Yes.”

“Then how about you do something for me? To make up for it?”

Even if you know you’ve done nothing wrong 

The guilt doesn’t stop you

Letting him lock you in the basement as he repeats some of the same punishments he remembers

Or rather tries to

“I just can’t seem to stand being away from you for a day, let alone not feed you then. I have no idea how you did it.”

You couldn’t be sure either

Which is why you don’t protest as his actions tend to get a bit more…wild

“Like you suggested I did try going for that new job again.”

“Uh that’s good.”

“I know since you’ve left they seem to be desperately searching for extra hands. I’d feel bad for them if you weren’t with me!”

“Right…”

“But being away from you all day is killing me! Maybe I should look for a more remote position.”

He treats you better than the former protagonist did 

Quickly moving you up to your old room and just chaining you there

But he wants more from you 

More Kisses

More Cuddles 

More Romance 

More Touching

More Quality time

He takes up so much of it, that the same problems that happened in the webtoon were happening again

Except this time it was related to you

“I’m Revmere the CEO of the Revere Co. I’m wondering is (Y/n) home? I’ve been trying to reach them by phone but it hasn’t been going through.”

“And I’m Detective Cape. Thomas Cape, I also need to speak with (Y/n) and you too if that’s alright Haruko.”

Part 2: Coming Soon

[saintobio]

LUCIFER.

his fall was not from grace, yet in his descent, he found freedom—a kingdom of his own making, where he rules not with light, but with the shadows it casts. and you, unfortunate soul, are the sin that fuels his eternal reign.

♱ genre. gothic, dark romance, smut, angels/demons au, 18+

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ tags. 5.2k wc. this fic will contain dark and twisted themes. please heed the warnings and proceed with proper discretion. demon!sylus, sylus is ooc, not set in lads universe, profanity, heavy sacrilege/blasphemy, catcalling, sadistic undertones, noncon/dubcon, toxic relationships, corruption, sex in church, dacryphilia, mentions of obsession, allusions to stockholm syndrome, yandere, fingering, unprotected sex, explicit smut.

♱ notes. this is an old rewritten/reimagined fic of mine bcos i saw a theory abt sylus being a demon. and coincidentally, rewatching a season of lucifer only made my brain rot tenfold D; so if you've seen me post this fic before with another character, pretend you didn't >:D

Thunder grumbled as a flash of lighting struck through the dark blanket of twilight skies. The rumbling sound angrily resonated through the stretch of clouds as if the heavens were to wash away human sins that have long been plaguing this era of the 21st century. A shower of rain soon followed that started in huge droplets and later cascaded from the slate gray clouds like waterfall. 

Checking your old leather watch, it was only 6PM. It had been two hours since the power outage doomed the whole neighborhood because the utility poles were severely damaged after the hurricane ravaged the city yesterday. 

The thick soles of your boots landed heavily on the tessellated sidewalk with every step, holding your umbrella closer to seal you from the heavy rainfall. Your eyes followed the beads of rain that bounced off the cold cement as your mind wandered further than where your body could take you to. 

You had left Sylus sleeping in bed back in your shared apartment so you could walk around the city and drop by the church. It wasn’t like you sneaked out, but was only reluctant to let him know of your whereabouts because you didn’t want him to follow you around, especially to such a scared place like church. Before you left, however, you did ensure that his silver cross was still enclosed around his collar just for your sanity. 

It had been a while since you last visited the church. With the power out and nothing else to do, you decided it was the perfect time to visit the cathedral where you always made your most solemn prayers.

The streets were still in shambles, though. Road signages were sprawled on the sidewalk, branches were barely hanging off the trees—the city had vestiges of wreckage from the hurricane that emptied a usually busy metropolitan area today. Most people were still at the leisure of their homes as work and classes have been suspended until further notice, for everyone’s safety and to allow the government to clean the roads. 

You could already imagine Sylus shaking his head at your resistance to just stay indoors and simply be with him. The only reason you were confident to leave his side today was because it had been awhile since the last incident. You could live with the thought of coming back home to Sylus and his usual self. Sylus, who was always thoughtful and tenderhearted albeit his dominant exterior. Never did you think that you could land a man of such warmth—a year in two days—but how you met was a story made for another day. 

Amidst the already dismal atmosphere outside, stepping by the narthex inside the baroque church greeted you with an even more caliginous surrounding. Darkness enshrouded the interiors of your chosen place of worship with only as much as three paschal torches by the apse to light up the altar. Still, with God’s presence, your feet carried you in slow footsteps along the velvet red aisle as you made your way towards the nave. 

You were alone in the eerie cathedral, but fear did not consume as you were in attendance to the crucifix above the high altar. This was your favorite cathedral among all the others in the city simply because of its gothic Victorian architecture.

Fixed with the cathedral’s grandeur and bedight with ornate decorations, you became more comfortable at situating yourself by the pew—genuflecting on the elevated wood behind the stretch of oak benches as soon as you found your usual spot. 

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” you whispered in sotto voce, performing a sign of the cross with your eyes glued to the crucifix that represented Jesus Christ. You had your elbows propped atop the bench as you silently prayed. 

Loving and gracious God, with all love and mercy, we thank you for blessing us with another day and protecting us in times of natural disaster. 

You wanted to ignore the unusual cold air that slithered on your skin in horripilation. Your prayer resumed despite the Stygian gloom that darkened the cathedral’s interior or the sound of the harsh wind slamming through the towering doors by the vestibule. The storm is coming again, you mentally noted. 

With your grace and kindness, Lord, I pray that you will continue to guide us—

The manly fleer echoing through the vacantness of the church made you halt from your recital. “I knew my cute church girl would be here.” 

You knew that devilish voice all too well that it had you shutting your eyes, petrified. No wonder the air felt sinister. But if your gut-feeling about him was right, then there was no need to be frightened. “Sylus, I’m in the middle of a prayer,” you hushed, although before you could turn around to face his silhouette, he had already transported to your side with a wicked smile plastered on his pallid face. 

“I’m not him,” he spoke in an orotund voice, stepping closer and closer. His ash blond hair did not hide his incarnadine eyes. “Stop looking for that runt when you’re with me.” 

You stepped out of the pew with a rapid heartbeat, standing by the aisle as the tall man towered over you. “S-Sylus, where’s your—” you searched for his silver cross and found it still hanging around his neck, “did you break it?” 

He glowered at your accusation. “You know I would if I could, sweetie.” 

You exhaled a deep sigh. This was not Sylus, this was the malevolent demon inside of him. You ought to be cautious of yourself. “Okay, well... Leave me alone. I’m praying.”

“Ordering me around?” Each step that he took reverberated across the cathedral. He stretched his head from side-to-side in a manner that showed his ennui. “Don’t you miss me, kitten?” 

There was no stopping to the loud thumping of your heart as you stood along the aisle with Sylus backing you off further to the center. “Sylus, I said not now,” you begged, but he refused to listen and only wiped his lower lip with his thumb. 

“I hate it when you make me wait,” he muttered, stepping forward until your lower back hit the credence table at the altar. You found yourself trapped in a decreasing distance between yourself and the sadistic devil in front of you. “Don’t look so scared. We do this every time.” 

“I’m not scared, but...” Your voice was getting softer, yet filled with fret. You pressed a hand on his chest as he locked your body with both arms around the table. “Please, not here.”

You had to be firm, you just had to be but you couldn’t muster the courage to fight back in Sylus’s presence. He was the embodiment of power and you were the representation of weakness. 

He was a demon that thrived on sin, and he drew strength from indulging in the seven deadly sins. Vainglory, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth—all of those fueled his existence. Today, however, it was the third sin that consumed him, the one that ignited his darkest sexual desires. 

“I’ll be quick,” he bargained, undoing the upper buttons of your dress despite your failed attempts at pushing him away. Doing it at such a place! You sent him a glare but he only returned a sly smile. “How about we show your God what you’re really like underneath that maidenly exterior, hm? Show him how dirty you really are?”

God, help me. You desperately shook your head, now overthinking if someone could see what he was about to do to you in this holy sanctuary. Long before you could cover your chest, he already pinned your wrist on the side as he lowered the fabric to show your collar. “Sylus—!”

“Don’t be shy, kitten,” the whisper he sent through the shell of your ear caused shivers to your spine. With his heightened senses, he placed his mouth on your ear, “No one’s here to watch us except for your God. Be a good girl now.”

You tried to push him once more to no avail as he sucked on the flesh above your shoulder. There was no warning to prepare you from the sudden harsh suction. “I-It hurts!” 

Your nails dug into your palms to leave crescent marks on your flesh while you were squirming out of his strict hold. 

“It hurts? Good.” He continued to leave marks all over your flesh as he caged your waist around his arm. The feeling of his teeth pricking your skin had you whimpering in pain, and his eyes had grown rutilant when he momentarily pulled away to look at you. “You’ll hurt even more,” and then he erupted into a deep chuckle as if you were a meal that he was seasoning with a sprinkle of fear, “I should really just keep you for myself.” 

Your desire to breathe grew exponentially. “I’m not yours.” 

A low sneer and a dissatisfied ego had you pressed against the oak table in surprise. “Yes, you are,” he reiterated as though he was enforcing the idea in your head. “Your soul, your heart, your body—you are mine.” 

“I’m not! I wasn’t born in this world to be your property,” you protested, pulling away from his grip only to be slammed harsher on the table. You knew you should never anger a demon but his possessive nature irked you. Aside from your already shameful situation, you wanted nothing but to get away from him. “You’re evil.” 

“What makes you so brave? Your beliefs?” he gritted, reaching for an object near your head that turned out to be the Bible. “This?” he quickly opened the sacred handbook and ripped the pages in front of your very eyes with a distasteful smile. How easily he ripped it, how easily he also tossed it. “Whatever, then. There’s no God. You humans are complete idiots for worshiping a nonexistent being. Weren’t you the ones saying that I’d burn as soon as I stepped into a church?” 

“He is your father!” You sat back up, revolted by his blasphemy. He had no right to mock God like this. “Don’t taint my beliefs with yours. My faith in Him is stronger than you think.” 

“You should know what it’s like to be in hell before you say that shit,” he retorted, placing his lips back on your ear, “I’ll take you there with me.” 

This is not the time and place! What a shameful situation he was putting you through, so unbelievably shameful and obscene that you couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “Sylus, I swear. I’m going home if you’re gonna keep on—”

He huffed, showing boredom by dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Ah, fine. You’re boring. Continue the prayer, then.”

For one of two things; first, Sylus would never let you off easily. Every act of defiance would garner you a punishment. Second, he was a time bomb. You never knew when his most cruel intentions would come to show. He was a malefic being that wouldn’t give two shits about where he was as long as he was having fun at torturing your soul. 

You should have known that when you chose to finish your prayer back at the pew. Sylus would simply not last long enough to just sit by your side in his apathy. 

“Holy Father, please forgive us for our sins—”

He snorted in ill-humor. “Pitiful.” 

And while you sat there looking up at the crucifix, Sylus’s hand was already sneaking its way under your skirt. His icy fingers traced your inner thighs until he reached your center, and that was when you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him with wide, scandalized eyes. Was anyone on the qui vive to see you right now? 

“Sylus, for heaven’s sake,” you hissed, pulling his wrist away but his slender fingers were already coordinating motions against your clothed core. You had to look around in panic lest there be any unknown audience peeking from the shadows. Despite your refusal to submit, the contact was eliciting suppressed moans out of your parted lips. “Y-You’re insane. This isn’t the place.” 

His smile was full of triumph and excitement, his right eye glowing ominously he spoke. “What makes it different?” he asked, raising your skirt and inserting his fingers inside your underwear. You had to press your lips together as soon as he started rubbing his fingers on your clit. “See, you enjoy the fuck out of it. I can see through your deepest desires, kitten. It’s telling me… ‘don’t stop’.” 

Your palm was pressed on his chest while his other hand tried to spread your legs open. The very position you were in—leaned on the wooden bench, legs spread apart, and being fingered in the presence of God—you were certainly going to hell. This was going against your belief, having your chastity corrupted in arrant disgrace by a man who was the devil himself. 

How exactly did you find yourself in this predicament? You came here to offer a quick prayer, not to be pressed on the bench by a man who was now unbuckling his belt in haste. You could only think of how Sylus, who was an angel beyond his demons, was perhaps trying to come out of being trapped in the dungeon where Satan had him caged.

“This is so wrong,” your lips quivered as you spoke, both of the curling of your toes and of the shameless sacrilegious act. You knew you couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried because Sylus would remain tenacious until he got what he wanted. 

With that, you fully submitted yourself to him and let the back of your head rest on the wooden surface while you stared at the stained glass that roofed the cathedral in different hues. 

Sylus was fast to display a smirk while positioning his hardened length on your entrance. The bands of your underwear were now resting mid-thigh as he pressed himself down on you with one knee supporting the angle of his hips. He was running his throbbing tip between your plump folds to lubricate himself with your slick. No screams could be released because you restrained your own whimpers, but your tears brimmed on the corner of your eyes from the initial penetration. 

“Ngh!” Your nails dug deep on his forearms. “S-Sylus!” 

“Are you crying?” His carmine eyes glinted of sadistic humor, running his gelid thumb across your lower lip only to sink it deep inside your mouth. “How does it feel knowing that the God you worship can’t save you?” 

A tear slid down from your eyes to your temple as Sylus started moving his hips in an achingly slow rhythm, each thrust going deeper than the last. You almost bit his thumb before he released your mouth by gripping your wrist. “Sylus—someone could see—!”

To your irony, the crucifix stared down at you and enkindled your conscience from this sinful act. Father, forgive me. You could only whisper those words in your head because your mouth was too occupied in crying out Sylus’s name.

“So warm.” It was hard not to think of how attracted he looked when he raked his fingers through his hair, later meeting your eyes with overpowering lust. He didn’t hold back at burying his cock into your cavern, allowing your walls to fit his girth like tight gloves—the feeling garnering his raspy grunt. “You’re mine, sweetie. All mine.” 

Sylus. You blinked your tears away as you closed your eyes. Sylus’s lips were now on your neck as he increased the pace of his member sliding in and out of your cunt with squelching noises that shamelessly echoed across the cathedral. “Sylus,” your lips were on his ear, “we’re in—aah—church.”

Unlike you, he was nonchalant about the sacredness of the house of God. He was mocking the supreme being that you held faith to as an act of engraving his existence into your mortal soul. While you restrained your moans as he slammed his pelvis against your hole, there was fulfillment rattling in his bones when he pressed your face to the side before diving in to suck on your sweet flesh.

“Cry more. Did you know your walls get warmer when you’re aroused?”

It was hard to describe the feeling. The median between pain and pleasure was the closest example you could liken it to. The grazing of his fangs added to the burning sensation that you had all over your body as if fire was ignited to light up all your nerves. 

Your hand latched onto his shirt before his body collapsed on top of you. With your legs spread wide, his head hung low on your neck—still and unmoving, strangely like he had fallen asleep. 

“Sylus.” You tapped his arm through the heavy rise and fall of your chest.

And before you could move away, he shot straight up and looked at you with those foxy incarnadine eyes that were now in the shade of deep crimson. Eyes that were wide and full of horror as he looked around the cathedral before he slowly realized what he had just done. 

“Y/N,” he said your name regretfully, pulling your dress down to cover your exposed parts, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I did this—? I don’t—” 

Long dried were the tears on your cheek. As you two scrambled to fix your clothes, you pulled him into a hug while he murmured endless sorry’s to your ear. At least, for now he was back. That was the most important thing with all the sanity you had left. 

“Just get me out of here, Sy,” you said, back into the arms of your human lover. 

~~

You’ve always wondered why Sylus often slept during the day. Or why his normal heartbeat was at the pace of someone who was having a heart attack. Or why he could get serious wounds but managed to heal himself fast. Sometimes he would disappear from your sight and transport himself into another. Sometimes he would see and hear things a thousand times clearer than any other person could. 

For almost a year of dating, these questions only came up to you without much of an answer. You thought that you were simply theorizing over things that you shouldn’t. Why does Sylus always wear that cross around his neck? At the back of your head, you were always intrigued. 

You didn’t find out about the real reason until two months ago when you finally met ‘Lucifer’ out of nowhere. If Sylus was Jekyll, Lucifer was his Hyde. It was his way to allow you to form a dissociation between the two beings in one body. 

You never believed in devils until Sylus showed his demonic face to you one night while you were supposedly peacefully sleeping. You recalled the screams that you released when you found out that Sylus was the fallen angel all along. That the rosary around his neck was meant to seal his dark side, the side that you still didn’t know much of. Up until this day, he didn’t provide a concrete answer as to why he needed to seal himself. He was taciturn about the topic of his other self despite you bringing it up every now and then. 

But because you loved him, trusted him, and believed him when he said that he didn’t plan to hurt you—you stayed. You knew his human side better than the monster within him, so you told yourself that you could stay for him. You just needed to learn more about him. 

There were still moments where you felt cautious around him, but when you looked to see his softened expression, you were comfortable at seeing the Sylus that you knew. 

“Y/N,” he broke the silence that lingered between you two as you walked around the city, “I’m sorry.” 

You tugged at his hand in reassurance. “It’s okay, I just...” As flashbacks of the earlier events returned to your head, you felt ashamed at having done such dirty deeds at a holy place. “He always gets what he wants.” 

Because you let him. 

“I can’t do anything when I’m trapped,” Sylus mumbled, keeping up with your footsteps as you strode along the street. 

Your curiosity bubbled from his statement. “What happens when he’s taking over?” 

This time, Sylus didn’t shy away from giving an answer while he interlaced his hand with yours. “I can hear everything, but I can’t feel or see. It’s all black, like I’m in a dark void.” 

“Like comatose?” 

“You could say that.”

How could a rosary seal his other self? How come he had two versions of him? 

“He’s obsessed with you,” he admitted, frowning at the thought as you passed rows and rows of boutiques and restaurants. “Your soul, your scent, your body. That’s probably why he always has the urge to come out.” 

The thought of it permeated heat on your cheeks even when it shouldn’t. Sylus had always been sweet and loving with his intimacy with you, but his other side was rough and sadistic. He liked tormenting your innocence with his immorality. 

“You said the rosary was meant to seal him, but how come he keeps on—”

“It doesn’t work these days. Only my father can help, but I don’t wanna go that far just to tell him about this.” 

Father. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his father in your twelve months together. Or did he mean father as in God? “Where’s your father, Sylus? Or the rest of your family? Are the other archangels roaming on Earth, too?” 

You could see it in his saintly face that he was about to give an answer and you anticipated it, not until the nearby catcalling distracted you two. 

“Nice legs, gorgeous,” whistled the man who was leaning by the street railings with a cigarette in his hand. The man was probably in his mid-40’s with disheveled hair and unshaved face. You sent him a glare but a crude wink was returned. 

“It’s a bit rude to ogle at my woman in front of me, don’t you think?” was Sylus’s warning, the tendrils of his black-red mist extending to surround the man.

You could hear the man hooting again, unaware of what would become of him. “Ha ha! You punk. I’d spread those legs in a heartbeat.” 

While Sylus’s eyes were deepening into a darker hue, you knew you couldn’t risk seeing him release his demonic side again. It was a dangerous gamble. And the city could become a bloodbath. So, in your insistence, you told your lover to just leave it be.

“Sylus, let it go,” you gently asked, tugging at his arm softly. You wanted to avoid confrontation and just continue walking with you until you could reach your destination. “It’s okay.”

~~

“Happy anniversary to my favorite couple!” 

The clinking of glasses was followed by cheers on the booth where your boyfriend and your friends sat together. It was Avery’s idea to celebrate the special day two days prior as an excuse to hang out and drink. Luke and Kieran, being Sylus’s minions, were very much willing to join. 

“It’s not until Wednesday,” Sylus corrected with a smile, sipping on his pint before putting an arm around you. He gestured towards Avery and Luke with a knowing look. “Now you two should date each other.” 

You giggled at the thought. “Yeah, I totally support that.” 

Instead, the two of them reacted heavily against it—faking a gag, making a face, name it all. They were adamant on showing how disgusted they were at the thought of dating each other and it was quite a hilarious sight to watch. 

“Boss, come on,” Luke replied in outward distaste. 

Avery, on one hand, was rolling her eyes. “You wish I was interested. I’d rather do Kieran than you.” 

Kieran was Luke’s twin, the less obnoxious and more empathic one. But when those two were combined, their level of mischief wasn’t really any different from each other. 

“Picking Kieran is the most insulting thing you can say to me,” huffed Luke, earning yours and Avery’s chuckle. 

After an exchange of playful banter and teasing remarks, the conversation was redirected back to you and Sylus as Avery curiously brought up how you first met your boyfriend. It was only a year ago and the memory was still vivid in your head. 

“Oh my God. I remember how Y/N first saw you at this auction,” she gushed towards your boyfriend while you blushed, gripping his arm closer, “and she’s acting like she just saw her soulmate.” 

Kieran decided to chime in, “Boss was looking at her too, though. He may look tough, but he’s a hopeless romantic deep down—”

“Enough,” Sylus warned before sipping on his glass. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and relaxed against him. “Next thing you guys know, we’re living together.” 

Frankly, everything was normal until Sylus showed up. 

“What do you like most about her, Sylus?” Avery egged on with a grin spreading on her face. 

Your boyfriend didn’t even take a second to answer, “She’s cute like a cat,” he said, caressing your hand with his thumb from under the table, “and smart, and caring. Can get spicy, too. It won’t end.” 

Sylus was the same, if not better. You didn’t have much experience when it came to dating, but you were surely on top of the luck department for being blessed with a man like him. He was the most protective person you knew, the most affectionate, the most thoughtful. Sylus was the moon that illuminated your dark nights. You could even remember how he would wait outside of your workplace to pick you up in his motorcycle—those were the little things that lasted for a lifetime in someone’s memory. 

“She’s also a nun.” 

The sudden panic in your eyes came simultaneous to the fast beating of your heart. You swiftly whipped your head to look at Sylus who was now displaying a deriding smirk across his pale face. Oh, were you doomed. The ruby eyes and the stony face was clear confirmation that the demon had taken over him. Twice in the same day. 

Even Avery was surprised by his word of choice, but nonetheless found it amusing as it was rare for them to see Sylus acting bold. You were grateful for her obliviousness because you didn’t know how else you could explain the situation at hand.

“She’s a what, boss-man?” Luke jeered, chugging on his pint and looking at his boss in his newfound entertainment. He was among the very few people that knew Sylus’s true nature. Because the twins were demons like him.

“A nun,” Sylus answered, sending a look of mischief your way. You were deeply panicking that you had to squeeze his hand in hopes of stopping him from showing his true colors. “What? Don’t be shy, kitten. Didn’t we have fun in that church?”

You quickly shook your head and denied it in front of your friends. “We didn’t. Don’t believe him.”

Avery was unbelievably taken aback. “Wow,” she held back a chuckle, “I didn’t know Sylus has a vulgar mouth.” 

~~

The night carried on while the downpour engulfed the streets heavily. Your desperation to leave the dinner earlier than intended was solely because you weren’t comfortable at having Sylus around other people. The man was clearly enjoying the embarrassment that he was putting you through. And you, you were only being cautious. Who knew what things he could do to Avery while in his other form? 

You didn’t want things to end up where Sylus would be ostracized by the people who knew him just because they couldn’t understand that he was completely harmless in his benevolent self. 

It took a lot of effort to finally make an excuse of getting home early while the skies have temporarily calmed down. However, as you two strolled across the street, Sylus wouldn’t stop blabbering on and on about how you should have stayed more to talk about how prudish you were. 

“I’m not in the mood right now,” you spoke in a detached voice, moving away from him as you walked together. Because you ruined it, you wanted to add. The cold breeze kissed your face through the dark. 

Sylus only moved closer to you. “You shouldn’t be so uptight,” he countered, “Is that how kittens should act? Or do I punish you back at home?”

Punishments. You didn’t wish to go through another round of his ‘punishments’ because you weren’t certain at how creative he could be at delivering them. There was no doubt that a man who traversed the ages would have seen enough torture devices used during the earlier times. Perhaps he could get inspiration from those. 

“I just wanna go home,” you muttered, almost inaudibly had his heightened hearing senses not worked. 

“Good, then I can have fun with y—” Sylus halted from his words as his face froze at the sight in front of him. His body had completely gone stiff and his jaws were clenched. You would have thought that he was angry until that evil upturn of his lips came to show. 

“Sylus...”

Following his sight, he was all eyes on a man from a distance before he dashed towards the stranger, leaving you utterly stupefied from where you stood. What’s he on about? You rushed as your heels landed in lightweight steps across the sidewalk while you watched in terror how Sylus mercilessly throttled the man by the neck and dragged him into a dark alleyway. 

“Sylus, stop!” 

As you reached him with a panting breath, you realized that the man he was holding high up against the wall was the same person that catcalled you earlier. The man was wriggling away from Sylus’s tight grip, only to be asphyxiated harsher than before. 

“Wh-What’s your problem?” The man struggled to breathe due to the strangulation and you were pulling Sylus’s other arm to stop him. 

At the sight of Sylus’s crimson eyes and vicious stance, you knew there was nothing much you could do to prevent harm. He was determined to do what he wanted without paying attention to his surroundings. 

“You’re fantasizing her, huh?” Sylus taunted with a sinister undertone in his words. “You wanna spread ‘em open?” 

Recalling the very words he spoke, the man saw you with frantic eyes as his face was reddening from the lack of oxygen. With a rushed shake of the head and a face that was begging for sympathy, he tried to break free. “N-No, no. She’s—haaa! She’s all yours.” 

“Sylus, stop it.” You grabbed his arms and attempted your best to pull him away despite the trepidation that caused you goosebumps. “Please stop, you’re gonna kill him.” 

Every time you saw this demonic creature, you were learning new things about him and most of those things were of the worst kind. Not only was he possessive—he was diabolical, potentially obsessive, and a cutthroat sadist who wouldn’t even blink before ending someone’s life. This was the true nature of a demon, not some silly fantasy that today’s pop-culture portrayed them to be. 

He was a body without a soul.

Unfortunately, you should have thought twice before choosing to get involved with him. 

“That’s my plan, sweetie.” 

[sanarsi]

Your faith

post-outbreak!dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You are locked up, at the will of your tormentor who only wants you to love him. Warnings: +18, MDNI, dark!soft!Joel, victim-kidnapper relationship, kinda stockholm syndrome, mention of religion/faith/prayers, DUB-CON, unprotected PIV, creampie, angst Wordcount: 2,6k An: Hi babesss, here comes the dark but soft Joel. I was in the mood for something fucked up but comforting?? you know what I’m sayin. Anyway, I invite you to read smut with a little plot Music I worked with: Reflections - The Neighborhood

Masterlist

Your family told you that faith and prayer would protect you from evil. So you prayed every day. Your faith in your creator was great despite the times you lived in. And most of the time you managed to protect yourself from harm. But your faith was put to the test. Your prayers were able to protect you from everything; except him.

His heavy footsteps could be heard when he wasn't even home yet. Home. That wasn't the term you would use for the place you were. This was his home and your prison. The place where your faith ended.

You curled up more in bed as you heard the stairs creak under his weight. A wave of cold went through your body, making your insides clench painfully. You knew he had come to you. He always came after he had been away for a few days hunting.

'I missed you', was the words he would always say after he had finished with you. Sometimes he would even tell you he loved you, but how could you love someone who always cried in fear of you? You were still aware of your situation enough to know that this wasn't love.

The only thing that connected you was the chain tied to your ankle.

The sound of the key turning in the lock sent shivers down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that it was just another nightmare, that you would wake up soon and you would be alone in an almost empty room.

But hope really was the mother of fools.

The door opened with a quiet squeak from the outdated hinges. You immediately felt his burning gaze on you, but you tried to believe for as long as possible that he would decide to leave you alone.

"Are you asleep, baby?"

You barely managed to hold back the sob that wanted to leave your throat. You tensed all your muscles, refraining from making the slightest movement.

You answered him with silence. But silence never convinced him.

A few months had taught him that you often pretended. He could tell that it surprised him. After so much time, he hoped that he would gain your trust, love, and maybe even loyalty.

He expected gratitude for saving you and deciding to take care of you. But you continued to fight him, remained silent, and cried. He didn't blame you, on the contrary, he tried even harder.

"I know you're not sleeping," he said again, slowly approaching the bed. The only thing in this room. That's all you needed. A nice, soft bed with fresh sheets.

At first, you had only that, later you got a white satin nightdress as a gift. Joel took care of you. He fed you, washed you, loved you, and was so determined that you would finally start talking to him. That you would finally understand that he didn't mean to hurt you.

A warm hand touched your hip, making you shiver. It was your answer, and the only one he could count on. He already knew that you were aware that he had returned home, and he really wanted to believe that maybe you were even waiting for him.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long," he whispered, leaning over you. You held your breath as you felt him plant a kiss on your hair.

In moments like these, you didn't know if you preferred that he would never be able to return or if you were relieved. After all, if he died, you would be alone, chained to the bed.

He inhaled your scent and hummed, smiling blissfully. Tears welled in your eyes at the feeling of his closeness. His hand slowly slid from your hip to your bare thigh. You shivered again at the extreme difference between your soft skin and his rough one.

“I have a present for you.”

You hated getting presents from him. He always looked at you fondly, like he truly loved you, and you knew he wanted more than just a lost look from you. But he never got anything else, so he settled for whatever you gave him.

The bed creaked and the mattress dipped under his weight as he slowly laid down behind you. A quiet sob shook your body. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and after a moment you could feel it on your own skin as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

You let out a shaky breath realizing he had come to you without any clothes on. His hot skin began to burn your cold one. You blinked a few times, letting a tear fall down.

His stubble brushed against your shoulder and began a series of soft kisses. Your stomach clenched so hard you felt like you were going to throw up.

He moved a stray strand of hair away from your neck so he could bring his lips there too. You winced at the feeling but as usual you remained silent. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of begging him to leave you alone.

For the first few months it didn't work so you lost the strength to continue fighting.

"You prayed for me to come back?" he asked next to your ear and then he placed a kiss on it.

Another tear ran down as his hand slowly moved down your waist. In moments like these you hated that he found out about your faith. You had the impression that he said such things to make you realize how naive you were. But it was the only thing he knew about you, the only point of reference, the only topic that could convince you to talk.

You knew that he liked getting an answer to that so you nodded weakly. That was enough to make him smile.

"That's my girl," he praised you and placed a kiss on your temple.

You clenched your thighs tighter as his hand moved the material of your nightie up. Rough fingers ran over your hip, heading to your cheek which he gently squeezed, purring with pleasure.

His cock slowly began to harden, which you could feel on the back of your thigh. Another wave of shivers went through your body as his hand slid lower, trying to get between your thighs.

"Spread your legs for me."

It was a command, but it had sounded like a request for a long time.

For a moment you resisted, really not wanting to let him in, but always in moments like these, you remembered how he had held his strength at the beginning to get what he wanted. Bruises decorated your body for weeks before you decided to cooperate with him.

You relaxed your muscles, allowing his hand to slide where he wanted. His fingers were immediately at your entrance. You sucked in a breath as he began to gently stroke the length of your slit to spread the moisture that had gathered there. You couldn't fight or hide the way your body reacted to his closeness, but he didn't mind. His sighs of pleasure made it clear how much he enjoyed it.

"I've missed that wet little pussy," he purred, nuzzling your neck.

His cock quivered against your thigh, wetting it with precum. You clenched your jaw tighter as he began to massage your clit with his fingertips. The tensing of your muscles in this situation only served to stimulate you more.

Excitement began to gather where he touched you, leaving you helpless. He didn't stop his movements until you shuddered with pleasure. He always waited for this moment to go further.

"Good girl," he whispered contentedly before he removed his hand, leaving you craving his touch.

You hated this feeling.

You didn't want it.

The soft kisses on your neck were meant to distract you from the way he positioned his cock perfectly at your wet entrance. Unfortunately, your attention was focused solely on the way he ran his tip between your slit to wet himself with your juices.

"Will you let me in?" he asked for permission but you could already feel the pressure of his tip against your hole.

You were fighting with yourself because you didn't want to be submissive to him, he should know how much you were disgusted by him. But you also knew that fighting him was pointless, why would you have more bruises on your body when you could have marks from his kisses.

You slowly moved your hips back and impaled yourself on him, letting his head sink into you. Joel groaned, tightening his fingers on your hip to stop you from moving any further. It was enough for the feeling of bliss to spread through his body.

"So good for me," he gasped, pressing his nose into your hair and waited a moment before he started to enter you deeper and deeper.

You parted your lips, sucking in air louder and squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of slow stretching. It took a few days for his cock to be a challenge for you, but it only took a moment for you to welcome him inside you like he was home. And that's exactly how he felt when he pushed himself all the way into you, forcing a quiet gasp from you. His hot breath fanned your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You might not have spoken to him, but your body told him enough to know how to please you.

"So good," he whispered again before slowly pulling his hips back and thrusting into you again.

You winced at the feeling of him filling you, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter as he slowly picked up the pace, his soft groans mixing with your gasps. With each thrust he entered more smoothly thanks to how wet you were. The sounds he made each time he pushed himself all the way into you bounced between your thighs forcing another wave of arousal. Wet sounds began to echo around the room and his pleased smile burned your skin.

You don't know at what point your body started to feel pleasure on its own and he didn't have to force it on you, but you definitely preferred the way it was now.

“Did you miss me that much?” he asked, placing a kiss behind your ear. He sped up his hips as your wetness allowed him to. He thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot with his tip every time. A quiet whine escaped your throat and that was enough of an answer for him. "I can feel that little pussy leaking for me," he purred contentedly, fingering your hip.

He slid his hand down to your stomach, holding you tightly to him as he began to thrust harder. Each time he went deeper and you couldn't hold back a moan. He expected this kind of reaction, and only when he got it did he allow himself to slide his hand down to your cunt.

He found your clit and slowly began to massage her in circular motions. You winced in pleasure, tilting your head back, giving him access to your face, which he immediately took advantage of.

Hot kisses began to decorate your jaw as he slowly matched the movements of his hips to the movements of his fingers that worked on you with perfect pressure.

He knew how to quickly bring you to the edge of pleasure, so he didn't rush anything. He took his time, letting himself drown in the sounds that left your lips. He loved giving you pleasure and wanted you to start loving it too, to start begging for it yourself.

A quiet growl echoed against your cheek as you once again clenched around his cock. You were getting closer to fulfillment and you couldn't stop the signals your body was giving him.

"You can give it to me," he panted, resting his forehead against your temple. "Give it to me, sweet girl."

You moaned louder, feeling the stronger surges of arousal that were gathering under his fingers and deep inside you where his cock was hitting. You pressed yourself harder into his chest, chasing the feeling he was building inside you.

"Say my name," he panted, speeding up his thrusts a bit. You moaned in response, but this time it wasn't enough for him. "Please, say my name. I want to hear it. I want to know what it sounds like in your mouth when you come."

You didn't want to grant his request, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He needed this, and you knew that sometimes you had to give him more, that sometimes you had to please him the way he needed.

His fingers made your clit throb, the excitement pouring out of you, staining your thighs as his cock kept catching up with the rest of you. You instinctively grabbed his wrist to stop his movements as everything began to overwhelm you. Moans mixed with squeals as you began to thrust your hips towards him, chasing your orgasm.

"That's it, baby. Cum on my cock."

He didn't need much to come himself. Your wet, tight pussy was like a piece of heaven in a world that was hell. Your sweet moans combined with the pulsation of your walls around his cock made him feel dizzy.

He felt you start to tremble and your movements became sloppy, you didn't need much and he knew just what to do to make it easier for you.

His mouth found its way under your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and all he had to do was suck the skin there, and the orgasm shook your body.

“Joel,” you whispered, arching.

A wave of pleasure went through your body, making your mind stop working for a moment. You tightened around his cock, which continued to work inside you, milking him.

His fingers disappeared from your oversensitive clit only for him to tighten his grip on your thigh. He bit harder into your neck and groaned throatily, thrusting hard into you, coming deep inside.

His cock twitched a few times, releasing more streams of cum until finally there was nothing left inside him. You panted heavily, still throbbing with pleasure, and you let him nestle into you. He hugged you tightly, burying his face in your hair, and for a long moment he was silent, calming his racing heart.

“Thank you, baby,” he finally said, and after a moment, his lips pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. “I needed that.”

He was pleased, which made you feel a strange sense of relief. You preferred it when he was in a good mood, so you knew you made the right decision by fulfilling his request.

With a soft groan, he pulled out of you, letting the mixture of your orgasms flow from your hole.

“Let’s get you clean,” he said, reaching for the cuff at your ankle. The sound of the lock unlocking squeezed your heart painfully.

For a moment, you were free, but it was a false feeling of freedom.

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: the spiders as yanderes . . . ☆

warnings - usual yandere themes, use of (bug) pet names like ladybug, no use of y/n or reader, stalking, manipulation, paranoia, a hint of kidnapping, a suggestion of stockholm syndrome, not proof read etc...

word count - 814

i was sleep-deprived while writing this request, so i apologize for any errors or mistakes, enjoy :)

main masterlist <33

MILES - the delusional yandere.

Miles would be so deeply in-love with you that there wasn't much you could possibly do to get him away from you. You could kick and scream at the top of your lungs and he'd just laugh to himself thinking you wanted to play fight. He would go to the ends of the earth for you and he assumes you would do the same for him as well. You could tell him how much you hated his guts and he'd simply take it as you being a bit cranky and in need of a nap. There wasn't a single thing in this world that could make him think you hated him, and once you found out he was Spider-man, that tiny bit of assurance that you were safe was completely washed away and you no-longer felt secure in the city that was supposedly protected.

"you're shaking, bug..don't worry your friendly neighborhood spider-man is here."

GWEN - the overprotective yandere.

You were just a sweet quiet kid. You sat in the back of the class, constantly in your own world. You didn't disturb anyone, always got your work done, and simply just tried to make yourself invisible to the best of your abilities. But It didn't take long for gwen to take notice of you. (you did share multiple classes together..) gwen took pity on you for some time, you were so quiet and innocent...so weak. How could someone like you survive in this world without her? It didn't take long for gwen to take on an aggressively protective role over you. She just knew deep down in her heart that people were gonna walk all over you and she had to be the one to stop them before they reached you. You don't need to be involved with the filth of the world, you need to be with her. So, once she takes you please don't be mad, she only wants what's best for you.

"i finally got you in my arms, ladybug..shh, don't worry i'm not doing this to hurt you, i just wanna protect you."

PAVITR - the clingy yandere.

Pavitr becomes so emotionally attached to you that he truly believes a second without you by his side would shatter him completely. It was rough for him in the beginning, not being able to hold you, smother you in kisses, and talk your ear off about his endless amounts of love for you. But once you two became well acquainted enough to his liking, he won't hold back at all. Pavitr will always be able to slip in his obsession with you in any conversation you two have, always going a bit overboard when he mentions how the reason he's able to live and be the best version of himself is because of your very existence. He gets overwhelmed when you're not close by, it worries him when he doesn't know what you're doing 24/7. What if you're talking to someone else? Laughing at someone else's joke? Surely whoever you're talking to isn't as amazing as Pavitr and If you can't see that he'll just have to show you.

"being away from you causes too much pain, jalebi...we were meant to be one."

HOBIE - the manipulative yandere.

Hobie will make you feel like you can't live without him. That you need him for absolutely everything, wether it be running to the store, picking out an outfit for the day, or even eating food on your own. He will break you emotionally until you're fully dependent on him and feel absolutely useless. He wants you to ask him for everything, he wants to hear the sweet sound of your voice calling his name for help, He needs to hear you say that you need him. Because you do, don't you?

" I don' know why you continue to fight my affection, darling. I'm the only one who's gonna love you the way you need to be loved. Why don't you get that? "

MIGUEL - the possessive yandere.

Miguel wants to be wanted by you. He wants you to be so dependent on him that the only words that ever slip past your lips are silent pleas for his help. He wants you to cling to him and whine at the absence of his presence. He wants you to be fully dependent on him. Any ounce of freedom you used to have before you met him is completely stripped away. Whenever he feels as if you're being independent or going about your day without acknowledging him, he gets extremely upset. You are his and his only so he will not hesitate to remove family and friends from your life if he has to, because in reality you don't really need anyone but him, right?

"tsk. this is why you should always come to me for help, it's what i'm here for, baby."

maybe i'll make a more descriptive one in the future, who knows...until then, send me some requests :)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[konigsblog]

cockwarming kidnapper!konig as he brags about having taken down your missing posters he saw around the neighborhood

tw/cw; stockholm syndrome!reader, kidnapping. MDNI 18+

oh, how cruel it is. the things könig does in order to protect your safety, or so he claims that's what he's doing. he says that he's just trying to protect you from the evilness of this wicked world, while forcing you to watch your own news report while having sex with you.

you developed stockholm syndrome pretty easily. you were in dire need of affection and the only person who could provide that was könig. getting on his bad side was useless as it resulted in you being punished mercilessly for hours. obeying to be his good little pet worked out perfectly for the two of you.

you cockwarm könig, exhausted and seconds away from dozing off into a sleepy, dreamlike state. his large, grimey hands force your thighs open while you warm his meaty, girthy boner with your sweet, warm, and sticky cunt. the pulsing sensation is an addiction and obsession to könig who is eagerly intrigued in understanding you and knowing more about his beloved engel.

“so obedient and compliant, ja? ...i spent my day taking down the missing person posters about you. can’t let anyone know who you belong to, dear.” könig grumbles out quietly into your ear. you have to fight tears and any signs of weakness to not upset könig. you have to act unbothered while deep down a part of you aches at the news, while another part of you is glad you'll be able to spend the rest of your torturous, horrible life with your one true love.

just a silly thing, too confused to make a proper decision. you just sit prettily, yeah? just warm his lengthy dick, mäusi.

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too. 

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear. 

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands. 

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago. 

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.  It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly. 

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory. 

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at. 

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that. 

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man. 

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too. 

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling. 

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony. 

He approaches slowly, quietly. 

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you. 

“Oh, uhm. Hello?” 

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile. 

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.” 

“Surprised?” 

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly. 

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.” 

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new. 

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?” 

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little. 

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.” 

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record. 

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.” 

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.” 

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.” 

He pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip. 

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins. 

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?” 

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little. 

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle. 

“A little,” 

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile. 

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor. 

“And yours?” 

“Gojo Satoru.” 

__

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor. 

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly. 

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk. 

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.  You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar 

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly  romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him  by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking. 

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening. 

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously  feeling quite jealous about.) 

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades. 

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what. 

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite. 

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same. 

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere. 

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.  

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean. 

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions. 

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade. 

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it. 

 By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk. 

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground. 

What’s heaven to a man born there?

__ 

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted. 

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.  

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.  There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.) 

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children. 

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is. 

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply. 

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade. 

It had led him to a conclusion,  but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of. 

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late. 

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most. 

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home. 

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.) 

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -  there, all the same.  As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen. 

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,  notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone. 

You’ve never called him before. 

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly. 

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.” 

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet. 

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?” 

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,” 

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.” 

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.” 

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him. 

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.” 

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.” 

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?” 

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words. 

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.” 

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.” 

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.” 

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?” 

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright. 

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.” 

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know? 

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles. 

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?” 

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.” 

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain. 

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

__

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed. 

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction. 

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on. 

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it. 

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester. 

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late. 

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality. 

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet. 

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him. 

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried. 

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there. 

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it. 

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear. 

(A small, small  part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?” 

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in. 

“....It?” 

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him. 

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths. 

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least. 

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is. 

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.” 

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most. 

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.  He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one. 

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined. 

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,” 

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward. 

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly. 

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap. 

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you. 

“Of course,” He says  “Can I ask you something?” 

You nod your head and sip your tea. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?” 

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you. 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.” 

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them. 

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?” 

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply. 

“I thought you were a high school teacher.” 

He smiles. 

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.” 

You look befuddled. 

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist. 

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.” 

“You can’t use cursed techniques?” 

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.” 

Vulnerable. 

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words. 

“Is it that bad…?” 

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?” 

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.” 

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?” 

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.” 

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look. 

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?” 

He smiles. 

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face. 

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over. 

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

__ 

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A  bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing. 

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat. 

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie. 

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles. 

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen. 

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary. 

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit. 

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached. 

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head. 

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror. 

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that. 

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic. 

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to. 

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results. 

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays. 

__

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction. 

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it. 

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next. 

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident. 

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control. 

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing  heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure. 

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them. 

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same. 

Then, he’s inside. 

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate. 

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that. 

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything. 

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do. 

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you. 

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for? 

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything. 

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line. 

“Showing signs of anxiety.” 

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting. 

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do. 

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,” 

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,  but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling  of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. 

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump. 

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty. 

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns. 

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. 

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with… 

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms. 

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious. 

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job. 

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question. 

“Why’re you still here?” 

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.” 

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs. 

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.” 

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?” 

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,  but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying. 

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient. 

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.” 

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.” 

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?” 

She gives Gojo a pointed look. 

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.” 

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head. 

“No. Your aura.” 

Gojo stares ahead. 

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.” 

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.” 

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?” 

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.” 

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.” 

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing. 

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input. 

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.” 

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare. 

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.” 

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.  He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently. 

“I’m sorry you went through that.”  Gojo replies. 

He’s being sincere. 

“Should you be sympathizing with me?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand.  She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone. 

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.” 

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:  “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.” 

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too. 

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me.  That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and  malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“ 

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away. 

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.” 

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head. 

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.” 

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”  Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread. 

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath. 

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.” 

__

The case ends anti-climatically. 

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken. 

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser. 

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene. 

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves. 

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too. 

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him. 

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too. 

Above all, the offer is tempting.) 

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little. 

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire. 

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees. 

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body. 

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen. 

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most. 

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles. 

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~ 

He laughs to himself. 

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion. 

(sent 11:16am) For coffee? 

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up. 

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing. 

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you. 

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate. 

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so. 

“Hey,” 

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush. 

“They’re an important friend,” 

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend. 

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?” 

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,” 

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good. 

It’s a pleasant sort of day. 

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time. 

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too. 

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for. 

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story. 

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes. 

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do. 

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.” 

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.  Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light. 

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him. 

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,” 

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh. 

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.” 

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs. 

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully. 

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater. 

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?” 

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.” 

Your frown deepens. 

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.” 

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?” 

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute. 

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims,  soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours.  The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you. 

“What do you want?” 

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully. 

“Heard,” 

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him. 

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums. 

“Mm, there’s always next time?” 

“You say that every time!” 

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.” 

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout. 

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums. 

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?” 

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now. 

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly. 

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.” 

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy. 

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag. 

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo. 

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?” 

“Don’t forget.” 

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?” 

You nod enthusiastically.

__ 

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while. 

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go. 

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school. 

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task) 

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out. 

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon. 

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that. 

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him. 

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend. 

Time passes  comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned. 

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember? 

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―” 

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind. 

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you. 

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?” 

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye. 

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me?” 

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar. 

He doesn’t like it. 

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.” 

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” 

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails. 

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.  You become helpless in front of his eyes. 

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest. 

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously. 

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling. 

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant. 

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?” 

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it. 

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed. 

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading. 

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved. 

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―” 

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,” 

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,” 

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.” 

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts. 

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you. 

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself. 

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice. 

“About time to get out of here, huh?” 

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together. 

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless. 

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?” 

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?” 

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day. 

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time. 

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close. 

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter. 

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away. 

“Okay,” 

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything. 

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you. 

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,” 

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying. 

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe. 

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,” 

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth. 

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.” 

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh. 

“You….knew?” 

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?” 

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge. 

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.” 

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?” 

You nod softly. 

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.” 

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk. 

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,” 

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh. 

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly.  Gojo squeezes where his hand rests. 

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,” 

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own. 

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes. 

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does. 

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t. 

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you. 

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,” 

You cry and cry and cry. 

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound. 

__

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him. 

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation. 

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,” 

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger. 

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it. 

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him. 

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.  He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law. 

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

 He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation  especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run. 

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.) 

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets. 

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses.  It’s a lot like killing a curse. 

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide. 

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell. 

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets. 

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret. 

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair. 

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him. 

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all. 

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best. 

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job. 

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job. 

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them. 

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time. 

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it. 

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind. 

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them. 

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7. 

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet. 

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark. 

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out. 

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around. 

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body. 

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins. 

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up. 

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?” 

“W-w-what…how did you…” 

Gojo shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.” 

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must. 

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish. 

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic. 

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys. 

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too. 

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs. 

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?” 

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice? 

“P-please, I have—” 

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,” 

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent. 

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly. 

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen. 

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,” 

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms. 

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even. 

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders. 

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would. 

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

 With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving. 

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back. 

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone. 

__

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed. 

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself. 

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs. 

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…” 

The rest of the report  Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,” 

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod. 

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,” 

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence. 

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?” 

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor. 

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,” 

Gojo pretends to think about it. 

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement . 

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,” 

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You belong to me

Summary: reader is a female police officer that began to have a friendship with someone who got sent to help with a case. But things took a dark turn…

Warning: Manipulation. Kidnapping. Stalking. Gaslighting. Stockholm syndrome. Power dynamic. Power abuse. Emotional abuse and distress. Guilt-tripping. Isolation. Emotional blackmail. SMUT. Creampie. Handjob. Blowjob. Oral (m receiving). Reader is toxic. Leon is a victim. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Word Count: 4,193

A/N: since it’s October, I wanted to try something different. We’ve all seen the fics where Leon is the toxic one but what about the reader? This is my attempt at toxic reader.

“My honey I know, with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me,” - Tonight You Belong To Me, Patience and Prudence

When you were young, you looked up to the heroes of the world. The police, the firefighters, etc. It all fascinated you and you found it in yourself to want to help others as well. It was all an innocent dream that started when you were just a little girl and now here you are, working as a police officer in the city’s infamous police department.

People come and go, new faces everyday. It’s filling out paperwork and writing reports about incidents you’ve been called to. Sure, you’ve had your share of the donut and early coffee rounds, but nothing beats cruising in the patrol car.

You’ve never been an obsessed type of person, you just took a really good liking to things. Video games, music, books–they were all just common interests. But something about your job was so exciting. It wasn’t just helping people, it was the necessity to feel the rush flow through your blood through car chases or when you venture into a building with your flashlight out searching for criminals. At the end of the day, it felt amazing capturing the bad guys and throwing them in a cell.

It was a normal day, nothing too out of the ordinary. You were called to a crime scene in a neighborhood in the middle of your night shift. You were the first of your squad to arrive and there you saw an unfamiliar man. He wasn’t a police officer but he seemed like the real deal.

“Ah, Officer L/N,” said the police commander as he motioned for you to come forward, “Let me introduce you to this guy. He’s done nothing but save the country countless times. Meet Agent Kennedy, he will be assisting us tonight.” Agent Kennedy was tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Skin pale with a few freckles adorning his face.

Agent Kennedy nods and extends his hand to you for a handshake, “Nice to meet you, I hope we can work with no issues.” You nodded and took his hand in return for a firm handshake before letting go, “Pleasure to meet you as well.”

“So,” Agent Kennedy said as he looked over at your boss, “What’s the situation here?” The police commander then began to walk inside towards the house you had parked on the side to, “There’s been a suspicious call to the precinct,” he said as you and Agent Kennedy followed him inside, with Agent Kennedy letting you enter first.

“Lady down the street said that there was yelling and she called to make a noise complaint but then she said it all got quiet so she decided to check on the people who lived here,” he said as he walked the two of you to the living room. Upon reaching the living room, the floor’s carpet was drenched in blood and the walls had blood spatters around them. You grimaced at the sight but Agent Kennedy simply narrowed his eyes, his blue eyes jumping from blood spatter to blood spatter around the room, “Any clue about the victim?” Kennedy asked.

“Female. Early thirsties,” the police commander began to describe, “5 foot 5–the other neighbors said that she was a sweet lady but that her boyfriend wasn’t much of a gentleman. When we first came to check, the body was missing and there was no weapon on sight. It was as if someone had murdered her and took her body with them. We tried contacting the boyfriend but he’s been MIA for a while now.”

Your eyes wandered around the room, how could anyone do this? Sure, there is no certain proof that the woman’s boyfriend could’ve done it but it was a lead right?

“What about the boyfriend’s records?” You asked, “If his record states suspicious activity or other charges, then we’d know by then, right?”

“No,” Agent Kennedy replied right before your boss could, “This doesn’t seem like something a felon would do. Usually felons who are trying to save face try to avoid getting in trouble with the law. This is something completely unrelated to the victim’s relationship.”

“Then what could’ve caused this?” the police commander asked. Kennedy kneeled on the ground, his eyes inspecting the bloody carpet, “An amateur. This is probably just the work of someone trying to prove that they can kill.” Kennedy stood back up again and looked at your boss, “I’ll have a few of my men search the house, there’s been other cases like this that we have previously looked at and I think this is just another one of those.”

You furrowed your brows, “So you’ve dealt with this killer before?” you asked, to which he nodded, “Yes. But I can’t say anything. It’s a government case.”

It was a long night but thanks to Agent Kennedy, he made it run smoother than you had anticipated.

Agent Kennedy…

What a guy.

-

For the days that followed through, balancing minor incidents and the big case on your plate, you’ve met with Kennedy more than a few times. It was as if it was a coincidence. You saw him at a bar, in the police station, in the store–quite the few times. But you were polite in each encounter. You smiled, you waved, you even initiated conversations with him. And he was kind to you in return.

You were happy, life was great.

You’ve even stopped him several times when you saw him on the road.

“Hey, just a reminder to turn on your lights,” you’d say as you’d lean against his car door.

“Make sure your license plate gets renewed, you’re lucky I’m a nice officer,” you’d say with a friendly smile.

Or sometimes you would meet in your office for the case and talk.

“You know, you’re lucky I’ve been just giving you warnings on the road,” you said as you sat on your desk with him sitting across from you. He smirks and shakes his head, “It’s like you’re always there. Are you secretly following me?”

You laughed and it was your turn to shake your head in denial, “I’m too busy to follow you around. Plus, what’s the harm if I did? I’ve been helping you avoid a ticket, haven’t I?”

He nods and laughs, “Yeah, I guess you’ve kind of been like a friendly officer.”

“I’m for the people,” you said as you laughed with him, “I try to help as much as I can. I’m not a saint, but people can do good, right?”

“Yeah… they can,” he muttered and leaned back against the chair he was sitting in, “No but seriously, I’ve been seeing you around more often than lately. I’m not saying it’s weird, I appreciate you giving me tips and warnings but–I mean, is it even allowed?”

You laughed again, “It’s a small town, Leon,” you said, “I’m busy everywhere and plus, no one has to know. There are millions of things happening at once in this place. Me not giving you a speeding ticket is nothing worth mentioning.”

Everything seemed to be going well for you. You’ve grown closer to Leon ever since you started that case. Sure, you’ve seen him more frequently but it was pure coincidence, right?

-

Leon was sure something was going on. He’s been seeing you more frequently and you stopped him at random times. He’s grateful you haven’t given him a ticket but he can’t help the growing suspicion that you’ve done this so frequently. His worries only grew after that day in your office.

He was never a man to take things lightly. He’s always thought things through and was a smart and confident man. At some point he began to feel guilty because he could see just how hard you work around the station. You’ve taken shifts but you always kept a smile on your face, it made him feel shitty for thinking so poorly of you.

You were sweet and kind, always wanting to help people just like him.

But there was just something in his gut telling him to watch out.

“Y/n,” he said in surprise when he found you next to his car. You turned and smiled at him, “Hey, Leon. Haven’t seen you in a while, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah, I-uh-I’m fine. Just been busy with the case. Jane Doe, you know?”

“Jane Doe,” you repeated quietly. There was a silence between you two, one that he didn’t know if it was suffocating or intimate. He’s never been good with the ladies after all.

“You know,” you said softly, “I’m here if you ever need to talk. I’m the only one who can really understand you. I’ve seen things no one should see. I’ve been through hell and back before and I know how it feels like to be stuck in this dark place,” you said as you pointed to your head.

His face fell and he stared at you in silence.

“Therapy doesn’t work. I know everyone says that but when has therapy ever worked for you? You have this distant gaze, Leon,” you whispered as you took steps forward towards him, “I’m the only one that can see the pain you feel everyday.”

He furrowed his brow, “Why are you saying this?” he whispered. You smiled, “Because I want to help. I’m your friend.”

-

The words were glued to his mind and now he felt more uneasy but something in your words spoke out to him. He’s never really had the chance to heal, not after Raccoon City. But he’d never say that your words were doing things to his mind. You showed kindness no one ever has, you spoke to him in a caring voice, and you were never his enemy.

He’s never seen someone so… friendly. At some point he found you too friendly but then he’d feel guilty for thinking that stuff about you.

He shouldn’t have been paranoid of you, your eyes and your smile were ones of an angel.

Leon doesn’t have a family and he’s never had a real friend before. Something in him felt warm and odd.

“I’m your only friend here, Leon,” you said as the two of you sat on a bench just right outside the front of the police station, “No one ever listens and if they do, they’re lying. When someone says they care, they don’t. They have to show you that they care like I have. I care about you, I really do. You don’t need those fake friends, you’ll be okay with me. Small circle beats a bigger

circle in terms of a social life, right?”

He nodded, taking your words into consideration, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Lots of people lie nowadays. Can’t ever tell who’s going to stab me in the back.”

“Exactly,” you continued, “Why stress about someone’s loyalty when you have someone that already has proved it. Remember that time I didn’t give you a ticket for speeding or having alcohol in your vehicle? I’m a real friend, Leon. There’s no one else that understands you like I do.”

“Well, I do have some other friends,” he muttered, “they’ve been through the same things I’ve been.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “You’re going to listen to your friends who barely care, over me? I’m the one who has your best interests in mind, Leon.”

“I’m not saying that to make you any less of a friend but you’ve got to admit that you stop me too many times on the road,” he said. You rolled your eyes and looked at him, “You know you’re being paranoid, right? I’ve done nothing but help you, and you’re trying to say I’m some kind of creep. I’m the only one who’s been there for you. You should trust me more than anyone else. Nobody else cares as much as I do.”

He felt bad and guilty for making you think he thought you were a creep. He frowned and looked at you, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you look like a weirdo, I’m just… I haven’t had a real friend in a long time. Probably since high school and that was years ago.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you sighed softly, your expression turning soft and caring with a small smile tugging your lips, “I understand you were just being cautious and I can’t blame you for that. But don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I care about you and I want to help.”

-

Leon suddenly found himself in a dark room. He blinked his eyes open and saw that he was in a dimly lit room. He tried to move but his hands were tied. Leon was tied down to a chair, his hands behind the back of the chair tied together with rope, as well as his legs tied down on the legs of the chair. Panic surged through him. The room was cold and silent, eerily silent. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing.

He tried to shift around but then his eyes landed on the walls of the room. He furrowed his brow, what the hell was going on? “What the..” he muttered under his breath and then he turned his attention towards the sounds of footsteps descending a pair of stairs. Now he understood he was in a basement.

“Hello,” calmly rang the voice of a woman. Chills ran down Leon’s spine as you stepped closer, making your figure known to him. Why were you here?

“Y/n, you’ve got to help me,” Leon as he tugged at his tied wrists, “I don’t know how I ended up here. Come on, help me–” he grunted as he struggled. But you remained stilled in front of him. Your eyes watching as your calm demeanor took over.

“I’m afraid I can��t,” you said casually. He looked up at him, confusion written on his face, “Can’t help me?” he repeated in disbelief, “Why not?”

“Because I’m the one who did this to you,” you replied. There was no remorse in your tone. YOu were casual and cool, something that made Leon’s skin crawl with goosebumps. He’d never have guessed that you would be the one to ever put him in this situation.

“You see, Leon,” you began as you walked around him, circling him around, “I’m the only you can rely on. You don’t need those other people. They don’t know you like I do. I was only trying to help.”

“Help?” He repeated incredulously, “You tied me to a chair! How is that helping?!”

“Don’t be like that,” you said as you walked back to stand in front of him, leaning down to his face, “You should be grateful, after everything I’ve done for you, shouldn’t you be thanking me? You’re making me feel bad Leon.”

He frowned, his heart aching at your words, “I am grateful for your friendship but I just–”

“Just what, Leon?” you interjected, “Come on, now, don’t be like that,” you continued as you brought a hand to his cheek, gently caressing his face, “You know I’m the only one who’s ever listened to you. I know how damaged you are and I’m the only one who’s accepted you as you are. Look at your so-called friends, they haven’t talked to you. They’re not like me, they don’t care about you like I do.”

He looked up at you with those saddened blue eyes, his head subconsciously leaning into your hand, “But you said you wouldn’t hurt me,” he whispered.

Your thumb swiped along his cheek in a soft caress, “I haven’t, have I?” you whispered back, “I would never hurt you, you know that. It hurts me that you’re doubting me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back immediately, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I'm just… confused.”

“It’s okay to be confused but you have to trust me. I’ll never hurt you,” you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips feeling soft on his skin like a soothing balm. But this only made him more confused. He should be angry and attempting to escape but he couldn’t, he didn’t want to betray you like that after all you’ve done for him. He shouldn’t, right?

He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into your hand as if he was seeking your comfort. You smiled at his behavior, “Look at you,” you murmured, “You’re so deprived of love, aren’t you?” you asked mockingly, to which he nodded. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, “I am…” he whispered, “No one’s treated me as kindly as you have. I… I don’t have anyone besides you.”

“You don’t have to, I’m the only one you need, Leon,” you whispered as you leaned your lips down his face, just right above his lips, “I promise I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me.”

“I promise,” he replied almost instantly, “I won’t leave you. Please…” he begged, craning his head up as if trying to meet your lips. He was desperate for a touch of affection and you were willing to give him that, he wasn’t about to let go of you in the end.

“Please what?” you whispered.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“Can you kiss me?”

“I can.”

You pressed your lips against his in a short kiss, causing him to whine and lean forward to keep kissing you, “Y/n, please,” he begged again. You smirked and leaned down to kiss him again, this time longer and more passionate. He closed his eyes and sighed into the kiss as your hands raked around his hair, tugging at his blonde strands. Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, to which he let you explore his mouth with.

He was so easy, all he needed was a little bit of love and he was down at your knees for you.

Your hand moved down his chest to his pants. Your palm ghosting over his crotch, you pressed your hand over it. He hissed and moaned, his body going tense before you began to rub him through the fabric of his jeans, “Y/n,” he whined again.

“You want me to touch your dick? Make you cum?” you murmured mockingly, he nodded his head and jerked his hips up into your hand, “Please,” he whispered.

You stood by his side, hand going inside his pants until you felt his boxers. He felt hard and long, almost making you wet. Your hand didn’t stop rubbing him through his boxers, his needy whines and moans echoing through the basement. Then, he attached his lips to your boob over your shirt, his teeth nibbling around the fabric of your shirt.

“Want to suck my tit like a baby?” you mused, he nodded and looked up at you through his lashes, “Yes,” he whispered. And how could you deny him anything when he’s been nothing but a good and obedient boy?

With your free hand, you lifted your shirt and took off your bra, watching as his pupils dilated and immediately latched his lips on your breast. His teeth pulled at your nipple before his tongue flatly dragged over your stiff peak. Your hand on his boxers moved over inside, feeling the skin of his dick on your hands. You pulled it out of his pants and circled your hand around his cock, rubbing up and down from the tip to the base. He moaned against your breasts, the vibrations sending a wave of arousal through you.

He kissed and licked all he could, his lips becoming swollen and your boob glistening with his saliva. God, he could suck your tit all day if you asked him. His moans became short and breathy the more you stroked him, his cock spasmed and twitched as he felt himself near his orgasm and without further notice, you suddenly dropped down to your knees and put his cock in your mouth. He gasped and threw his head back, his lips parting as he moaned every time you bobbed down on his dick. He bucked his hips further into your mouth while your hands massaged his balls, drawing an embarrassing moan from his throat.

Soon enough he came into your mouth, his sweet cum shooting ropes. But you didn’t swallow. Instead, you stood up, hands going to his jaw as you forced his mouth to open. You spat his cum into his mouth and forced him to close his lips.

“Swallow,” you commanded him. He nodded and swallowed the cum you gave him, he was left panting as he looked up at you.

“Good boy,” you purred and kissed his lips and he instantly kissed you back–tasting him on your lips.

“Let’s take these off you, hm?” you said as tugged at the rope around his wrists. He nodded and let you untie him. It’s not like he can escape anyway, where would he go? No one would believe that you, the kind officer, would ever kidnap anyone. And he’s desperate for love and attention, he can’t leave if he wanted because he wouldn’t have anyone to compensate for the lack of love he’s received. He became dependent on you.

As soon as you untied him, he grasped your waist and brought you between his legs, pressing his face on your stomach as he kissed the skin on your belly. You caressed his hair, allowing him to touch and worship you as he wanted.

“You want more?” you asked softly and he nodded against your stomach, “I do,” he whispered.

“Come on then,” you said as you took his hands and pulled him from the chair, “Let’s go to my room. My home is your home now.”

-

It was indeed his home now. He hadn’t noticed but you have, the way he started to leave his things in your house such as clothes and shoes. It was a small change but he slowly began to move in with you. It was such a power trip dynamic that you loved, having this power over him. He can’t ever leave you, where would he go?

Your obsession with him was successful. This was all you wanted from the start. You’ve had eyes for him ever since he got assigned to help you and your team on a murder case.

And now he’s on your bed, naked and thrusting into you from behind as you bent over with your ass in the air. His hands on your hips as he was on his knees behind you on the bed. Your hands held the bed’s headboard, feeling it slam against the wall everytime he plunged deep into you from behind. His cock leaving and entering with force, as if trying to prove his loyalty to you. He was like a dog, in a way. The tip of his cock grazed your cervix, causing your eyes to roll back and a moan to slip past your lips. He groaned and whimpered, feeling his cock get swallowed by your tightening walls.

“Y/n,” he whined as his hands moved to your waist, gripping your body tighter, forcing your body on his cock. Pushing and pulling you as his hips did the same, the sound of skin slapping echoing loudly around the room.

“Fuck–” he cursed under his breath, “You’re so tight. I’m gonna–”

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, moving your body on him to help him. He leaned down to bury his face on your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses on your skin as his chest pressed against your back. His hand released your waist to squeeze at your bouncing breasts, “Pretty,” he murmured into your ear as he squeezed your tits again.

His thrusts became sloppy as you neared your organism, he could feel the way your pussy began to throb and it was sending him on a frenzy. When your sweet nectar came around his cock, coating him wet and making sinful squelching sounds, he couldn’t hold himself back and he slammed his hips against your ass and came deep inside you. His dick throbbed as he shot his rope of white cum inside your pussy.

His cock softened but he didn’t move, both you were left panting and trying to catch your breath. Your bodies sweaty as the room smelled of sex. When he pulled out of you, you brought your hand down to your cunt to collect his cum and put it back inside, he groaned at the sight that he just watched and he couldn’t believe he just came inside you.

“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” you asked and he got snapped out of his thoughts. He quickly nodded and got off the bed, “Yes–hold on.”

He went into the bathroom and got a wet towel, then he came back into the room and cleaned you of his cum. After discarding the towel, he joined you on the bed and cuddled you.

“I love you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. You smiled and huddled into his chest, “I love you more.”

[octuscle]

Full investment

Martin had been very lucky in his life. He founded his first start-up at the right time, sold it at the right time and invested the proceeds wisely. Of course, it wasn't just luck; Martin was clever, hard-working and charismatic. And with this combination, he was bound to succeed. The fact that he was extremely good-looking didn't necessarily hinder him. Martin was at every party, Martin knew everyone and Martin was at least one of the first followers of a new trend. If he didn't set the trend himself. That's why he was very annoyed when he got talking to a cool, masculine and sporty-looking guy at a party at the Turkish Embassy. The young stallion turned out to be a rising star in the mixed martial arts world and ran a gym in one of Stockholm's hipster neighborhoods. And in the course of the conversation, Mete asked Martin why he wasn't investing in the fitness sector. Martin was fascinated by Mete's engaging manner. And they shook hands on Martin's entry into Mete's gym.

The press conference was a date to Martin's liking. He was in his element. Not that Mete was not photogenic, but Martin loved the camera. And the camera loved him. One of the reporters present asked if Martin would now train here too. Martin was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expected that. Normally, he trained with his personal trainer at his gym at home. But this was the moment Mete had been waiting for. He threw a bag with a pair of sports trousers and a pair of gloves to Martin and said it was time for them to train together. Martin hesitated only briefly. He looked good in a suit. But he also knew that he looked at least as good with his shirt off. The pictures of the sparring session were amazing. The success for the gym was overwhelming. And Martin had to admit: this kind of training was something completely different from training at home.

Martin's daily routine changed soon after he joined Mete. Mete regularly picked him up in the morning to go jogging. Martin and Mete often had breakfast in a Turkish café near the gym, and Mete created Martin's new nutrition plan. Mete provided Martin with food supplements, the contents of which Martin did not question, especially since the green packaging only had Arabic writing on it. Mete created a training plan for Martin that required a lot of time in the gym… But Martin was happy to have a real physical balance to his otherwise very stressful job. And at the moment he was only active as an investor, he didn't have to run his own company. So why not give it everything you've got in sport? And he gave it everything. Running with a lead vest, weight training, sparring, technique training… At some point, Martin was practically living in the gym. And Mete and Martin also spent more and more time together. So much so that Martin moved into the apartment above the gym, which he had originally only intended to use as a second home. So much so that at some point he went with Mete to his Turkish barber. And so much so that, out of curiosity, he went to the mosque with Mete on a Friday for the midday prayer. Mete and the Imam spoke a lot and quickly with each other. The two of them smiled a lot. They said goodbye warmly. Martin hadn't understood a word. But for some reason it felt right to be here.

At the beginning, Martin's short hair was the most obvious sign of his change. His increasingly athletic body was also impossible to miss. Martin grew a beard. Martin started wearing a prayer cap. And more and more Turkish and Arabic words crept into his speech. And while he was only sporadically in the mosque at first, a Friday without the midday prayer and without an exchange with the imam soon became unimaginable for him.

Of course, his change did not go unnoticed. There was unrest in his network of companies. Mete advised him to withdraw from the public eye. His social media accounts were dormant. Martin withdrew from most of the supervisory boards of his holdings. This task was taken over by a few guys he had met at the gym, in cafes or in the mosque and whom he had come to trust. Martin enjoyed the freedom he gained as a result. He had more time to prepare for his next fight, more time to learn Turkish and Arabic, and more time to devote to his prayers. Even though Mete had to spend more and more time managing the prospering gym and the other businesses Martin had entrusted to him, he made sure that Martin, who he increasingly called Mehmet, continued to receive optimal training and nutrition plans. And, above all, with the right nutritional supplements. The side effects of the pills and injections were becoming increasingly obvious: a dark fur was growing on Martin's chest and his beard was getting darker and darker.

MMA shorts and thobes… At some point, there was nothing else left in his wardrobe. At most, when Mehmet helped out at the gym reception or when he was supervising at the gym or training customers, he wore a tracksuit. But basically, he no longer felt comfortable in it. Fortunately, Mete gave him quite a generous allowance after Martin had given him and Iman extensive powers of attorney. This allowed him to get through the month without having to work. However, Mehmet still had to work from time to time as a temp at the gym to pay for the expensive nutritional supplements. He didn't have to overcome any great obstacles to do this: he was at home at the gym and he was proud to be part of this gym. And as a trainer, he had close contact with the hottest guys in the gym. Even though Mete was the only one who was allowed to fuck Mehmet, there were enough holes that Mehmet's cock could fill after the wounds of the circumcision had healed.

Hardly anyone recognized Martin at Mehmet's new appearances on social media. If you looked closely, you could have seen Martin's blue eyes in the otherwise more masculine features of Mehmet's face. But hardly anyone looked at Mehmet's eyes. There were other body parts that attracted the public's attention.

Ole had been following Martin's latest investment closely. Martin's new CEO, Mete, was very active in the Swedish startup scene and Mete and Ole met regularly at various events. Mete needed more capital to finance the planned aggressive growth of the gym chain. And Ole was ready to get on board. The business figures were simply too tempting.

The press event to mark Ole's entry into the gym empire was a great success. It was accompanied by the opening of a new gym in Martin's former house. And by the victory of the Swedish MMA heavyweight title by the star of the gym, Mehmet. At the photo shoot, Ole was surprised at Mehmet's good Swedish. Actually, he would have expected less from such a monkey. But never mind, Mehmet wasn't there to speak. The photo shoot with Ole and Mehmet was followed by a training session in which the two men demonstrated their skills. Mehmet did everything he could to make Ole look good. But at the end of the session, he said that Ole could do a little more to improve his fitness. After all, he was now a figurehead for the gym. Mehmet had already prepared something: a training and nutrition plan. And Mete had also already procured a few dietary supplements.

[huariqueje]

Fjällgatan 38    -  Tomas Mandel

Swedish, b. 1923 -

Oil on canvas ,  59 x 49 cm.

[mothmiso]

Danderydsgatan, karlavägen (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) by Sina Farhat

[actuallysaiyan]

Silence Teaches You How(Serial Killer!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader)

warnings(PLEASE READ THESE PROPERLY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY) : smut, DARK content, YANDERE themes, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, STALKING, MURDER, unprotected sex, CERVIX mention, creampie finish, DUBCON(bordering on NONCON), slapping, biting, blood mentions, VERY VERY VERY DARK CONTENT

word count: 2.7k

pairings: Serial Killer!Kenpachi x Fem!Reader

summary: there's a serial killer on the loose in your town and you are his next victim...or are you the apple of his eye?

a/n: thank you to Vero(@yeowangies) for helping me with this! this might be one of the darkest things I've ever written. dividers by: @/adornedwithlight. Want the full effect? Listen to the Sinister OST, especially BBQ '79 where I got the title from.

He’s been watching you. Every second of every day, he watches you carefully. He’s never seen anyone so full of youth. So vivacious. You practically bounce with every step you take. It’s so perfect, and yet he’d love to fucking tear you apart.

You’re so unaware that he’s there watching you. You don’t notice that someone is always making sure you get home safely. You don’t realize that someone wants to watch you and see what you’ll do.

Then the reports come on the radio, the TV and even on social media. You try to ignore it, but you’d be lying if you said the thought of a serial killer on the loose didn’t make you the least bit nervous. 

You’ve seen the pictures. He looks tall, and definitely more buff than you thought. Something about him is far more menacing than you’ve ever witnessed. Even though his face is covered by a mask, you swear you can see the anger and hatred in his eyes. You can sense it.

First it’s police outside in your neighborhood to keep watch on things during the dark hours of the night. Then it’s the cops in the schools, making sure kids are safe. Then the curfews start.

After that, you become much more aware of your own surroundings. You find yourself jumping at your own shadows much more. You sleep with a baseball bat under your mattress, ready to grab whenever you need it. You were becoming even more afraid than before. 

Who would have thought something like this would happen in your little town? You thought you could live here without having this kind of worry. You had watched the news and heard all the gruesome things they’d even decided to share.

This man was out there. He was ready to kill his next victim. It didn’t seem to matter to him who it was either. It was going to be any one of you. They had a very hard time trying to pinpoint who it was too. He was ruthless, clever and didn’t leave any traces of who he was.

Every night was the same. You’d get home before the curfew. You’d make yourself dinner and then you’d watch the news until it was time to go to bed. And then you’d meticulously check every window and every door.

You’d never let any of them go unchecked. Not before going to bed.

And yet every night, he still found a way inside…

He found that you had neglected to get that lock changed in your old backdoor. It still locked, but it wasn’t a perfect latch. It was an easy way for him to sneak in too. He would just walk up to the door, unlatched it and then he slid inside.

And for the next few nights after he found out that your door was easy to break into, he decided to watch you sleep. You looked like a pretty little angel. How you slept so peacefully despite the concern and worry you held with you all day. Maybe it was from the sleeping pills he was secretly sneaking into your food and drink when you weren’t being as aware as you thought you were.

Some nights, he would just sit next to your sleeping form on the bed. He would play with your hair, loving the smell of your shampoo. Oh you were just so goddamn beautiful. Too beautiful for someone so dark and ugly like him.

The nights became darker as the season was shifting. Despite it being close to Halloween, it seemed like less and less people were excited for a festival that most usually were looking forward to. This serial killer had plagued this small town with terror and fear.

It was around this time that you started receiving mysterious love letters. You slept with one eye open that night, afraid for your life. The letters were short, but you knew they had to be from him. They couldn’t be from anyone else. And he was hiding them in spots in your apartment.

Finally, you decided to go to the police. You filed a report with them, which made you feel a little more at ease. They promised to come patrolling in your neighborhood a little more heavily that night. You felt like a wave of relief washed over you when one of the policemen gave you his personal number to call if anything happened. And they even promised to do a thorough sweep of your home before you even returned.

Though you weren’t completely able to prove that it was in fact the serial killer sending you these love letters, they weren’t going to be taking chances.

So you got home to the police just leaving your home. They assured you that everything would be alright. One of them stayed patrolling the neighborhood.

So you went through your nightly routine as usual. Though you were very jumpy. You were so afraid. Even trying to settle down and eat your meal was too much. You didn’t feel hungry at all. Your skin was crawling at just the idea of that man lurking somewhere in your apartment.

And then it was time for bed. Oh you were dreading it. Just the thought of being alone in your bed made you scared. You tried to calm yourself with a shower and some tea, but your heart was in your throat. Your stomach was in knots.

You laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling. You had a few lights on, but those were proving to make you feel even more anxious. You looked outside your window to make sure that the police would be outside, but you couldn’t see any of their cars. You tried to reason with yourself and tell yourself that they’d be back in the neighborhood soon.

The lights cut out soon after.

You grabbed for your baseball bat, only to find it missing from its original hiding space. You heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. You gripped your sheets, wanting to pull them up over your head.

He was coming to you. Finally, he would reveal himself to you. He knew there was nothing you could do to stop him. He would finally have you. You were his everything. He was madly in love with you.

The footsteps stop right outside your door. You look over as fear has you stuck on your bed. You’re without a weapon, without help and the lights are cut. You have no real escape unless you take the window. And even then, you’re about 3 storeys up. You’d be risking your death if you tried that route.

Kenpachi snickers to himself. You were completely at his mercy. He sheathes his blade in the holster, smirking as he slowly opens your bedroom door. You’re gripped with fear, praying to some unknown savior. Nobody could take you away from him now. You were all his and he wouldn’t let anyone take you.

“Hello sweetheart,” he croons as he walks in. He’s close to seven feet tall, and he’s big and buff.

You’re shaking as you look up at him. He looks down at you, a smile on his face. You didn’t think that his smile would captivate you quite like this. He then reaches out to caress your cheek, and you shudder when you feel the warm liquid smearing on your face.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. I didn’t mean to…”

He sighs before he sits down next to you. His weight makes the bed dip down. You try to crawl away from him, but he’s quick to pin you down. His smile is a little wilder now, and yet you are still so intrigued.

“Have you been getting my letters?” He asks, leaning in to kiss you.

It’s a warm kiss. Not cold and deathly, like you had imagined someone like him would kiss. It’s so warm. He tastes like iron and cinnamon…he smells like fire. There’s something so captivating. Your brain is yelling at you to push him off and to try for the window. Your heart says you can’t make it on time.

“Have you?” He growls, pinning you down harder. You yelp in surprise.

“I—I have. please…Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone you were here.”

He laughs. “It’s too late for that. I know you already went to the police. Are you that afraid of me, angel?”

You want to say something, but all you can do is shake your head ‘no’. He laughs again. It’s sardonic and deep. This is when you know you won’t be getting out of this alive.

His hands are surprisingly gentle as he begins to caress you. He starts with your face, then down your neck. When he feels your pulse, he notices how badly your heart is racing. He loves having this effect on you.

Then he begins to take off your clothes. You’re pleading and crying to him, trying to appeal to some humanity inside of him, if he has any. He begins to mock you, blubbering and whimpering in a very taunting kind of way.

“Don’t worry about it. You know I’ll make you feel good.”

You want to close your eyes and wish this all away. But you know you can’t do it. Nothing good will even come out of that. You grimace as you feel  his calloused hands on your smooth skin. Something about this ignites a fire deep inside of you.

Kenpachi leans in to lick them off your cheeks, moaning as he finally has your flavor on his tongue. He continues to lick your face, then leaning in closer to bite at your neck as he tugs and pinches your swollen nubs.

He smirks when he notices you lightly arching into his touch. Then he kneads your breasts roughly, making you cry out. He tugs at your nipples, loving the way you’re crying for him. The tears in your eyes that slowly roll down your cheeks make him thirst for you.

“G-get off. Please…I’ll give you money. Please, anything but this.” You try to reason with him.

You feel the sting of his hand on your cheek. More tears roll down your face. You can’t stop sniffling now. You know there’s just no escape from him. And yet part of you doesn’t even want to escape from him. You want to lay here and take what he’s got to offer.

“Say that shit to me one more time, and I promise you’ll regret it.”

His warning is enough to have you settle into the plushness of your blankets. He smiles when he notices how docile you’re being. Kenpachi leans in to whisper in your ear, “I really don’t want to get rough with you, doll. Please don’t make me do that again. Please.”

You nod your head, trying to be as calm as possible. Then his hands wander down your body. He pulls off your pajama pants and he smirks when he sees you’re not wearing any underwear. 

“Perfect. Here’s my meal.”

He spreads your thighs, making you shudder. The way he has complete control over your body has that flame inside of you growing. Arousal pools deep inside of you. Your slick begins to dribble out of you. Kenpachi grunts as he gets a whiff of you.

“Heh,” he laughs. “I knew you’d like this.”

And without another warning, he’s devouring you like he hasn’t had a meal in days. Your nectar is the only thing he ever wants to taste again. His hands grip your thighs so hard, you know there are bruises already forming.

You can’t help but gasp and moan as he hits all your sweet spots. You want to reach down to grip onto his hair, but you stay on the bed and you don’t move. Kenpachi makes the most obscene noises as he works you to a very messy, wet orgasm.

Once you ride out your high, he easily maneuvers you onto your hands and knees. He presses your face into the pillows and all you can hear is a zipper being unzipped. You try to turn around to look at him, but your face is pressed deeper into the pillows.

The first couple of thrusts are experimental. You try to hide your whines of pain, but Kenpachi can hear them. What surprises you is when he begins to play with your clit to make you even more aroused. You let out such a cute moan when he finally bottoms out and rubs against your cervix.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re much tighter than I thought.”

And with that, Kenpachi leans over to grab onto the headboard for leverage and he begins pumping into you. His movements are wild and beastlike. He fucks you with reckless abandon, pulling moans and whines from you. You can just barely make out the words he says as he fucks you hard.

“Love this little pussy. It’s all mine. You know it’s mine…”

A cry is ripped from you as you reach your peak violently. Your legs are shaking as you try to stay up. Kenpachi notices how he’s fucked you so hard and you’ve just cum so good that you can’t stay in this position.

With your walls still clenching, he pushes you onto your back. He wraps your legs around his big frame, sliding into you like it’s no big deal. Then he slowly begins rocking his hips, smirking at your reaction. He definitely loves this position much better than the last.

Then he surprises you again. He reaches up to begin cupping your face. He kisses you sloppily; his tongue is violent in your mouth and wrestles with your own tongue harshly. When he pulls away from the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours.

“This world is ugly,” he grunts. “I’m ugly…”

You cry out for him, “N-no…not ugly.”

His heart flutters. “That’s my good girl. You’re my good girl. I need to take you away from all this. This filth isn’t good for my angel.”

He picks up his pace ever so slightly, making sure to rub up against your sweet spot. You cling to him, your nails digging into the meat of his arms. Kenpachi grunts and he laughs softly. More kisses to your lips, then to your neck. You whine when he bites down.

“If I mark you up, then everyone’s going to know you belong to me.” He laughs again. “Then again…nobody but me will ever get to see you again.”

You don’t want to even think too deeply on what he’s saying. You don’t even want to think about how he’s been making you cum so hard. You didn’t even reach for your phone. The cops never even came back. It’s just you and Kenpachi. You realize you don’t even know his name…

Kenpachi nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he pounds into you. You smell so good. Like springtime and linens. It’s his favorite scent. You taste so good; your sweat and nectar is his favorite flavor. And he feels his balls drawing up and his body twitching.

“Be good,” he growls. “Cum for me. Milk this cock.”

You want to finally push out of this trance, but it’s too late. His thumb is rubbing your clit roughly, making you tumble off the edge just once more. It’s all too much. You can see stars speckling your vision as you try to hang on. Kenpachi pounds into you so hard, you swear he’s trying to enter your cervix.

With a loud roar, Kenpachi begins spilling his seed deep inside your waiting womb. You’re barely conscious at this point. Kenpachi kisses you so hungrily as he rides out his high. When he stops moving, this is when he realizes you’ve passed out. 

When you wake up, you notice you’re no longer home. You’re sitting on a bed in a dimly lit room. You look at the door, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Kenpachi walks in, his mask on his face. You realize that he wasn’t wearing his mask when he broke into your home. Then it all comes back to you. You thrash around on the bed, but Kenpachi is quick to come over to you. He soothes his hand over your face and hair.

“Shh…I’ve taken you away from the filth, angel.”

His words calm you. With tear stained eyes, you look up at him. You know he did exactly that. He is your savior.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[skywalker1dream]

Title: web of obsession

part one | part two Note: my Carlos obsession is back and it seems I can't stop writing about him.:3 hope you are having good day or night, drink water, eat healthy, if you have any requests I'm all ears <3

Summary:When you move into a charming new neighborhood, you catch the eye of Carlos Sainz, your next-door neighbor. What starts as friendly attention quickly spirals into a dark, possessive obsession. As Carlos’s behavior becomes increasingly intense and controlling, you realize you are trapped in the web of his dangerous love. Can you escape his clutches, or will his obsession consume you both?

Warnings: Dark themes, Possessive/obsessive behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Emotional distress, Implied non-consensual control,Dubious consent, Stockholm syndrome

You had just moved into your new apartment, excited to start a new chapter in your life. The neighborhood was charming, with cobblestone streets and blooming flowers adorning the windowsills. It was a refreshing change from the bustling city you had left behind. As you unpacked the last of your boxes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and optimism about your future here.

Little did you know, someone had been watching you closely ever since you arrived. Carlos Sainz, your next-door neighbor, had noticed you the moment you stepped foot in the building. From his window, he observed you carrying boxes, arranging furniture, and finally, the way you smiled with satisfaction once everything was in place. He found himself drawn to you, your innocence and naivety awakening something dark and possessive within him.

Carlos had always been a private person, his life revolving around the high-speed world of Formula 1 racing. But there was something about you that captivated him. Your purity and unawareness of his growing obsession made you irresistible. He had to have you. He needed to protect you, to make sure no one else could ever come close to you.

One evening, as you were settling in with a cup of tea and a good book, you heard a knock on your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Carlos standing there, a charming smile on his face.

"Hi, I'm Carlos, your neighbor. I thought I'd come by and introduce myself," he said, his voice smooth and inviting.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, Carlos. I'm [your name]," you replied, offering a shy smile.

"I noticed you moved in recently. If you need anything or have any questions about the area, feel free to ask," he offered, his eyes darkening slightly as he took in your innocent expression.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," you said, genuinely appreciative of his offer.

_________

Over the next few days, Carlos made a habit of stopping by, offering to help with small tasks, bringing you groceries, and even inviting you out for coffee. You found his attention flattering and appreciated his kindness, unaware of the storm brewing within him.

_________

One night, as you were walking back to your apartment after a late shift at work, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Carlos, his eyes intense and focused on you.

"Carlos, you scared me!" you exclaimed, your heart racing.

"I’m sorry, (Y/N). I was just making sure you got home safely. It's not safe for someone like you to be out alone at this hour," he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

_________

As the weeks passed, Carlos's behavior grew increasingly intense. He would show up unannounced, his eyes filled with a dark hunger that made you uneasy. He would call you constantly, checking up on you, demanding to know where you were and who you were with.

One evening, you decided to confront him. "Carlos, I appreciate your concern, but I feel like you're becoming too... controlling. I need some space," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming. "You don’t understand, Mi amor. I’m doing this for you. I need to protect you. You’re mine," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Fear gripped you as you realized the depth of his obsession. "Carlos, please, I need you to leave," you said, backing away.

But Carlos didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him. "You don’t get it, do you? I can't let you go. I won't let anyone else have you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to break free from his grasp. "Carlos, this isn't right. You’re scaring me," you cried out, hoping to reach the man you once thought was kind and gentle.

But Carlos was beyond reason. His obsession had consumed him entirely, and he was determined to make you his, no matter the cost. "You belong to me, cariño. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means locking you away where no one else can touch you," he declared, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity.

You realized then that you were trapped, caught in the web of Carlos's dark and possessive love. And as he pulled you closer, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

_________

The next day, you woke up to find your phone missing. Frantically, you searched your apartment, but it was nowhere to be found. You decided to ask Carlos if he had seen it, even though you had your suspicions.

When you knocked on his door, he answered almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you. "Carlos, have you seen my phone? I can't find it anywhere," you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

He smiled, a chilling smile that sent a wave of dread through you. "No, I haven't seen it. Maybe you misplaced it," he said, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was lying.

You knew you needed to get away, to find help. But without your phone, you felt isolated and vulnerable. The next few days were a blur of Carlos's increasingly invasive presence and your mounting fear. He seemed to be everywhere, watching you, controlling your every move.

_________

One evening, as you were cooking dinner, Carlos let himself into your apartment with a spare key you didn’t know he had. He stood in the doorway, watching you with a dark intensity.

"Carlos, you can't just come in here uninvited," you said, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him.

"I told you, Mi amor, I'm doing this for you. I need to protect you," he replied, his voice eerily calm.

You felt a chill run down your spine. "Protect me from what? You're the one scaring me," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don't understand, cariño. You need me. Without me, you're vulnerable. Anyone could hurt you," he said, his voice taking on a desperate edge.

"You're the one hurting me, Carlos. This isn't love, this is obsession," you cried out, tears streaming down your face.

Carlos's expression hardened, and he grabbed your arm, pulling you close. "You don't get to decide what's best for you. I do. And I will keep you safe, even if it means keeping you here with me forever," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper.

Desperation surged through you, and you struggled against his grip. "Carlos, please, let me go," you begged, but his hold only tightened.

In a moment of sheer panic, you managed to break free and ran for the door. But Carlos was faster. He caught you, pinning you against the wall, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"Don't you see, cariño? You're mine. And I'll never let you go," he whispered, his voice filled with a terrifying mix of love and madness.

_________

Days turned into weeks, and Carlos's hold on you only tightened. He controlled every aspect of your life. You were not allowed to leave the apartment without him. He provided everything you needed, but it came at the cost of your freedom.

At first, you resisted, your spirit unbroken despite his oppressive behavior. But Carlos was relentless. He showered you with affection in his twisted way, blurring the lines between love and captivity. His touches became more intimate, more demanding, yet he always framed them as acts of love and protection.

One night, after a particularly intense confrontation, you found yourself in his arms, the weight of your fear and isolation bearing down on you. His hand gently stroked your hair as you lay against his chest, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

"Cariño? you know I only do this because I love you," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

"Love shouldn't feel like this," you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Carlos tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It’s the only way to keep you safe. You have to trust me," he insisted, his eyes dark and intense.

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but a part of you, worn down by the constant pressure, began to waver. His touch, once a source of fear, started to feel comforting in your desperate state. The line between captor and protector blurred further with each passing day.

________

One evening, Carlos returned home to find you sitting on the couch, your expression distant. He knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "What's on your mind, mi amor?" he asked, his voice tender.

"I don't know what's real anymore," you confessed, your voice shaking. "I feel like I'm losing myself."

Carlos's grip tightened. "You're not losing yourself. You're finding your true place, with me. I’ll take care of you."

"I’ll take care of you, and you'll see that this is where you belong," Carlos whispered, his voice soothing yet laced with an unsettling authority.

You tried to pull your hands away, but his grip was firm. He moved closer, his eyes locked onto yours. There was an intensity there, a burning need that frightened you, yet you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

"Carlos, this isn't right," you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh, mi amor. You just need to relax and let me take care of everything," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

His lips lingered, trailing down your face, planting kisses on your cheeks and finally your lips. You froze, the mixture of fear and a strange sense of comfort paralyzing you. Carlos deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch both possessive and gentle.

You knew you should resist, that you should push him away, but his words and actions had begun to wear down your resolve. You felt a strange, unsettling warmth spreading through you, a part of your mind beginning to believe his twisted version of love.

Carlos sensed your hesitation and took advantage, his kisses becoming more urgent, his hands moving to your shoulders and down your arms, pulling you closer. Your heart pounded in your chest as he guided you to lie back on the couch, his body pressing against yours.

"Just let go, cariño. Let me love you," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and intoxicating.

You whimpered softly, torn between the instinct to flee and the growing sense of submission. Carlos's hands roamed your body, his touch igniting a confusing mix of fear and desire. He was relentless, his need for control evident in every movement.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands slipped beneath your shirt. You gasped, the sensation both foreign and electrifying. Carlos's kisses trailed down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path as he whispered sweet yet possessive words against your skin.

"I've dreamed of this, of having you all to myself," he murmured, his hands exploring your body with a fervent possessiveness. "You're mine, cariño, mine. No one else can ever have you."

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight back, but your body betrayed you, responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control. His hands found their way to your waistband, and he deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down with a practiced ease. He kissed your stomach, his lips moving lower, and you shivered, torn between fear and a perverse sense of anticipation.

"Carlos, please," you whimpered, unsure whether you were begging him to stop or to continue.

He paused, looking up at you with a dark, intense gaze. "Please what, mi amor? Tell me what you want."

"I... I don't know," you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Carlos's expression softened, and he climbed back up to kiss away your tears. "It's okay, cariño. I'll make you understand. I'll show you how much I love you," he promised, his voice a dangerous mix of tenderness and possessiveness.

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his hands resuming their exploration of your body. Your resistance crumbled further with each passing second, the lines between right and wrong blurring in the haze of his relentless attention.

Carlos was methodical, his actions deliberate and consuming. He undressed you with a slow, practiced ease, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal more of your vulnerable form. His kisses trailed down your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

You felt helpless, trapped in his web of obsession, yet a part of you craved his touch, his approval. He made you feel wanted, cherished in his own twisted way, and that was a feeling you hadn't experienced in so long.

Carlos's hands found their way to your most intimate places, and you gasped, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. He watched your every expression, his eyes dark and hungry.

"See, cariño ? This is how it should be. Just you and me, together," he murmured, his voice hypnotic.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the inevitable, your mind and body betraying you in the most intimate of ways. Carlos took you with a possessive passion, his love both a prison and a twisted form of salvation.

As the night wore on, you found yourself clinging to him, your emotions a chaotic whirlwind of fear, desire, and a growing sense of dependence. Carlos's obsession had consumed you both, binding you to him in a dark and inescapable embrace.

In the depths of your mind, a small voice screamed for freedom, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming force of Carlos's love. You were his, and he would never let you go.

___________

[seiwas]

SEL MY SEL …….. crawling over here for the ask game …………… you already know . who i’m going to ask for phdkdjdkdb IN MY DEFENSE I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOUR VERSION OF HIM !!!!!!!

….. sugu ….. with ’sun’ ……. maybe 👉👈

(🍵 <- a little matcha for your troubles … good luck with the writing exercises my loveee <33 i’m cheering you on!!!)

ARI 🥹🥹🥹🥹 hehe ofc i shall write sugu for u! writing him is always so fun 🥹 thank you for the prompt, and for the matcha!! i will be sipping it as i write this 🥹 it is not a trouble at alllll!! esp if it's for youuuuu 🫶

contains: beautiful, gorgeous, sexy neighbor suguru, mood can be a bit unsettling... honestly a little stockholm syndrome-y (does this count as dark? idk 😭), skewed concept of reality and time

suguru + sun

you move into a new neighborhood on your 24th birthday.

it's a quaint house, fully furnished with wooden panels lining its contemporary build. you consider yourself lucky for finding a place this well-kept at the price point you offered. you're honestly surprised that suguru, your now landlord, accepted your application.

the area sits a few kilometers on the outskirts of the city, but it feels neither too quiet nor too busy; a perfect balance with an impressive view of the rising sun this early in the morning. that, and the people seem friendly, greeting you as they pass by. they even offer to help you haul things out of your car and into the house.

to the right of your house is one that holds the same design elements at yours, although a bit darker in its tones. it's sleek and modern, befitting of a bachelor.

"you must be the new tenant," a voice speaks from behind you, syrupy and smooth. you didn't even hear his footsteps.

when you turn around, you're met with a tall man who greets you with his arms held behind his back as he tilts his head low. there's a calmness that radiates off him, a sort of gentleness that signals he’s someone you can trust.

you nod, introducing yourself with your hand outstretched towards him.

"suguru," he replies as his fingers grab yours delicately. your eyes widen in surprise, recognizing the name, and he merely chuckles in return, a soft laugh that brings out kindness in his eyes.

"i should greet you properly," he lets go of your hand, placing it back behind him. "hello, new neighbor."

.

over shared breakfasts by your porch and impromptu dinners over at his, you grow a liking to suguru. he's polite and thoughtful, often knocking at your door in the mornings to offer you a cup of tea to watch the sunrise.

"you'll only find sunrises like this here," he leans back on the wooden chair you set out as outdoor furniture. his head tilts towards you slightly, impossibly close as you notice the corner of his lips curl up into a small grin.

hues of pinks, purples, and orange blend to illuminate his face perfectly. the sun is beautiful in front you, peeking between clouds as it inches away from the horizon, but something about him is infinitely more magnetic. your stare is immediately drawn to his lips, smooth and supple, before it meets his gaze.

you don't know what's worse―wanting to lean in or be pulled by the look in his eyes.

he fixes things that break in your home, always somehow knowing just when to show up. at first, it was your windows, the one by the attic, too high and dangerous for you to climb; then, it was your kitchen sink, its pipes regurgitating the water going down the drain. he's begun to bring you your groceries too, often asking for a list of what you need when he makes trips out of town.

your days blur easily when you're with suguru, and time passes almost fleetingly as you find your hours filled with soft laughs and touches so delicate you sometimes wonder whether they're real.

it should be noted, you think, how much time has passed since you first met him―an anniversary of some sort.

.

you learn that he owns both houses―his and the one you're currently renting. it once belonged to a friend who had to move for bigger, greater responsibilities elsewhere, he'd said.

"why did you decide on renting?" you ask him one night, over wine and candlelight.

your fingers fiddle with his as he sits you on his lap, this thing between you growing more intimate lately. he rubs his thumb along your thigh, resting his chin by your shoulder.

"you could have sold it or something."

he presses his lips gently on your collarbone.

"i could've," his fingers trail up to your waist, crossing your chest before landing on your chin, cupping it lightly to face him. your heart is hammering in your chest, senses on fire as his nose kisses yours. you think you can count every mole that dots his face beautiful. then, he inches closer, lips grazing yours as he whispers, "but i was waiting for you."

.

you mark each day at sunrise.

your digital clocks and calendars stopped working after some time, but you don't mind. suguru always tells you what date it is when you ask.

this morning, you wake up in his bed, and the sun is still as breathtaking as you remember it, the same pink, purple, and orange hues streaming through his window. when you look closely, the clouds―

"good morning," he brings you tea in bed, his hair topped off with a bun, a half-up-half-down.

your stomach fills itself with something warm and fuzzy as you smile at him, "morning."

"slept well?" his hand reaches for your waist under the duvet, and you giggle, ticklish.

"very," you crane your neck to land a soft kiss on his lips. "what date is it today?"

"october 28," he supplies.

your eyebrows shoot up as you realize, "i have to bring my car to the mechanic."

it's been 6 months now since your last check, right before you moved, and though you barely use your car anyway, it's best to be safe.

you quickly move to get up but suguru's hand keeps you in place, firmly pressed on your waist.

"i'll do it," he says with a smile on his face, "you rest here."

.

you barely see your other neighbors except for the girl who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and the twins down the street.

when you ask suguru about it, he dismisses the question quickly, saying, "must have moved," as he urges you to take another sip of your tea.

you dream of them that night, on bare streets; it wakes you in a cold sweat, the image of your neighborhood reduced to just your house and suguru's.

.

this is the 200th sunrise since you started counting, which means this is the 200th day since you and suguru officially got together. kind of.

your gift for him is a painting of the sunrise, because it reminds you of him; and because it's become your favorite thing to look forward to, too.

the pinks and purples blend together beautifully as it contrasts with the orange hues, and the sun continues to peak above the horizon as it settles between clouds.

suguru kisses you when you give it to him, the taste of tea right on his tongue.

he frames it on his bedside, and when you wake in his room the next morning, it greets you along with the back of his head, fast asleep.

your eyes flit to the view outside his window, the same pinks, purples, and orange hues. you tilt your head curiously, brows furrowing. the sun stays at the same spot above the horizon, and when you look at the painting again, the clouds hold the same position and shape.

a chill washes over you, your hearbeat pounding.

.

"what date is it today?" you ask suguru as you wash the potatoes in the sink.

another bag of groceries from suguru. now that you think about it, you don't think you've ever gone to the grocery store since moving.

"is it important?" he responds, slightly snappy. you've begun to notice that he hates it when you ask lately.

you eye him from the side.

"i was thinking of preparing a menu of what we'll eat during the holidays, if it's near."

the furrow on his brows smooths out as you give your answer, and so he says, "december 5."

and you know something is wrong, because that can't be it. it doesn't make sense with the sunrises you've counted.

.

you dream again, more and more as the days go by―dirt roads and your house and suguru's, run-down and empty. more things start breaking in your apartment, and suguru always knows when they need to be fixed.

there's a deep, twisting feeling in your stomach that intensifies, festering under your skin; it worsens in the mornings, when you sit with suguru at your porch and you think you see a crack in the sunrise.

.

sunrise valley the place where the sun never sets! ─── beautiful, bright, and destined for people who live just like you! find your new home here.

[DISCONTINUED] — FOR DEMOLITION ON DECEMBER 7. under investigation for suspicious spiritual activity and missing persons.

[tainted-heartz]

Can I ask for a Yandere Wally with a Reader who is trapped in his world in his human form, maybe the reader is confused and asks and asks wally for help to get back to his world or adapt…

Now a little cuteness maybe the reader she was distracted and didn't notice Wally's presence so she fell on top of him and accidentally kissed him (sorry cliché romance scene, maybe this is wally's first kiss on the mouth?)

| cliché romance is my favorite so YES OFC!! to clarify I'm gonna use partycoffins official human version of wally! (also I adore the pokemon au this design is from) |

- wally is aware you were stuck this is what he wanted after all. to allow you top adapt easier he made himself look more human and did a few little tricks to make the rest of the neighbors look human as well but the neighborhood still looked overly cartoony.

- he acted obvious when you came up to him and asked for help to leave but he just smiled. “ what do you mean , neighbor? you belong here. ” but clearly this responses wasn't the one you wanted. you sighed and asked if you could live with him for a while and adapt to your new life because wally clearly wasn't going to let you leave.

- over time you gained more romantic feelings towards the small painter by the day. he seemed to get not as..stalkerish around you but clearly was possessive over you even around his close friend barnaby.

- he even trusted you enough eventually to style his hair for him but by god his hair was either silky or fluffy. brushing it was a hastle but him rambling did make it a little bit more tolerable.

- speaking of rambling , he ends up rambling about how much he loves you and how long he's watched you which you hoped was a joke but..wasn't. he was being honest about how much he watched you before you were dragged into his world but you just shrugged it off.(stockholm syndrome™)

- one day you were just casually cleaning up home after you did some dishes since wally and you had split chores around the house. at least he tried to make it fair. as you were picking up his art supplies and cleaning up some left up canvases you bumped right into him. you could blame it on his height but everything was sudden as you two fell to the ground with you on top of him. of course it had to be an accident kiss- as you quickly pulled away from him you panicked and apologized PROFUSELY.

- wally was silent before he muttered “ that was my first kiss.. ” that left you in shock as you went almost as red as he was. “ ha. ha. it was nice even if it was..accidental. ” he smiled at you before sitting up to give you a gentle kiss on your lips before standing up and staring at your still shocked expression. he helped you up and picked up his canvases. “ thank you for the help , dearest. you know where to put my brushes. ” its almost so funny how pleased he was and also acting like it never happened..