#Yandere Geto Suguru

[after-witch]

Points of No Return [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Points of No Return [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You run into someone from your old life and it shakes you into making a decision you might regret. Companion piece to Bait, Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome; mentions of physical and mental abuse, mentions of pregnancy

The town is hustling and bustling. It looks a little different every time you visit. New banners, new shops, an endless sea of revolving faces that you barely remember once you’re back home.

Here, in the outdoor market, there is a sense of thrumming aliveness that keeps your thoughts dancing from one step to the next. Should you go to this stall, or that one? Stop for a bite to eat? Check out new wares? A dress for yourself, bracelets for the girls, a book for him–or not? There’s too much. Too many people, too many choices. It makes it hard to concentrate. 

But then a squeeze to one your hands--Nanako and Mimiko on either side of you, the three of you making quite the trio on a trip--brings you back the ground.

“We’ll go look for our gifts,” the girls say, smiling. “You should look for something new to wear to the party.”

You smile and wave them off and turn towards the nearest stalls with fabrics and kimonos hanging up for sale. The outfit should be elegant, but understated. That’s what the girls told you, which means that’s probably what Geto told them.

An outfit appropriate for his birthday party.  

You’ll find something here, that’s certain. With this many stalls, and the amount of money allotted for the trip. 

The city was shocking, the first time you were allowed to visit again. You didn’t stay long–a panic attack took care of that. It was too much in a horribly overwhelming way, and you’d buried yourself against his chest and asked to leave. 

Of course, Geto had been with you then. It took a year for the girls to convince him to let you come only with them–a girls’ trip. And here, now, years down the line, you didn’t even need to beg and plead. It was a matter of fact: the girls were taking you shopping, and you’d go home to Geto, and that was that.

Sure, it’s still overwhelming; but not in a way that leaves you breathless. It does make you long to go home, to sweep into Geto’s private quarters, to relax in that space which has finally become warm and inviting to you. A sanctuary, away from his followers, away from any sense of the greater world out there.

It would be nice, to go home later today. To be with him. To have him hold you and kiss you, to simply sit quietly at his feet while he reads. He was kinder, now. In his own way. Long gone are the days of punishments, of scoldings, of that awful bitterness that kept you from truly feeling alive. 

And–just when did that happen? That sense of normalcy–happiness, even?--with him. With your life.

Your fingers fumble with the fabric you’re holding and there’s a few awful moments where the world wants to spin, but simply stands stationary instead and makes you feel its terrible crushing weight. You want to take it back, those thoughts; want to simply go about your day like everything was normal, and fine, and–

Someone calls your name. Someone close.

It’s not the girls. It’s a man. A man’s voice, but who, and why, and how long has it been since anyone has said your name that hasn’t been Geto or the twins or one of his followers? 

Your name, again. Spoken softer, but breathier. Like he’s shocked. Surprised. But pleased? 

You turn slowly, your brain whirring into action, putting forgotten puzzle pieces back together as it pulls from deep within the foggy recesses of your memories.

The voice. The mole on his cheek, the curve of his jaw. The color of his eyes. It’s yanked from deep within your mind, sticky taffy that barely wants to come up–but it does and he does and you know this man.

“Kenji?”

It tastes sour, this man’s name on your lips–a name that isn’t, for the first time in years, his.

The muted shock within you is like wet sand, being scooped and patted firm by a small hand. 

He says your name again, and takes your hand in his own–your heart begins to beat more rapidly, knowing that this is wrong, that Geto will know, somehow, that another man’s touch has been upon you.

He says more things. Things that barely register. That your family has missed you. Your friends have missed you. He’s missed you. 

It shouldn’t be surprising. He was–after all–your boyfriend. Was. Had been. Once upon a time, when the world was different. 

“What happened to you?” He asks, and you don’t answer. You can’t. Not fully.

“I…” How do you tell him, exactly? Where do you even start? And where would you end? By telling him that gosh, you were just thinking about how you’d like to get back home to the man who kidnapped you years ago. The man who’s held you hostage and hurt you, but the man who–who loves you, too? Who saved you, who is kind when he can be.

“Your parents are going to be so happy,” Kenji says, quietly, filling your silence. They hadn’t been on your mind in some time, and isn’t that awful of you? But it was too hard to think about them. It hurt too much. So you put them away, like old things in a drawer, to be avoided like a painful memory. 

But… they had been hurt, of course, by your disappearance. They missed you. Did others miss you? And had you been missing them, all along? Only for that pain to be glossed over to protect yourself. A selfish sort of trickery. 

Pangs in your heart begin to puncture that heavy shock. Your mother. Your father. Your best friend. Your dog. Neighbors, the friendly woman at the grocery store who always stuck a pack of gum in your bag before you left. And–Kenji. Kenji, too. 

Tears prick at your eyes and you know they’re threatening to spill. Just when had you forgotten all of them? Set them all in that dusty drawer, to avoid the pain, to indulge in the comfort of increasingly familiar days inside Geto’s compound. 

“Listen,” Kenji says, soft, slow. As if you were wrapped in a silver emergency blanket and perched on the end of an ambulance after fighting off a monster. And–have you been? 

Confusion blurs your thoughts, your memories. You haven’t been… unhappy in a long time. Haven’t thought about those unpleasant days, when you fought. When you ran. Instead, you’ve thought about how comfortable you are; how nice it feels when Geto puts aside his duties now and then, and spends more time with you.

When did you stop trying to get away?

Kenji seems to sense your thoughts, somehow; sense your inner turmoil which must surely be written on your face as clear as day. 

“I’ll help you,” he continues, as his words seem to grow louder and louder in your ear. Like a siren–like a wake up call. “Meet me at the park around the corner. Tonight. Whatever’s going on… whatever’s happened, I can help you.” 

I can help you. And you need it, don’t you? Help?

Your mouth opens stupidly, like a fish, but before you can say anything, two familiar presences are by your side. 

Kenji drops your hands, and you find yourself staring down at them. 

“Who is this?” Mimiko asks, a shopping bag tucked over her arm. She takes one of your hands in hers, gives it a firm squeeze.

“Do you know them?” Nanako’s hand is in yours just as swiftly as her sister’s, and this time, you recollect yourself–you give her hand a squeeze first.

“I don’t know,” you lie, the first time you’ve lied to the girls in what seems like forever. “He was just apologizing for running into me.”

The girls look at each other, leaning forward, with you in between. You feel the weight of their stares glancing by you, like they might just brush your cheek. 

But–

“Let’s go home,” is all they say together, and begin to lead you away. You don’t dare answer Kenji, but as they turn you away, you dare it–

You give the smallest of nods.

You’ll meet him.

–

“Did you behave?” Geto murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. Every muscle in your body seems to lock in at once, the thought pattering against your skull–He knows he knows he knows he knows–before he pulls away and laughs a little. A melodic sound that pulls you down from your tense height, though it feels like your feet skid the entire way.

“Only a tease,” he says, almost airily, before he looks at the girls. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Nanako and Mimiko exchange a look, and there, an awful thought–They’ll tell him–before they dutifully pull the sides of their shopping bags closer in near unison to hide their gifts. 

“You’ll find out at the party,” they say in unison, and you can’t help the cold wash of relief that runs through your stomach. They must have believed you, and they know mentioning the man to Geto will only spoil the party they’ve been planning for weeks. 

It will definitely spoil it, you think, once he finds out you’ve run away.

–

You’re not very poetic, as a general rule of thumb. Oh, sometimes you try. You take pen to paper and scribble out lines about your feelings, about the way the trees look in the garden you’re allowed to roam, the way Geto’s empty side of the bed feels in the morning. 

It never amounts to anything satisfying, you can’t quite seem to make the words stick. But here, now, in this moment, maybe you could write something worth remembering.

The moonlight brushes against Geto’s hair as daintily as your fingers, which skim the strands on the pillow, not daring to get anywhere close to his scalp, to the softness of his cheek. He might wake up. He might wake up and realize that he’s let you go in the night, his arms tired and slack, and you’ve slipped out of bed–

But you’re not gone yet, are you? No. Now, you’re leaning next to the bed, watching the way the moonlight through the window makes half his face glow in the darkness. He looks like a sculpture, with only a hint of his chest rising to tell you that he’s a living being, and not some piece of marble in the garden.

And oh, how lovely he looks. How serene. 

Maybe you should stay. Maybe this is an awful idea. Maybe it will simply lead to trouble and upset and you’ll topsy-turvy everything in your world again, and it won’t be worth it.

But then you remember Kenji’s hands squeezing yours and those thoughts, whirling and long repressed, of the world outside. The world you left behind. A world waiting to welcome you again, you’re sure, if you just make that first move to leave.

So you do leave–swiftly and with dread and hope fighting for space in your stomach. 

–

Meeting Kenji in the park is surreal. Being truly alone in some outside place, away from attendants, away from the girls, away from Geto. It is only you and Kenji and the moon above, watching silently. 

You don’t tell him about this out of body feeling; there is an embarrassment that overtakes you all too suddenly at the thought of letting him know everything.

Instead, you tell him about the kidnapping. The training. The ups and downs with Geto, the highs and lows of what has become of your life. The escape attempts, the fights, the slow descent into accepting that you won’t be able to leave.

You don’t tell him what he doesn’t need to know. How it feels when Geto strokes your back on nights you feel lonely, how it makes your stomach flutter when he kisses you with a quiet warmness instead of hunger; how you no longer dread his presence, but normalize it, welcome it–invite it, even.

“We’ll go to the police,” he says, and you feel bad for the barking laugh that pushes its way out of your throat. He didn’t mean to say something stupid. Pointless. You know that.

“He would find me,” you say, quietly. “Find us. He’d kill anyone involved. He’d kill you.” Would he kill me? You wonder, and don’t ask aloud. This should make Kenji give up. Run away, and protect himself. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he grips your hand again, squeezing it like he’s been the one to hold you all these years. He waits until you turn to look at him, and you can see the glossy tears in his eyes, the way he looks so frazzled–but determined. Hopeful. Kind. 

“Please let me help you.”

These words hurt your chest. 

“Is there a day you can slip away like this again?”

You don’t answer right away. You chew on the words, heart pounding. 

How sick it feels that some part of you wants to say no. Wants to be Cinderella hiking up her ballgown and calling out that she has to get back to her kidnapper’s compound by midnight or she’ll turn into a pumpkin.

But–

It’s not just Kenji that you left behind, is it? It’s your parents, your friends, your family, your neighbors. The world itself. 

And something small inside you, louder and louder, knows you want to get back to that world. 

“The party,” you murmur, almost without thinking. “Tomorrow night. Can you meet me at the gate of the compound?” 

Kenji’s smile breaks your heart and you feel tears slipping down your cheeks. He reaches up to brush them away and you almost flinch from the intimacy.

“Tomorrow night,” he repeats.

Tomorrow night indeed.

The giddiness of it all carries you all the way back to the compound, sneaking through the shadows, stumbling through the gaps in security that the girls taught you one evening so they could take you to see a movie in town. 

It even carries you through the hallways back to Geto’s bedroom, where he should still be sleeping–

Where he is, instead, sitting in his chair and staring right at you as you come through the doorway. He stands, when you enter, and you don’t move as he bridges the gap between you. 

"Where did you go off to?"

A lie passes your lips as easily as air. "I was just helping with the decorations for the party. S-Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.” 

He pauses, pulls you closer and leans in, kisses your neck. “Ah,” he hums, “And here I was worried you were trying to escape again.” He sighs into your skin, warm and tickling. “You’ve been so good. But I still wonder, now and then…”

It feels impossible for your muscles to lock in so tight, but they do, even as he pulls you back into the bedroom towards your shared bed. 

“No,” he says, almost a murmur. “You’ve been so good to me these past years, haven’t you?” He gestures towards the bed and you climb onto it, no need for instructions, and begin to disrobe. Your chest is tight–everything from your head to toe feels tight–and you’re waiting for something to snap. Him–or you? 

But he doesn’t. And you don’t. Instead, he lets his robe drop to his shoulders, then lower. 

“I think I’d like an early present,” he says, low. And the sound of his voice, the sight of him disrobing, brings a familiar heated flush–a familiar pride. A familiar feeling of usefulness that he has cultivated in you through careful training.

You don’t protest as he climbs onto the bed, as he hovers over you and begins to take what is his–but as your head hits the pillow, you wonder how much emptier the bed will be tomorrow night. –

It’s like you're not in your own body. Can Geto tell? Can the girls? You take another pretend sip of champagne so they think you’re just drunk, high on the alcohol and not the thought of freedom. What an elusive thing, freedom. Something you’d given up on grasping yet here it is, dangling in front of you, held by Kenji’s warm hands.

Geto is too busy for most of the night to stay near you. There are too many people, too many speeches, too many moving parts. It’s glorious, really, for the opportunity it gives you–

Because when he’s crowds-deep into the room, and the girls have run off to start gathering the gifts, you are able to slip away. It feels sickeningly easy. No one pays much attention to you anymore, not like they might have a few years ago, keeping you on a tight and perhaps literal leash.

It wasn’t practical to pack anything, so you try not to regret leaving a few treasured items behind as you shift through the shadows, keeping yourself in the darkness. Though it hardly matters. Most everyone is at the party, desperate for a glimpse of Geto; desperate to please him. Like you are, sometimes. Or were, you think. You’re going to leave all that behind. Aren’t you?

Kenji is standing at the gate like he isn’t seriously risking his life to help you. Like this is a game. He even smiles when you make it, as he pushes open the unlocked door and grips your hand to pull you through.

It makes your heart feel a bit strained–how stupid he is, how little he knows about Geto. How much more you know about him, how cruel he can be–How he looks when he sleeps contentedly by your side, how his smile gets a little higher when you do something he finds cute, how his fingers feel against your cheek.

Your feet skid against the ground. Oh, oh–

Kenji looks back when your gravity pulls against him. 

He says your name, and your chest tightens.  

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” A touch of annoyance in his voice. No wonder, he is afraid to get caught, after all. 

“No,” you say, voice cracking, throat dry. But haven’t you left something behind? No, not something. Someone. (Not just him–not just him, but the girls, too.) “It’s just–I just–I don’t know if I…” 

If I can leave him. 

You shouldn’t feel this way. You shouldn’t. But you do, and it keeps you rooted, keeps your shoes digging into the ground even as Kenji gives you a tug.

“Come on,” he says, more of a hiss. “We don’t have much time.” He gives another tug, and this time you actually pull against his grip. 

“I can’t!” 

The shock registers on his face as quickly as it registers in your heart, plucking hard like a taut string. 

Kenji’s surprise turns to something else, an emotion you haven’t seen for some time. Irritation–no. Stronger. Harder. Something meaner mixed with disbelief.

“What the hell–” He says your name in a way that makes it sound like an awful thing. “Don’t tell me–” His lip curls, his eyebrows furrow. “Don’t tell me you love that bastard. Think of what he’s done to you!”

Your tongue snakes out to lick your dry lips and you know what might be said here. What Kenji wants to hear. That you’re just confused, you’re scared, you don’t know what to do. 

But you do know what to do. And what you can’t say. What you don’t want to say to him. 

It doesn’t need to be said, anyway. It’s clear as day on your face, on the way your shoes are planted in the ground. Kenji’s expression turns awful and you can tell he understands that truth of yours; a truth that feels so much uglier when you’re outside the compound. 

You do love Geto. You do, and maybe it’s wrong and fucked up and–

Geto is here–somewhere. You can feel him, although there’s no sign of him anywhere, no sound of approaching footsteps. But it’s something innate in you now, this ability to sense his presence. 

“You have to leave,” you say, quickly, words hopping out of your mouth like a skipping stone. “Before it’s too late. He–he’ll kill you.” And despite the way Kenji looked at you, you don’t want him dead. You just want him gone and out of your life, back to his old world, even if he will no longer be ignorant–happily?--of your whereabouts.

For a moment he keeps a grip on your hand, and you wonder if he’ll plead with you to come with him. Convince you that your life here is terrible and you need to leave. He’ll try to convince you for so long that Geto will come and kill him, and you’ll sob over his dead body.

None of that happens. Instead, he lets go, abruptly, like your hand is electric. 

He says your name and when you look up at him, he merely shakes his head. 

“I don’t know who you are anymore. You’ve… changed.” Changed. Said awfully, like the word was spoiled milk in his mouth. 

“What do you mean?” And you ask this, despite perhaps not wanting the answer. 

It doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t give one.

Instead, he turns, without so much as a goodbye, and leaves you standing alone at the gate in the darkness. 

Alone–and clutching the string of your heart that kept you from leaving in the first place.

–

Everything is wrong. The compound should be lit up, all sound and music, the din of people inside the party. But instead, it’s like the world has been snuffed out–there is only darkness. Not even the familiar glow of candles in hallways or electric lights snug inside the maze of rooms.

There’s only one light and you follow it, moth to flame, all the while a knot in your stomach ties itself tighter and tighter. The world is quiet and dark and you’re going to the only thing you can see–the temple where Geto and his followers meet. 

A temple of light, now.

You don’t see anyone inside as you cross the threshold, but you’re not stupid enough to think that you’re alone.

And you aren’t–you aren’t, and when you sense Geto behind you, it is with the same familiarity as the feeling of someone presenting your winter coat to be put on at the long end of a weary evening.

Only instead of being enveloped in warmth, Geto stands behind you–and his hand shoots out to grip your neck.

It’s nostalgic, in its own way. The press of his fingers against your neck, the slight squeeze. A warning, but this time, you think it will be more than that. A blown last chance, perhaps. He’ll kill you. Or throw you out, and that might just be worse. 

“It was quite stupid of you,” he says, slowly, as if you need time to process his words, “to think that I wouldn’t find out what you were planning.”

How awfully nostalgic, too, when he pushes you against the hard stone of one of the statues in the temple. It connects with your side in a flash of pain, and Geto turns you around with ease. If he notices the way your body has begun to tremble, he doesn’t show it. 

“Humor me,” he murmurs, curling his hand around the front of your neck. “Why didn’t you leave with him?” 

His expression is cold, you think. You’ve gotten so much better at reading him, and yet, you haven’t done anything particularly displeasing in so long that it feels like wading into unfamiliar territory. 

“Not that you would have gotten far,” he adds, a slight sneer in his tone. “Not with that fool.”

A sneer in his tone, yes, but also–is it jealousy? How could Geto be jealous of someone like Kenji? Geto, who is smarter, and stronger; Geto, who always seems to know what you need, even when you don’t. Geto–the man you can’t imagine being without, despite it all.

The thoughts come like dominos, clicking together with precision.

“I didn’t leave because… because…”

Despite his grip on your neck, despite your trembling, despite the fear that he might kill you–

“I love you.”

You reach out and caress his cheek with one hand, and reach forward, his fingers pressing into the soft tissue of your neck, to kiss him softly on the lips. 

The surprise that registers on his face does not meld into disgust like Kenji; instead, it seems to freeze, and you’re keenly aware of the fact that you know he prefers to initiate any intimate contact himself. You forgot, in your haze, in the blurry anxiety of this evening. 

“I’m–” 

Sorry, you were going to say, but you don’t say; because his lips are suddenly on yours, hungry and warm and unrelenting. The hand on your throat grips the back of your hair and keeps you in place as he presses himself closer against you.

And what trembling you had from before is replaced with anew, but from warmth this time, from the buzzing that begins low in your bellybutton and spreads as Geto’s kisses travel from your mouth to your neck; as his fingers begin to work at your clothes.

“I want to hear you say that again–” He bites your neck, lapping at the mark. “And again–” His fingers undo the last belt holding your outfit together, and the fabric drops to the ground. “And again.”

You whimper as he guides you further into the temple, onto the space where he might normally greet his followers. The tatami presses against your bare skin as he begins to undo his own clothes, not bothering to order you to do it for him in his need.

“Until you’re screaming it,” he murmurs, his hair tickling your face as he looms over you. 

And you know his words are nothing short of a promise. 

–

You are sometimes a stupid thing, he thinks. Yet you are undoubtedly still his–stupid, yes, on occasion. But his. 

You proved that to him, on the night you chose not to run away. You wouldn’t have been able to, of course. That moronic monkey that called himself your “boyfriend” had neither the intelligence nor stamina to get you farther than the gate. He didn’t even sense the guards watching him the entire time.

He didn’t sense Geto, either, early the next morning, when he came to kill the fool who thought he’d steal something from a far superior being. 

If he hadn’t been still basking in the bliss of the night before, it might have been more excruciating. Oh, it hurt. Kenji’s eyes had gone wide and he’d choked on blood and tried desperately to get some final words out. But it might have been more entertaining to drag it out for hours–days–perhaps longer.

Ah, the things you make him do, without even realizing it. Unintentional mercy was just another thing to add to the list of things you’ve placed on his shoulders. 

He’d come here to tell you just that; to tell you how Kenji died, and why he died, and how he’s glad you’ll never have to worry about him bothering you again.

Only you’d surprised him. Something you don’t often do, even when you try.

Surprised him with a shy smile and your hands behind your back, holding something apparently quite precious.

It was–it is. 

A positive pregnancy test. No doubt procured by one of the girls. 

The full weight of it doesn’t hit him yet, won’t hit him, he thinks, until much later on. A child–with you. There is much to consider. Legacies and heirs and all that.

But for now, he focuses on you. You, not leaping for joy but smiling at him, an almost nervous sort of expectation on your face. He can see the thoughts dancing inside your head–Is this okay? Is he angry? Will he be happy? And he can never quite describe how it feels, this knowledge that he has so much power over you.

That he can make you smile shyly and look down with a nervous little glance and ask if he’s happy.

It’s endearing, truly. You’re endearing. 

And ah, that unintentional mercy strikes again. It is enough to make him slip Kenji’s bloodied watch into a fold of his robe.

For now–he’ll let you plan on how you’ll share the news with the twins. 

You can learn about the fool’s death another time.

[yanderenightmare-reblogs]

my type shit

not to bring up satosugu pet play au again but suguru would hire a dog sitter reader to "babysit his dog with separation anxiety while he's at work." you get to the house and call out "satoru!" expecting a golden retriever or husky to trot up to you, but instead satoru crawls out naked with a chew toy in his mouth insisting you play with him.

just food for thought...

eevy eeves eevling you HAVE to know how much this ask has absolutely haunted me for like. five days now.

it'd suck so fucking bad for everyone involved, if only because satoru would NOT like you at first. you've been tricked into joining in on a couple's fucked up little lifestyle pet play kink, likely trapped by an ironclad contract suguru had you sign after warning you that his "precious satoru isn't trained quite as strictly as he could be", and the man you're being paid to watch pretend to be a dog is just. so incredibly mad he has to put up with you while his wife/owner/captor is at work. he'll chew up your clothes and cum inside of your shoes to try and drive you away (rather than his usual, hornier reasons), but you sold your soul to suguru for this job, so it's all you can do to smile and ask him if he's ready for his afternoon grooming session :))

meanwhile, suguru's treating you less like an employee and more like someone who entered into their dynamic willingly. he's likely providing your room and board, so expect to wake up to a new "gift" on the foot of your bed every morning, usually some kind of leather collar-like choker paired with a sweet note about how glad he is that you and satoru are getting along so well. after a few weeks, he starts hitting you with an occasional 'good girl/boy', and for your two month anniversary, he buys a leash with your name engraved into it, just as a little joke for the two of you, he promises. after a while, satoru even starts treating you like a part of their little family - drawing out your name with the same melody he uses for suguru's, sneaking into your room in the middle of the night to sleep in your bed, trying to "play" (i.e. hump your leg until you managed to very politely ask him to get off of you) with you when suguru isn't home, etc. if it gets bad enough, you might start to question if your (admittedly generous) check really is worth it.

and, if you're lucky enough, you'll realize it's very much not before suguru manages to find a dog crate in your size.

[delulustateofmind]

The Assistant Program

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Manipulation, Dub Con, Getting frisky (they're fucking) in the backseat of a car...Pet name: Puppy, pup. Mean sugu. Cum play? (Very brief). overstimulation.

Yan!Geto x Assistant!Reader

WC: 4k

a/n: Ahhhh, geto is rotting my brain again. There's something about him NOT being allowed to defect that has me frothing. I wrote a blurb earlier about this but was never actually able to get the idea into words until recently.

What if Geto Suguru hadn't crossed the line that night? If he hadn’t succumbed to the darkness, yet still nursed a quiet, simmering disdain for nonsorcerers—a festering grudge that earned him more than a few wary glances from the higher-ups.

Their answer to his "problem"? The Assistant Program.

It was Gojo who delivered the news, all lazy smiles and half-hearted reassurances as he clapped Suguru on the shoulder. “Think of it as a little help for that summer fatigue you’ve been dragging around,” he quipped, though Suguru caught the faint edge of caution in his friend’s gaze.

Suguru only smiled in response, his usual gentle expression betraying none of the irritation boiling beneath the surface. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, glinted with something unreadable as he watched Gojo walk away.

And then, there was you.

A grade four sorcerer. Not someone who belonged in his orbit, freshly graduated like him with an incredibly low grade. A novice in comparison to his strength—a mere puppy forced to share missions, long car rides, and quiet evenings with him.

You were annoyingly bright, a contrast to the brooding aura he so often carried. Your cheerful demeanor and the way you fidgeted nervously around him should have grated on his nerves. At first, it did. Suguru wasn’t sure whether to laugh at your naivety or sneer at your eagerness to please.

How could you grin at him so freely, as if the thought of erasing all nonsorcerers didn’t run through his mind like a broken record?

But as time went on, he began to notice the little things. The way your gaze lingered on him, captivated by the dark cascade of his hair that framed his sharp features. The way you’d steal glances at the broad span of his shoulders, the way his uniform hugged his tall, lean, but muscular frame.

He didn’t miss how your voice softened whenever you said his name, how you leaned closer without even realizing it when he spoke. It wasn’t long before irritation twisted into something far more dangerous.

You weren’t just a puppy anymore. You were his puppy

Suguru made it a game—seeing how far he could push you, how much he could demand, and how readily you would obey. His long, calloused fingers would tug lightly at your sleeve when he called you into his apartment late at night, his dark eyes narrowing with faux vulnerability as he claimed he was having “certain thoughts.”

Bleary-eyed, still fumbling to tie your coat, you’d show up on his doorstep, tail wagging in that metaphorical way that made his chest tighten. “Is everything okay, Sugu?” you’d ask, concern dripping from your voice, as though you weren’t the one being dragged into his games.

He’d usher you in with that same gentle smile, his long hair slipping over his shoulders as he draped an arm around yours. “I just needed some company,” he’d murmur, leading you to the couch, where he’d pull you into his lap with ease that left you breathless.

At first, it was innocent—or so you told yourself. He’d hold you close, his broad chest warm against your back, his deep voice wrapping around you like a lullaby as he claimed he needed comfort. But as the nights wore on, the boundaries blurred.

This time, his lips pressed against your neck, his large hands firm on your waist as he whispered, “Aren’t you supposed to service my every need, little puppy?”

You stiffened, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but the solid muscle beneath your touch only reminded you how much stronger he was. “Suguru, this… this isn’t part of the contract.”

His soft chuckle was like velvet, wrapping around you and pulling you under. “Contracts are flexible,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was light at first—a fleeting touch that left your breath hitching. But then his tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, coaxing you to part them. You hesitated, and he didn’t wait, slipping inside and deepening the kiss. The sensation was overwhelming, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

Your mind grew hazy, a mix of exhaustion and the intoxicating warmth of him seeping into your senses. His fingers slid up to cradle the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he feared you’d pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips lingered just above yours, his warm breath fanning your flushed skin. “Good puppy,” he murmured, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes as satisfaction curled his lips into a faint smirk.

You didn’t leave his lap for the rest of the night. Every time you shifted, his hands tightened on your waist, keeping you firmly nestled against him. He pressed kisses to your lips, slow and deliberate, each one leaving your mind hazier, your resistance dissolving like sugar in water.

By the time you finally stumbled home, your head spun, replaying the events of the night like a broken record. Something felt… wrong.

But Suguru didn’t seem to think so.

The next day, he acted like everything was perfectly normal, lounging in the corner of the room during a briefing, his gaze tracking your every movement. When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, he greeted you with a sly smile, as if he had been waiting.

“About last night,” you started, voice trembling slightly.

“What about it?” he interrupted smoothly, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. “We’re together now. Isn’t that obvious?”

Your breath hitched. “Together? That wasn’t—”

“Stop overthinking it,” he said, his tone soft but firm, like he was addressing a child. He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face with a gentleness that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been there for me all this time. It’s natural for us to take the next step.”

You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “But I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?” he asked, his voice dropping just slightly. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny me now after everything I’ve done for you. After everything we've done for each other. ”

The words hit like a slap, his tone dripping with quiet reproach. He let the silence hang heavy between you before sighing, the sound laced with disappointment.

“I see,” he said finally, leaning back with a detached expression. “I must have misread things. I thought you cared about me. But if this is how you really feel, then…” He trailed off, letting the weight of his unfinished sentence fill the air.

Your heart clenched. The idea of Suguru pulling away felt unbearable, like a void threatening to swallow you whole. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “No, it’s not like that!”

His lips curved into a smile, slow and calculated. “Good,” he said, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “I knew my puppy wouldn’t disappoint me.”

From that moment on, he took control of your life in ways so subtle you barely noticed at first. A comment here, a suggestion there—little nudges that steered you further into his orbit.

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” he’d say with a faint frown, slipping your phone from your hands. “Let me take care of things for you.” And just like that, he’d rearrange your schedule, leaving you dependent on him for even the smallest tasks.

When you hesitated to stay late after missions, he’d fix you with a soft look that somehow made your chest ache. “You wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you? After everything we’ve been through? What if I end up doing something...?”

That final phrase was the words that always left you at his beck and call. You didn't want him to be executed, he was a good man after all.

Every move he made was calculated, each word a thread tightening the web he had spun around you. And the worst part? No matter how much you tried to resist, you always found yourself falling back into his arms, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “Good puppy.”

Sometimes, after swallowing a particularly vile curse, Suguru’s mood was dark and volatile. It clung to him like a shadow, his sharp edges cutting deeper into those unfortunate enough to cross his path. But tonight, his frustration found its focus on you.

You barely had time to settle into the backseat when his hands pulled you onto his lap, his grip firm, almost bruising. His lips found yours immediately, kissing you with a frantic desperation that left you breathless.

“Disgusting,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. The faint bitterness of his words contrasted with the soft graze of his lips, warm and plush, leaving a shiver in their wake. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You don’t have to taste it—any of it.”

Your hands instinctively pressed against his chest, trying to steady yourself. Beneath your trembling palms, his body was firm, his broad, muscular build radiating a comforting heat despite the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. But his grip tightened, his long fingers digging into your waist like a warning.

“Shh,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soothing as his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting, devouring, claiming. His dark eyes, framed by long, silky strands of black hair that cascaded over his shoulders, bore into yours with an intensity that left you breathless. His hand, large and calloused yet gentle, trailed up to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, leaving no room for protest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and coaxing, vibrating against your lips as his breath fanned over your flushed skin. His thumb brushed lightly along your cheek, the roughness of his touch sending goosebumps down your spine.

“I need this, puppy,” he continued, his words curling around your resolve like a leash. “I need you to take it away—the taste, the filth. Make me forget.”

His words carried a vulnerability that twisted something deep inside you, sending a shivers down your body. Part of you knew you should push back, should reclaim some semblance of control, but the way his hands moved—slow, deliberate, his strong fingers tugging at the edges of your sorcerer uniform—left you pliant under his touch.

“Suguru, we shouldn’t…” you whispered weakly, your voice faltering as his lips brushed along the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath leaving your skin tingling. The way he nipped at the soft skin.

“You’re such a good puppy,” he murmured, his voice softening into something almost tender as his hands roamed lower, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his. The faint scent of his cologne—earthy and subtly sweet—lingered in the air, intoxicating you further. “Always trying so hard to please me.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue slid against yours, his kisses growing slower, deeper, impossibly intoxicating. The silky strands of his long hair tickled your cheek as he leaned closer, each movement deliberate and all-encompassing.

The tension in your body ebbed away, replaced by a warmth that seeped into your very core. You stopped resisting, your hands no longer pushing him away but clutching at his broad shoulders instead, your fingers tangling briefly in the smooth fabric of his shirt.

“There we go,” he murmured against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Good puppy. Let me take care of you.”

The praise sent a dizzying rush through you, leaving you feeling weightless and tethered all at once. The way his lips trailed along your jawline, the way his hands held you firmly yet with a gentleness that belied his strength—it left you unable to think of anything else.

By the time your uniform slipped from your shoulders, pooling in soft folds around your waist, you were pliant in his arms, melting into him like he had always wanted. His long, dark hair brushed against your skin as he leaned forward, his lips trailing along your collarbone with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

“See? Isn’t this better?” he whispered, his voice a dark lullaby as his lips pressed against a sweet spot on your neck, before sucking a mark. “This is where you belong. With me.”

And though a flicker of doubt lingered in the farthest corner of your mind, it was drowned out by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the way his deep voice curled around your name, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

Because, deep down, you wanted to please him.

And Suguru knew it.

He knew it in the way your body yielded to him, how your soft whimpers filled the air as he slowly eased you onto his cock, every inch stretching you to fit him perfectly. It was as if he was made for you, stuffing you full, hitting that sweet spot with practiced ease as he would gently roll his hips upwards. His large hands guided your hips with steady precision, his strong build towering over you, making you feel so small yet so protected in his hold.

“So cute,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress as he drank in every gasp and tremble, his dark eyes tracing the way your body moved with him. “You’re perfect, puppy. My perfect little thing.”

His long fingers tightened their grip on your waist as your breath hitched at his praise, the words wrapping around your mind like a leash, pulling you deeper into his control. Bringing a hand over to smack the fat of your ass just to hear that sweet whimper. His lips found your neck again, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin, each touch leaving you trembling with a need you didn’t know you had.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice laced with a sweetness that only made the possessive edge beneath it more apparent. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

Your hips moved instinctively, rolling against his in a rhythm that he controlled with the firm grip of his large hands on your waist. His fingers, calloused yet careful, dug into your skin, grounding you against the steady friction that sent jolts of heat through your body. The low, satisfied hums rumbling from his broad chest mingled with your soft moans, which he eagerly muffled with his lips.

“You’re mine,” Suguru murmured, his voice dropping into something darker, more vulnerable. His dark eyes, half-lidded beneath long, inky lashes, bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart twist. His smooth, dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to his temples as he leaned closer, brushing stray strands from your cheek with an almost gentle reverence. “Do you understand that? You belong to me.”

The way he said it made your heart stutter, a flicker of something raw and uncertain threading through his tone. It was fleeting, quickly replaced by the intoxicating confidence that had always defined him, but it was there—a crack in the armor he never let anyone see.

“And if you ever leave me…” His lips, warm and impossibly soft, brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and dripping with quiet menace. “I’ll find you. No matter where you go, no matter who you run to, I’ll bring you back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

His hips rolled against yours, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate thrust that left you gasping. His broad shoulders shifted beneath your trembling hands, his muscles taut as though holding back the full force of his need. “But you wouldn’t leave me, would you, puppy?” he asked, his tone softening, almost tender, as his lips found yours again. His dark eyes searched your face, his long hair framing his sharp jawline as though daring you to deny him. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

You shook your head, your thoughts too scattered to form words. His kisses deepened, his tongue sweeping over yours as he swallowed every moan, every gasp, while his hips began to move with increasing fervor.

“Good,” he whispered, his lips curling into a wicked smile against your skin. His teeth grazed your collarbone briefly before returning to your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses that left you trembling. “Because I’d ruin anyone who tried to take you from me.”

The promise in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his hands held you so tightly, his firm grip anchoring you as though you might slip away. Not when his voice dripped with honeyed praise, rich and deep like a melody meant only for you. Not when the way he moved against you left your mind spinning with nothing but him. Not when you were this close.

He kissed away every gasp, every whimper, his words sinking into you like a mantra you couldn’t escape. “And I’m yours. Always.” Those words came out with a whole list of rambles, as his pace quickened. The angle of his hips driving into you with full force and practiced care.

His hands never faltered, guiding your hips with deliberate care at first, his strong fingers curling around your waist as though he could mold you to him completely. He let you set the rhythm briefly, watching through half-lidded eyes as your movements made you shiver and sigh in his arms. But when your legs trembled with exhaustion, when your pace faltered, he took control entirely.

“Just trust me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his grip tightened, pulling you flush against his broad chest. The heat radiating from him seeped into your skin, leaving you breathless as his voice dipped lower. “Be a good puppy and let me take care of you.”

And you did. You melted against him, your cheek pressing into the firm warmth of his shoulder as his hands moved your hips for you, his pace quickening until you were left clinging to him helplessly. The shift in control left you hazy, your thoughts scattering as his low hums rumbled through your body like a steady heartbeat.

“Look at you,” Suguru cooed softly, his voice dripping with praise as his hips snapped upward to meet yours. His dark lashes fluttered briefly, framing the heated look in his eyes as his lips brushed over your temple. “So perfect, so obedient… You’re such a good puppy for me, trusting me like this.”

You felt yourself unraveling under him, the steady rhythm of his movements and the way his hands held you firmly, securely, driving you closer to the edge. His lips ghosted over your neck, pressing soft kisses that left your skin tingling, his whispers weaving through your mind like a spell. You weren't sure who was the addicted one anymore at this rate, he was just so intoxicating. You didn't even care what you were agreeing to by being his.

“You’re fucking mine,” he repeated, his voice trembling with something raw, almost desperate. His dark eyes, half-lidded and glinting with intensity, burned into yours as his hips rolled faster, his breathing growing heavier with each movement. “No one else can have you. No one else can make you feel like this. Say it, puppy. Say you’re mine.”

The plea in his voice, the sheer force of his presence, left no room for hesitation. His long, dark hair clung to his damp temples, strands brushing against your flushed cheeks as you gasped, “I’m yours,” your voice trembling, your words barely more than a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone thick with satisfaction, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as his strong hands tightened their grip on your hips. His pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more insistent, as though he were imprinting himself into every part of you.

Your body tensed, trembling in his hold as heat overwhelmed you, his relentless movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out softly, clinging to his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscles as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

Suguru groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he buried himself deeper, his release following yours in a shuddering rush. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you against him as though afraid you might slip away, his strength grounding you even as your limbs went limp in his arms.

His head dropped to your shoulder, his long lashes brushing against your skin as his breaths came in heavy, uneven pants. The heat of him radiated against you, his broad chest rising and falling as he clung to you, his fingers now stroking your back in slow, almost reverent movements.

He pressed a final kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing a vow. “You’ll always be mine,” he whispered, his voice low, possessive, and tinged with a vulnerability that cracked through his usual confidence. For a fleeting moment, it was as though he feared the very idea of losing you.

And as you lay against him, too worn to think, too lost in the haze of his touch to resist, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a chain you couldn’t break—and, in some part of you, didn’t want to.

It wasn’t like Suguru was a bad partner by any means. In fact, he was perfect. Almost too perfect.

He was like a man pulled straight out of a drama, always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to make you melt under his touch. He made you feel good, even if the acts he coaxed you into were sometimes a little embarrassing, leaving you flushed and breathless in his arms.

“Good pup,” he’d murmur with a satisfied smirk as he filled you to the brim over and over, the praises rolling off his tongue like honey. He had a way of making you crave his approval, of making you feel special—his and his alone.

And after he consumed another curse, when the bitterness lingered in his mouth, he’d find you, need you. He’d kiss you deeply, claiming your taste as his salvation, before trailing his lips down your body, leaving you trembling beneath him.

When he reached the place where he craved you most, his tongue would glide between your thighs, his movements deliberate, calculated. His firm hands gripped your hips with a strength that kept you from squirming too much, though the way you trembled beneath him only fueled his need to have his tongue buried inside you. Suguru reveled in the way you gasped and moaned, your body arching into him, surrendering to his touch. He’d drink your juices as if they were the key to getting that awful taste out of his mouth, his tongue teasing and coaxing until you fell apart, only for him to push you further, again and again.

He especially savored the moments when you gushed on his tongue, your legs quivering, your hands clutching at his hair or the sheets. He’d slow down just to torment you, letting his tongue flick against your sensitive clit in slow, lazy kitten licks, watching as your body writhed, overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Tears would pool in your eyes, your vision blurry as you looked down at him, and Suguru would grin, knowing he had reduced you to this state.

But his favorite indulgence came after, when he pushed himself back inside you, filling you completely once more. When he was spent, he’d make sure nothing went to waste. Suguru would lean down, his tongue slipping between your folds to lap up the white sticky mess he left behind. The act was as much for him as it was for you, his gaze locking onto yours as he gathered the mixture of your arousal and his release. Then, with calculated slowness, he’d spit the warm substance onto your tongue, his voice a low growl as he commanded, “Swallow it, pup. Every drop.”

But Suguru wasn’t always this intense, this insatiable. He had a sweet side, one that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

He’d hold your hand as you walked together, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt almost innocent. At night, he’d pull you into his chest, his arms a protective cage as his breaths evened out, soft and peaceful. His presence was comforting, grounding, even if you sometimes caught a glimpse of something darker lurking beneath.

Your parents adored him.

The first time they met Suguru, he was the picture of charm—polite, attentive, and disarmingly sweet. He brought your mother flowers, complimented her cooking with such genuine enthusiasm that she beamed for the rest of the night. He helped your father carry groceries without being asked, engaging him in an easy conversation that left your dad chuckling over some shared joke.

“He’s wonderful,” your mother whispered to you that evening, practically glowing. “The kind of man every parent dreams their child will marry.”

And for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe it.

After all, Suguru was wonderful. He made you feel seen, wanted, cherished. He kissed away your doubts, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But beneath his sweetness, there was something possessive, something all-consuming that clung to you like a shadow.

You tried not to think about it too much—the way his smile tightened when someone got too close to you, the way his hand on your waist sometimes felt like a claim. Because when he held you at night, his voice soft and full of love as he murmured how much you meant to him, it was easy to forget the weight of the chains you wore

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request the HCs with female Isekai'd Darling (from our universe) and characters from: D.Gray-Man - Millennium Earl (human form), Tyki Mikk, Komui Lee, Kanda Yuu and Allen Walker; BSD - Mori, Fyodor; JJK - Geto, Toji, Nanami?

I have already done this concept with Fyodor in the past.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Isekai'd darling

Mori Ougai

🍷​If you ever desire to curse someone for the fate that awaits you in this world then curse no one but little Elise. It is Mori's ability which alerts him of your presence as she senses that there is something different about you. Normally there is little interest that she ever expresses in others so her declaration that there is something different about you perks his interest just a bit. Are you an enemy? If you should prove yourself to be an obstacle then there is no doubt that Mori will get rid of you. Yet upon initial observation you look lost and overwhelmed more than anything else. It could all be just a bluff as Mori knows the one or other thing about a fake appearance to fool others as his gaze follows you, trying to search for any indications that will give you away. Perhaps you feel the eyes of the evil resting on you though, a cold sensation that travels down your spine as you carefully turn your head around as your gut churns as if warning you that there is something terrible about to happen. When you meet the magenta eyes watching you it is already over. You are unable to hide the recognition, the fear as you are met with a man you know to be a dangerous person.

🍷​As both of you are in a public space there is no grand spectacle that Mori can summon as of now but the predatory grin that he gives you with a tilted head is message enough. You know something that you shouldn't know. For that alone he cannot allow you to roam free. Abducting you is relatively easy as soon as the night falls and you stumble still blindly around without a concrete goal in mind. You are not killed as of now though as there still remains the question to be asked where you came from. A question that you struggle to answer and one that More can't find any answers to either. He has caught something within his net that he is unable to identify and that intrigues him but also means that if you do not cooperate will mean torture for you. It is this aspect that forces the answers quickly out of your mouth, praying that Mori will believe your words. It is obvious from the way that he tilts his head and the way his magenta eyes seemingly look into your soul that he tries to decipher if your words are a lie. When he finds nothing though does he start considering your words. You do not strike him as the deceiving type. No, you appear much too honest for that.

🍷​Your abilities would be of great use to him over the course of the story considering that you can predict the events that will go down and Mori plans to abuse that, marking your position as a precious prisoner. There are no games of pretend played from his side considering that you already know just what he is capable of which means that you get relatively early on a front seat to the cruelities that he is capable of. You are a unique chest piece on the board that defies the known positions and perhaps that is why he treasures you so much and keeps such a smothering hold of you. You fascinate him like no other does which kickstarts his entire obsession with you, accompanied by frilly dresses, pink ribbons and a new life as his darling doll. You are kept close to his side under all means necessary with your only playmate being Elise. It is a sad and lonely life that you lead but Mori is not quite as composed as the eye may perceive. No, he is painfully aware that even you have no idea how you got here or if you will ever return and it is this nagging what-if scenario that only serves to make his whole obsession more suffocating as he smothers you every day with the fear that by the next you might be gone.

Allen Walker

🔴​Allen is no ordinary human for he not only houses a Noah within his soul but his left arm and his cursed eye will also perceive what his human eye is unable to perceive. If it wouldn't be for those listed factors it is likely that it would take the boy a lot longer to catch on to your secrets. Yet Nea senses that you are no normal person, a first stirring of curiosity which carries over to Allen. His arm senses a strange energy coursing through your entire body when he touches you, an energy unlike anything he has ever experienced. And then there is his cursed eye which is able to see your soul but not trapped within an Akuma but within this very world, a sight that he struggles to process and understand the first time his cursed eye observes you. Allen hesitates to tell you what he senses but now that he has been made aware that there is something very different about you he realises that you indeed act very strange. Customs, fashion and the daily way of life seem to be such foreign concepts to you yet at the same time you harbor more knowledge about Akuma, the Exorcists and even the Noah family when he briefly mentions them to you. Allen doesn't believe you to be an enemy though.

🔴​Eventually he is led to talk to you about the things that he has discovered, partially influenced by Nea who feels a growing urge to understand what he doesn't you. His brain needs comedically long to properly grasp your words though as the idea of the existence of another world is something out of old alchemists fantasies even with the world filled with mysteries that Allen lives in. What he understands immediately though is your desire to return home and with that he wishes to help you though he has no idea who to ask or where to even start. The situation is not made easier by the fact that not even you seem to know why you landed in this place in the first place but Allen remains optimistic, especially since you are prone to drown in your pessimism. That is the start of the journey that the two of you take as Allen is not only a familiar face to you but also capable of protecting you from the dangers of this world which you might otherwise fall victim to. Additionally Allen fears that the Noah family might come for you if the Earl were to find out about your unique existence. Having you as his companion makes him feel less lonely as he has someone to talk to, the beginning of his growing affection.

🔴​It is the growing discomfort that he feels whenever you bring up the feelings of longing and the homesickness that you feel the longer you are stuck with him in this world. It's a terribly selfish notion that even Allen can recognise as such. As much as he would like to blame those feelings of obsession on Nea though, he knows that some of those thoughts and feelings are born from his heart and not from Nea's. He shouldn't feel that way as you don't belong in this world which is filled with so much more horror than your own home yet his heart is weeping and screaming whenever he imagines the day where you disappear and return to your own place. Thoughts of your laughter and your smile haunt him even in his dreams, venomous words from Nea threatening to seep into the essence of his mind. He doesn't dare to voice any of his internal struggles as the two of you continue your journey though. Actions are still taken as his own feelings of selfishness start to mingle with the good intentions that still exist in his heart. He avoids people who he fears might know of your transportation from one world to another, delays the entire journey to have as much time with you for himself as he can.

Kanda Yu

💙​You are brought to the Black Order precisely because you seek their help out and offer them in return your services as you decide to sell the knowledge that you posses in order to get home. A fair offer, a valuable offer which they cannot pass on as otherwise you might seek out the Noah family. For that sake you are delivered to the head quarters where you meet Yu for the first time. The moment his cold eyes rest on you, you already know that he does not have a high opinion of you. Whenever he is around you there is this burning silence that you desperately wish to break yet you do not dare to utter a single sound as you fear that he would not appreciate that at all. Yu is someone who has been trusted with your true identity and it is precisely because of that knowledge that he doesn't feel comfortable with you. It feels lika a breach of his own privacy that you know so much about his past, his present and his future which he doesn't want you to know. His attitude is borderline rebellious as he constantly tries to go against the knowledge that you have to prove that his future is not carved in stone. The first few months his behavior is colder than the snow storms in Antarctica.

💙​It takes him a lot of time to slowly warm up to your presence and to treat you kinder as he starts not treating the time with you as an order that he begrudgingly finishes because it is his job. That doesn't mean that things are suddenly all sunshine and rainbow between the two of you. The tension is still there though now it shifts into awkwardness which is in some aspects worse as you recognise his subtle attempts to be a tad bit nicer to you only to unintentionally say something or do something rude and cold once again when he retreats as he senses the awkwardness of the situation. Still, baby steps get the two of you somehwere until the atmosphere between you eases and becomes more bearable for the both of you. Sometimes you even tell him of the life you have led in your own world though you never try to talk too much as you don't think that he would appreciate if you were to ramble his ears full. Truth be told, you don't even know if he is listening at all sometimes but you just need to get your emotions sometimes out of your chest. Yu is in fact listening though he never utters a single word, absorbing your feelings and words silently.

💙​The beginning of his obsession puts the two of you almost back to level zero as his feelings threaten to crush and overwhelm him, clawing at his icy composure that he has always kept around him. His obsession alienates Yu from you. He takes more missions in order to spend less time with you but never dares to ask Komui to be excused from his guard duty permanently, afraid that the head of the branch will catch on to his troubling emotions. In your absence the possessive feelings grow though, the uncomfortable knowledge that you seek a way to return to your own home with the help of the Black Order. Against his better judgement he meddles with the entire process as he needs to know how far the research has already gotten and if there has been any way found to bring you back. When he finds out that there still has been no theory made how to bring you back, something within Yu eases as he finds himself to be less agitated and on edge. His priorities shift once more with time as he settles into his obsession as he suddenly insits on taking over most of the guard duties, viewing other Exorcists as too incompetent and inexperienced to look after you and protect you.

Komui Lee

👓​Komui observes you the first time you are brought into his office with a confusing mixture of caution, fascination and the silliness that most of his co-workers are familiar with. Though he may not look like it, there is a deeper understanding of the humans ways and feelings that he has adopted over the years that he has been the head of the European Branch. He trusts his ability to inspect a person and figure out whether they have bad intentions or not. You do not strike him as someone who has a bad thought in their head, your demeanor instead scared, lonely and lost. Still, it is the vast amount of knowledge that you possess that has been the reason why you were brought into the headquarters to begin with as Lenalee picked you up during a mission after you confined a worrying amount of information to her that no one is supposed to know. Komui spends the entire time pouring you coffee and offering you biscuits as you honestly confess to him what has happened, who you are, from where you are and how you got here. By all accounts it is a story that no one should believe yet he does not sense a single lie in your face nor can your words of knowledge and wisdom be ignored.

👓​The Black Order is quite happy to keep you protected and within their reach as the knowledge that you have might just ensure their victory against the Noah family and their goals. They agree to help you to find a way back but only if you share with them everything that you know. Komui is one of them. He has not abandoned his humanity and he sees how much pressure is put on you, pressure he attempts to shield you from as good as possible. At the same time he is dedicated to the course and the goal of the Black Order. Your knowledge could save lives and reduce the casualties that the organisation so often suffers. It could save his younger sister from death or vast injuries if you simply share everything that you know will happen in the future. As the head of the European Branch he spends surprisingly much time with you though not solely for extracting information from you. No, in fact he uses you as an excuse to avoid his paperwork as he only appears to question you about important matters when in reality he is just chatting excitedly with you about your own world, fascinated to hear about how it works all whilst relentlessly pouring you coffee and feeding you biscuits.

👓​Very much in tune with his emotions despite his silly exterior, Komui is a surprisingly terrifying person to have in such a situation. He has one of the highest positions attainable, your life in those headquarters is pretty much in his hands and all scientific research to find a way to bring you back home can and will be stalled by him. He has always been confronted with difficult decisions that have made him look more than once like a heartless person yet deep down he has always felt guilt and pain. The decision he makes after he has acknowledged his obsession with you goes through no different process of emotions. Behind the scenes he starts meddling with the research, informs himself of any theories that might have been created only to find a way to rebunk them and might even put the research on pause for a longer while. None of that reaches your ears though as he lies perfectly to your face, keeps up that peculiar and strange facade around you to distract you from digging too deep. You cannot leave. You are much too valuable for the Black Order and the lives that he partially holds responsibility over. You're much too precious to him too, his feelings something he knows he can't stop.

The Millenium Earl/Adam

🎃​Adam is bound to sense that there is something special about you, an energy that he has never felt in any other human before. No Innocence but something entirely different that draws him to you. What exactly it is is something that he fails to put his finger around and so he decides to ask no one but Wisely to take a deeper look into your thoughts. What the younger Noah reveals to him afterwards surpasses anything that he could have ever predicted and immediately he knows that he has to have you. Not yet as adam but as the Earl who would greatly profit from having someone who knows so much about the future of this world as well as its past and hidden secrets. Eager to finally meet you himself, the Millenium Earl decides to take on the role of your abductor. Your horror is kindly ignored as he introduces himself to you with that signature bright grin on his face. His voice filled with the eagerness and the thrill of having someone as valuable on his side and hopefully achieve his goal before you are put into unconsciousness and are carried back by another Noah. As the Earl he is quite different, his words sweet but always laced with subtle threats if you should not comply.

🎃​The moment he reveals himself as Adam to you all of that changes. His human form is only something that he shows you after he has already gained his obsession for you and has realised that as the Millenium Earl he is bound to always frighten you no matter how kind he might try to be. The guilt seems to fully hit him whenever he is Adam as he reconsiders the behavior he exhibits around you as the Earl and even he has to silently recoil when he realises just how borderline creepy he tends to be in his other form. In this form he attempts to undo as much of that damage as possible though deep down he is still understanding if you are still too frightened to spend much time with him even in his human form. Pressure is on from the other members of the Noah family though who all have long recognised the Earl's feelings and fully back him up even though not all of them necessarily hold the highest opinion of you. Considering your peculiar circumstances though the blow of their dislike might be softened though. They often force you in situations where you are stuck with him. Adam knows of those attempts and whilst he doesn't fully support them, he doesn't stop them either.

🎃​Wailing guilt crashes with a biological need to keep you with him, to always have you by his side. Your longing for your family and true home pain him. How could they not for he is also all too familiar with the loss of family? Yet his very soul is weeping with the thought of assisting you to find a way back home. He loves you after all. It may not be the love in fairy tales but he views it as a pure love nevertheless. Adam is very open with those wishes to you, desperate to have you understand even if only a bit. He's only met with tears and betrayal, a sight that cuts so much deeper than Innocence ever could. His decision may waver with such incidents but it never crumbles for his need to love you and have you outweights everything else. You are a part of this family now and he dearly hopes that eventually you will grow to accept that and even love your new life here. That future is not guaranteed though as Adam knows that even your arrival remains elusive, a riddle unsolved. The phenomenon may struck again though, only that it might take you back to your own world this time. A thought so terrible that it only fuels him to cling to you tighter, pleading in his heart for you to not disappear.

Tyki Mikk/Joyd

🦋​Tyki is no ordinary human. He is something more than that and it is his Noah which reacts so strongly to your presence, something that stands out from the crowd of other humans. There's something different about you but it is no Innocence. It is something that not even Joyd can categorise and it is the failure to understand what makes you so different from the rest that puts unbeknown to you a target on your back. He may not eliminate you as he still needs to learn what it is that makes you so different but if you should turn out to be a threat he will be forced to do something. For now Tyki decides to spy on you though in hopes of figuring you out. His human form has always worked as a disguise yet never before has he seen such a reaction from any human before. Distrust, wariness, a gaze that seemingly transcends what a human eye should perceive. It is a short spark in your gaze but it is a spark of recognition nevertheless, one that lets him know that he has been found out before he could have done anything. If you know so much about him already, what do you know about the rest of his family? Some part itches to get rid of the potential threat but he is civilised enough to allow you an explanation.

🦋​He struggles to believe you when you see yourself backed against a wall and forced to reveal to him what you are. Yet he does not sense any dishonesty on your face. Your story seems rather far-stretched though and you sense that he is struggling to accept that story. With no other option left as you have already caught his eye now you offer yourself that he could ask his nephew Wisely to read your mind. The casual mention of a member of his family as well as the awareness of his abilities startles him, his eyes narrowing in hostility before he reluctantly agrees. The hostility is partially replaced when it turns out that you are speaking the truth but that is quickly snuffed out by hesitation and a cluelessness on how to treat someone like you now. The Earl seems rather keen on keeping you though. Your knowledge would be useful in their hands and he cannot let you be found by the Black Order. Additionally you are such a special human, from a new world completely. Now, Tyki feels a tad bit guilty for essentially making you a prisoner of the Noah family and he attempts his best to provide you with some sense of normalcy amongst all of the chaos you are stuck in.

🦋​Perhaps it is your knowledge that allows you to bear more understanding for his family even though you don't agree with all of their goals. Nevertheless, you are indeed a very strange human and that stirs a growing fascination that Tyki and even Joyd have for you. He's a member of this family who spends arguably the most time with you and has plenty of chances to discover your personality and little quirks. A sick pride and possessiveness fills his chest whenever you entrust him with your thoughts and secrets, basking in the knowledge that you reveal so much of yourself to him. His human side and his Noah side are quite torn apart as his obsession festers. However, your freedom is not a decision that he is capable of making, no matter how guilty Tyki may feel. You have already gotten too deeply involved with his family to escape and it is this unchangable fact that has Joyd almost purring. You're not going anywhere after all. He lays claim on you pretty soon, something that all other Noah realise pretty soon with the way he behaves around you. The Earl welcomes it, giddily proclaims you as a new family member. As part of the family they will find a way to forever keep you in this world.

Fushiguro Toji

🪱​The decision to actually save Toji is one that is surprisingly hard for you, especially once you meet the man himself. Still struggling to settle in this world, it is an almost mocking twist of fate that you end up working in the tiny restaurant where he often likes to hang out. He has an infamous reputation in that place due to his rude and cocky personality and it is not hard for you to see why. After all he is quite an unbearable jerk. And the smell! He reeks like he has been sharing a rubbish bin with racoons as his home. It costs you quite a few customers and against your better judgement you make the unfortunate decision to stand up against him. After all the owner of this place was kind enough to offer you a job and you will not have your wobbly life be ruined all because of him. He only gives you a lazy glance when you start lecturing him angrily, demand of him to be at least a little bit less of a jerk and behave himself. Then he goes back to ignoring you, infuriating you even more. You persist though until you finally manage to get on his nerves and he towers over you in all of his glory. God, you are terrified but stubbornly refuse to be intimidated by him. Oh, you only end up making everything worse.

🪱​Toji finds your presence to be quite amusing as you become his favorite plaything to rile up and make all angry and mad whenever he visits the place you work in. He seems to genuinely enjoy messing with your emotions if you would have to judge based on that shitty smirk on his face every time you lose your temper. He appreciates the bit of spunk that you have and the pathetic attempts of yours to have him behave better. Do you believe that you can fix him or some shit like that? You are the only person he has actual interactions with though most of them exist of him provoking you and watching as you look like you're torn apart between crying or screaming though you always hold it in and just glare stubbornly at him as you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Still, you keep up with him and deep down some part of him appreciates that. You're a little mystery yourself as he has one time actually tried to look into your past out of boredom only to find nothing. He isn't bothered by that though as he lives only in the present and the only thing that matters somewhat that he gets to be entertained by your antics. Everything boils down to when you spot him with Shiu Kong and realise that his death is close.

🪱​You try to be friendly, try to stir him away from that path only to be rudely told off. His insensitive words tip you over the edge and that is when you explode and reveal far too much only to conclude that you won't give a shit then and he can die if he wants to. No one will miss him. In the next moment he slams you against the wall, his fists cracking the solid material behind him. Your words have triggered memories he has been pushing away and now you have brought it all back. How do you know all of that? He leaves you no choice, smells your dishonesty and refuses to let you go until you have spat everything out. For the first time he actually finds his demeanor shaken, the troubling emotions even briefly visible on his face before he pushes it all down. Then he just knocks you out and brings you into some cheap hotel where people won't question him carrying your unconscious form into the room. When you wake up, there are a lot of things that he would like to talk about with you. He doesn't feel like dying, a notion that has only recently spawned into existence because of you. You know, maybe he will listen to your advice. He has other plans. Plans that involve you in every aspect.

Geto Suguru

​🗻​Monkeys. Filth that Suguru believes has to be eradicated from this earth as peace will only exist in a society with sorcerers. Non-sorcerers are worthless as they produce the very curses so many sorcerers die for. Suguru sees the curses, senses Cursed Energy. However, around you he senses absolutely nothing. No Cursed Energy leaking out of you, no negative emotions that would only produce more curses. Your very presence is an anomaly as even curses pass you as if your presence is invisible to them. Your very existence is a great irritation to Geto who has always believed sorcerers to be the superior humans. You should by all accounts be a monkey as you do not see the curses around you yet at the same time curses have such a peculiar reaction to you as they cannot sense you properly nor can they latch on you. He doesn't know what you are as you are neither a sorcerer nor a monkey and that triggers Geto more than it should. It's like your very existence is a thorn in his eyes. He observes you with great hostility as he tries to figure out who you are. When he approaches you, he hides all of his ill feelings though. Only for you to stir away from him as if he is the plague.

​🗻​That certainly triggers him. You dare to treat him like that? You, a monkey who has no worth to your existence? Oh, now you have provoked and angered him. The abduction is sped up and he willingly allows the people he sends out to be rougher with you as you have punched his ego the wrong way. His face reveals all of his emotions when you are thrown in front of his feet. The disgust, the anger and above all that frustration of not knowing in which category he should put you in. He attempts to intimidate you, to reveal to you of his world and all of the curses yet his eyebrow can only twitch when that triggers no shock or fear out of you. Instead you look at him before firing right back at him, revealing that you already know. You know? How do you know? You cannot see curses! You have no Cursed Energy! It is pitiful as you observe how he loses his temper in front of you for a few seconds and the way you look at him only damages his ego further. It takes him more willpower than it should to regain his composure, his eyes narrowing before he grabs your chin harshly. Oh, he will teach you how to behave properly in front of someone like him. He will figure you out.

​🗻​Suguru forces you through a lot, doesn't stop until he has the information that he desires and the respect he believes you owe him. The truth you do reveal to him though not out of fear but spite when you manage to trigger his temper and he seethes about the useless existence of your kind. That shuts him up for a good while. You even imagine a glimpse of terror on his face before he storms out of your room. Indeed, you have seen fear within him. He tries to ignore the words, attempts to have you admit that you have been lying to him but even if he were to force you to say it, the truth would still be in your eyes. The news of his death shake him, the knowledge that his body will be used for other goals even more. In front of your seemingly all-knowing gaze he suddenly feels vulnerable and exposed and he despises that feeling. There has been a gravid shift in the power dynamics between him and you and it has tilted in favor of you. No matter what he does, the damage is there and is there to stay as well. Still, Suguru refuses to let you leave. You know too much, are too valuable even though it pains him to admit that. He will fix that twisted imbalance between the two of you though. You just wait.

Nanami Kento

💛​As a sorcerer Nanami is bound to notice that there is something off about you as soon as he meets you but he decides that as long as you are no danger to others, he will not dig too deep into the matter. You do not question him too deeply about his past and he decides to return that favor out of respect. You struggle within your own life a lot as you seem to be new to the city and try to find the right balance yet you are always very kind to him when you see him. Almost too kind in Nanami's opinion as you try your hardest even when you had a visibly bad day. He assures you time and time again that it is not neccessary for you to be that kind-hearted to him but you always insist until he just caves in. He doesn't mind the occasional appreciation but yours feels excessive to the point where Nanami gets suspicios. Something feels wrong even though he cannot wrap his finger around it. The more suspicious he gets though, the more he starts paying attention to your strange existence. You are no sorcerer yet you do not create any Cursed Energy. You are not like Maki though which leaves him with little clues to work with. Your behavior around him is strange as well, the sadness and guilt in your glances confusing the man.

💛​He doesn't believe you to be a bad person but the longer time passes, the more the lack of information about you as well as the unusual way of your very existence start to bother him. Time has forged a tight bond between the two of you, one that has made Nanami very attached to you. After a long and tiring day you seem to be the light at the end of the tunnel, a little paradise where he can just relax for a while. With that attachment follows a need to protect you though, to know about where you are at which time so he can assure that nothing will happen to you. He is not blind to his emotions for you, knows what they entail yet it has never been as difficult for him to control his feelings as it is when he is with you. In his future where he so far has only seen him enjoying his retirement he suddenly envisions you by his side, an image that refuses to be pushed away. Subtle attempts to question you about your past are usually quickly shot down by you yet the flicker of guilt is always there and it starts to bother him more and more. Once he starts courting you do you end up rumbling, the guilt eating you out alive. You can't do this anymore.

💛​You sit down with him, you confess everything to him. Initially you can see that he doesn't believe you but the more you start revealing, the more you notice the shift in your expression and body language. When you get to the Shibuya Incident and arrive at his death he suddenly shuts you up, his lips pressed into a thin line. He needs a few seconds before he finds the strength and the right words to speak again, immediately asking you if you have told anyone else. When you shake your head he instantly warns you sternly to not tell another soul. Everyone would try to either eliminate or capture you to make use of you power if word were to slip out. This is a secret that will remain between him and you for now, for your own safety. Everything makes sense to him now. The kindness you always showed him, the guilt he would always see when you were looking at him. All because in the future he is going to sacrifice himself. All the information you have entrusted him with haunt him at night and rob him of his sleep, a simmering frustration as he realises that there may not be a future for him. If there is no possibility for a future with you, at least give your presence to him and let him be selfish just a bit.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[arcanarix]

18+, yandere! geto, f!reader (a non sorcerer)

yandere geto who loves to help you shave your pretty cunt until it’s smooth and bald, all for him to eat clean later. he doesn’t like letting you do all of that self maintenance because you might hurt yourself doing that!! you’re using blades and electric shavers—something if you used unsupervised, you could use to escape him. he can’t have that!

so here he is, having your legs spread as you’re perched on the edge of the bath tub. he’s gathered all the supplies you like to use—an electric shaver over a razor for precision and he’s impressed at how it slices off your bushy cunt hair like a professional salon razor. he takes his time, admiring how clean you look once he’s done, jaw parted like he’s witnessing the coming together of a masterpiece. he’s honored to do all of these things for you (even if you insist you can do all of these things yourself, to which he scoffs. pretty thing, he’s here now so you barely have to lift a finger anymore. you hate it.)

his tongue pokes out between his lips, a drop of drool landing to the ground as he pulls back, dark violet pupils rolling upward and seeking your approval.

“will you let me eat your pussy now?” he questions with a sultry purr, but his tone shows that you can’t really refuse. not when he’s being kind and taking good care of you…he wants a reward for his generosity. his attentiveness. his devotion to you.

everything he does is for you.

with a sigh, you bring your fingers to your folds and pry them apart. he lets out a light gasp. an open invitation.

he wastes no time accepting it.

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

♡ TW: fear, prank, prank gone too far, dubcon-ish

♡ GN reader

“Haha, ‘Toru—nice try,” is all you say to the tall figure, having stood patiently in wait and perfectly positioned to do a jump scare with his silly store-bought Ghostface mask on.

You sigh and go back to your dealings, and he remains as if the gist isn’t up—ever-committed to the task as if you’re suddenly going to forget that it’s him. Like—of course, it’s him! Despite what the movies will have you believe, not a lot of guys have bodies like that.

If he was really committed to tricking you, he should have worn something baggier to hide his perfectly shredded chest. But no—he’s set on wearing his black muscle shirt—probably opting to make you both scared and horny at the same time.

You carry on with what you’d been doing—cleaning up the kitchen. “Oi, quit standing there already and come help me.”

He doesn’t. But that’s not unlike him—he’ll take any excuse not to do the dishes. And right now, the excuse is this dumb prank. But it’s your fault in any case—you’re the one that put him up to it by saying he’d never be able to get a rise out of you.

You sigh and scold yourself for being so short-sighted—should’ve kept my dumb mouth shut. Knowing him, he’s probably going to be this way all through October, the insufferable prick.

He still stands there. Silent. And still. Eerily unlike him. And almost, just almost, utterly unlike him.

But no—don’t be stupid! He’s the same height and the same build, for fuck’s sake! What are the odds of someone with the exact same measurements as your boyfriend breaking in right at the time he isn’t around in something so cliche and dumb as a Ghostface replica? No, it stinks of Satoru—it’s got his goofy antics written all over it.

You scoff again—a little winded this time, a little strained. You have to hand it to him—he is a little scary when he shuts up for this long.

“You can knock it off, Satoru. I know it’s you.” You face him again, hand on your hip, with a frown. 

You sigh again when he still doesn’t answer, insisting on his stupid tactic of psyching you out. And you’re getting pissed that it’s actually almost working.

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” You start stomping over—aiming to rip that dumb thing off his head and point your death glare directly in his insufferable blue eyes—those insufferable blue eyes you’re actually starting to hope are under there more than knowing without a doubt are there for sure. 

“Tch—it’s insulting if you think some half-assed performance like this is gonna be enough to scare me. At least have the creativity to come up with something somewhat decent–”

You stop in your tracks halfway over. Hair is peaking out from under the mask. You hadn’t seen it from afar, matted against the black shirt he was wearing—but how could you? How could you when it’s not white hair?

You flinch backward. Stumbling. Assessing the dark, silken locks a second time before looking up at the mask again—that soulless white warped skull with pitch-black bottomless eyesockets.

You take another step back. Breath hitching in your throat when the figure takes a step as well—toward you.

Your heart flares. It’s not Satoru.

Eyes peeled, you feel the panic overthrow you in an instant—like a cold rush, reaching all the way into your bonemarrow, making it hard to move, hard to do much of anything without feeling vulnerable to what it might trigger.

But once the figure pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing a butcher’s knife that catches the light and glints in the air—you have no other choice but to run.

What a perfect fucking day to wear fuzzy fucking socks! Fucking October cold is going to be the reason you die—stabbed to death in your own house by some cringey Scream fanboy. No—this can’t be the end—not this way! Why isn’t Satoru home yet? Why can’t he ever be where you need him to be?

You make your way through the house—hoping to reach the door, but turning the corner has you slip and fall, and the intruder’s on you—knife raised, poised prettily in the air above your helpless body, clad in your tiny heart-print pj’s—like the perfect hot airhead in any slasher spoof.

You scream and squeeze your eyes shut, “No! No—please! Please! Satoru, help!”

And right as the knife is supposed to come down and puncture your chest, making it spurt out red until you finally bleed out, dead and gone, there’s a bang instead as two palms land flat on the floor on either side of your head.

Joined by a muffled voice, “Are yah scared yet?”

With your eyes wide open again, you look up at not one mask blocking out the ceiling light but two. And with all the pure alarm savaging your chest, you manage to let out a real horror-movie squeal—unlike a sound you’ve ever made before.

And then, of all things, there’s laughter—no, not laughter—straight cackling.

And—fortunately or unfortunately—you’re quite sure you recognize that sound.

The last one pulls off his mask, and you really can’t believe it—pretty porcelain face squished in amusement with tears of joy in the corner of his insufferable blue eyes.

That fucking bitch.

“You should have seen your face!” he chortles—downright heaves. But for all his handsome features, he truly must be the ugliest laugher there is. Or maybe it’s just that the bastard always laughs at your expense, and after one too many times, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

Still, you sigh, eyes closed in relief, “I hate you, ‘Toru. You took it way too far, you ass.”

“No, no, Satoru, help~” he ignores you and mocks in a high-pitched moan, showing not a sign of remorse—holding his hand over his stomach as he falls to the floor, struggling to leave room for breath between hooting and howling.

Your eyes go to the original perpetrator. “And you? You proud or what?”

The wearer pulls off its mask and is revealed to be none other than Satoru’s best friend—Geto.

Honestly, you should have fucking known...

“Sorry, hehe…”

You’re upset—you make that clear with your pout, giving him your best guilt-tripping look from where you rest beneath him.

But still, within, your heart eases at the sight of his kind face and that apologetic smile across it—ever thankful to see him and not the cold-blooded murderer you were convinced was going to kill you only a moment ago—even when pinned beneath him in a position that should be making Satoru jealous.

But your boyfriend couldn’t care less, it seems—too busy rolling on the floor and laughing out loud quite literally, even banging his fist against the wood. Prick.

“I’m gonna throw up–” you say as the nerves finally settle. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”

Geto seems to think that’s fair, still with that sheepish smile on his face, but Satoru is quick to interject—laughing fit over as he shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. You said if I manage to scare you once this Halloween, I’d get whatever I want.”

You swear he can be such a child sometimes.

Oh, who are you kidding? He’s always a child. It’s only surprising he’s managed to rope Geto into all this—a guy who’s usually so mature.

“I don’t remember saying that…” you sigh, laying the back of your hand atop your forehead, still calming your breaths and the pounding in your head—your body not yet caught up to the fact that it’s trepidation over impending death was all just some silly joke played on you by two idiots.

You can’t believe him—you can’t believe either of them.

“Fucking shit, Geto—I thought I was gonna die.”

He still hasn’t gotten off you—the look of worry on his face tells you he’s probably just wanting to stay close to make you feel safe. You appreciate it, though it’s a little awkward lying beneath him like this—it’s not exactly a position you share with just anyone…

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would work,” he says—eyes slim like always, in that charming way. “I always thought you were smarter than to fall for something this stupid.”

You pull a frown at that—taking it all back. He’s as childish and dumb as Satoru is. He’s just better at hiding it. 

“Oh, shut up—as if you wouldn’t scream if someone chased you down with a knife,” you grumble. “Now get off, you prick.”

You begin to lift yourself onto your elbows, yet despite the clear intention of getting up, Geto doesn’t budge to make it happen.

No, instead, he leans further in—fine-kempt raven hair slipping off his shoulders, falling with the same grace as a veil.

“I was told there’d be a prize for the one that got you to crack, and seeing as I’m the one that made that happen—I want it.”

You have to blink—blanched at the sudden demand.

Satoru, as well, a little stunned—looks wide-eyed at the two of you, upside down where he lies flat on his back, long limbs stretched out like a starfish.

“You what now?” both of you ask in unison.

Geto chuckles before repeating, “My prize. I want it. It’s only fair,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach to view you both the right way, pursing his lips in thought. “Hmm…” Hand on his chin as if it’s really something to deliberate when the dumbass very well knows what the two of you had bet on and how it very much isn’t a reward you can give to just anyone.

Yet, despite that. “Okay,” he agrees—as if it’s even up to him.

“Hold on now, wait a minute.” You intervene in the almost business-esque dealing they’d somehow held without you. "Not happening.”

“Why not?” they both ask, looking at you. 

And you can’t keep from gaping. The nerve.

Spluttering as you explain, “Because it’s—well, because it was a bet between me and my dumbass boyfriend, and it was very clear what the prize was gonna be, come winner or loser—so, sorry to break it to you, but there is no prize.”

But that doesn’t seem to deter Geto. “Oh, I think there is…” he all but purrs as he leans down further.

“Satoru already agreed. And you’re already on your back beneath me.”

His smile isn’t all so friendly anymore, and still… you can’t help but blush being caught beneath it, holding your breath with fear a little different from the one before but no different in how it makes your heart pound.

“So, if neither of you mind…" he grins slyly. "I think I’ll just take it.” 

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[kekewrites]

Imagine being a cat!hybrid, going about your dilly dally day when you get stopped by a lost adventurer or something along that line. Their curiosity got the best of them as they haven't seen a pretty little thing like you before. Of course your bratty self wouldn't take any disrespect before lunging at them, going full on claws but getting embarrassingly pinned by their large body. Hard bulging muscles pressing onto your soft ones, you would've been flustered if it weren't for your short temper and trampled ego.

But the way you snarl at them. Showing those little tiny fangs, laughable enough to be even considered it as that. How cute. Adorable, can those little fangs even penetrate, let alone poke his flesh? His curiosity got him acting for answers.

His thick fingers moving in your mouth as his other hand held your own on the cold dirty ground. His eyes fixated on your fangs, rubbing your mouth and tongue. Too fixated to even notice how squeamish you're becoming, getting hot and sensitive as he plays with your fangs in fascination.

The moment he glance up and look on your face, he never thought he'll ever get so hard just by looking. Your face red, tears streaming down your cheeks, sniffling and hiccuping. Panting as you drool, saliva on the sides of your mouth, your hot heaving breath hitting his fingers and his own face.

Such an erotic sight.

Just by him rubbing your little fangs and you immediately get so bothered, all your feisty and bratty spirit gone. Horny little thing. How lonely were you? But don't worry anymore, he'll make sure to accompany you.

[gojhoes]

my good neighbor

synopsis: You've lived next door to Geto for nearly a year, yet your neighbor remains all but a mystery. But as for you- he knows everything about you, from the shampoo you use to the books you keep by your bed.

warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW contents: geto x fem!reader, yan(?)!geto, age gap, breeding, masturbation, no curse au, dubcon(?), somno, p-in-v wc: 6.3k

It all starts when an Amazon package with your name on it somehow ended up in Geto's mailbox. He would later refer to this occurrence as his greatest gift from God; the most blessed twist of fate to ever work in his favor.

A pink cardboard box sits on his counter, jarringly bright in comparison to the deep neutral design of his apartment. If the package's appearance wasn't proof enough, printed on top is an address nearly identical to his own, except his is 3-D, not 3-C. Clearly, it belongs to the tenant to his right- an easy mistake to be made by someone who reads hundreds of names and address every day.

Geto knows that he could march back down to the mail room and leave the package in the correct mailbox. He could walk away without another thought but given that the box is this specific shade of pink, he figures it might be something you're really excited for. You're probably wondering about it right now, peering confusedly at the 'Delivered' notification from your email. Besides, you both live on the third floor, so he'd be saving you an extra trip. He's just being a good neighbor.

But then he starts to think- he recognizes this shade of pink. His ex-girlfriend had once received a very similarly shaped package in the same color. Inside that package had been a vibrator that he'd grown quite familiar with over the course of their relationship. Could it be the same thing boxed up right here addressed to you?

Your door is cracked when steps out of his apartment with the package in his hand. From this angle, all he can see is the door to the coat closet directly to the right of the entrance. In his apartment, the same closet is on the left, confirming his suspicions that your bedrooms do, in fact, share a wall.

It also meant that your living rooms were connected, but Geto was already well aware of that. Yours seemed to be the gathering place for all of your friends and given the amount of chatter that trickled through the wall every evening, you had quite a few of them. Not that he minds- he works nights as a pharmaceutical lab tech, so it's not like he's there when you're having your get-togethers.

It was less bothersome during the week than on the weekend, which was when you hosted your entire gaggle of acquaintances for what sounded like game night. He was still working out the details of all the different voices, but over time, he'd developed the ability to recognize certain voices by the pitch and cadence of their speech.

It hadn't been on purpose, but the walls were stupidly thin, hardly a step up from a curtain. It was impossible not to eavesdrop, especially when the voices dwindled to only yours and another that was undeniably male. Geto'd glue himself to the wall trying to hear what the two of you were getting up to, but it seemed you weren't that kind of girl.

Or maybe Geto was assuming incorrectly that there was any type of romance going on. But for the last several weekends, he would hear the two of you chatting, then it would be quiet for a bit, as if you were pausing the conversation to make out. He has not, however, heard any sounds of pleasure from your side of the wall, and that alone has piqued his curiosity.

However, during the day, your side of the wall typically was quiet. Just as he would be getting out of the shower in preparation for bed, he'd hear your alarm blaring right at 7am. If it was loud to him, he could only imagine how your ears still functioned properly after such repetitive torture. He'd hear you getting ready through the walls and smell the coffee you brew while you take a shower. By eight o'clock, there is a jingle of keys followed by hours of silence, and he sleeps just fine.

It had to have been nine months or so since you'd moved in, yet Geto hasn't laid eyes on you even once. Your apparent opposite schedules have managed to keep the two of you from crossing paths despite living just inches from each other.

As he stands between your neighboring doorframes, he thinks about how strange it feels to know someone's daily routine despite never having glimpsed you. Based off your schedule and the lively nature of your social life, he's deduced that you must be an undergraduate student at the nearby university. He himself had graduated the semester before, but the rent was cheap and moving was too much of a hassle.

But what were you, 19? 20? With your own apartment, an 8-3 schedule, and enough time to hang out with your friends nearly every day? He couldn't be sure of your age, not without seeing you, but your behaviors made him sure that you were young.

Geto glances down at the box again, reading your name aloud to test the sound of it on his tongue. He eyes the opening of your door again, craning his neck to see what else might be behind it, but no dice. Maybe if he should just go in and leave it on the counter. He would get to see your place and hopefully satiate this prolonged curiosity, even for just a moment.

Besides, you've left your door cracked. Every front door in the building locks automatically when closed, so technically, it would be your fault if this was a robbery situation, regardless of the value of your things. It's too tempting- he's been too intrigued by the box clutched in his hand. It was fate for the two of you to meet this way. Every time you held it to your clit as you came, you'd think of the moment you saw him with the box in his hand at your door.

His hand hovers over the doorknob- is he really about to do this? Wherever you've gone, you'll likely be back any minute if you've been so careless about your door. No, it's not the right time. He's already nervous about how you will react, even more so knowing he's going to be seeing you for the first time.

You know when someone just sounds hot? The music your body makes is so human, yet so graceful and controlled until your friends come over. You sound perfect when you're just simply existing by yourself. He feels, in so many ways, that he knows you so well already. It wouldn't take him any time at all to learn how to give you what you want. Maybe he'll tell you that, if the moment presents itself.

He's fortunate yet again for the lack of insulation used by the contractors. There is a rushed set of footsteps echoing from the stairwell at the end of hall, giving him enough warning to take a step back until he's standing just the perfect distance between your two neighboring doors. He looks up as the footsteps close in, and his heart skips a beat when he finally, finally sees you.

"Hi!" you chirp. "You must be my neighbor."

The last few steps you take give him enough time to drink you in. You can't be older than 20 with plush lips and a pretty smile, one that lights up your face and showcases your lack of smile lines. And what you're wearing makes his mouth go dry. It's a baby blue pajama set with thin straps and the shortest goddamn shorts Geto has ever seen in his life. He's staring, he knows he is, but you're even more gorgeous than he could've imagined. Your hand shoots out to shake his, small and soft enveloped within his grasp for just a wink of time.

It's not enough, not even close to satisfying the desire you've instilled in him. He forces himself to look at your face and not at the tops of your tits threatening to spill out of that useless pajama top. God, and he can see your nipples straining against the thin fabric-

"I believe this belongs to you," he says, holding out the pink box.

Your face lights up impossibly as you pull it into your hands, and Geto thinks he might die right there. He smiles at your excitement; he was right- you were excited to get this. God, he would be so good to you if you'd let him.

"Oh, thank you!" you say enthusiastically. "I've had a lot of packages go missing lately, so it's really nice to actually get this one. Thank you so much."

You're practically worshipping him with the sinful sweetness dripping from your words. So well-mannered. Would you be this polite if he brought you into his bed and offered to give you his cock? Would you smile at him as you are now, and say please every time you ask him to fuck you? He'd do it for you- he'd give you everything simply just for being such a sweet girl for him.

Geto smiles and introduces himself. "It seemed like a pretty important package."

He catches the way your shoulders tense and the slight flush of your cheeks- shit, was it actually a vibrator in there? Clearly, you're embarrassed, so it would make sense, but there's no need to be ashamed of getting one.

But you're smiling sweetly again, any trace of worry wiped clean. "It's nice to finally meet you, Geto," you say, and he swears that he sees your eyes flick down to his lips.

He hums, tilting his head to side as if to study you. "Likewise."

You send him one more polite smile before disappearing into your apartment. As he's closing his own door, he's imagining you making a cup of coffee like you do every morning. Are all of your pajamas that pretty? He's met you once, but already he can tell that you're a princess. He bets your parents pay your rent and send you money for groceries anytime you ask. A girl as sweet as you was probably well-accustomed such doting and pampering.

Someone was taking care of you, but were they making sure you were safe? Who was reminding you to keep your doors locked? You were a young pretty girl living on your own in the city- anything can happen. Clearly it seems that you need someone to look out for you, and who could possibly be better for the job than him? He lived so close by already; checking on you would be no problem at all.

And after seeing your perfect thighs in your little shorts, the swell of your breasts straining against the blue fabric...he'll do anything if it means he might get to see that again. He'd come up to you from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your ass against his hips. One hand holding your chin as he kisses the side of your neck, squeezing your thigh with the other...

You need him. Someone older and more mature to nurture you properly. Besides, he was just being a good neighbor.

That evening, he rearranges his room so that the head of his bed is flush against the innermost wall of his apartment, the one that he shares with you.

*** Geto will admit that somewhere deep inside, he does feel guilty. This part of him is disgusted and ashamed, constantly wishing he could be different and cursing himself because he's not. But he was going to make you love him. Once you let him in, you'll wonder why you hadn't come to him sooner. You'll see- he'll prove it to you, and then you'll understand that everything he does is for you.

But the rest of him, the more dominant parts of his personality, run rampant once he's fallen for you. He isn't acting right, deep down he knows that, but he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to know every secret you might be hiding. The home a person keeps says so much about them, and he wants to know everything. You won't have to hide from him, not ever, and he'll make sure you know that. Maybe he's obsessed, but can you blame him? You're just so perfect.

He's starving for you, but he's got to be subtle; if he's too forward, he risks upsetting you or scaring you away. He doesn't want to stress you out, either, but it's essential that he sees your apartment. He needs to check your locks, especially the one on your balcony and make sure that you're keeping up with your cleaning.

It means taking advantage of the several minutes you leave your door cracked when you've gone down to the basement to do your laundry. Every Saturday afternoon, before your friends come and steal you away, you gather your basket and leave your deadbolt extended to avoid locking yourself out.

He's managed to pull it off twice, the first time being harder than the second. It took him three days to work up the courage to even try thinking of a plan, but after moving his bed to the wall, closer to you, he's descended quickly into absolute agony. It's a stroke of luck- no, of fate- that has made you put your bed against the same wall- and he can hear everything.

A few days have passed since the package mishap, and by that point, Geto had almost forgotten about the contents of the box. That night, just as he's getting ready for a shift at the lab, he hears a strange buzzing as he's brushing his teeth. It's an electric toothbrush, so his first thought is that maybe it's time to replace it. But as he rinses out his mouth, he finds that the buzzing had not ceased. It's go to be you, he thinks, immediately drying his face and flying over to the wall to press his ear flush to it. He's just in time to hear the beautiful, merciful sound of a mewl escaping from your lungs.

A shaky breath passes his lips. He's dumbfounded by the pleasure that flows through his abdomen when he realizes what you're doing. He'd totally been right about the package. Even through the wall, he's able to recognize the same vibrations. Maybe he's just been Pavlov'd, but immediately he can feel the blood rushing south as a faint throb starts in his cock.

He knows without a doubt that you've got the cutest pout on your lips, maybe a few strands of hair falling into your face as you lay your head back. "Feels good," he whispers, despite knowing that you can't hear him. Do your hips buck up into your hands, or do have those plush thighs squeezing them tight while you try to cum?

Is this really happening right now? Heat creeps up his neck and high on his cheeks as another moan, albeit quieter this time, blesses his ears. He can't stop his hand from finding his cock and palming at himself as he eyes slip shut.

He's dying to know- he wants to see you right now, wants to watch as you spread apart your folds and fuck yourself until you're trembling. He needs more, he needs everything that you can give him- and you will give him all that you can. He knows you will because you're just that good of a girl.

Fuck. He's got to get to work on time before the cultures expire and he fucks up three weeks' worth of data, but you are killing him with each sweet little moan that leaves your mouth. He's picturing you on your knees with your ass in the air, two fingers pumping in and out of your tight cunt while your other hand has a death grip on the vibrator.

He's waited so long to hear your pathetic little whines as you fuck yourself as fast you can on your too-short fingers. You're so desperate, and with how hard you're trying, it's obvious that you're getting frustrated. He wants to help you- it's clear from your desperate cries that you need him to. He would help you cum, over and over if that's what you wanted. "It's okay," he breathes. "Keeping going, it's okay."

Using a vibrator for the first time can feel almost painful if you're not used to the intensity. You're so overstimulated that you're struggling to reach the orgasm you chase so desperately. He feels genuine pity for you as cry out, "please! so close...mm." If you'd just asked him, he would've been able to introduce it your sensitive clit the right way.

He's begging you more, anything you could give him. He knows you'll do it for him soon. You were just that good of a girl, and maybe you were too sensitive to cum without a little bit of a help. If he was inside you, you'd have creamed all over his cock by now, too fucked out to ride him anymore as he pounds into your pretty pussy from behind.

As much as he would love to see you beg for it, he truly thought that you deserved to cum and felt frustrated for you. You were such a sweet girl; the only reason it took you so long to try your new toy had to be because you were nervous. Good girls deserve the best orgasms, after all.

Shit, were you still a virgin? Did you even know how to make yourself cum yet? That would explain why he hadn't ever heard those pretty sounds before. Fuck, you were going to make him lose his goddamn mind if you didn't cum in the next 60 seconds. "Y-you'll cum for me, right? I know you can do it."

Geto did not make it to work on time that day, quintessentially ruining over 300 specimens all because you wanted to play with your pussy right as he had to leave for work. It was terrible timing, but he can't say he regrets bringing himself to one of the best orgasms he'd ever had without even touching you. It wasn't enough, though, just hearing you. He needs to see it, needs to feel your warm, tight cunt squeezing him dry while you moan into his ear.

A plan comes to him, albeit a risky one. The next time you leave to do your laundry, propping your door open like always, he slips into your apartment. It's an inverted copy of his own- the same appliances, same gray tiles, a balcony at the back of the living room. Your apartment is so girly, so shamelessly you, and not to mention spotless. Geto makes a poignant effort to keep his place clean, but only a control freak would keep their apartment this organized. You must be an anxious person- but that's okay, because he'll be there to help you through it.

Two minutes pass- you should be back any moment, and while he has an idea of what he'll say if you catch him, he really wants to avoid scaring you. He can't have you feeling scared around him, so he turns to leave- he can always come back another time after he's more prepared. But then he sees a set of keys lying on your counter, and the gears in his head start turning.

You've left your door open, so you'll be able to get back in- he doesn't have to worry about that. He knows you won't be leaving anytime soon. He's confident that he'll have enough time and he doubts that you'll notice your apartment key missing if you're not actively needing it. So, he pockets the whole set and slips right back out as silently as he'd come.

Early on Monday morning, Geto waits until he hears the jingle of your keys and the click of the deadbolt as it slides into place. The smell of coffee lingers, and his clock reads 8:06, but he can't risk you coming back, so he forces himself to wait a little longer. He's nearly vibrating with the anticipation of getting so much unadulterated time in your apartment. The copied key in hand is representative of everything he's done to get closer to you. This observation will help him learn who you are- what shampoo you use, what you keep on hand in your fridge, what toys you have hidden away.

He decides it's been long enough when 20 more minutes pass, and Geto makes a beeline for your bedroom. Compared to the rest of your apartment, your room is much more lived-in. The white comforter topping your bed is rumpled, exposing light pink sheets under a plethora of stuffies and pillows. He's more interested, however, in the nightstand on the side.

He pulls open the single drawer and sure enough, there's the white vibrator that you've been using quite often lately. Aside from a bottle of lube, there's nothing aside from some medications and a pair of nail clippers. His suspicion that you're a virgin persists from your lack of sex toys- no wonder you were so embarrassed when he hinted at the contents of your package. Already, he was half-hard thinking about how good he was going to make you feel. He was ecstatic to think that no one else had touched you yet. Whoever that guy was, the one you your often spent evenings with alone, wasn't going to stand a chance.

Geto steps away to make toward your bathroom, and feels something soft under his foot. He glances down and bends to retrieve the black lacy thong you've left so mercifully on the floor. It's foul, it's intrusive, it's perfect- he brings the fabric to his face and breathes in your scent. His cock throbs in his pants, begging for attention- for your attention, but he can't have you yet. No, it has to be perfect because you are perfect, and you deserve nothing less.

He shoves the thong in his pocket before going into the ensuite bathroom.

Later that week, the universe finally gives him a break.

That fateful Friday evening, he calls in sick to work. His throat is a bit sore, and he knows the ache in his muscles isn't from last night's workout, so he opts to take his temperature, which reads 38.2°C. He knocks back some cold medicine before burying himself in the blankets on his couch, dozing in and out as the effects sweep him away.

He's roused by a rap-rap-rapping on his front door, and even through his medicated haze, his heart jumps- is it you? Is he really about to get this lucky? He glances at the clock above the stove to see that it's half-past 11, and from the din coming through the wall, he knows that you've got your friends over. As he crosses to answer the door, he does feel a bit better aside from the persistent fog clouding his brain.

And it is you, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink top that shows off your midriff. Your cheeks are painted with a light flush and your hair is bit disheveled, obviously tipsy from the way you're swaying a little. He smiles at you, drinking in the soft curves of your hips that he's been dying to dig his fingers into.

"Hey," you say. Your speech isn't quite slurred, but there's a lilt to your words that says all he needs to hear. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this, I know it's a little creepy, but-"

He doesn't mean to cut you off, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. "No, it's no trouble at all. Bother me all you want."

You're tipsy enough that the line works- you even laugh a little, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. Every sound you make is so sweet

"Right," you say. "D'you have a wine bottle opener by chance?"

He shoots you his best disarming smile. "I do."

"Could I borrow it for a moment? I promise I'll bring it right back, I'm right next door."

He'd give you his left lung if you asked for it. He considers inviting you in, but the state of his illness deters him. All the lights are off in his apartment and he hadn't bothered to change out of his gray sweats and black sweatshirt. His hair is down, likely tangled and flat from dozing on his couch. No, you deserve to see him at his best- he'll get you to come over soon enough.

"Of course," Geto says. "Just a second."

He leaves the door cracked in the same way he's seen yours over the last month. Your fingers linger on his own when he places the wine opener in your hand. Even that slight contact sends a wave of excitement through him.

"Swear you'll come right back?" he teases, smirking a little.

You smile again, making him fall even harder when shoot him a wink before disappearing back inside of your apartment without a response. If this was your way of flirting, he's even more enamored with you. So coy, yet so sweet as you look at him over your shoulder before the door closes.

Geto goes into his kitchen to heat up a bowl of broth. Your tits sat so pretty in that little top- did you always dress like that? Not too revealing, showing off just enough to drive him mad with desire. He didn't get to see your ass, but if it was anything like he remembered, he knew that those jeans would cling to it like a film.

As he's sipping on his soup and scrolling mindlessly through his phone, there's another knock. He's on his feet and at the door in seconds, not even bothering to hesitate to swing it open so he can see you again. This time, you're holding a bottle of rose (because of course, you are) and his wine opener.

"Can you do it for me?" You're looking up at him with what he swears is a pout, and with how you bat your eyes through the question, how can he refuse? It would be criminal not to help, especially when you're asking so nicely with that cute look on your face. "None of us can get it open."

He's delighted that you've asked him. Were there no boys over there to help you? Did you choose him over them, or were you truly just too clumsy to do it yourself?

He cranes his neck to see if anyone else stands in the hall, but it seems deserted save for you, so he pushes forward. Geto does his best to seem mildly disinterested yet nice, not wanting to scare you away with the words he really wants to say. If he didn't fuck this up, maybe he wouldn't have to wait so long to get you to come back. His plan would get to move so much faster, but he had to be careful.

"I should probably do this over the sink," he says, reaching out to retrieve the bottle from your grasp. He purposefully lets his thumb brush the tip of your pinky- enough to test the waters, but not so much that it can't be played off as sheer coincidence. As he turns to go into the kitchen, he says over his shoulder, "Feel free to come in, by the way."

The suggestion is very forward considering you've said less than 20 words to the guy since moving in a year ago. Had you been of a better state of mind, you would have politely declined- you barely knew the guy even if your beds were separated only by a few inches of drywall. But you can't deny your curiosity; not once have you glimpsed what lies on his side of the wall. So you indulge yourself and step over the threshold, making sure to pull the door as you do so.

There's no way he's getting this lucky right now. All the plotting, the strategic timing of your meetings, and his careful research are finally paying off. You are walking right into his apartment without him having to lift a finger. He doesn't think you can get any more perfect- he hasn't even touched you yet, and you seem to already know what he wants. It was proof that the invisible string was real.

You stand at a safe distance on the side of the bar opposite from his, watching intently as Geto works the wine opener into the cork. There's a satisfying 'pop' as he gives it a firm tug. What would've taken you an embarrassingly long amount of time is accomplished with one quick flex of his forearm and a small grunt of effort.

"What's the occasion?" he asks.

You stare at him blankly. "Huh?"

He returns the wine opener to its rightful drawer, drawing out the motions to maximize how long he's got you in his apartment.

"It's champagne, so I figured maybe it was for something special," he explains. "Or are you just fancy like that?"

You're smiling at him again and his heart soars. He prays that you'll always look at him like that, and only him, but he gives no indication of the depth of his feelings. He wraps his hand around the neck of the now-open bottle and extends it toward you as he rounds the side of the counter.

"You could say that," you reply with a giggle. "Thank you..um, it's Geto, right?"

He nods. "Anytime. What's mine is yours."

It comes out wrong- way too intense to say if he's trying to stay above ground with you. But you don't seem to mind. If anything, the flush on your cheeks deepens as you take the bottle from him. From where he stands, he can make out a faint scar dragging across your exposed collarbone. He wonders what it might feel like to run his tongue across you delicate skin and leave marks. Would you keen into him and clutch at him as the quick, sharp pain pulls a whine out of you?

"Um, I'm sorry if I'm ever loud or anything," he says. "I work nights, so I think we have opposite schedules." A white lie, but he doesn't want you to leave yet. If he just keeps you talking, maybe he'll get the chance to ask you to hang out. He's desperate, honestly, but he tries to hide it as he stands between you and the front door.

Your face lights with a carefree wave of your hand. "Oh no, I can hardly tell you're there most of the time. I'm a super heavy sleeper, too, so don't worry about it."

He hums and shoots you a grin. "Guess I've been worried for nothing, then."

"Same to you, though," you continue. "I have people over like, all the time, I know they can get really loud."

It's awkward now, as you stand there with your eyes darting around the room and occasionally meeting his. You're nervous, he realizes, shifting your body in a way that makes your hip jut out. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's less apt to make you too uncomfortable, so he makes to walk you out.

"Thank you again," you say, smiling at him widely. He returns your thanks, and watches you disappear into your apartment once more. Already, his mind is reeling as he checks the time. Your friends should be leaving in a couple of hours- the noise usually diminishes around 2am, which will be no trouble to stay up until.

And he makes it despite taking another dose of medicine, having long since grown used to being awake during these hours. You should've have mentioned that you were a heavy sleeper, because now he has to do this.

His clock reads 3:10 when he quietly turns the lock with his copy of your key. The lights are off and it's silent, such a vast difference from the earlier commotion. He leaves his keys on the counter in case there's an unfortunate jingle when he finally enters your room.

You sleep naked- god, you make it so easy for him to love you. Your lips are parted and the passive rise and fall of your chest signals just how deeply you're sleeping.

He slides a hand between inner your thighs, unable to help himself any longer. He teases at your entrance to see how wet you are, dipping his fingertip in just far enough to get a taste of you as he brings it up to his mouth.

And fuck, his index finger slides right in and your cunt flutters around it.

But you don't stir; there's not even a hitch in your breath as he curls his finger into that spongy tissue that he's sure should've roused you. You weren't exaggerating about your being a heavy sleeper, and Geto silently sends praise to whatever gods that were helping him pull this off. However many drinks you'd had earlier were keeping you pulled under the sea of unconsciousness.

He thinks about sliding his hands under your thighs and burying his face between them, licking and sucking at your clit to properly taste you. Surely you'd have to wake up from that, but his patience is wearing thin.

He needs this- he needs you. He's so desperate to finally sink into you, to fuck you like he's been aching to for months. His hands are on the waistband of his sweats and he's pulling out his cock, the tip already weeping as he thumbs at his slit. He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts thrusting into it, finally letting himself begin to unravel as he lets out a pleasured sigh.

God, he doesn't know where to start. Your perfect tits bounce ever so slightly with every rise and fall of your chest. The collarbones he's been wanting to bite are so vulnerable and delicate, sitting right there for the taking. But he doesn't want to ruin the moment by waking you from too much stimulation. He leans over your still body, holding himself up on his palms as he glimpses your pretty face.

He feels that he might die if he doesn't fuck you right now, lining up his cock with your entrance before he buries himself inside you.

"Ohh, fuck," he breathes. So tight, so warm, so perfect- his own perfect little pussy, so much better than anything he could've imagined. He fears that he might cum right then, digging his fingers into the sheets in attempt to steady himself. Even in such a deep sleep, you're soaking his cock with each slow thrust. Are you dreaming about him fucking you right now? Is that how your slumbering brain is making sense of all the pleasure?

Once he's got some semblance of control, he rolls his hips into yours, sinking back into you until. It's too good, and he needs more, he needs to have his cock as deep as you'll take him. He moves his hands to your knees and bends your legs until your thighs are pressing against your chest. It's desperate, the way he fucks you, but somehow, you remain as still and quiet as you'd been when he first came in. Your body jostles with each thrust and he sees the tip of your tongue creeping out from between your parted lips- fucked dumb, even fast asleep.

He knows he should probably pull out, but he's too fucked out to think straight, not to mention the cold medicine running through him right now. It's not right, but with how fucking good you feel, he doesn't care. You're going to wake up with his cum dripping out of your aching cunt, wondering obliviously if your period came early. Traces of him will be all over you and he just knows you'll love the feeling. He can already tell you're going to be his little cumslut- you're too sweet to deny him such a pleasure.

His thrusts get faster until his balls are full on slapping against your ass and his muscles tense all over. You're squeezing him so fucking tight, it's a wonder he's lasted this long, especially with how needy you've made him.

An involuntary flutter of your cunt sends him over the edge. His orgasm wracks his entire body and he's trembling with each spurt of his cum that covers your gummy walls, uncaring as to what consequences might await him. He moans out your name, panting as he empties every drop into you, and you just take it so well. Just as he's about to pull out, your eyes flutter open ever so slightly.

But you're so tired- you don't even notice that it's Geto hovering over you before they slip shut again. "Mm," you murmur. "Wh-what are you..mm." The words trail off, and a moment later, your breaths are soft and even again as sleep takes you once more.

You're adorable. He slips out of you as gently as he can, he waits until he can see his cum start to trickle down to the curve of your ass. He lifts a hand to stroke your cheek and brush away the stray hairs on your face, but he doesn't want to risk waking you when you're already so sleepy. With how pliable and motionless you are, it's clear that you need your beauty sleep.

As he slips out of your apartment and back into his, he can't help but think of how lucky he is. He's so lucky- how is it that fate has blessed him so richly? He was going to make you his. You were going to get so addicted to his cock, to his scent, to his taste that you'd never dare to leave him. You'll belong to him, free for him to use and praise as he pleases. But he will always reward you for being his sweet girl.

And, he thinks, you are so so lucky to have such a good neighbor.

i felt like a mad scientist the entire time i wrote this. if you've thought about trying to write fanfic, JUST DO IT because sometimes it's really fun.

[married-to-google-translater]

Trying to break up with Yandere Suguru Geto

This is definitely not going to end pretty...

This is definitely not recommended lol.

You and Suguru initially studied together and ended up dating.

You're there when shit goes down....

At first you'd try to be Suguru's support during his difficult time.

You don't think the same as him, but you don't think it's good for him to be alone.

At first, you fear that if you leave him, he will only become more radical.

However, you also had your limits...

You had tried to help Suguru as best you could but nothing worked.

He certainly didn't change his mind.

Now you had reached your limit and you really didn't want to be part of the massacre that Suguru was planning.

You try to tell him that you can't do this anymore.

Suguru doesn't say anything during this time.

He just stares at you.

Suguru grabs you and pulls you back when you try to leave.

He's not going to let you leave him.

He's not going to let you be stupid and ruin your life because you want to protect worthless monkeys.

If you don't stay with him willingly, he has to force you.

Suguru would be sure that you would understand someday.

The man is literally plotting mass murder with his followers... it's not worth testing what he can do to keep you to himself.

[after-witch]

Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence 

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line. 

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog. 

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall. 

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when  you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment. 

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

--

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.” 

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning. 

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails. 

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building. 

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both. 

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.” 

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here. 

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made? 

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette. 

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls. 

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth. 

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

--

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased. 

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse? 

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey. 

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you. 

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives. 

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work. 

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them. 

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent. 

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down. 

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone. 

It is, as with so many things, a certainty. 

--

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled. 

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more. 

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams. 

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced. 

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

--

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space. 

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again. 

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this. 

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub. 

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils. 

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

 Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology.  You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do. 

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth. 

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created.  How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke  on your hands washed away with the bathwater. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

 His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

 Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn��t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

~

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.

[temptacioun]

pick your yandere !

gojo satoru

manipulative asshole, the relationship is sweet at first until he makes you move into the gojo compound. you are not his lover, you are his property. will need an heir from you ; if you deny to provide he will force it upon you. has his sweet silly moments sometimes. make sure to behave if you don’t wanna be bruised !

geto suguru

an absolute gentleman, with strict rules. never lets you out. tells you how to dress, what to eat and how to speak with him. be prepared to face his curses if you upset him. enjoys watching you cry. suguru both despises you and obsesses over you ; he can’t and won’t explain it.

itadori yuuji / sukuna

he’s the sweetest boy. showers you with gifts and compliments, gets you flowers every day. knows your routine and every step of your day up to the most minuscule detail. the clingiest you will ever meet ; literally won’t leave your side, the type of guy to wait outside your bathroom door while you’re doing your business.

/ the curse takes over sometimes and he’s nasty. bullying you and making gross comments every now and then. forced kisses ! loves to bite you. will not shy away from beating you. ( but yuuji will kiss the bruises away )

fushiguro megumi

a stalker. he follows you around in the distance, the shadows are his friends. much like yuuji he knows every detail of your life from the exact moment your alarm rings to the toothpaste you use and the drink you always order on your way. most of the time you won’t even know him, except for when you bump into him on the street. probably the easiest to have.

nanami kento

an actual gentleman. doesn’t let you do anything yourself, you’re banned from the kitchen. outside time is limited to an hour per day and only when he’s there to protect you. actually babyproofs the apartment ; childlocks on the door for the kitchen and all windows, no scissors where you can reach them and absolutely no sharp objects. you are his precious porcelain doll.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello can I request a yandere jjk x angel reader.

Geto, Gojo, Yuta, Sukuna. Thank you!!!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional tendencies, cligniness, paranoia, sadism, abduction, isolation, violence

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Angel s/o

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾​This is no forbidden lovestory. No tragic fairytale of two people who aren't meant to be together. No, the only emotions brooding between the two of you are those of repulsion, disgust and, on only Sukuna's side, an attraction that only fuels the hateful obsession. He is the King of Curses, you are a being of pureness and protection. The two of you are supposed to be enemies, intertwined in an eternal fight until one of you falls through the hands of the other. Those emotions though, they shouldn't be there. He should loathe you, he does loathe you. So why does he experience those sensations whenever the two of you clash? This thrill pumping through his veins goes beyond the bloodthirst and sadistic ecstasy when fighting someone, beyond the fantasies of slashing and devouring. Other feelings co-exist within those carnal desires Sukuna is so familiar with and if he would be someone lesser he would accuse you of bewitching him. Only someone weak would fall for a cheap trick that were to influence their perceptions in such unfamiliar ways, twist them into something so pathetic. You only add salt to the wound within his ego as he is the only one suffering from such a disease.

🗾​A primal part of him longs to slash you into bloody pieces so that your body and face may never tempt him again. Far too merciful would that be though, not enough for Sukuna's heart yearning for revenge. He has suffered a great humiliation because of you, feelings of love and attraction that have weakened him and his resolve. You deserve something far worse than death. He will drag you into a pit of hellfire even deeper than his, will break you and shape you until you are even more pathetic than he is. You will be punished for the seeds of feelings you have planted within him. You will be captured, kept and tamed by him until you are too tainted to return to the holy place where you originated from. He is going to enjoy ruining you and weakening your resolve, to shatter you until you have no option but to stay with him. As soon as you are in the position where he wants you to be, you will be kept as his obedient pet. Your abilities are going to be of great use for his plans after all. It's affection that keeps him still chained to you, a bond that even he will be unable to sever. You will be his. Because if you aren't, then he will burn you alongside the world you have sworn to guard over.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​His appearance and his powers have always put Gojo closer to a being closer to a deity, at least in the eyes of some people. The power that emits from you is something that even non-sorcerers can sense though they do not sense what you are. Gojo with his Six Eyes instantly discerns that you are an existence that no sorcerer has ever encountered. A messenger of an even higher being that has graced earth for purposes unknown. Gojo proceeds with a healthy mixture of caution though as he believes those in power to be rarely innocent. Being close to you is a dizzying experience, the energy you emit strong enough to evoke reverence within an average person. Even Satoru is not entirely immune to those feelings yet he isn't swayed as easily as he remains wary when around you. Every word, every gesture, every flutter of your eyelashes is something that he observes closely as he tries to figure out your purpose for your ascendence to earth and its people. He fails to inform people of highest position of your existence though as he would only dread what they would do with that information. Maybe, just maybe, there is also a part within him that wants to keep this extraordinary experience to himself.

🩵​The rapid fluttering within his chest, the warm adoration pulsing through every fiber of his being, the weightlessness he experiences whenever his gaze falls upon you. Around you Satoru feels a safety and a comfort that only someone like you could provide him with. It initially scares him, the sensation of a heaven on earth something that has never been granted to him. Soon he gives in to everything though and that is when the clinginess and paranoia start. Both of you are from different worlds entirely as his life is but a short spark in comparison to your life of eternity. It is this knowledge that he is a being chained to time that torments him greatly. He doesn't wish you to move on, to forget him as the centuries pass. It is a selfishness of the highest degree, perhaps even blasphemous in the face of a holy creature like you. Gojo is only human though, riddled with flaws and an imperfection that someone like you could never possess nor understand. It is you who triggered those feelings within, you who made him this way. If you truly are what history hails you to be then stay and save him from his solitude. Do that or watch him fall victim to his dark side where he will only accept salvation from you.

Geto Suguru

🗻​How utterly ironic of the monk to be met with an otherwordly being as yourself. Geto is not overly welcoming, at least not anymore the moment you voice your own doubts about his vision. A cast of judgement from someone like you cuts deep, so much deeper than Suguru would have ever imagined. In his mind he does what will be best for his own kind, his opinion of non-sorcerers tainted in nothing but hatred. What you try to protect is a creation that is beyond saving. Just take a look around you after all and see what the barbaric feelings of those monkey give birth to. They are the reason curses exist, they are the reasons why his kind dies in an attempt to save their ignorant lives. But for what reward? If they were to find out about the powers the sorcerers possess they would revert back to witch hunts and fear. He has seen it. There is nothing worth protecting within the non-sorcerers. But he could create a paradise like it is written down in so many ancient works across the globe, a place where the hatred and judgement wouldn't exist anymore. His own belief clashes with your own passive one yet to him never before has approval mattered as much as it did with you.

🗻​Suguru obsesses over the fact that he wants your approval for his plans. His mind is set and nothing can stop him, not even you. He will execute his plans with or without your blessing yet he cannot stop himself from obsessing over it anyways. It is an unbearable burn within his heart to know that a literal angel like you are do not agree with him. He constantly seeks you out, tries to convince you to understand his greater vision. He even takes you with him to show you the pettiness of humans, to make you see that they are beyond saving and that a future only lies within sorcerers like him and all those who have joined his cause. The silent look you always give him though always threatens to tear him apart as you gaze at him like he is a lost child who needs saving. He doesn't need that though. He has discovered the light already and yearns for you to join his cause. If he were in possession of your approval, of your love, there would be nothing in his way anymore. If you refuse though, if the threat arrives that you may disappear, Suguru will do his everything to keep you bound to his side. He is no sinner, not at all. He has seen a different salvation, one he will have you understand.

Okkotsu Yuta

💍​He should stay alerted, he should stay cautious when he approaches a being so out of this world. However, your mere presence is enough to eradicate any hostility that he could have possibly harbored for you. His whole body forcibly relaxes as if put under a spell, the grip on his katana easing. A heavy gulp that has his Adam's apple moving before he slowly steps closer to you, each step filling him more with sensations of elation and joy of the likes that he has never experienced before. Rika seems to be slightly uncomfortable within your presence though, baring her sharp teeth and hovering over Yuta as if warning you to not try anything on him. Rika's presence seems to be something that elicits a reaction out of you just as much. For one short moment he dreads that you will exorcise her, won't like her due to being a Curse. To his relief you deem her to be a creature that can do more help than damage though, sparing him the horrible scenario where he would have to defend her against someone as magnificent as you. You are beautiful, a fact that Yuta can't deny. Every time he does as much as think of you he feels those butterflies erupting within his chest.

💍​Your presence is addicting, every touch of yours electrifying bliss and your appearance radiant, transcending the beauty that he has been familiar with so far. Your figure visits him in his dreams, your voice a call he can only answer. Yuta wishes to worship you, to go down on his knees and praise you for the holy being that you are. Someone like you is too pure for this earth though, a place crawling with curses and humans. He feels this unexplainable urge to slash all those who commit evil, to rid your path of such unsightly beings so that you may only experience the good. It is a thought that grows louder each and every day, becomes hard to reign and only quietens when he is with you as if your presence cleanses him from such inpure desires. Still, the urge never disappears and manifests itself every time he catches sight of an ugly curse or a human who you should not have to witness with your magnificent eyes. His own spiral into insanity is not something he is oblivious to and it threatens to pull Yuta down with shame. How can he protect you after all when he himself has such unholy thoughts about you? You should need protection from him.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8k wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe. 

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life. 

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

 

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries. 

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue. 

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that. 

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two. 

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes. 

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened. 

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself. 

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed. 

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion. 

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head. 

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception." 

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later. 

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what. 

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately." 

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance. 

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place. 

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake. 

"Take care of yourself, will ya?" 

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault. 

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken. 

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years. 

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street. 

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't. 

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure. 

He smiles wider. 

"Long time, huh?" 

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it. 

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does. 

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't. 

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee. 

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it." 

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue. 

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable." 

 His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate. 

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me." 

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child. 

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first. 

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you." 

You tilt your head. "What for?" 

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to." 

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception." 

You squeeze back. 

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough. 

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types. 

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher. 

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was. 

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered. 

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed. 

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer. 

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you. 

"Have they?" you prod. 

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'. 

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated." 

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially. 

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches." 

He laughs, light and pretty. 

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be. 

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?" 

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back. 

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you. 

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely. 

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say. 

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze. 

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body. 

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you. 

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-" 

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become. 

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger. 

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man. 

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving." 

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious. 

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat. 

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while. 

You don't speak to Suguru, after that. 

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent. 

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways. 

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder. 

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it. 

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly. 

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me." 

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer. 

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out." 

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams. 

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks. 

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze. 

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you. 

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance. 

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky." 

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am." 

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head. 

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood. 

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers. 

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips. 

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings." 

What? You look behind you again. Nothing. 

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction. 

Immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts. 

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over. 

Run. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-" 

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs. 

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently." 

His tone is almost pitying. 

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums. 

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you." 

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger. 

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then. 

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-" 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?" 

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this. 

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body. 

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist. 

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?" 

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips. 

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving. 

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek. 

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on." 

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you. 

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip. 

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good." 

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work. 

"Why?" 

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face. 

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me." 

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs. 

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure." 

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours. 

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. 

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧JJK Men as Yanderes ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Mahito, Choso Kamo

Word count: Each piece is roughly 750 words

Warnings: implied sabotage (Gojo, Toji, Choso), invasion of privacy (Gojo), kidnapping (Gojo, Sukuna), murder (Geto), kidnapping mention (Nanami, Toji), suicidal ideation (Nanami), light gore (Gojo, Sukuna, Mahito), reader injury (Sukuna), threats of bodily harm/mutilation (Mahito), sexual assault (Mahito), implied murder (Choso)

Satoru Gojo

You're nothing special. Not compared to him, at least. With no long line of sorcery or blue blood running through your veins, your family is just about as average as it gets.

You're nothing special---not to Jujutsu society, anyway. But who gives a shit about that? To Satoru, you're more than special.

You're everything.

He's always been the strongest, and yet, when he's with you, he just feels so weak.

Like a schoolgirl fawning over her latest crush, Satoru often finds himself checking his phone while away on missions, hoping to see your name appear on his screen. It doesn't have to be anything special—even a picture of some ugly animal with the caption "That's u, lol." is enough to get him going. Just knowing you were thinking of him at all, even in an unflattering light, makes him feel lightheaded in a way not even battle can emulate.

It's weird. It's embarrassing.

But he can't get enough.

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel, he'd kneel. If you asked him to beg, he'd beg. If you asked him to rip out a man's heart and present it to you, he'd ask if he should do so on a silver or gold platter.

If you asked him to let you go, however...

You sigh and fall back onto the couch. It'd been a week since your landlord mysteriously kicked you out, and Satoru took you in with a frankly suspicious eagerness. To say that he was an overbearing roommate was to put it lightly.

He'd follow you around the flat from room to room, enter your bedroom without knocking, and once, you even caught him sifting through your laundry. He wasn't even embarrassed about getting caught, let alone the fact that he had done it in the first place.

You decided to start searching for a new roommate after that.

"Y'know," Satoru says, slinging his arms around your shoulders---you hadn't even heard him approach. You quickly close your computer, which happens to have very clearly been showcasing cheap apartments in the area. "I could have just taken ya'. Snatched you up off the street like some kidnapper."

"What...?"

"---But I decided to play nice instead. I thought we could forge a real relationship that way. But you've just been pushing me away. I'm starting to think I've been too lenient with ya'. Like maybe I should have just locked you up instead."

"That isn't funny, Satoru."

"Who said I was joking?" You open your mouth to respond, but Satoru cuts you off before you get the chance. "You want dinner? I can order us takeout. Anywhere you'd like."

Drop it, his eyes say. You do.

That very night, you pack a bag and head to the nearest hotel. In the morning, you'll ask your job if they can transfer you to another city. For tonight, you'd like to just get a good night's rest without the lingering fear of waking up to his figure looming over you.

You wake up to familiar surroundings. It doesn't register as strange until you remember checking into a hotel the night prior. You shoot up to get a better look around. Sure enough, you're in your own bedroom, not the hotel's.

But how...?

You're sure you left last night. Did you dream it? You go to check your phone, but it's not there.

Just then, the door opens. "Oh, you're up," your roommate says.

"Satoru, what's---"

"I called you in sick for work today," he says casually, "and tomorrow. Actually, starting today, you're unemployed."

"What?!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of us. I've got more than enough money."

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel...If you asked him to beg...

If you asked him to let you go, however...

"C'mon, baby, you know I can't do that," he'd say, arms around your waist and head in your lap. "Ask me for something else, anything. Just not that. Do you want a pony? We can get a pony."

"No---"

"What about a cat? Or maybe you prefer dogs? I could get a purebred if you wanted one. I know it gets lonely being in the house all by yourself."

"I want to go outside, Satoru."

"We could get a fish tank, I guess. Though I doubt they'd make good company."

"Listen to me---"

"Actually, maybe that's for the best. Wouldn't want to compete for my lover's attention in my very own home, you know?"

Suguru Geto

When he was at his lowest, Suguru thought of you. It kept him going. It kept him sane.

So, of course, you were the first person he asked to join him in the creation of the new world. His world.

"Our world," he said, the look on his face desperate, pleading.

You declined, of course. His ideals went against everything you stood for as a Jujutsu sorcerer. As a person.

He took it well---or seemed to, at least. He flashed you a plastered-on smile and released your hands from his, leaving you with no further fuss.

For a while, that seemed to be the end of it.

Life went on. Though you would occasionally catch wind of his nefarious deeds, dealing with such things never fell within your purview. In fact, it almost seemed as if the higher-ups were purposefully keeping you from any cases that involved him.

You had all but forgotten about that fateful evening when a call from the higher-ups had you booking a flight to Okayama.

Apparently, there had been a sudden influx of cursed spirits in the region. And as the lead researcher in cursed phenomena, you were called to the scene.

You had already been given a file outlining the happenings, but out of courtesy, Yumi, the assistant supervisor assigned to the case alongside you, filled you in regardless.

"It's not that there's a higher rate of cursed spirits being born in this area," she said. "They're migrating here."

"Hmm," you look over the map on your tablet again; colour-coded dots mark the locations and grades of each (presumed) non-native sighting. The spacings are far from natural. They seem to have been made with intent, almost as if forming a pattern of some kind.

"We've set up a barrier to track the arrival of new cursed spirits. Nearly every curse from fourth to semi-first grade in the neighbouring towns has been coming here. Some of our windows have even spotted them moving together in groups."

"Was there anything strange about their behaviour? Like moving in single-file lines, with strange movements, or perhaps even speaking?" Yumi lights up.

"Yes, actually! They were all---"

Your screen flashes, suddenly restarting the tablet without your input.

"Huh...?"

"[Last]-San..." Your supervisor almost whispers. You tear your eyes from your screen to hers as she weakly holds up her tablet to you.

Over four hundred cursed spirits have been spotted crossing the Okayama border within the past fifteen minutes.

Your tablet finishes restarting, and you scramble to view the map again, hoping what you just saw was nothing more than a glitch.

The loading screen seems to take ages to complete, but when it does, the map shows exactly what you feared.

Oh. You get it now.

The pattern it was trying to spell out. It's "愛"

---"Love".

You hear a scream.

"Ah, it's good to see you again. How long has it been now?" A voice---one you're all too familiar with---says. "Two, no, maybe three years?" Suguru is wiping blood off of his hands. You don't want to look down. You can't look down.

Yumi is dead.

You looked down.

"I'm not sure why I phrased that like a question I didn't know the answer to," he says, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache. "I've been keeping track down to the days, you see."

"Were you...behind this?" You've never been one for combat. You can't use reverse cursed technique to save Yumi. You can't fight to save the others. There's nothing you can do.

You've never felt so helpless.

"I did," he admits casually. "I recently got my hands on a new curse. First-grade 'Pied Piper', its technique creates a sort of call-and-response between itself and other curses of a lower grade through a musical frequency only other curses can perceive. With that technique, I can manipulate the movements of curses I haven't yet acquired without leaving my residuals behind."

"But if it's coming from the technique of a curse you possess, your residuals would still be left behind," you counter.

"Ah, as quick on the uptake as always, [First]," he praises. "You're right, or you would be if this curse were under the control of my curse spirit manipulation. No, this curse was tamed, not subjugated."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He's going to kill you once he's finished explaining.

"I've always appreciated an inquisitive mind," he says. "especially when it's your inquisitive mind." Your mouth forms a vague 'O' shape as the realisation dawns on you.

"愛"

"Love"

...You're never getting away.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is someone who has never really been all that content with life.

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Sometimes, on his darkest days, Nanami thinks about what would have happened if he had joined Haibara—or better yet, if he had never even been born in the first place. If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?

But then he met you, and suddenly, the world didn't seem all that bad.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like your presence suddenly made all the wrongs in the world right, but it did make him feel like they all mattered just a little bit less. Like maybe all this suffering was worth it, if it also meant he could see you smile.

So, of course, he'd do anything to keep you safe. To protect that smile.

The easiest way to ensure that, of course, would be to clip your wings. To lock you away somewhere where only he could reach you. A songbird that only sings for him, a dove in a birdcage.

He'd treat you like royalty, of course. His job pays well, but he's a somewhat frugal person by nature, so he has plenty of savings lying around. Whatever you wanted, he'd get you.

As long as you stayed safe, he couldn't ask for anything more. Even if you didn't love him, as long as your smile could be protected, that would be enough.

He's in the middle of researching what kind of restraints would cause the least damage and irritation to your skin when he realises what a grave mistake he was about to make.

'If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?'

What if...

What if you started feeling that way, too?

What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?

He could offer you all the material things in the world, but if it comes at the price of your freedom, it might still not make you happy. After all, it was the same for him.

If money didn't make him happy, why would you be different?

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Nanami is worse.

He doesn't deserve you. It's with this thought in mind that he begins to avoid you. He refuses to meet your gaze, leaves the room when you enter, and declines all missions that involve your presence.

He feels like he's going crazy. Separation has made him sloppy and reckless. He comes home with more injuries, and a part of him thinks he deserves it.

Bags begin to form under his eyes as two weeks go by without the haven of your presence. He sees you everywhere now. The girl across the street is dressed in a substyle you like. The model in that magazine has your eyes. The cafe down the block is having a special on your coffee order.

"Nanamin, why're you avoiding [Last] all of a sudden? They do something to you?" Nanami scoffs at the remark but doesn't answer. He turns to leave but stops when Gojo continues. "Y'know, they actually came cryin' to me about it. Said they had no idea why you suddenly started treatin' 'em like they've got the plague." Nanami turns to look at Gojo, who's fiddling with his blindfold. "You should make up with them soon. Can't leave our cute little assistant supervisor feeling so down, you know?"

Nanami hates to admit it, but Gojo might be right.

'What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?'

Fuck. He can't do anything right.

He really doesn't deserve you, but what can he do? If he leaves, you won't smile anymore, but if he stays, you'll be smiling at a monster.

But what can he do? He'd do anything to protect that smile.

Even if it means hiding his fangs.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is a man who takes what he wants and doesn't care if he has to get his hands dirty in order to take it.

Naturally, this applies to you as well.

It's strange, he's never wanted someone as badly as he wants you. Not his past flings, not even his late wife.

Toji is no stranger to romance. He was married, after all. He knows love. It's a familiar feeling.

That's why he's inclined to believe that what he feels for you isn't love. No, what he feels for you is far too primal to be love. It's rough and all-consuming. It's nothing like the soothing feeling he had around his wife.

Love wraps around one's heart like a warm blanket. This wraps around his heart like a python.

But if it's not love, what is it?

Actually, scratch that. It doesn't matter.

Whatever it is, it's some form of desire. And if he desires something, then all he has to do is take it.

Yes, it's better to keep these kinds of things simple rather than getting tied up in technicalities.

There is a problem, however. He'd like nothing more than to just lock you up and keep you for himself, but with his somewhat unstable income and his habit of bouncing around from place to place, that isn't exactly feasible.

Ah, what to do...?

He could settle down or stop spending his money as soon as he earns it, but where's the fun in that?

No, rather than try to adapt to your lifestyle, he'd much rather force you to adapt to his. Still, he supposes some sacrifices will be necessary, as his lifestyle is currently only fit for one.

You'll have to quit your job since you'll be moving around from place to place alongside him, but he'll just take on some more jobs to cover the extra cost; it's no big deal.

He proposes the idea to you so matter-of-factly that it's almost as if he believes you to have already agreed to the plan beforehand. In reality, this is your first time hearing of such a thing, and you're so stunned that you momentarily lose your voice.

You've known this man for two, no, maybe three weeks, and yet he's asking you to drop everything and come overseas with him? You're not even friends! He's just a regular at the cafe you're employed with.

It dawns on you that he must be joking, so you chuckle awkwardly and avert your gaze. Perhaps you simply haven't known him long enough to gauge his sense of humour. You feel a little embarrassed for nearly having taken him so seriously.

Then, he shows you the plane tickets.

Bewildered, you end up being more blunt than you perhaps meant to: "I'm not going," you say, pushing his tickets back to him.

"Sweetheart," he says dryly. "I'm not asking." You shoot him a strained, confused smile, which quickly morphs into a more genuine one as the door chimes.

To think you'd ever be happy to serve a customer. It's a foreign sentiment, but if it means an end to this strange interaction, you'd happily serve a hundred---no, maybe even a thousand customers.

You take their order and get to making their drink, shooting quick glances at the man---Toji, you think---from behind the bar.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

It's days like this that you wish the company wasn't so stingy about hiring more than one person for shifts. You're about to clock out, and if that man is going to stay until closing, you'd really like to have a coworker walk you back to your car.

It's twenty minutes until closing when Toji finally leaves. You let out an unconscious sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders relax. That was weird, but you shouldn't have to see him again, right? He's going overseas tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, you won't see him again. Thank goodness.

It's with that thought in mind that you flip the "We're open!" sign to its side and lock the doors. It's only 6 PM, but the fall season means it's already dark. You shiver from a cool breeze as you make your way towards your car at last.

Huh. Flat tire.

Ryomen Sukuna

Those who know of Sukuna will inevitably feel sorry for anyone who happens to catch his gaze. Sorcerer or not, none will ever possess even a fraction of the strength he carries, and for someone like Sukuna, that means you're no better than a bug to be trampled on.

What a poor, pitiful thing you are. You must be treated more like a pet than a person. A plaything for him to toy with, to discard once you've ceased to entertain.

However, this interpretation couldn't be more wrong.

What others fail to realise is that Sukuna would never waste his time on someone he doesn't consider his equal. Weak as you may be, there's something about you that seems different in his eyes.

Like a precious gem left unpolished, there's a certain allure to you that only a trained eye could see, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else stake a claim on you first.

No, he'll be the one to bring out your true potential.

Sukuna has never met someone worthy of being his companion. This has never bothered him, however. Loneliness was not something he was familiar with. There are those who have tried, of course, to prove their worth, to stand by his side, but none have ever moved him.

None until you, that is.

The funny thing is that you don't even try to win his attention. You never once asked for his gaze to land upon you. And yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Sukuna doesn't know what to do with you. You make him feel things he's never felt before.

Is this weakness? Is it love?

Is there a difference between the two at all?

Should he kill you? Should he keep you?

What can he do to make these feelings go away? What can he do to ensure they never go away?

In exchange for not pillaging your homeland, the townspeople offer you up as a sacrifice. It was Uraume's idea.

At midnight, you're dragged out of the comfort of your home and tied to a stake, where you stay for hours. By dawn, you've worn yourself out with struggle, dried blood sticking to your hands and the ropes around your wrists, when a white-haired stranger comes to collect you.

The stranger undoes your bindings, but only the ones keeping you bound to the pole. You're dragged along like a dog on a leash for countless hours until you eventually arrive at the largest estate you've ever seen in your life. It's midday when you're untied and allowed to bathe. The warm water releases all the tension from your aching muscles, and as you bathe, the white-haired fellow replaces the garments you arrived in with robes made of fine silk.

The stranger's name is Uraume, they tell you. They'll be taking care of you until their master is ready to meet with you.

"What happens after that?" you ask tentatively.

Uruame flashes you a smile that refuses to answer.

Before you know it, a full week has passed you by. You're still yet to see this so-called master, but Uraume tells you not to worry. After all, the master has already seen you lots of times, they say.

The thought of being watched in secret sends a shiver down your spine.

Though the prison is large, you're confined to only one wing of the estate, and after a week of having nothing to do but wander, you have the entire layout memorized. Bored and unattended, you decide to venture out into the unknown past the garden's gates. There, you come face-to-face with the largest man you've ever laid eyes upon.

A hulking figure with four arms and fiery pink hair turns to you, and in an instant, you fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around you and the pain across your chest.

In truth, Sukuna had tried to kill you, but his technique missed your vitals. It takes him a moment of watching your blood ooze out of the open wound to realize he did it on purpose. Before he even realizes it, he's picked you up in his lower arms and applied reverse cursed technique to your injury. You've lost consciousness, and your pulse is weak, but you aren't dead. Relief floods through Sukuna's veins as he listens to your soft breathing.

From that day on, you're never to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. From that day on, Sukuna has someone worthy of standing by his side, not as a servant, nor a pet, but as a companion. From that day on, Sukuna has a lover.

Whether you like it or not.

Mahito

As a curse born from the hatred and fear humans feel towards their own kind, Mahito relishes humanity's anguish and despair. He kills without a second thought, not caring who he hurts or who gets swept up into his path of mass destruction.

So why is it that this particular human sways him so? Why is it that he thinks your soul looks pretty, just the way it is? Why does he want to touch you but not to warp you beyond repair?

Why does he want you to look at him? Why does he want to scoop your eyes out of your sockets so that you can never look away?

To be a curse is to always follow your own desires, no matter how contradictory or inconsistent---that's the motto that Mahito lives by.

So, of course, this philosophy applies to you as well.

It doesn't make sense, and he doesn't understand it. But that doesn't matter to him. Why would it? He's a curse, and curses take what they want. What he wants is you, so, of course, he has to take you, too.

Mahito doesn't spend long watching you before he makes his move. First, he has to check if you can even see curses to begin with. If you can, that'll make things easier. But if you can't...well, that'll be fun too.

He bumps into you at the train station around 2 AM. It was a late night at work, and you're now dead on your feet. There's no one around, so it's the perfect time for him to test you. He taps your shoulder with a smile.

If you don't react, he starts feeling you up, talking aloud about how much he wants you as his hands roam your body.

"Mm, you're so weak," he says, palm on your stomach. "Look at you, all unguarded. If I wanted to, I could take your soul and just—" he squeezes the flesh on your abdomen. "—until you go splat! Hmm, but I don't really want to do that. I wonder why?" His hand trails down to your hips, brushing past—but not quite landing on—your private areas.

"It's weird, isn't it? You can't even see me. You don't even know I exist. But I know you exist." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. "Humans usually wear rings when they're married, right? I wonder why you don't have one? You're such a catch," he giggles. "Ah, well, I guess it's better for me. Less work, y'know?Though, I would have liked to see the look on your face, coming home to dear, sweet hubby, all mangled up in your living room. I wouldn't even bother transfiguring him. No, I'd want you to see his face clearly, all contorted in pain with his guts splayed out all over the floor."

He follows you home. You still can't see him, but you at least seem a little aware of his presence, with the way you keep glancing over your shoulder, randomly picking up the pace and taking more turns than necessary.

How fascinating! You can't see him, and yet you can sense him? He's swooning already.

"Don't worry, [First]," he says, arms around your shoulders as you fumble with your keys. "You'll be able to see me soon. And after that, you're never getting rid of me."

If you do react, however, he holds himself back, opting to strike up a lighthearted conversation with you instead.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" He asks. "Don't you know the subway is dangerous at night?" You visibly bristle, clearly on guard. He grins.

"Do you need something?" You ask, clutching your bag to your chest and stepping back. His grin widens, easily closing the distance you've just created.

"You're lonely, aren't you? All you do is work; you don't even have any friends! It's kind of pathetic, really. That's okay, though, I like you anyway. I might be the only one."

"What do you---"

"I could help you, you know. Ease your loneliness, maybe?" He's touching you now. Nothing outright inappropriate, but you could smell his intentions from a mile away.

"No thanks," you say. The train stops, and you hurry off the platform. Fortunately, the stranger doesn't get off with you. He waves at you as the doors close, and you run all the way home.

Finally feeling safe, you don't bother to do anything more than kick off your shoes before collapsing on your bed. It creaks under your weight, then creaks again. You freeze, your eyes shooting open.

"Heya," the stranger says. "Fancy seeing you again."

Choso Kamo

If you were to describe him in one word, 'inexperienced' may be your best bet.

Though it's true that he has 'lived' for over one hundred and fifty years, he spent most of that time as a cursed womb, unable to truly experience the outside world for himself. Even after being incarnated and absorbing the memories of his host, Choso finds himself unable to relate to any of his body's experiences. He knows what love is and what lovers do, but only from a technical standpoint. To actually experience it is something he's never even dreamed of doing.

So, of course, when he starts feeling these things for you, he's unable to properly put a label on them. At first, he thinks he's sick, which isn't unreasonable, considering his rather long list of symptoms (fever, shakes, sweats, heart palpitations, and clouded mind, he notes dutifully).

However, that idea is quickly shut down. Being a cursed womb death painting, it's highly unlikely that he even can get sick; plus, his symptoms only seem to surface when you're around (or when he's thinking of you, which, admittedly, is often).

Did you curse him? No, you don't have a technique like that.

Then, what...?

It takes him a somewhat embarrassingly long time for him to realise the truth behind his feelings. It isn't until after he catches himself staring at your lips and thinking about how soft they'd feel against his that he concludes he likes you.

So, he's figured it out. Now what...?

Choso searches through his host's memories in an attempt to figure out how to woo you. Unfortunately for him, his host was a frat boy with commitment issues who knew more about one-night stands than how to build the foundations for an actual relationship.

So, Choso consults Yuki Tsukimo, who he, with his very limited circle of friends, considers to be an expert.

As expected, Yuki is ecstatic at the news that Choso has found his type. Immediately, she's giving an impromptu lecture on the ways of the heart.

"First, you have to figure out their type," she says, wagging a finger. "If it's a match, you're all good. If not, you either need to give up or double down."

Through Yuki's mentoring, Choso learned the general rules for signalling romantic interest. Flowers, chocolates, walks in the park, walks on the beach—a lot of walking in general, actually—candlelit dinner, pick-up lines—he's got it all memorized.

The problem is that his throat gets dry, and his knees lock up when he so much as thinks about talking to you.

So he takes to following you with his eyes instead.

"It's just until I gather the courage to talk to them," he tells himself. "I'll stop once I figure out their type."

Right, if he can't ask you about your interests, he'll just have to observe them instead.

So, he watches you. All the time. Eventually, he all but forgets about his previous plan of it being a temporary habit.

It's just so...addicting. Watching you go about your day like normal. Completely unaware of his presence in the shadows. 

He learns about your hobbies, your interests, what kind of shows you like, your favourite foods, whether you still keep stuffed animals in your room, and more. He has a mental folder of all your likes and dislikes. And while there are some things he’s not able to learn, some places he’s not able to follow, it’s enough. Just knowing this much is perfect. 

He doesn't do anything. He doesn't plan to, either. He’s content with just watching. It's comfortable like this. He doesn't want anything to change. So, he forgets about stopping, and instead sinks even deeper into his newfound obsession.

If he had it his way, things would stay like this forever. Him, never confessing, and you, never knowing. But, unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.

It was 10:15 AM, and you were at a local coffee shop by yourself when the barista handed you their number with your receipt. You shyly accepted, and just a day later, the two of you had plans for a date the next week.

Unfortunately, your 'date' canceled last minute and blocked you with no explanation.

It's a good thing, then, that your good friend Choso just so happened to bump into you, lending you his shoulder to cry on.

Well, there's no reason to waste a good dinner reservation, right?

You never do go back to that cafe, but if you did, you'd find the barista missing from the register.