#Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delulustateofmind · 2 days ago

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Who's a good little hybrid?

Sum: You're a bit of a loser, so you get yourself a companion. What could go wrong?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Yuki

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Hybrids (Puppy!Gojo, Fox!Geto, Hyena!Yuki), knotting, mentions of pseudopenis (female hyena trait), mentions of murder/human organs (Yuki), dubcon, intoxication, infantilization (Geto), MDNI

WC: 6.0k

A/n: This one was a little tame. Enjoy! Tried to give a more wholesome vibe given the current events :)

A sweet little homebody like you needed a companion, didn’t you? Someone to keep you company, to brighten your days, to be there when the silence got a little too heavy.

The adoption agency was more than happy to help. They just… didn’t tell you everything.

Some hybrids weren’t easy. Some had been returned again and again—too needy, too intense, too much for anyone else to handle.

But you’re different, aren’t you?

You’re always home. You have all the time in the world to care for someone who just needs a little extra love. And isn’t that what you wanted in the first place? Someone who would love you unconditionally?

So go ahead. Pick one. But choose wisely.

Bringing home the bright blue-eyed puppy hybrid—who just loves you so much!

Gojo Satoru adores you. From the moment he first saw you, it was like the whole world had finally made sense. He loves you more than the sun spilling through the curtains in the morning, more than the softness of a warm blanket, more than anything else he’s ever known.

And he shows it.

He’s always close—curled up against your side, white fluffy tail thumping against your leg, bright blue eyes following your every move with unwavering devotion. He buries his face into your chest, nuzzling against your warmth, fingers clutching your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Your bed smells like him now—like the hours he spends tangled in your sheets, chasing the lingering traces of your scent.

You needed companionship. He needed a purpose. Isn’t this perfect?

He tries so hard to be the best for you. To be everything you could ever want. To make sure you never need anyone else.

But you keep leaving. Honestly, you're turning him into an anxious pup!

The jingle of your keys makes his ears twitch. Your hand on the doorknob makes his stomach sink. His tail slows, his fingers flex—like he wants to reach for you, to tug you back into his arms, to beg you not to go.

You don’t mean to make him sad. You have responsibilities, a life outside these four walls. But every time you step through that door, something inside him aches. His ears droop, his heart squeezes, a tiny, helpless whine gets caught in his throat.

Why do you have to go? Why can’t you just stay?

You promise you’ll be back. But it’s never soon enough.

And when you’re gone too long, well… he gets lonely.

You really shouldn’t have bought those fancy embroidered pillows.

Because when you finally come home, it’s to a scene of absolute destruction. Feathers floating lazily through the air, fabric torn apart, stuffing scattered everywhere like snowfall. And right in the center of it all?

Satoru.

Ears perked, tail wagging, those bright blue eyes sparkling with something close to mischief—completely unrepentant.

Your exasperation only makes him grin wider. Even as you put your hands on your hips, even as you scold him, his ears twitch like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re upset. And then, just like always, he’s stepping forward, pressing his face against your stomach, arms wrapping around you as he buries himself in your warmth.

"Missed you too much," he murmurs, voice muffled against your clothes. His tail wags again, brushing against your legs, his grip tightening like he never wants to let go.

How could you possibly stay mad? When he just loves you so much?

But it gets worse.

You hear it before you see it—the soft shrrk of fabric giving way, the quiet tug of seams splitting apart. And when you step into the room, his back is to you, ears perked, tail swishing lazily as he grips one of your stuffed animals between his teeth.

It’s one of your favorites. One that sleeps beside you at night, tucked against your chest.

He isn’t allowed to do that.

And it’s not fair.

So, can you really blame him for taking matters into his own hands?

Standing in your room, he glanced at the stuffed animals piled neatly on your bed. His lips twitched into a scowl.

Those things.

He threw a quick jab at one of them, his fist making a satisfying poof as it landed against the plush fabric.

"Lucky bastards," he muttered under his breath, punching another one. "Snuggling up to her every night, huh? Probably pressed right up against her..."

He paused, picking up one of the stuffed animals and holding it at arm’s length. "Bet she kisses you goodnight too."

His grip tightened around the plush toy, sharp canines flashing as he contemplated just how easy it would be to rip it apart—just like the others.

The sound of the front door clicking open startled him.

"What are you doing?"

Your voice came from the doorway, and Satoru froze. Slowly, he turned to face you, caught red-handed with the stuffed animal still in his hand.

You stood there, a confused expression on your face as you looked between him and the mess he’d made of your bed.

"Uh… Satoru?"

"Hey!" He forced a bright grin, quickly smoothing out the plush toy and placing it carefully back on your bed like nothing had happened. "You’re back early."

You tilted your head, blinking. "Yeah, my professor canceled class. Why are you in my room?"

"I, uh…" Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence faltering for just a second before he plastered on another grin. "I was fixing your stuffed animals. They looked like they needed some...attention, wait, fixing!”

You squinted at him, confused. "Fixing them? Did they… need fixing?"

He laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "Well, no, but I figured I’d do a little quality check. Sniffed them for drugs and pesticides. You’re welcome, by the way."

Your confusion only deepened as you stepped further into the room, glancing at your bed. "Uh-huh… and why are they all out of place? Did you punch one of them? That bunny looks like it’s been through something."

"What? Me? Punch your precious bunny?" Satoru feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "I would never."

You frowned, walking over to your bed to inspect the damage, fingers grazing the rumpled sheets and displaced plushies. the slight drool glistening on some. "Right…"

Behind you, his tail wagged slowly. Bright blue eyes watched you, filled with something unreadable—something quiet, waiting.

You didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched at his sides. The way his ears perked, listening to every shift of your weight, every tiny inhale.

Because you were here. In his space. With him.

Safe.

Right where you belonged. He can finally confess how he feels!

But then—

"Satoru," you sighed, rubbing your temples. "I can’t keep doing this. If you don’t start behaving, I might have to—"

You don’t even get the words out before he moves.

Too fast. Too desperate.

The air shifts, and suddenly, your back is against the bed, warmth pressing against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, unsteady breaths. His arms cage you in—not forcefully, but like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

His head dips, white hair brushing against your cheek as his nose skims along your jaw, his breath warm and unsteady. He breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize you, like you might disappear at any moment. A low, rumbling sound vibrates in his chest—not quite a growl, but something raw, something fragile hiding beneath it.

Not enough to hurt.

But enough to plead.

"Take me back?" he murmurs, voice soft, wavering just slightly, like he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. Like he’s pretending your words didn’t just gut him. But the way his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, the way his tail flicks in restless, uneven movements—it makes your stomach twist.

His ears twitch, his lips hover near your pulse, and you freeze.

"You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?"

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

His smile is there, easy as always, curling at the edges, but it’s fragile. Shaky. The way his ears droop slightly, the way his tail has slowed, the way his eyes—so bright, so full of devotion—hold something so painfully uncertain…

"You wouldn’t abandon me, right?" His voice is quieter now, smaller. "I try so hard to be good for you."

Your heart pounds against your chest. You swallow.

You didn’t mean it. Not really. It was frustration, exhaustion—coming home to yet another ruined couch, another chewed-up pair of slippers, another mess to clean. But now, staring into those unblinking blue eyes, you realize—

You can’t threaten him like that.

Not unless you’re ready to see what happens when he truly believes you’ll leave.

But it doesn’t stop there.

It happens again the first time you come home late.

You barely get two steps inside before he’s on you, a blur of white fur and restless energy, his arms winding around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. His tail wags, his ears flick forward, his body practically vibrating with relief.

And then—he stills.

The shift is subtle. His tail slows, his nose scrunches. His fingers tighten around your shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers, knuckles whitening just slightly.

Then comes the sound. Not a growl. Not a snarl.

A whimper. Soft. Hurt.

“Satoru?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he sniffs you again. A slow, deliberate inhale, dragging in every trace of scent clinging to your skin. His brows furrow. His grip tightens.

Then—his ears flatten.

"Who was it?" he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"Who touched you?"

You laugh, confused, maybe a little uneasy. "What are you talking about? I just—"

He yanks you closer.

Not rough, not forceful—desperate.

Your breath catches. His claws dig into your wrist, his nose pressing against the side of your neck. You can feel his teeth just barely graze your pulse, a featherlight touch that shouldn’t feel so broken, but does.

"You smell like them." His voice wavers, thick with something you can’t quite place. "Not me."

A sharp breath. A wet sound in his throat, like he’s swallowing something back.

"Did you—" he stops himself, breath hitching, ears flattening further against his head. His tail has gone completely still.

He takes another slow inhale, his fingers tightening, his body trembling just slightly against yours.

"Disgusting," he mutters, voice shaky, raw. His tongue flicks out, dragging slowly along your skin. Slick. His hands tighten. "They ruined it. You’re supposed to be mine. I keep you safe. I keep you warm. Why—why would you let them—"

You shove at his chest. “Satoru, let go—”

His arms tighten.

"No."

His voice is small.

"No. I won’t."

Your stomach twists.

"Satoru—"

"Fix it." His voice is barely more than a whisper now, lips brushing your jaw, his tail tucked between his legs. "Make it go away. Please." each breath coming out shaken, his hands clinging to you like you might slip away forever. "You don’t need anyone else, do you? I’m right here. Always right here."

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You push harder, palms flat against his chest.

For a second, he looks—hurt.

His ears twitch, his tail curls in just slightly, like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Then—he laughs.

It’s not a happy laugh.

It’s quiet. Unsteady. A little cracked around the edges.

"Ahh," he sighs, dragging a hand through his messy hair, his grin tilting, strained. "I see how it is."

He doesn��t say anything else.

But later that night, when you go to bed, you notice something.

Your jacket, the one you wore when you were out, is missing.

Your new shoes? Ripped apart, shredded fabric and torn laces were left in pieces near the door.

The next day, your bedsheets are destroyed.

And that’s when you realize with the help of Hyrbid Wikipedia.

He’s getting rid of everything that doesn’t smell like him.

So, to solve the issue of constantly having to replace your things, you finally allow your sweet, wounded pup into bed with you.

He wins.

Of course, he does.

But when he curls up beside you, when he buries his face into your chest and lets out a soft, relieved sigh, you realize—

It was never about winning.

He just needed to know you weren’t going anywhere.

You don’t know his past.

The pound didn’t have any records—just his name, his breed, and a vague mention that he’d been returned more than once. No details. No explanations. Just a blank space where his history should be.

And there are things you don’t know.

Like why he flinches when something shatters too loud, why his muscles coil when footsteps approach too quickly, why his body tenses, ready—expecting—to fight. His instincts are sharper than other hybrids. His rage runs deeper. His obsession feels inescapable.

You don’t know that before you, he belonged to someone else.

That he wasn’t always a pet.

That there was a time when he was used for something else entirely.

Fights. Blood. Survival.

The only thing he’s ever known is how to be the strongest. How to win. How to keep what’s his.

And now, he has you.

Something soft. Something fragile.

Something that belongs to him.

He’s not going to lose you.

Not like before.

So if you ever try to leave him… it only makes him sweeter. Perhaps even a little feral.

You don’t know why you even let him pick the movie.

Satoru is already curled on top of you, his long limbs tangled around you, his fluffy white tail thumping lazily against the couch. His weight presses you deep into the cushions, his cheek resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

The moment the opening credits roll, he lets out a pleased sigh, rubbing against you like a spoiled puppy demanding affection.

"You're warm," he hums, arms already tightening around your waist. You feel his claws scratch against your spine, securing you in place. Like he’s making sure you don’t slip away.

Like you could slip away.

"Satoru," you deadpan, shifting beneath him. "You’re huge. Get off."

He whines. Actually whines. Loudly.

"But 'm comfy," he pouts, nuzzling into your neck, soft white ears flicking.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his forehead. "We’re supposed to be watching the movie."

But he’s barely paying attention.

Because what’s scarier than the thought of being away from you?

The screen flickers with shadows and blood, but he’s too focused on the sound of your breathing, the way your heartbeat subtly changes with each scene, the way your scent shifts—just slightly—when tension builds.

Then, the first jumpscare hits.

You jolt.

He notices.

"Aww, is my owner scared?" His voice dips into a teasing purr, his lips curling into a lazy grin. His tail flicks, his ears perking as he nestles closer, his nose brushing against your temple.

"I'm not scared," you grumble, but your grip on the blanket tightens.

He sees.

And he can’t help himself.

"S’okay," he murmurs, softer now. His voice is low, syrupy-sweet, his fingers tracing slow circles against your back. "You don’t have to be brave. I’ll protect you."

Before you can argue, he moves.

Shifts.

Pulls you fully into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, his arms locked firm around you. The blanket pools around your shoulders, but his warmth is everywhere.

A cage disguised as comfort.

His lips graze your hair. "Bet you’re real glad I’m here now, huh?" he chuckles, pressing a teasing kiss to your temple.

You sigh. "I think you’re just using this as an excuse to cuddle me."

"What? Me? Never." His tail wags. Loudly thumping against the couch, giving away all his motives.

You don’t pull away.

And he takes that as permission to tighten his hold, to keep you there, his breath soft against your ear as he lets out a contented sigh.

This.

This is all he needs.

Because as long as you’re wrapped in his arms, drowning in his scent, pressed against him so tight that no one else could ever steal you away—

He knows you’re safe.

At first, he tries to be patient. He whines. He pouts. He clings to you every morning, dragging you back into bed when you try to leave, nuzzling into your stomach, pretending to be drowsy just to steal a few more minutes.

But it’s not enough.

Because at the end of the day—

You still leave him.

So, one day, he decides to fix it.

While you’re gone, he does a little research.

Not on how to help your job.

Not on how to keep himself entertained.

No.

He looks up ways to make sure you never leave him again.

He orders a camera—small, discreet, perfectly placed. He sets it up in the bedroom, aimed exactly where he wants it.

And he buys something else, too.

Something cute.

Something soft.

Something that would make you so, so perfect for him.

When you get home, tired and unaware, he’s already waiting.

You don’t notice anything is off—until he grabs your wrist, tugging you into his lap. Those bright blue eyes of his gleam, tail flicking with excitement as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

"I found a solution," he hums, far too pleased with himself. Satoru did so much research today, you should be proud!

"Solution to what?" you blink, trying to pull away.

His arms tighten.

"To your work problem," he grins, sharp teeth flashing.

You don’t like that smile.

"Satoru—"

He cuts you off with a kiss—soft, slow, only the occasional teasing nip. His fingers trail down your spine.

"Did you know there are people out there with hybrid fetishes?" he murmurs, lips ghosting over your ear.

Your stomach drops. Cheeks flushing.

"W-what—"

"Mmh. Looked it up myself." His voice is honeyed, teasing—but there’s something darker beneath it. "Figured if I can’t have you leave the house, maybe you can just… work from home?"

And then—

He pulls it out.

A set of ears. A soft, delicate tail, with a plug. And a collar.

"You’ll be my cute little bunny, won’t you?" he coos, pressing the set into your hands, watching you with eager, expectant eyes.

His fingers graze the collar, tracing over the leather, intimate. Knowing.

"You’ll stay here. Work from home. With me."

His lips skim your jaw.

"I’ll take good care of you."

And in return—

He gets to stuff you full.

A tsundere fox that hates all humans!

Filthy, pathetic creatures. Insignificant specks in a world that doesn’t belong to them. Geto Suguru has seen them scurry about, blissfully ignorant, pretending they hold dominion over hybrids—when in reality, they are weak, prey, undeserving of the air they breathe.

As a fox hybrid, he would rather die than submit to one.

His sharp, golden eyes flicker with quiet disdain whenever he sees them—sees you. His pointed ears, dusted in black, twitch at the grating sound of your voice, that thick dark tail of his flicking lazily behind him, betraying the irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. You don’t deserve a predator like him. He should be leading the movement, standing at the forefront of the revolution for hybrid supremacy—not here, in this tiny, insignificant apartment, pretending to be domesticated.

Hybrids are the superior species. He is superior.

Yet, humans refuse to acknowledge it, denying hybrids the rights they deserve.

Only recently have they been granted the barest semblance of equality. A law allowing them to work menial, low-risk jobs. Another permitting them to date and marry humans—as if that was something any self-respecting hybrid would want.

Geto has fought for years. Led the fight. Not just an advocate, but a prophet to those who see the truth. His followers understand—the world belongs to hybrids. Humans should be the ones in cages, on leashes, obedient.

And yet…

Here he is.

With you.

You a weak, fragile, human. Somehow, somehow, you managed to adopt him. A predator like himself, bound to you.

At first, it was tolerable.

You worked from home, which made it easy for him to ignore your existence while he lounged around, his thick tail curling around his legs, his sharp claws idly scratching at the armrest of the couch.

But your habits disgusted him.

The scent of caffeine clung to you like a disease, bitter and artificial, staining the air he breathed. He tolerated it—until he didn’t. Until he took matters into his own hands, discarding every last one of your caffeinated drinks, ignoring your feeble protests.

Instead, he makes your coffee now.

Every morning, he drags your exhausted body out of bed, his black-tipped claws skimming over your wrist as he forces a warm cup into your hands. His golden eyes narrow at the dark circles under your eyes, at the way you yawn without covering your mouth. “Disgusting,” he mutters under his breath, rolling his shoulders, his long tail flicking in annoyance.

If you behave, Suguru rewards you—an afternoon matcha latte, crafted with the delicate touch of his clawed fingers, a little heart in the foam just for you. Not that he’d ever admit that part aloud. Tells himself it’s necessary.

Someone like you wouldn’t survive on your own. If you were a hybrid, he thinks you’d be something fragile. A bunny. A deer. Prey. And predators must care for their prey. Must ensure they stay soft, obedient. Dependent.

Suguru doesn’t like how you push back against him.

You whine when he pulls you into his lap, grumbling as his arms drape over your shoulders, rolling your eyes when he scolds you for neglecting yourself. But he knows you need him.

What would you even do without him?

You’d forget to eat if he wasn’t here to force you. He’s noticed—the way you poke at your food absentmindedly, pushing your plate away when you think he’s not looking. Foolish little thing. He spends hours cooking for you, perfecting each meal, and you deny him? No, that won’t do.

His clawed fingers curl around your wrist, lifting the spoon to your lips, his golden eyes dark with something unreadable.

When you squirm, when you try to turn away, he only smiles.

A slow, lazy, knowing smile—because you are so small compared to him. So weak.

You can’t fight him. Not really.

And why would you want to?

He’s only trying to take care of you.

You should appreciate him more.

Lately, you’ve been trying to resist him in other ways. Setting boundaries. Pushing him out of your bed at night. It’s adorable, really. Do you truly think you can overpower him?

With a lazy roll, he’s on top of you, pinning you beneath him with ease, arms wrapped around you in an unbreakable grip. His nose buries into your hair, inhaling deeply, his sigh warm against your skin.

You smell like him now. You belong to him.

That’s why it’s so unbearable when you come home smelling like someone else.

His sharp nose picks up on it immediately. The faint scent of another male. Another presence tainting his territory, clinging to you. The stench of alcohol makes it worse, filling the space he’s carefully curated to be yours and his alone.

He’s spent months making sure your scent stays sweet, tending to you with meticulous care. He’s the one who keeps you healthy. The one who cuts your fruit into perfect little stars and hearts so you don’t choke like the helpless thing you are. The one who carefully fills your cup (one that he keeps telling you is not a sippy cup. It is.) with the ideal juice-to-water ratio, making sure you get enough vitamins.

He keeps your body pure.

And yet, here you are—stumbling through the door, drunk off your ass.

Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted in a breathless giggle, your words slurred and incoherent as you look up at him with those dazed, trusting eyes.

How dare you?

Suguru's golden eyes narrow, his fox ears twitch in irritation, his thick, black-tipped tail flicking once—twice—before a slow sigh slips from his lips.

"Unbelievable."

He steps forward, effortlessly scooping you into his arms. You whimper in protest, squirming weakly, but it’s pathetic. Meaningless. His grip is firm, steady, cradling you with an ease that should be humiliating—because really, what exactly did you think you were going to do? Fight him?

You can’t even stand properly.

“Of all the things,” he mutters, mostly to himself, voice edged with annoyance, but there’s something else there—something tight in his tone, something clenching in his jaw as he carries you straight into the bathroom, ignoring your little hiccups of defiance.

“You don’t even know what’s good for you,” he huffs, carefully lowering you onto the edge of the tub. His long fingers, usually so precise, so calculated, fumble for only a moment as he reaches for the shower knob, twisting it until steam begins to rise.

You groan in protest, flimsy arms shoving at his chest, your pout deepening. "Don't wanna—"

"Yeah?" Suguru's golden eyes flash, irritation flickering across his face as his clawed fingers make quick work of your clothing, peeling away each layer without hesitation. “And whose fault is that?”

You squeak, your arms snapping up to cover yourself, face burning—but he doesn’t even look. His movements are clinical, impassive, detached—or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

It’s not like his ears heat at the tips when your bare skin is exposed to the humid air. It’s not like his throat suddenly feels tight, like something primal is thrumming beneath his ribs.

It’s not like you smell so much sweeter when you’re all flushed and weak like this.

No. Definitely not.

His tail flicks sharply behind him as he lifts you with ease, stepping into the shower with you, his clawed fingers threading into your hair, lathering the shampoo with slow, methodical motions.

Your body slumps against him, lashes fluttering as the warmth relaxes your muscles, melting against his.

And something inside him twists.

Because this? This is how it should be.

You, malleable, dependent. His hands tending to your every need, his sharp eyes ensuring that no harm ever comes to you. Because really, who else would take care of you like this?

Your breath hitches when his fingers scrape lightly against your scalp, and his ears twitch—because that sound? That tiny little noise? It makes something hot curl in his stomach.

Ridiculous.

He focuses on rinsing your hair, tilting your head back under the water, watching as the suds slip down your neck, across your collarbone—

His jaw tightens.

His grip on the back of your neck tightens ever so slightly.

And then, he snaps.

His lips crash onto yours, pressing against the softness with a feverish desperation he doesn’t even realize is there. His sharp canines nip at your bottom lip—just enough to sting. Just enough to mark.

He tells himself he’s trying to be gentle.

Trying not to devour you whole.

And then—

You smile into the kiss.

Your drunken, stupid self melts against him so easily, so sweetly, lips parting just enough to encourage him.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming.

And then you break away—blinking up at him with those hazy, innocent eyes, a dopey little smile curling on your lips.

"Are we dating now?"

A giggle. Light, teasing, unaware of the storm you’ve just unleashed inside him.

His ears flick back, pupils dilating.

His heart pounds too hard.

Are you mocking him?

Or are you being serious?

It doesn’t matter.

Because either way—

There’s no turning back now.

His arms tighten around you in an instant, his fingers sinking into your thighs, lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist with ease.

Your back presses against the cool tile, but the temperature means nothing when he’s burning for you.

"Tch," he mutters against your lips, his voice gruff, sharp—as if he’s annoyed. As if you’re the problem here. "You’re seriously such a pain."

And yet—

He’s the one kissing you like he’s starved.

His lips crash onto yours again, more fevered, more desperate, dragging down to your jaw, your throat, your pulse. His sharp canines scrape against your skin, teasing, testing—not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind you what he could do.

And you?

You whimper.

Your nails dig into his back, your body yielding, surrendering, reacting to him the way he always knew you would.

"See?" he huffs against your neck, his voice husky, slightly breathless. His clawed fingers press into your hips, holding you firmly in place. "You’re so much better when you just listen."

But then—

You gasp softly, your voice small, breathy as your lips brush against his ear.

"I love you."

It’s barely a whisper. Barely coherent.

But it’s enough.

Suguru's whole body stills.

A shudder wracks through him, his mind spiraling, his thoughts consumed—

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, his tail swishing against your leg, his lips pressing against your temple, your cheek, your jaw—worshiping.

"Say it again."

It’s not a request.

It’s a demand.

"Say it, angel. You know you mean it."

He wants to hear it. Needs to hear it. Needs to know that you’re his.

His little mate.

His forever.

And if you ever try to take it back? If you ever try to leave?

…Well.

That won’t happen.

He hushes you with soft, lingering kisses, his lips brushing against yours in slow, deliberate strokes of his cock nestled deep inside you.

"It’s too much," you gasp, fingers curling into his shoulders, nails scraping at his skin. Begging as he's splitting you open with each and every thrust.

"You’ll get used to it." Suguru murmurs against your lips as he keeps a steady pace.

His fingers ghost along your jawline, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You’re mine now." His tail flicks, tickling, brushing against your bare skin, his fox ears twitching as he studies the way you tremble, the way your breath hitches beneath him.

"So you’ll do your best to accommodate me, won’t you? My little mate."

It’s not a question. It’s a command.

Because really—how could you not?

He does so much for you.

He takes care of you. Protects you. Loves you in ways no human ever could.

So you’ll take his knot that's forcing itself, big and hard, into your wet cunt that's causing a stretch you've never felt before. A stinging sensation that's slowly turning addicting as your head lulls against his chest.

You’ll learn to accept him, accept that he's going to take and take until you fully belong to him.

Suguru's clawed fingers press into your hips, drawing blood as he anchors you, as his body melds into yours, melting. His hot, sticky ropes fill your walls, his knot stretching you, keeping you locked against him as he nips your lips drawing a bead of blood.

"I love you," Suguru whispers against your lips, lapping at the blood that pools.

The devious hyena

Yuki Tsukumo has a very protective streak! Sure, she shared some beliefs with Geto Suguru—though, not nearly as extreme. She just wanted to protect her human. Was that really so bad?

And the best way to protect? Courting!

It was only natural. As a hyena hybrid, her instincts told her to look after the weaker member of her pack—which, in this case, was you, the fragile little human locked away in the apartment with her. You never really left, so that was already a plus. And you were always reading up on how to take care of hybrids, which she found adorable.

Of course, she wanted to help!

She just didn’t quite understand why you didn’t appreciate the way she did it—like now, as she had you pinned beneath her, her hips keeping you in place, one hand holding your wrists above your head while she leaned over you, casually reading aloud from the book you had been studying.

"You need a firm hand with hyena hybrids," she read, her golden eyes flicking down to meet yours, amusement twinkling in them. A slow, smug grin spread across her lips.

She belted a laugh, clearly enjoying herself far more than you were. But hey—this was all part of taking care of you, right?

"Looks like you need to work on that one, babe!"

However, you certainly didn’t seem to appreciate her way of courting. And that was a problem.

She had to get rid of a few… obstacles.

Like your boyfriend.

For someone who never left the house, you sure were awfully social with a weak man like him. A human man. One who clearly couldn’t keep up with a hybrid—especially not her. Yuki was faster, stronger, superior in every way. So why waste your time with someone so fragile? Someone who couldn't even protect you?

She didn’t understand why you didn’t love her present—carefully placed inside a small, elegant box, tied up with a bow. A confession of her undying love. Her mate.

A human heart.

Because don’t you know? Hyenas mate for life.

But instead of swooning, instead of wrapping your arms around her in gratitude, you started crying. Stumbling through your words, voice cracking as you asked, how did you get this?

Yuki only tilted her head, golden eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"You really don’t want to know, babe."

She smiled, watching you tremble, your hands shaking as you covered your mouth. So sensitive.

But hey—you really should fill out that missing persons report for your boyfriend.

She really was trying to be comforting. That’s what a good mate does, right?

Don’t you know? Hyena females are the most aggressive. She’d been holding herself back this whole time—being so patient with you, so gentle in ways that went against her very nature. She could have taken what she wanted long ago, but no, she let you have your space. Let you think you had control.

Even now, she’s being so generous.

Letting you cry into her neck, her legs spread just wide enough to pull you close, keeping you tucked against her as you sniffle and tremble. Her strong arms wrap around you, her fingers lazily stroking your back, firm but oddly soothing.

She’s doing her best.

But comforting isn’t really her thing.

She doesn’t quite get why you’re so upset.

However, she does enjoy licking every single tear off your cheek. Loves the salty taste on her tongue with each lap dragging against your cheek, you haven't ever pushed her face away yet.

Why do your small, delicate hands keep clutching at her, nails digging into her skin like she’s the one who hurt you.

"Shh," she hums, moving to rest her chin atop your head, her voice low, almost mockingly tender. "I’ve got you, baby. You’re okay."

Because you are okay.

She made sure of it.

But as she held you, stroking your back in slow, deliberate motions, shushing your little sniffles against the crook of her neck, she couldn’t ignore the slow, insistent pressure pressing against your side.

Don’t you know?

There’s one more thing about hyena hybrids—especially the female ones.

Her lips curled into a slow grin against your hair, her chest rumbling with something between a laugh and a purr. Her tail flicked lazily behind her, pleased, relaxed. Settled.

"Oh well," she murmured, voice smooth, filled with something teasing—something undeniable. "Guess you don’t have to worry about having a man anymore."

Her fingers traced slow, idle circles against your back, pressing you closer, until you could feel it—firm, unfamiliar, nestled against your hip.

Your breath hitched.

She sighed, golden eyes half-lidded, satisfaction written all over her face. Her grip was firm, reassuring—like she knew there was no need for resistance.

"I can take care of everything, baby."

Because really, what more could you possibly need?

Nature had already decided.

Hyena females were stronger. Larger. More dominant.

Your stomach dropped.

"Don’t worry, baby," she murmured, nuzzling into your hair, her voice sweet, dripping with certainty. "I can do everything he could do—just better."

The realization settled in slow, creeping horror, as if your own brain was trying to shield you from the truth until it was too late.

A memory. A random clip from a nature documentary, resurfacing at the worst possible moment.

"Female hybrids use a pseudopenis to mount other females and males to assert dominance."

Your pulse quickened.

Yuki only chuckled, sensing the way your body stiffened in her hold, her grip tightening just a little.

She might not even bite you.

"Don’t worry," she cooed, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. "You’ll be well taken care of."

Not the first time, at least.

*********

Things I want to add but can't find a way to incorporate.

Suguru likes to carry a squirt bottle around the apartment and sprays you with it when you irk him. He does get cuteness aggression, so he will bite your cheek while you're studying/working. More of a house husband and does a good job, however, he likes to coddle and baby you. Breeding kink, however, doesn't want kids unless hybrids get more rights. Does lean more into DDLG except you didn't know about it until the sparkly pink rules list was posted on the fridge.

Satoru likes to make you food but it's usually awful, so instead he does a lot of the household chores. Absolutely hates the cheap underwear packs, so those are the only panties he hasn't ripped holes into. Whines when you wear clothes to bed, loves to stick his tongue deep into your cunt when you're sleeping to ensure you're nice and sore the next day to not even think of being with another man/hyrbid. Very, very clingy on errand runs. Loves to hold your hand.

Yuki makes you so broke that way you can't leave the house, her gym membership is insane and she only eats meat. Doesn't let you wear underwear around the house. If you're doing something she just picks you up and takes you to the couch or bed with her despite protests.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #hybrid au jjk #hybrid au #hybrid gojo #hybrid geto #hybrid yuki #hybrid jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader #yandere yuki x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #yandere yuki tsukumo

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namjooningera · 2 days ago

Text

Yandere JJK! With accepting/yandere reader

Characters: Gojo, Nanami, Toji

AN: god I love these sm. I love when the reader is just insane as the characters but I literally never seen these written 😭 if y’all see stuff like this pls tag me 🤺 anyway sorry for the long wait. Also lmk if you want pt2 with Geto, Sukuna, and Choso.

TW: kil*ing, stalking, yandere acts (duh), kidnapped/kidnapping, drugging, slight sexual themes

Gojo:

You met the strongest person on the planet, the most powerful, the Satoru Gojo.

Good looking, smart, funny, powerful. The whole package! And he acknowledged you.

You normally kept to yourself, introverted and alone. It was mostly due to shame. You were born with a cursed power, and became a sorcerer. An average, bottom of the food chain sorcerer. A third grade. You almost made it to second grade- key word: almost. You decided you’d rather just be the principals assistant at jujutsu high, and a backup sorcerer for emergencies. Dragging yourself along doing stupid tasks by the principle Yagas orders, somewhat interacting with other students and teachers, overall achieving nothing.

You were rather ashamed of your abilities. You always knew you had somewhat potential, you could definitely climb the ranks, but you were exhausted. Fighting day and night, your mental health deteriorating- you had no motivation.

Your life was basically empty. No goals, no motivation, a life barely worth living.

Until you met him.

The strongest. You hadn’t realized it until you were called for backup. Some fight the first years got caught up with by accident, with dangerous curses above their grades. You fought them off until you felt an energy breeze into your skin, your skull, in your blood. His energy. His domain.

You were caught in his domain, your body frozen as you felt his aura in your blood, and your body filled with adrenaline.

Ever since you were born you felt something was missing. You felt empty. Like a puzzle missing its most important piece, you were alone in the world and isolated, even while you were surrounded by others.

But the feeling you felt? While his domain surrounded you and caressed you and you felt his energy in your lungs, your eyes, your brain filled with him him him. You knew who was going to give you that last puzzle peice, the person who is that last puzzle piece, the piece to make you feel whole, to make you happy, to make you full.

You hadn’t realized his domain had let go, you were back on your feet, and the threat was gone. You snapped out of it (barely) to check on the students.

You felt it. That motivation you’ve never felt before. You know now what your goal is, to fly up the ranks, to grab his attention, to bring back that feeling and keep it in your grasp, to have the will to live again.

What you didn’t know, was he felt it too.

He felt your cute little heartbeat in his domain.

He felt your energy, an energy that felt… different. There was something different about you.

He breathed in your breathes, he felt your touch, he accepted your gaze, he wanted more. The thought of gently opening your belly to suffocate himself in your small ribs, to hide himself like a cocoon in your small body to be hidden from the world as the “strongest.”

Satoru gojo, was, intrigued.

A feeling he was unfamiliar with.

He was a clingy man for sure- you knew that as he whined at your side for attention as you talked to Shoko. You couldn’t believe one of the strongest and a teacher at this school was acting so.. blunt.

But even as he continued to act clingy, you couldn’t help but notice he acted that way towards everyone. Of course what you didn’t notice was a different glint in his eye with the way he looked at you then others.

Even with his clinginess, you felt the way he was also detached. You wanted to open his brain, pick apart the pieces and understand why he acted the way he does, why he’s so close but so far, does he even like you?

This went on for several weeks- his clinginess towards you, and yet you felt his distance. You couldn’t stalk him well, knowing with his power he’d most definitely catch you immediately. You instead took a more relaxed approach, something subtle and less.. noticeable.

You were able to get info about him from the other teachers, it wasn’t that hard. Plus, most of the time he yapped it out himself.

You were quite smart with your tactics, subtly using the info about him for your own good. Oh, you just happened to buy kikufuku and just happened to have extra for him. Oh you just happened to wear his favorite colors and put your hair up the way he likes it.

It’s just a coincidence!

You got quite tired though, not seeing any changes. With all the info you put to work and trying to be a better sorcerer while still having assistant duties- you were exhausted.

And then you noticed small trinkets in your home starting to disappear. It wasn’t much; things disappearing as simple as a simple piece of jewelry, a lounging shirt, chapstick, etc…

And of course you didn’t think much of it, you probably misplaced it somewhere anyway.

And then you found a little white hair on your pillow.

“Yeah it’s just down the hall from here.”

You somehow convinced Gojo Satoru to come over to your home (it was incredibly easy), and you led him inside your apartment. He was as excited as always, picking at things, making comments, being his overall cheery happy self.

“Tea?”

“Oh yeah sure.” He answered, following you into the kitchen.

“Grab the tea packets for me?” You’re putting the kettle on the stove, heating up the water. Gojo skips to one of the higher cabinets, opening it and grabbing Jasmine tea packets.

“Hm that’s weird.” You giggle.

“Hm?” He smiled back at you.

“You knew exactly where the tea packets are.”

“…” However he just played it off with nervous laughter and using the excuse that ‘your home is just so organized of course the tea is in this cabinet’ and you just smile sinisterly because you know he’s lying and you know he doesn’t know that you know.

It funny to catch him off guard like that, where he almost trips in himself because you catch something he does, something that could expose him.

You make the tea however as he yaps off about his day, and all you could think about was I can’t let him get away. The more you felt his distance even as his physical body clung to you, the more you felt the motivation he gave you start to drain away.

“So what was the big news you wanted me to come over for?” He giggled, kicking his feet as he sat at the kitchen island with his tea you prepared for him.

“Well… I’m a second grade now!” You squealed, finally accomplishing something you felt worth mentioning.

And of course Gojo is proud of you, why wouldn’t he be?

“That’s amazing sweet cheeks I know you could!” His god awful pet names for you- but you know he’s proud. He stands up to try and give you a hug or pat your head since you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island but- what the?

His feet are wobbly, and his vision almost instantly goes black the second he gets up, the room spinning as darkness started to consume him.

��I know! Isn’t it just so great? I’ve been working really hard Gojo-sama.” You smile, skipping to him as he starts to fade away. “And it’s all ‘cause of you. I should be thanking you.”

His body finds its way unconscious in your arms, “I can’t thank you enough” you embrace him tednerly, sighing as his entire body rests in your hold, your eyes glancing over at his half drunk laced cup of tea.

It’s weird- he’s never felt this weak.

His body is tied, he’s bound and gagged. As his vision started to clear, he noticed he was in what looked like a basement, a very dimly lit and dull basement. As he started to struggle against his restraints, the tighter it got. He noticed the cursed tags on them, hundreds even. He could break through them, he just needed a bit of time to gather some strength, he was still dizzy after all.

However a familiar figure emerged from the darker parts of the basement, where his sweet beloved crush stood in front of him. His heart raced as he recognized you, in all your gorgeous glory.

“You’re awake, good.” You sigh, lips that curve into that sweet familiar smile he’s loved ever since he first acknowledged you.

“Y/n.” Gojo whispers, his voice muffled by the cloth gagging him, his mind boggled at the idea the sweet innocent weak you could pull something off like this.

“I know this isn’t ideal, Gojo. I’m aware, but I just couldn’t help it. You saved me.” And how come he just noticed the way your eyes glare into hearts, a smile so sinister and cute he couldn’t help but melt.

“Saved?” Drool covering the gagged cloth, trying not to whine against the gag.

“Yes, saved. It’s all you. You know they’ve been talking about making me a teacher? A teacher. I won’t just be.. a nobody.”

And you don’t notice the way his eyes droop onto your face, eyeing your body up and down and dragging his gaze back up to your face. A pink blush covering his cheeks and extra drool leaving his mouth.. even an extra body component that was.. throbbing.

He muffled something against the cloth, whining almost. You rip the gag out his mouth.

“You were never a nobody.” He gasps out.

You sigh. “Always so supportive. I hope you can continue being supportive while your stuck down here. Don’t worry, it’ll only be for a while..” which is a lie, your sure you want to keep him down here for as long as possible. You know it’ll be difficult, having to use your own cursed energy and heavy tags to keep him down and submissive to you, but it’s worth it.

“Y/n.”

“You don’t have to hide anymore- were the same gojo. I know your secrets, I know how you feel about me. You’re stuck with me.”

His eyes are wide and scary now, a gaze your sure will haunt you. You turn your eyes away from him, deciding it would be better to give him some time to settle, to let him relax. But as soon as you turn your body, you hear a loud rip, and your body is slammed onto the floor.

However you realize you aren’t in pain, which is abnormal, until you see he had his infinity around your body to make sure it wasn’t hurt in the way he slammed you down.

Your chest squished against the floor, body firmly planted as Gojos body held you down tightly, his lips pressed closely into the side of your face as he breathed heavily.

“Sweet cheeks- this? All for me?” His lips were in a wide grin, eyes crescents and crazy.

You whine in his grip, trying to struggle out of it. Shit. Your supposed to have the power in this situation not him. He’ll run away now- he thinks your crazy, he’s gonna hurt you, he hates you-

“I’m not stuck with you- you’re stuck with me.” He sighs lustfully against your lips, his hand gripping your jaw into your face, the other holding your smaller body down.

“Your perfect f’me” and his lips finally press against yours, a sweet harmony in crazy.

Nanami:

You’ve always been fond of the house wife ways. You’d watch those mothers with loving husbands walk past you, a little child in their cradle and they giggle and hold each others hands. You know it’s not all giddy and fun and games, a family is a huge deal. A huge deal you’ve never been able to have.

A loving and accepting family? Unconditional love? Yes, you’ve never had that. And you think at this point, you probably never will.

You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You don’t have time to start a family or even meet a man. But god do you crave it. That domesticity, that life of love and safety. You think this as you kill curses and watch the stinky blood ooze out their green skin, it’s bodies littering the floor.

You’re sick of it. Sick of being a sorcerer. You used to love this. It gave you a thrill to kill curses and save humans, you felt like a hero. But then was when you were a teenager. When you were free and happy. But things change and now you would just like to settle. Settle down, enough work and fighting. You’d like to enjoy your life, being thrown into battle as soon as you hit the ripe age of fifteen.

But alas, as you come back to jujutsu high, nodding at the sorcerers who brush past you. You smell disgusting, the blood and guck had seeped into your clothes and dampened your skin. You feel gross and just need a shower.

But your stoped by a certain teacher and sorcerer, a very annoying man that you grew up with.

“Hey! Y/n!” It’s Gojo, in your face. “You smell gross, you finished them off though right?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes.

You really have lost the glint in your eyes. That special excitement after you kill a curse, the way you’d brag and jump around after saving people. You don’t really care anymore. It’s a repeat everyday. Just with new curses and different people to save. Yet the same scenario and same situation. And you’re sick. Sick of all of it.

“Anyways, Nanami wanted to talk to you~ hmm let me guess, maybe he finally grew the balls to ask you out?” She smirks at you, glasses down at his nose as he teases you.

You jab him in the rib with your elbow as you walk past him. “Whatever just tell me where he is.”

You’ve always had quite a thing for Nanami. Perhaps he was the reason your craving for such a domestic life. The way he held himself up, responsible and serious. You just knew he’d be an amazing husband. You’ve seen the way he takes care of other people, ever since high school, and you watch as he takes care of his student now.

You sometimes wonder if he’d be a good father. You definitely think he would be. He’s a sweet man and he’s always been. You’ve never seen him raise his voice (except towards Gojo, but that’s normal), he’s always caring and it touches you everytime.

But you know he’s never going to be yours. Your on and off crush on him, you brush it off as just looking up to him. He’s smart, muscular, responsible and very handsome. What’s not to look up to?

But sometimes the love sickness bubbles up in your throat. As you watch him be himself. That one time you had to go on a mission with him, where the children were the victims, and after, he had taken his time to take care of the kids and check up on them one by one. They weren’t hurt, just scared, but he made sure to reassure them check them for wounds. Your heart swelled at that, especially when he came to check on you, too.

Sometimes he makes you angry however. Whenever you see some sorcerer or office worker throw themselves at him, and he doesn’t even notice. Their slutty ways in trying to get his attention, caressing his back with their ugly done nails, whispering things you can’t hear into his ear.

Every time he brushes them off.

And your happy, but then you feel dejected, because you remember doesn’t want a relationship. He’s said it before, you overheard. He does dream of being married and having children, but being a sorcerer would take up too much time and he couldn’t.

So why did he become an office worker and still brush everyone off?

Your short heels click against the floor as you walk the floorboards. Getting to where Gojo told you to meet Nanami.

You bite your lip at the hurt in your leg as you walk. A few weeks ago, you had a terrible accident on a mission. A curse caught you off guard, (you didn’t tell anyone it was because you were in your feels, deep in thought) but you got insanely hurt.

Ribs bruised, ankle shattered, cervical spinal cord bruised. You’re insanely lucky for Shoko, and her ability to heal you. However you can still feel the after shocks of it, your body tired after being forced to heal after such heart quenching injuries.

You smile though, remembering the heart break look in Nanami’s eyes. You don’t mean to feel happiness from his pain of seeing his close friend injured so terribly, but god was it satisfying to see how much he cared.

“Kento?” You open the door to the empty teachers lounge where he was apparently supposed to be.

“How was your mission, y/n?” He’s sitting on the sofa of the lounge, dipping a tea packet into a cup of hot water.

“Oh fine. Got it done, I guess.” You sit on the table in front of him, stretching and yawning. “So what’s up?”

God you remember the adorable way his brows clenched and eyes widened in pain as he looked down at you on Shoko’s gurney. The way he cared so much. I need to make him mine. You thought, but maybe that was the delusion talking. The blood that seeped from your head and body. But he held your hand the entire night. Whispered reassuring words of love into your ears and even kissed your hand and forehead when he thought you were sleeping.

That wasn’t delusion right? He did that. He cares for you. More than he’s shown care for the others. But alas, you know the perfected blonde headed man is too busy for a relationship, plus you don’t even think he’d want you like that.

“I was told by Shoko to check up on you.” He hands you a coffee. You smile as you take it, knowing he always knows exactly how to make your coffee just right.

“What? Why did she send you? Why didn’t she ask for me, herself.”

He shrugs. “You know how she is.”

You laugh at that, and nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “Oh thanks Ken, I needed this.” You sip some more. And he eyes you, watching you drink the coffee he made specially for you.

“You as a matter of a fact.. I am feeling quite.. drowsy.” For some reason, a sort of fog hits your brain. You believe it to be from fighting those curses. But it wasn’t that bad, so why do you feel so tired all of a sudden?

“That’s okay. Just let it happen.”

What? You look up at your close friend, the blonde man, eyeing him weirdly. “Ken? Kento I think you should call Shoko.”

“No need,” he catches you as you stumble off from sitting on the table, his arms engulfing your smaller figure. “I can take care of you just fine.”

You blush at that, but can’t focus on his sweet words because your body has just gone limp in his arms, and your barely conscious. The coffee slips out your hand and falls to the floor, the plastic seal breaking and making the contents of the cup spill onto the ground.

He sighs at that, but puts his hands under your arms and picks you up, one hand under your bottom and the other around your back, making you lean all of you onto him.

“Ken…”

“Shh, my dear. It’ll all feel better soon. I’m here.”

You wake up in a familiar room. Not too familiar, but you know it to be the guest bedroom in Nanami’s home. But then you notice yourself wearing one of his white button ups, with nothing else on except the same pair of panties you were wearing when you passed out. Your hair is down and cascading your shoulders, your body is limp and tired.

“Sweetheart? Oh you’re up.” Nanamis head pops into the room from the bedroom door.

You try to get up and greet him but you find your weak body is tied by a chain to the bedpost of the bed. A chain that is made of pure curse power, making it so you stay put and unable to use your cursed energy to break it.

“Ken?” You whine, reaching out to him.

He looks so domestic. His shirt is off, (which you realize, is the one your wearing), he’s in sweatpants and his hair is down, not gelled back.

“Good morning.” He sits next to you on the bed, and it makes you aware that you can’t use any of your power. “Sleep well?”

It almost makes you cry. This kind of domesticity, is what you wanted. A loving and very handsome husband, doting on his lovely wife, something as simple as greeting you in the morning makes your heart pop.

“F-fine. What is this? Why am I here, Kento?”

He frowned, looking at down before looking back at you. “I.. have made some arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“Yes. Y/n. You are to stay with me and live here. As my partner of course. It’s all for your own safety. Of course I’ll make sure your provided with and supported every step along the way. All the things you need are here, including me.”

He gulps in the way you stare at him wide eyed. His hands are shaking and his voice is trembling. It’s obvious that he wants your validation, that he knows you’ll hate him that your scared-

But you’re not. You pinch yourself. This has to be a dream. It doesn’t matter that your tied to the bed post, that you’ve been taken here against your will, that you definitely think he must’ve put something your coffee to make you all drowsy- he wants you. He needs you. He’s basically begging with his eyes for you to forgive and accept him.

“As your.. partner?” You gulp. You hope, you beg, in your mind, that he means what you think he means. Please. You beg in your head.

“My.. my lover. My girlfriend, and hopefully future wife.”

Your jaw is basically to the floor, your eyes wide as you stare at the man who bunches his eyebrows and squints his eyes, biting his lips in pure nervousness.

He’s adorable. Absolutely adorable. You think.

You reveled in the way he felt so incredibly intense for you that he just had to take you. That instead of any other way he needed you so bad he just stole you away. He doesn’t just want you, he needs you. You shiver looking at your cuffed ankle, there’s no escape for you. Even if you tried. That’s how much he needs you. That even against your will, he’ll have you. Your thighs rub together and you can feel a certain piece of fabric under you dampen. A redness makes its way onto your cheeks and a hazy feeling on pure lust clouds your brain.

Before he can react, you pounce on him. He’s under you, your hands on his shoulders as you hold him down. He gasps, afraid you were going to attack him. He just knew this would happen- he knew you’d be angry- that you’d hate him with all and every bone in your body- wait what?

If you hate him so much, why are you squishing his cheeks and coeing at him?

“Aww Ken I’ve never seen you this nervous before you’re so adorable.”

Wait what? He just stares up at you, wide eyed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. All twitchy and scared as if I was gonna yell at you. Ken I’ve never seen you like that!” You giggle, and he just stares up at you.

“I’ve hurt people for you. I’ve.. I’ve been close to killing them just because they’ve laid eyes on you-“

It’s like he’s trying to show how cruel he is, how he’s a bad man. But you just laugh.

“Aww Ken I didn’t know you had a jealous side!”

He just furrows his brows. “I kidnapped you, my dear y/n.”

“You sure did, it’s kind of an upgrade from my apartment though.”

“Y/n I-“ “Stop Ken.” It’s obvious what he’s doing, he doesn’t believe you to be okay with his messy obsessive love.

“How many kids do you want Ken? You want a big wedding, right? Black or white choir- or are we gonna have a DJ? Oh my god can I get a pet-“

“Y/N.”

You freeze, getting of him and sitting down on the bed, crossing your legs, a pout on your lips from being interrupted.

“You.. you.. your okay with this? This arrangement?”

“You drugging me, kidnapping me, then tying me up to a bedpost? All so I can be yours? Yeah I guess so.”

“.. You’re serious?”

“Kento..” You whine, watching him sit up. “I’ve always liked you, silly. I don’t mind your weird little quirks.”

His eyes soften, his gaze almost bleeding through your face. You all of a sudden feel hot and heavy.

“What, Ken?”

“You accept me? For everything I am?”

You nod eagerly. “I can stay home and be your lil’ house wife Ken~”

Blush spreads through his cheeks, he coughs, rubbing his face awkwardly, as if he was some shy school boy, aroused.

“I’ll take as many kids as you give me, a wedding with only close friends and family, black choir, and yes, you may have a pet.” He answers all your questions from before.

Your eyes widen and you squeal, but that’s quickly caught off by Nanami throwing you up in the air, the cursed chain breaking from his consent, as he catches you back in his arms and spins you around, laughing and smothering the sides of your face with kisses. You wrap your legs around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“This.. this calls for a celebration.” He slyly smirks at you, looking up at you cradled in his arms, wearing his button up. You know what he means, and you don’t fight against it.

“Ken.. so about having those kids..” You giggle, your feet unwrapping around his waist so they can push his pants down.

Toji-

You’ve been a maid at several different locations, your resume is quite lengthy. You needed a side job while you attended nursing school, after all those tuitions are a bitch. One of the first places you worked was in the Zenins clan property, after all, free housing and good pay? What more can a nursing student ask for?

It was quite large, and you weren’t the only maid, but probably the youngest. You found yourself getting to know everybody there; the maids, the clan leaders (who you’d only nod at), the younger clan members and- wait who’s that? There’s a gorgeous hunk of a man, tall, muscular, and oh so many scars.

You’ve never been interested in boring business men, the boys in your classes, every immature guy who’s ever asked you out- no. But who was he? You barely ever saw him around and yet he’s gorgeous, even with the plentiful of scars that covered his face and the badly done bandages around his arms. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked past you- and a shiver of cold went down your spine as he did so. You needed to find out asap who this man was.

And you did. A young man, around 18, a disgrace, and you know now where those scars must have came from. The curses he’s forced to fight. You found out from other clan members, it wasn’t hard. They all talked harshly about him, like he was an abomination to the Zenin clan and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

And finally after trying to bump into him several times, trying to make eye contact with him, get even a peep out of him- you find him passed out on the floors of the corridors of the Zenin members dorms.

He was bleeding out, shaking and twitching, and you could see the large gashes in chest, the deep bruises on his muscular arms as he tried to pull himself up, the blood that drips from his lips. You thought he looked gorgeous like this.

But you were slightly worried, after all he was bleeding out fast, and it was a matter of time before his body would be in a critical state- so you acted fast. You slipped him into your room, hiding him away from the world. You grabbed supplies from the nursing station; gauze, bandages, iv bag, overall tools you thought you might need.

This was your chance to make him notice you. After all, you overheard that he’d be punished if he needed taking care of at the nurses station- so what better solution is you, a nursing student, to help him secretly! You’re doing him a favor.

What you don’t understand is why he freaks out the first time he wakes up. You’re sure it’s some trauma response, but he’s ripping his iv out and breaking things in his way and almost tackling you down- he’s scared. So of course you sedate him, luckily you kept that needle on you. And there was just something so powerful in the way that with just a small needle pressed into his skin, this big hunk of a man would slump against you- at your very mercy.

The second time he awakes is a lot better. He’s calmer and he takes a good look at his surroundings, realizing he is in fact still in the zenins property, just in a different room then his. You explain how you found him and that took him in to take care of his wounds. The only reaction you get from him is a weird furrow in his brows and a twinkle in his eyes- a facial reaction you can’t pinpoint or read.

After that you’re quite disappointed. Once he’s out your room you two go back to never talking or interacting, and you deem your plan a failure.

But what you don’t know is that you caught a little someone’s eye.

What you believe is him avoiding you is Toji actually watching you from where you can’t see. What you believe is him ignoring you- refusing to make eye contact with you, is him knowing he’ll break and pounce on you once you do. What you believe is him not liking you, not having an inch of interest in you, is him watching you sleep from the window in your maid dorm.

He just can’t understand. Toji has never thought of himself as a real person with real feelings. His feelings- buried. Empathy and livelihood? Buried. He was never allowed to be human. And he’s never seen himself as one. So why did you treat him like one? Why were you kind? Sweet? Your adorable smile and silky hair, glossy eyes and this cute facial expressions. Nobodies ever given Toji a second thought. Not an ounce of love or empathy has ever been shown to him- but you. With all your generosity and kind hearted actions- you took care of him personally because you didn’t want him to get punished in the nursing station.

With your tender eyes and your soft hands, when you caught him two days aftwr he left your room so you could re-do his bandages, cleaning his wounds and reapplying new cleaner gauze around his old injuries.

He didn’t say a word, he couldn’t- his little breaths hitching every time your soft hands glazed him or your face was just a little to close to his.

He had to learn everything about you. Your childhood, the way you loved, the foods you ate and all your friends- he needed to know everything. He’d even purposely let a curse or two bite at him- just so he could stand at your door bloody and bruised, waiting for your soft touches.

He was utterly obsessed.

But then you up and left.

Those little interactions didn’t grow to anything, and you left after graduating your school, you didn’t have to be a maid anymore.

And that’s when he became incredibly desperate.

Present day, he finds himself at your door, at your apartment. It’s been a while- but he found you. He knows he needs to plan this perfectly, some way to make you swoon and fall for him, a way that won’t make you question how the hell he found you.

But then he notices you inside your apartment, you’re sitting eating a candle-lit dinner, you look so beautiful- wait who’s that? A man sits in front of you, eating the food Tojis sure you made for him. You know he’d cook for you right? You wouldn’t have to move a muscle. But Tojis angry, he’s upset, his blood is boiling at the thought of you with a lover. That’s supposed to be him! Giggling and eating across from you, talking and- did he just hold your hand? He’s holding your hand.

And that’s when Toji breaks.

You barely even process what happened, all you see is blood and your date is no longer in his chair, his body isn’t even in the room. But there is another man in the room, a tall muscular man, with that familiar glaze in his eyes you remember so well.

You immediately get up out of reflex, to run to hide to do something. And he’s caught off guard as you run off into your apartment, hiding in your closet. He sighs. He knows he shouldn’t have done what he just did, he could have at least waited. Waited till the man left your apartment where he could kill him in peace, without scaring you. But now, he has to do this the tough way. He has to force you into his arms. Fine. That’ll do, too.

He stomps into your room, glancing around your bedroom and taking it all in. He’s already been in here once when you weren’t home. Climbing into your bed, stealing a few hairs off your hairbrush, organizing the plushies on your bed and taking notice of every little thing in your home. That’s also how he knew every small hiding place you could possibly be in.

“Come on, you know I won’t hurt you. I just came to visit you..”

He finally speaks, and his voice his deep and almost slurred, it’s obvious he’s excited. He’s always had to hide his devastating obsession with you, the only person who’d ever glance his way, the only person who’s ever smiled at him or clean his wounds, even comfort him. You were there. The only person there. An Angel, his sweet Angel, he had to have you. After all, you had to be his soulmate. Why else would you care the way you did, when nobody else could?

“I promise I’ll be good to ya.”

He says as he actively touches your things, pocketing small items like your chapstick or hair band- even your panties.

“I’ll treat ya well. You won’t have to worry your little head off about nothin’. Chores, cooking, shopping, working, I can take care of it all for ya. Just come out kay’?”

The way he talks actually seems genuine, as you peer at him from the small crack in the closet.

He thinks you’re svared, probably shaking and terrified. Like a little bunny being hunted by wolf, or a small gazelle being preyed on by a lion. He’s sure your svared, dizzy, traumatized.

Oh, but you’re not.

You’re shivering and shaking yes. But from fear? No, excitement. This was.. exhilarating. You’ve never felt anything like this. The way he killed for you- the way his fingers glide against your things like he’s saving them in his memory-remembering what you like.

It’s exactly what you did.

You remember- back when you worked for the Zenin clan. He was set on missions, to kill curses- it was more of a humiliation ritual then anything. You knew he’d come to you silently asking for help with his wounds, you helped him everytime. But while he was gone?

Well, you were quite sneaky.

Picking the lock or climbing through his open window. Then you’d snoop around. He didn’t have much, it’s obvious he wasn’t loved or cared for at all. That’s okay, you’d provide more then enough love and care for the both of you. You’d snoop and document every little finding, whatever hints you could get from what he liked and used.

That is, until you found your used panties hidden in his pillow case.

And that’s when you knew, you had a little stalker on your tail.

But everytime you tried your hardest to interact with him other then a silent nod in the hallway as you walked past him, or a twitch of his lips as an answer when you nursed him- you got nothing. Like a stone wall you couldn’t break, couldn’t crack, and you just wanted your yandere to snap. You wanted to have him in your arms, where you could coo at him and tell him that he didn’t need his family, or any friends or anyone- because your love could overcome all. That he only needed you.

So you decided that you’d take a risk. A risk to finally make his facade crack, so that he’d finally break loose and show his true colors. You knew it was possible- seeing that he also had an alter of you under his bed, in a shoe box. A collection of things- a few candid photos of you, a used tissue, an old bracelet, nail clippings, a receipt, and.. your used tampons? Okay. He did love you, obsessed even, you could make him break.

And so you took the risk of leaving him completely.

You left- moved into a nice but small apartment on the other side of the city. You prayed he’d find you, hoping that this wasn’t just a fluke- that you finally met your match- your soulmate.

So finally, when you came home to a few small things missing, your plushies organized in jus the way you like them, and the smell of him lingered in the air- you knew he was yours. All yours. Your soulmate, your man, yours yours yours.

So you shake with excitement and glee and his hunky body makes its way closer to your closet, where you hide. You know your panties are soaked, and there’s a big smile on your face that definitely gives away how happy you are. You’re sure if you had a tail like a puppy, it would be wagging like crazy out of pure excitement.

“Doll. I’m getting angry. If you get out now, I won’t have to drag ya out okay?”

Your silent though, your eyes full of hearts as you cover your mouth, trying not to breathe so loud.

“I swear to fucking god. This is my last warning, if you don’t get out I’ll-“

“I’m here!” You whine softly, kicking the closet door open just a crack, wide glossy eyes looking up at the hunky man.

He hadn’t expected you to actually be complaint and do what he asked, he expected he’d have to force you out. Tojis eyes were wide as he looked down at you, watching you shuffle out the closet, on your knees, your tiny body shaking.

“Oh doll.”

He picks you up, cradling you into his strong arms, and you immediately wrap your arms and legs around him and your face finds solace in his neck, nuzzling into him.

“Did I scare you too hard? You know I hurt him for your own good, I promise he was bad. I’ll take care of ya.” His arms are heavy around you, tight and unforgiving. He can’t let you go, not now, not after he finally has you plaint in his arms.

But you also want to see how far he’d go, now that he’s in your arms.

“Let go of me! You’re insane! I-I hate you!” You acted, shoving him and scratching at his neck and chest, trying to shove him away.

He grunted, his eyes wide again as you started to fight back. He thought this might happen- it’s why he wanted to go the easy way first, to just softly ease you into his arms- until he ended up breaking.

But he was angry, shoving you down onto your own plush bed, his hands pinning you down by your shoulders.

“Stop fighting!” He yelled- almost whining. He was angry, but it all came from a place of insecurity- and you knew that. So you played into that.

“I don’t wanna be with you- you’re disgusting!”

And things went dark after that.

You awoke in a dark environment, cold, and your ankle chained to a wall, and your laid on a clean futon. Your dress clothes are still on from your “date” but your shoes are off and your light makeup was cleaned off your face. You could tell your hair had been brushed, your favorite skincare serum applied to your skin, chapstick on your lips, as if you were preened after being knocked out.

Your ears perk up as you hear a door swing open, and your see your lover walk into the dark room your in. Your confused, you hadn’t expected him to go as far as to knock you out and take you away- to wherever this is.

“Ah. Your awake. If you’re wondering where you are, it’s the basement of the Zenin clans property- a dungeon if you will.”

You look at him confused. You didn’t think he’d take you back to his origins, a place you were sure he hated.

“They’re all dead, if you’re wondering. You’re my family now.”

All dead? He… killed his family? Your sure now the estate must be his, his to make new memories in, his to have you in, his to make a new family in.

“T-Toji, this place is scary.” A cell you were basically in, you were lucky he had placed a clean futon in there.

“Scary huh? Well I can’t bring you up if you aren’t good.” His tone was almost condensing, but god were you into it. He has rules for you doesn’t he? You have to be good for him. And that was enough to get you excited again.

“I-I’ll be good! I promise!” You tried to crawl to him, but the chain withheld you. His eyes were wide and curious at what you said, the way you reached out to grab him, your sweet eyes he’s seen before, the innocent glance and pouty lips.

“I promise.” You pouted, an innocent act for how you truly felt, wanting to pounce on him, to confess all your petty sins and show him all your love.

“Prove it, doll.”

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shizuturnspages · 2 days ago

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The Curse That Won't Bow

Synopsis: Yandere Geto with a Cursed Spirit Darling He Can’t Absorb

❥ Uncontainable Obsession: Geto has spent his life consuming and controlling curses, but you? You’re different. No matter how hard he tries, his Cursed Spirit Manipulation simply does not work on you. At first, it frustrates him—but soon, it fascinates him. You’re the one puzzle he can’t solve, the one being that defies his will, and that makes you his.

❥ Possessive but Gentle: Unlike the way he treats other spirits, Geto doesn’t see you as something to use or discard. He speaks to you softly, treats you with care, and ensures that no other sorcerer ever lays a hand on you. If anyone even thinks about exorcising you, they won’t live to try.

❥ Isolation as a Form of Love: Geto doesn’t trust the world with you. The higher-ups would want to study you, and Jujutsu Sorcerers would see you as an anomaly to be eliminated. So, he keeps you hidden, tucked away in his domain, surrounded by his other curses. He convinces you it’s for your own good—that only he can protect you.

❥ Threats Are Eliminated Swiftly: Whether it’s a sorcerer trying to “free” you or another curse daring to interact with you, Geto removes anything that poses a threat. He doesn’t even let you see the aftermath. You’re too special to be tainted by the ugliness of the world.

❥ Soft Spoken but Ruthless: He never raises his voice at you, never threatens you outright. But the weight of his words carries an unspoken warning. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you. You wouldn’t like what happens to those who do.”

❥ Believes in “Mutual” Devotion: He wants you to want him. He never forces affection, but he subtly ensures you need him. He makes himself the center of your world, the only constant in your existence. And if that means bending your perception of reality? Well, it’s a small price to pay for your loyalty.

Scenario: You Try to Escape

The walls of Geto’s hideout were suffocating. His domain stretched for miles, but to you, it was nothing more than a golden cage.

You weren’t like the other spirits—mindless, obedient, waiting for their turn to be consumed. No, you thought, you felt, and most importantly, you wanted to be free.

So, when the opportunity came, you took it.

You had slipped past the curses that lurked in the corridors, avoided the acolytes that worshipped him. The night air was cool against your skin as you darted into the forest, your form flickering between visibility and nothingness. You had made it.

Or so you thought.

A slow clap echoed from the darkness ahead.

“You never fail to amaze me.”

Geto stepped into the moonlight, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He wasn’t angry. If anything, he looked disappointed.

“You were doing so well, too.”

Your breath hitched as the weight of his presence pressed down on you. His power coiled around you like invisible chains—not binding you physically, but making you feel as if resisting was pointless.

“I—”

He tilted his head. “You what?”

You swallowed. “I just wanted to see the outside.”

A sigh. Not irritated, not cruel—just resigned.

“You know I can’t allow that.”

He closed the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps, and for a brief moment, you considered running. But the look in his eyes warned you against it.

“You belong with me,” he murmured, reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch was warm—gentle, even—but the unspoken threat lingered. “Out there, you’d be hunted. Used. Killed. But with me?” His thumb brushed against your skin, almost reverent. “You’ll always be safe.”

Safe. The word felt like a collar around your neck.

His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Come now. Let’s go home.”

And just like that, the night swallowed your freedom whole.

#writers on tumblr #yandere #jjk yandere #yandere jjk #jjk geto #suguru geto #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #yandere geto #yandere suguru geto #cursed spirit #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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animeyanderelover · 2 days ago

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Anon: Nsfw Hc’s for Sukuna?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, sadism, isolation, abduction, afab reader, Sukuna is a heavy trigger warning, Nsfw, non-con, blood kink, public sex, bondage, blindfold sex, humiliation, blowjobs, gagging, degradation, dacryphilia, breath play, period sex, breeding, branding, murder

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Nsfw Hc’s

🗾There’s one principle that has always applied to Sukuna and that will always apply to him. That he will always take everything he wants. Throughout his entire existence Sukuna has always indulged in his hedonistic desires, has killed and devoured humans all in the name of his own entertainment and pleasure. Reborn in a new era with new rules and morals, none of that changes. This all spills only disaster for you when you suffer the worst fate of all by becoming the object of Sukuna’s desire and obsession. In his eyes you are no equal. No, you are an object that he will solely use for his own pleasure and it takes no Einstein to realise what this means. To state it simply and painless, Sukuna couldn’t care less about your own consent. He takes you whenever he wants however he wants and the more you scream, cry or suffer the more he will revel in it all. A sadist to the marrow of his bones, there’s nothing but a pleasant tingling that scratches his brain when you are squished beneath his body, snot and tears running down your face as his thick cock rams into you, rearranging your insides. Everything Sukuna does, he does for his own pleasure and your suffering is his pleasure.

🗾You have to be prepared to be available for Sukuna all the time. It doesn’t matter what time it is, if the King of Curses wants to fuck you, you will let yourself be fucked. Spread your legs for him and let him pound into you like the fuck doll that you are. Go down on your knees and worship his cock with your hands and your mouth. Suck him off until he splashes his cum into the cave of your mouth and swallow everything obediently to not waste even a single drop. All you have to focus on is his own pleasure, your own needs and feelings are of no worth. After all isn’t the entire purpose of your existence now to entertain and serve him? To Sukuna it doesn’t matter that he fucks into your mouth so hard that your throat hurts for hours afterwards and you start gagging and heaving. No, if at all your pathetic display of humanity only brings him more sadistic joy and only pushes him on to keep tormenting you. He thrives on humiliation and degradation, often refers to you as his “fuck doll” or “whore” whenever you are forced to suck him off. Don’t deny him those tears of fear and humiliation or he will fuck you raw until you are nothing but a blubbering mess pleading him to stop.

🗾Literally doesn’t matter where the two of you are. Sukuna will pound into your pussy whenever he feels like it and nothing and no one can stop him. As with all things in regard to him it is best to try to never speak of your uncomfortableness too much as this is but an open invitation for Sukuna to inflict more suffering upon you. After all what better way to show the world how big of a slut you are than to have you bend over and loudly moaning whilst he hammers his cock into your soaked cunt? There’s nothing quite like it as he forces everyone through a traumatising experience. The one suffering more than anyone else though is always going to be you as you are the main star of everything. After all those people are nothing but a temporary audience for him until he has fucked you stupid and decides that he wants a small snack. All you can do is watch helplessly with cum-stained thighs as he slaughters all those innocent people before he returns between your legs, the ecstasy of death and fresh flesh aiding his arousal as he’s rock hard once more. Cry, give up or even pass out and it won’t make a difference. Sukuna will only stop once he is fully satisfied.

🗾Everything that will only add to his dominance will be used. However, no toys will be put inside of you. The only thing that will be stuck in any of your holes is his dick and nothing else. Everything else is only ever going to be garnish and never more. Sukuna still makes frequently use of it all. From bondage where he gets his hands on purpose on rough ropes that burn your skin and rub it raw so that he can watch the growing discomfort on your face to blindfolds that he forces you to walk around with before he even rips your clothes away, encouraging you to entertain him in a little game of the blind and helpless mouse and the predatory and superior cat. It only adds to your terror as one of your major senses is taken away, only his haunting cackles in your ears as you stumble and fall around only to eventually feel the cool air on your skin as your clothes are torn apart and one pair of hands pulling you closer by the hips, spearing you onto his erect cock with no warning nor preparation. Your neck is a common target as you look far too pretty with one of his hands wrapped around it, chocking and coughing as he slowly cuts your airways off.

🗾There’s no rationality to any of his cruelties aside from the sadistic kick of dopamine that the King of Curses receives every single time. It is all the motivation that you need. Especially during your period there is never a day where you aren’t fucked as you drive Sukuna crazy with a bodily phenomenon that you can’t even do anything about. He loves the taste of blood, especially your blood so if your body can’t help but be a free feeding station for him who is he to deny it? Your period week is the only time where it won’t be his dick but instead his tongue mercilessly thrusting into you, his face buried in the curly locks of your pussy. Your cramps are completely forgotten as instead you experience the pain of overstimulation over and over again until you’re shaking and sobbing, your whole body trembling. At times Sukuna doesn’t even let you wear anything to cover your lower body as he considers it to be a waste of material that will ultimately be torn apart by him anyways. It’s uncomfortable, especially when you have your menstruation and the blood stains your thighs but it is this sight that Sukuna finds all too arousing, the taste of you already lingering on his tongue.

🗾There is going to be a point in time where he will brand you, using his fire to burn his name onto your body whilst continuing to slam his hips against yours, the force and speed of his thrusts increasing as you start trashing and screaming around the moment the pain invaded your senses. You should worship him for it is only through his mercy that you are still even alive, should be honored that he chooses you as his cockwarmer and cumdumpster. In fact it is a special case that there are no other women he keeps as bedwarmers but even if they were, they wouldn’t last long. You’re always left in a rough shape after Sukuna is done with you and in multiple cases you are left unconscious as well. Deep scratches from not two but four hands, aching parts of your body where he squeezed too hard and bite marks all over you, ruining your skin. Often you aren’t even able to walk the next morning, the sharp and hot pain not enabling you to walk on shaky legs. Uraume tends to look after you whenever Sukuna has had his way with you. He knows that his servant is much more talented with such things than he could ever be so he leaves you in more capable hands.

#yandere x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 days ago

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In Another Life | Yandere Nanami Kento

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

The heat of a working oven and busy stove was making you sweat. The sweltering heat adding to the stress of the clock’s longest hand edging closer to that dreaded number six. You only had a few more minutes before he would promptly return.

Pssh!!

The pots water boiled over, fizzing into the vapor as it fell onto the ire. To appease the angry pot you took your wooden spoon to stir the pot. Feeling overwhelmingly anxious you switched between your left and right feet, dancing in place with the worn slippers he gifted you years back. The little action of yours did hardly eased the ache of your feet on the wooden floor, testament to the time spent making your feast. No matter how many times you did this it just never got easier.

Tmp. Tmp

The sound of all too familiar clacking against the stairwell to your home; the wood on those aging steps creaking in tandem. It made your heart beat faster and your hands tremble as you fretted over the oven and adjacent counter. Turning off the oven and hastily lowering the heat on the pot you were stirring you felt a bit better as the familiar jingle of keys rang before clacking against the lock.

For good measure you looked at the window ahead fluffing your hair and smoothing the wrinkles of your outfit. Rechecking the tie of your apron; ensuring it was tied but not tightly. Everything was ready.

The door opened and the exhausted sigh of your husband filled the home. You refused to look up, keeping your eyes glued to the faintly bubbling pot you dutifully stirred. Not reacting in the slightest as you heard him quafftly remove his shoes and place his briefcase in it’s intended spot. Fighting the urge to turn as his warm arms wrapped around you, his front unabashedly pressed into your backside locking you in his embrace.

“I’m home,” his voice stern and sultry in it’s own strict way, “Did you miss me?”

You hummed letting your hand trail up his chest to his neck to his face where his work glasses still remained, “Greatly. Good day?”

The disgruntled groan against your back told you otherwise. One of his hands leaving your waist to your chest, lightly caressing in a movement that could be mistaken for a hug but you knew better. Leaning back into your husband you followed the gentle sway of his hips as he rocked from side to side. Your hand still behind, you curled around the back of his head playing with the golden strands escaping your husband’s perfect haircut.

“My poor baby,” you turned into him wrapping your arms around his neck, grazing your fingertips along his veins,”would you like me to draw you a bath?”

The patronizing tone you used only made him growl, words no longer needed as you fell deeper into his arms if that was possible. Still rocking he came to you enveloping your lips as if he wasn’t thinking about them all day. Gently prodding your bottom lip with his tongue, you let him enter. Returning his polite sucking with an agenda of your own, holding his head in place as you dove deeper in. Your tongue aiming further into his own, you didn’t let him go even as he lightly stumbled backward into the island for support. Smirking into the kiss you took his surprise as an opportunity to unlatch the belt you’ve memorized the grooves of. Flinging it to the side you never relented with your kisses, making up for the eight hours he’s left you alone.

The groan into your lips was a warning, one you replied with a nip to his nose. The apron was undone and the top you were wearing was on it’s way. With no intervention you two would have never made it to the bath.

Ring Ring.

The oven timer rang persistently, a constant warning as you both remained locked within a cruel cycle of desperate pecks. Finally breaking away you turned from your husband to open the oven to pull out the tin you had in there. After safely putting a top on the tin and draining what was boiling you turn to see a sight only for you—a pouty Nanami Kento.

“Don’t pout Nanami,” you were already unbuttoning his shirt, “we’ll do our bath first and just reheat dinner later.”

______________________________________________________________

The faint dripping of the faucet created a soothing rhythm in the echoing bathroom. Held up by Nanami’s grip, you fought the urge to fall asleep against his chest. Your body exhausted from the intense rounds of an overworked man, you barely had half a mind to keep up the conversation.

“What did you do today?”

“Hm just housework and stuff.”

The soft and wet kiss on your temple, said he needed more. Even as your lids batted close you knew what he wanted. You reached for his hand tracing the bones and muscles in them. Playing with each finger to help fight the desire to sleep.

“I read more of the book you gave me, some journaling, and I did go on the internet for a little while but it was only to–”

Nanami didn’t bother gently asking before capturing your lips, holding your head in place as he roughly sucked. Practically devouring your face, your own lips lazily reciprocating his affections. His hands held you closer squishing your body even closer to his own. All of your breath was swallowed by him, working alongside the heat of your bath to render you helpless to his whims.

“You’ll be the death of me, my love.”

“I hope so.”

That garnered a chuckle from him lightly bouncing you. Kissing lightly you found your resolve to stay awake slipping even faster. Your body demanding your turn and rest on the chest of your husband. Because your duty was done.

Because here all Nanami needed to worry about was keeping you in his arms, his home.

And that’s all he would need to be concerned with.

“How about that trip to Malaysia, love?”

“Hm I assume you’d be taking work off if we do?”

“Of course because there’d be nothing that could keep me from you.”

That’s my hope.

My little love letter to the overworked cheetah-print tie wearing Daddy ��🖤🖤🖤

#yandere x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere x you #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami jjk #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #My love letter to my poor Nanamin 🖤#jjk

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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

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♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either.

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck.

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right?

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked.

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him.

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor.

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies.

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything.

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you.

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face.

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember.

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex.

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either.

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault.

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs.

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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kekewrites · 19 days ago

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Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunningless, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

***

He can't believe he's dating the cutest in the world. Everytime you scowl, show that adorable pout, he just wants to squish your cheeks together and kiss you plenty. Like a little kitty hissing when you sneer curses at him.

It's adorable really.

You'd say you didn't want to go to the movies he chose. Yet, you arrived earlier than expected, wearing a hint of makeup in that cute dress of yours. Makes him want to crush you. You put in the effort, took the time, even gave him the watch he'd been talking about—his favorite.

He really loves you. Really really loves you but why are you acting like he doesn't? He's confused. Hasn't he done enough to show you, tell how much he adores you? It makes him sad. Don't you know how much he's holding back? There's only so much he could take, you know. He could just take you everytime you run that cute foul mouth of you, shove his cock to make you shut up. But he's so patient with you because he loves you.

So don't push him too much, ok? Or else you might not like it when he finally show you his desire.

***

"You're late," you grumble, sending him a glare. Your arms are crossed, and your foot taps impatiently on the ground.

He chuckles, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I arrived just on time, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. "You're just too excited for our date, no?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are warm, sparkling with affection.

You huff in response, but you can feel the corners of your mouth betraying you, tugging into a smile. He notices and takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"You're just so cute, you know? I really wanna crush— ow!" He hiss slightly as you swat his arm. He pouts a little, "You're strong, you're gonna leave a bruise."

You roll your eyes— as if that's gonna happen. Huffing you tug on his hand, "Let's go. I'm starving."

He smiles, looking at your back, "Ok, sweetie~."

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

"Why're you not eating, sweetie? Is the food not to your liking?"

Your appetite was gone the moment that waitress flirted with him, leaving you empty and bitter. This always happen. You're sick of it, sick of being jealous and feeling shitty for not looking like his girlfriend. Are you really worthless by his side? Do people not see you as his companion?

"Sweetie?"

You didn't want to lash out on him so you remained silent. Too bitter to talk. Even the food turned bitter, leaving you more upset.

He's such an idiot. But you're more of an idiot for being triggered by that stupid waitress, too much of a wuss to tell her he's taken, that he's yours. You're the idiot.

"I don't wanna eat anymore," you bitterly muttered, your face covered by the shadows of your hair, hiding that frown you wore he always seems to love on you.

He gets a sick twisted feeling in his guts, watching how jealous you get whenever some worthless wench tries to get his attention. It satisfies his urge, his sick thoughts hidden by his angelic face. You really love him, don't you? His lips curving into a sweet smile, eyes twinkling with desires. If only you know how much he gets off with you being jealous, you'd never doubted your pretty little self.

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

“I said…” You take a breath, steadying your voice. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, his smile wavers. Just a fraction. His right eye twitches ever so slightly, a crack in the carefully crafted mask he wears. But then, like a master of illusions, he recovers, his sweet facade sliding back into place, though something darker lingers beneath the surface.

“Now, now,” he says, his voice dripping with a saccharine softness that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “What’s the matter?” His tone is gentle, almost soothing, but there’s a sharp edge to it—a venomous undercurrent that cuts through the air.

You don’t answer immediately, your chest tightening under his unblinking stare. It’s as if he’s waiting, watching every little twitch of your expression, trying to peel you apart without lifting a finger.

“I just think…” you start, your voice faltering as his head tilts slightly, his smile remaining unnervingly intact. “I-I think we’re not… good for each other anymore.”

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze sharpens, a predator sizing up its prey. He takes a step closer, the air between you growing heavy. “Not good for each other?” he repeats, feigning confusion. “Sweetheart, where’s this nonsense coming from? Didn’t we promise forever?”

The sweetness in his tone sends a chill down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Forever shouldn’t feel like this,” you say, trying to steady your trembling hands.

It shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself, shouldn't make you anxious, shouldn't make feel... pressured.

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes boring into yours. Then, his chuckle breaks the tension, soft and low. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. “You’re upset. That’s all. We’ll talk this through, won’t we?”

But his words aren’t a question—they’re a command, wrapped in the guise of concern. And as his smile lingers, you realize leaving might not be as simple as you hoped.

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

"Mmm, that's it sweetie. Take it deeper." He coaxes, his grip on your hair tightening. He starts to push forward, forcing more of his thick length past your stretched lips.

So why?

Your eyes squeeze shut tighter as he pushes in deeper, your throat convulsing around his invading cock. He throws his head back with a guttural moan.

"That's a good girl. Mhm, your throat feels so good wrapped around my dick." He grunts, starting to set a steady pace. Fucking into your mouth, using your face like a cock sleeve.

It was gross. He never did that to you.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the office as he picks up speed, his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each rough thrust. Drool escapes the seal of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your messed up clothes.

He looks down, taking in the debauched sight of you on your knees, choking on his cock. His dick is spit-shined and glistening, streaked with their drool. Shit. The sight makes him thrust harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

"Look at me," He demands breathlessly, wanting to see the tears and desperation in their eyes as he uses their mouth ruthlessly. He's close, so fucking close already from the intense, vice-like grip of your inexperienced throat. He grunts and curses, slamming forward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum paint your face and hair, marking you as his. Some of it even lands in your eyes, making them sting and water.

"You're so pretty... You look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispers lovingly, smearing the head of his cock across your messy face, pushing the hot seed into their skin like makeup. "The prettiest girl in the world."

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

It's not like he's losing a lot... you aren't that special. So why is he acting this way? There are a lot of better options for him, prettier, smarter, and richer girls. Someone who can actually match him, who doesn't embarrass him, worthier to stand beside him.

Why is he fucking you like his life depends on it?

Your eyes already hazy and unfocused, breathing hard as you couldn't count how many times you've already come.

One of his hands snakes up your trembling body, finding a soft breast. He squeezes the supple mound roughly, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he kneads and gropes. He finds a pert nipple and pinches it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and tugging until it stands stiff and aching in the cool air of the room.

"Hm? Are you already tired? We're just starting," he coo, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin. He bites and sucks, determined to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his own. His. He can feel his orgasm building, his heavy balls tightening as he ruts into your abused cunt. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill the room, punctuated by the creaking of the bed and your cries. He's close, so fucking close to filling your cunt with his seed.

"Gonna... hngh... fill this pussy..." He grunts between clenched teeth, slamming home one last time. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to come, thick ropes of hot cum painting your inner walls. He grinds against them, making sure they take every last drop as he marks your womb with his essence.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he collapses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your tender, cream-filled pussy. He pants harshly against the shell of their ear, his hands still groping and fondling your sensitive body.

"Y-You're an idiot..." You sniffle, "Why me? There's a lot of—."

He cuts you off, "You know, I would never cheat on you, right?" He whispers tenderly, kissing your ears as if assuring. "No matter who comes to me, I would never pay attention to them. Never. You're the only one I want." His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze.

It was the first time you ever heard his voice to be so... vulnerable.

"The only girl I want... So..." You can hear his voice shake, "Don't break up with me, ok?"

Your eyes glaze with tears, your heart tugging at his words. No, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You made up your mind a few weeks ago, always nagging at the back of your mind. Ending your relationship would be the best for you two—.

He kisses you then, any doubts in your mind disappearing as his mouth claiming theirs in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, plundering the warm cavern as he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing erection against your thigh.

Ah, you don't care anymore.

"Don't think anymore, ok? Just let me do it for you."

He starts to rub the broad head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your combined juices. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll be gentle like the usual... for now." He promises darkly, his voice rough with restrained lust. "I'll make this first part nice and slow, nice and easy for you."

"H-Huh?"

With that, he starts to push forward, the thick length of his cock slowly sinking into your tight, clutching heat. He has to fight the urge to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he resists, forcing himself to go slowly, to savor the exquisite feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Ah, you're still so tight." He grits out through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing against your hips as he fights for control. "Such a perfect cunt."

"Too soon! I'm still... s-sensitive!" You cried out but he starts to move then, his hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm as he fucks into you with deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushes him a little deeper, a little harder, until he's finally buried to the hilt inside you. He pauses for a moment, letting you feel the heavy weight of him, the way he's stretching you impossibly full.

"Hehe, sorry can't help it. Does that feel gentle enough for you, sweetie?" He asks, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, yet his angelic face covers it. "Or do you need me to be even more... careful?" He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your brain short circuit by the overstimulation, all you could think about was him, and his big cock, "A-Ah, you— ish... so good~!"

He snarls in feral pleasure as he feels your pussy clench and ripple around his pistoning cock. The way you are moaning and crying out, begging him not to stop... it's the headiest fucking thing he's ever heard. It makes him want to ruin you, to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never forget the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

You came in surprise, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, chest heaving, "C-Can't too much..!"

"You can do it," He growls, his voice a dark, distorted rumble. He can feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucks into you with wild abandon, "A-ah~ clench this greedy cunt around my dick, dollface. Milk it for all it's worth.

You never saw this side of him before, a more vulgar side to him. Spouting dirty words that's the opposite of his facade. Maybe, you didn't know your boyfriend that well? He was always gentleman to you in bed, always going with your pace and being mindful about his words but now...

"N-No~ I really ah! Can't!" You shake your head frantically, having enough of the sensitivity.

"Yes, you can! You will, sweetie~!"

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin as he chases his pleasure. He wants to mark you, to leave his claim all over your body for everyone to see. He wants the whole world to know that you belong to him, that you're his to fuck and fill and love as he sees fit. The thought of another man putting his hand on you makes him mad, you're only his and he isn't afraid to take that way for you to be officially his.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetie." He grits out, his hips slamming forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. "I'm gonna pump this tight little pussy full of my seed, gonna breed this fucking cunt until it's dripping with my cum."

Breed?

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake and quake as I fill you with my my child."

Wait...!

His other hand slides up, wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly. It's enough to make you gasp for air, pulse jumping wildly beneath his touch. It's enough to make you even tighter, body instinctively clenching down around him as he fucks into you with short, vicious thrusts.

Too much!

"Now, sweetie~ cum. Now." He commands, his voice a dark and sinful. And with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls deep inside her and starts to cum. His cock jerks and pulses as he paints your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed, filling you up just like he promised.

So full...

You gasp out, your skin flushed and damp with sweat. The room spins around you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as you struggle to catch your breath. Body aches all over, especially between your legs. The feeling of his cum painting your insides is strange, unsettling.

Your vision having black spots, your consciousness fading as you hear him murmur promises to you.

"I'll take responsibility whether we have a child or not, we'll get married and have a cute child."

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. I love you more than anyone else, I only love you."

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hybrid au #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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aajjks · 6 months ago

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warnings: 18+ thèmès, YÁNDÈRÈ MÈN, öbsëssïön, ünhëälthy dèvôtïôn, mèntïôns ôf örál, kïssïng, mèntïôns ôf sèx, mèntïôns ôf sùïcídè.

Yandere men who are so in love with you, they are head over heels, who think that you’re a miracle, you’re the love of their life, they adore you, absolutely adore you, who adore your body with theirs. Who kiss you like you’re the air, who fuck you like they want you merge you with them. Who make love to you day and night, kissing you until their lips are swollen, fucking you until their legs give out, eating you out until their jaw breaks, who tell you how much they love you until their throat is bleeding. Who would absolutely kill themselves if you ever left them.

“Oh my yn… you are a miracle- you can’t be real- please please let me fuck you- just one taste… I just can’t get enough of you- you’re like addictive- please I need you so much, don’t ever leave me I’ll die without you.”

Izuku, gojo, yuuta, Luffy, tamaki, Xiao, Geto, Shouto, Nanami.

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the-grimm-writer · 7 months ago

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Thinking about obsessive boyfriends <33

You know something's a lil off about him, but you always try to push it down because he's the best boyfriend you've ever had.

He showers you with gifts, praises you, and listens to your struggles without judgment. Some might say you two have the best relationship.

So, of course you don't realize when people suddenly start withdrawing from you. How their eyes widen in fear when they see your man because you're the only one who doesn't see how dangerous he truly is.

You think it's cute when he gets jealous. When you talk to your friends and he snakes his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he waits for you to pay attention to him again.

And when he gets you alone and tilts your chin back, telling you how you're his and he'll never let anyone take you away from him.

Of course there's times you start seeing the signs something's not quiet right, but one kiss and all your worries seem to melt away.

Your boyfriend would never harm you. But the same can't be said about anyone else.

JJK: Geto, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Nanami, Megumi, Toge

TR: Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Angry, Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, Kisaki, Kazutora

MHA: Izuku, Mirio, Keigo, Shoto, Kirishima, Shinsou

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shizuturnspages · 1 day ago

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Bow, Little Priest

Synopsis: Yandere Sukuna x Devoted Priest! Reader

🩸 Absolute Jealousy: Sukuna does not tolerate devotion that isn’t directed at him. If you so much as whisper another god’s name in prayer, his rage is swift and terrifying. He sees your faith as betrayal—why would you worship something weaker than him?

🩸 Destroyer of Faith: Every time you light a candle in devotion, he blows it out. Every time you kneel to pray, he pulls you up by the chin, forcing you to meet his cruel grin. “No one listens but me. No one answers but me. So why waste your breath?”

🩸 Ruin in His Name: Temples crumble under his touch, sacred texts burn at his command. He’ll desecrate everything you once held sacred, leaving you with nothing but the certainty that he is the only divine force left in your life.

🩸 Possessive Protection: He doesn’t just want your devotion—he wants your surrender. He’ll carve his name into your body, into your soul, ensuring that when you pray, it is only to him. “Say my name. Beg me for mercy, and maybe I’ll grant it.”

🩸 Eternal Damnation: Even if you die, even if your soul tries to escape, he will find you. What use is heaven or reincarnation when Sukuna’s claim on you transcends life itself? There is no afterlife that does not belong to him.

Scenario:

The flames rise behind you, the heat licking at your back. The temple—the last one left standing—cracks and crumbles before your eyes. The golden altar, once pristine, is now nothing but ash. Your knees buckle as you watch everything you’ve ever known turn to ruin.

And he stands there, admiring his work.

Sukuna grins, stepping over the shattered remains of your faith. His four arms are streaked with blood—whether it’s yours or someone else’s, you don’t know anymore. He stops in front of you, looming like the very disaster that ripped your world apart.

Your hands tremble as you press them together. A final prayer. A final hope.

He crouches. “Still begging?” His voice drips with amusement. “Haven’t you realized? Your god isn’t listening.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Please. Please…

“Pathetic,” Sukuna muses. He tilts his head, watching you crumble. Then, a clawed hand seizes your jaw, wrenching your face upward. “Open your eyes.”

You refuse.

His grip tightens. “I said, open them.”

You do. And the sight that greets you is worse than you imagined.

The statues? Decapitated. The sacred relics? Crushed beneath his feet. There is nothing left.

Nothing but him.

A dry chuckle escapes him. “Your god is dead,” he says, voice low and taunting. “All that’s left is me.”

Tears sting your eyes. You try to look away, but he doesn’t let you. His fingers trail down your cheek, a mockery of something tender.

Then, he steps closer. Too close. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers—

“Bow.”

Your heart clenches.

You shake your head. “I… I won’t—”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. “You already have.”

It’s only then that you realize—you’re on your knees. The very position of worship. The way you once knelt before your god.

His grin stretches wider. “See?” He leans down, pressing a claw against your throat. “You’ve already accepted me.”

You shake. You hate him. You hate him more than anything in this world. But there is nothing left.

Nothing but him.

Sukuna chuckles, lifting your chin. “Good,” he murmurs. “Now, little priest… say my name.”

You don’t.

You won’t.

But as he grips your jaw tighter, as the ruins of your faith smoulder around you, a terrible truth settles in.

One day, you will.

#writers on tumblr #jjk yandere #yandere jjk #jjk sukuna #yandere sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen

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theinnerunderrain · 8 months ago

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yan! Gojo sketch bc I can’t think of anything to write guys

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delulustateofmind · 1 month ago

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This is Love, Right?

Part two of Can My Friend Join?

Next part: It's all your fault, isn't it?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Sum: You're starting to grow used to Suguru, maybe evening learning to accept his love.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Cameras, Obsession, Manipulation, trapping), Really toxic relationship, dubcon, oral (F and M receiving), Brief smut, Reader is going through it. SatoSugu (Just a warning in itself), Angst

WC: 4.7k

A/n: Listened to a random Mitski playlist and it lowkey made me depressed while writing this, expect some fluff after this one.

This is love.

You keep telling yourself that, don’t you?

Even as silent tears streak down your cheeks in the furthest bathroom—the one tucked away from the master bedroom, the one even Satoru’s Six Eyes can’t reach.

This is love.

The way Satoru leans down, his snowy white hair falling across his forehead in that effortlessly tousled way, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips before heading out on a mission. His crystalline blue eyes, so striking they feel otherworldly, linger on you for a moment too long before he straightens up, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips. Suguru follows, his dark hair tied neatly back, though loose strands frame his sharp, beautiful face. He gives you a casual wave, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, teasing smile as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ve never seen Satoru happier than he’s been since Suguru joined your relationship. Happier than back when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions while you laughed at some cheesy anime. Back then, his laugh was unrestrained, carefree. The way his shoulders would shake, his hand coming up to push his blindfold up and wipe away a tear—it felt real.

You miss those days.

You didn’t cry as much back then.

But they love you, don’t they?

They still pay your tuition, still ensure your life is cushioned and cared for. Suguru, always measured and composed, suggested once, “Maybe you should switch to online classes.” His voice was soft, his tone coaxing. It made sense, didn’t it? His reasoning was sound: “There was a special grade curse at the school the other day. We just worry about you, baby.”

Suguru always seems so calm, his velvety voice soothing and warm yet guarded dark eyes giving him an air of quiet authority. You begin to find comfort in that. However, the weight of his presence feels heavy, suffocating even some days.

Satoru, on the other hand, radiates energy. His presence fills the room like sunlight—blinding, inescapable. His tall, lanky frame always seems so relaxed, but you know better. Behind the teasing lilt of his voice and his constant grin lies a man who rarely lets his guard down. The way he looms, leaning just a little too close, reminds you of the distance he refuses to let exist between the two of you.

They worry about you so much. Yet whenever you voice concern for them, they hush you. Suguru’s deep voice reassures you, as if he’s talking to a child, while Satoru’s lips curl into a too-bright smile, his hand patting your head like you’re something fragile.

They love you. They take care of you. It would be selfish to leave them, wouldn’t it?

And Satoru—he’s never been this happy.

He’s working less, smiling more. Suguru’s return has lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’s not carrying the burden of being the strongest alone anymore. You can see it in the way his smile softens when Suguru speaks, in the way his gaze lingers on him longer than it ever lingers on you.

And yet, you tell yourself:

This is love.

Still, you wonder… wasn’t Suguru supposed to be going to therapy? You think back to his promises—vague, half-hearted reassurances—but did he ever actually leave for a session? Ever join a voice call?

You don’t recall.

You try to push the thought away, like so many others. Ignore the red flags. Focus on the green.

The relationship has its moments. You’re growing used to Suguru.

Especially your drunk self—the one that gravitates toward him, curling up on his lap like a loyal dog, seeking out his touch and the warmth of his arms. He always accepts you, his large hands stroking your back or brushing through your hair with a tenderness that feels almost too loving, almost cruel. You wonder what side of yourself that is, the part that craves his affection so desperately, the part that lets the lines blur between love and dependency.

You might even say you’re learning to love him—or at least the version of him that exists in the quiet of the night. The version that pulls you close under the weight of darkness, his voice low and unguarded as he whispers, “I love you.”

It’s in those moments that he feels human, almost fragile. A man with calloused hands and a broken heart trying to mend himself through you.

And it’s hard not to wonder—are you really learning to love him, or are you simply surrendering to the inevitability of it all?

Satoru, though… he never used to cuddle at night. Even before Suguru entered the picture, he always sprawled out in his ridiculously expensive sheets, claiming restlessness from the constant hum of his cursed energy. He needed the space, he said, and you told yourself he deserved it.

Suguru, however—Suguru surprised you.

At first glance, he didn’t seem the type for soft affections, but you quickly learned otherwise. Every night, his arms would find their way around you, wrapping you in a firm but gentle embrace. His warmth seeped into you, grounding and comforting, as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His lips would brush your skin with soft kisses, a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him.

Sometimes, his deep voice would murmur, “Sorry we came home so late,” heavy with sincerity. Other times, his words were more vulnerable, whispered just above a breath: “I love you,” spoken in the dark when he thought you were asleep.

It’s hard not to love him in those moments. Hard not to feel your resolve slip as his presence surrounds you. His breath fans against your neck, steady and warm. His rhythmic breathing eventually syncs with yours, as if his body is learning the cadence of your every inhale and exhale.

For those fleeting moments, you almost forget the cracks beneath the surface.

Other good moments were the intimate ones, the kind that left no room for doubt about how thoroughly they possessed you.

Suguru’s lips would meet yours in slow, deliberate kisses, his touch soft and coaxing, as Satoru’s tongue worked between your legs. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, clouding your vision and overwhelming your senses. Satoru’s tongue moved with precision, his mouth relentless as he lapped at your cunt, delving deep until your mind felt as hazy as your breathless moans.

Suguru’s fingers never faltered, rubbing tight circles around your clit in perfect rhythm with Satoru’s ministrations. Their combined efforts dragged you over the edge again and again, your body trembling and giving in to the relentless waves of pleasure.

It became impossible to think of anything else—impossible to care about anything other than the bliss they brought you. Their hardened cocks stretched you beyond your limits, filling you completely, their stamina nearly too much for your quivering form.

Suguru would cradle your face in his hands, his dark eyes soft yet intense as he cooed sweet nothings. He’d murmur praises, soothing and possessive, as Satoru pressed the tip of his cock into your overstimulated, leaking cunt. The stretch made you gasp—a sound Suguru captured with his lips, his kiss slow, methodical, leaving you no room to shy away.

Satoru’s hands gripped your hips harshly, his long fingers digging into your flesh, ensuring you stayed exactly where he wanted you. You could already tell the marks would bloom into bruises by morning, a physical reminder of their claim. Suguru, ever attentive, would turn your face gently toward the camera, his voice a low murmur against your lips. “You’re such a good girl,” he’d praise, his thumb brushing your cheek before pulling you into another kiss.

When they were finally spent, when your body gave out completely, Suguru always carried you to the bath. His embrace was steady, grounding, as the warm water soothed your trembling form. You’d lean against his chest, your body limp, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Sometimes, Satoru would join, his tall frame slipping into the water beside you. Their voices would soften as they spoke over you, discussing mundane things or recounting their mission. Occasionally, a kiss would press against your temple—a fleeting gesture, tender and claiming all at once—as you drifted in and out of sleep.

For a little while, it felt like you belonged.

And then, when he thinks you’re asleep, Satoru murmurs, “I knew you’d come around.”

You’re never sure who he’s talking to—Suguru, the man who swore to eradicate non-sorcerers? Or you, the girl who’s finally learning to love the monster who holds her at night?

It’s in these moments that you find yourself slipping out of bed, mumbling an excuse to use the bathroom. Suguru always lets you go with a teasing “Come back fast, or I’ll come get you.” You never linger long enough to see if he’s joking.

Once inside the furthest bathroom, the one that feels like your only sanctuary, you clutch the edge of the sink and sob. Quietly, so no one hears. Until your knees give out and you’re on the floor, shaking and clutching yourself.

This is love. Right?

They loved you. So why were you crying in the bathroom?

Why did each love bite feel like a brand, etched into your skin with every lingering gaze in the mirror? Why did their cum, warm as it seeped down your thighs, burn like it was searing itself into you, a mark you couldn’t erase? Why did the blank, soulless stare of the camera lens feel like an accusation, making you flinch away from any piece of technology?

Before too long, you would wipe your tears, force a smile to your lips—steadying it just enough so it wouldn’t wobble—and return to Suguru’s waiting arms. His hum would vibrate against your back as his dark hair tickled your neck. He’d cradle you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight, baby,” he’d murmur, and you’d close your eyes, pretending his embrace felt like comfort instead of confinement.

But mornings brought their own discomforts.

You found yourself rifling through the master bathroom, searching the countertop with rising panic. Where is it? The nagging thought ate at you.

Satoru, brushing his teeth beside you, glanced over with those striking blue eyes. His tone was soft, almost too casual. “What’s up, baby?”

“I can’t find my birth control,” you admitted, the words trembling as much as your hands.

“Did you misplace it? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He walked over, his long arms wrapping around your waist. A kiss brushed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. “Go ask Sugu. He’s the one who organizes everything.”

So you did. Suguru was at the desk in the living room, working through a report. From over his shoulder, you could see the numbers—charge rates, payments for missions—enough to know your schooling costs barely amounted to a fraction of what they earned in a single week.

“Your birth control?” he repeated absentmindedly, his tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been misplacing that a lot, haven’t you, baby?”

His words felt condescending, like you were a child searching for a lost toy.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice still soft but with a growing edge of desperation. You were five minutes late—exactly.

“Ah-ah, no need for that tone, baby,” he chided, his eyes still glued to his paperwork. “Check the kitchen counter. Your purse? Maybe your school bag.”

It took thirty agonizing minutes of searching, panic simmering under your skin, before you found it—perched on top of the fridge.

You stared at it for a moment, unmoving. You would have never put it there.

Suguru’s behavior had become harder to ignore. There were moments when his touch lingered, his eyes softened, and his voice carried a wistful tone. He had baby fever—you could tell. Maybe it was tied to the twins he lost.

You’d asked him about them once. His face shuttered, dark and unreadable, and he didn’t respond.

You tried asking Satoru, but he had simply glanced away, his usual bravado vanishing for a moment too long.

You decided not to ask again.

Some questions weren’t meant to be answered. You had a sinking feeling the truth lay buried somewhere with the higher-ups, in a place you weren’t allowed to tread.

Suguru’s baby fever didn’t fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

When the three of you went to the store, you’d catch that soft smile tugging at his lips whenever he saw a child. It wasn’t the type of smile he gave just anyone—it was warm, tender, hopeful. And it was always followed by a kiss pressed to your temple. A gesture you used to pull away from, but now, you found yourself smiling through.

Sometimes, he’d suggest wandering into the baby section, his tone casual, almost playful. “Just in case. Want to see what’s out there.”

The words always made your skin crawl.

Because no matter how innocuous they sounded, your mind couldn’t help but spiral. It always went back to the hidden birth control, the misplaced pills, and the monthly pregnancy tests he insisted on. He’d stand there, watching you pee on the stick, his arms crossed but his expression almost serene—waiting, anticipating. He wanted to know right away.

You tried to shove those thoughts into the furthest corner of your mind. Tried to convince yourself it was all harmless.

Satoru, by contrast, didn’t seem to care much for babies. He never lingered in the baby aisle and rarely commented on Suguru’s behavior. But he’d hum softly, his hand clasping yours, and flash you a loving smile.

You liked to think that as long as everyone else was happy, Satoru was happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Occasionally, when they left for long missions, the apartment felt suffocating in its emptiness. You’d pad softly through the vast, cold space, the silence amplifying every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes darted around, searching for the hidden cameras you knew were there. You weren’t sure where they all were, or when they liked to check the footage, but you’d found one blind spot: the hallway closet.

You moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring you didn’t do anything that might raise suspicion. Even though you were alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

All because they loved you.

Slipping into the closet, you nestled yourself on the floor, silky yukatas hanging above like a shroud. Your laptop glowed faintly in the darkness as you opened it and began your quiet rebellion.

You searched for apartments—something small, something within your budget. Each listing felt like a whisper of hope. You lingered on them, imagining the freedom they promised, before methodically deleting your browser history. Clearing the cache. Erasing every trace.

It was a silly idea. A foolish one, really.

But for a few stolen moments, it was yours.

It didn’t seem so silly after the heated argument with Satoru when he got home.

He was already overstimulated, frustrated, and teetering on the edge of losing his patience. Those moments were the worst—when the teasing lilt in his voice faded, replaced by something sharp and mean. His cerulean eyes, usually playful and glinting with mischief, turned cold and calculating, the glow of his Six Eyes adding an eerie sharpness to his gaze.

All he wanted was release. That was all.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” he said, his tone flat but brimming with expectation.

Except you weren’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, Toru, I just—”

“I do everything for you, and you can’t even provide me with a little comfort?” His words came out harsh, the grin curling his lips into something too sharp to be soft. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. His presence always felt overwhelming—broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted face framed by stark white hair, and a lean body that seemed to hum with restrained power. You swallowed hard. Did he get taller?

“I just got off my period, so it’s—”

“It’s what?” His voice cut through your hesitation, his hands flexing as if he were trying to leash himself. “Come on, baby. Just a quickie. Or let me use your mouth.”

The fight drained out of you before you even realized it.

You ended up on your knees, the cold tile biting into your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed face. His long fingers twisted tightly into your hair, guiding your head as if you were nothing more than a puppet for his pleasure. His pale chest rose and fell steadily, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, glinting like cruel punctuation to his earlier frustration.

The tip of his cock pushed past your lips, the stretch almost unbearable as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw, tightening with every wet sound that filled the room. A low groan rumbled deep in his throat, vibrating in the space between you like a growl of satisfaction.

Your throat burned, gagging and gasping as you struggled to adjust. Your hands clutched at his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the hard, taut muscles beneath his impossibly smooth skin. His hips began to move with more force, his breaths growing heavier, the faintest smirk curling on his lips as he reveled in your struggle.

His moans grew louder, rougher, until with a sharp tug of your hair, he pulled out. Hot ropes of cum painted your face, the heat of it stark against your flushed skin. You blinked through the haze, barely catching your breath, the sting of humiliation bubbling up in your chest.

Before you could even reach for something to wipe yourself clean, the sharp click of a camera shutter echoed through the room.

You didn’t need to look up to know what he was doing. You could already imagine him grinning at the screen, tapping a few buttons with casual ease. You could picture the caption as clearly as if he’d whispered it into your ear:

"Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she? <3"

The thought sat heavy in your chest, a mix of shame, anger, and something else you didn’t want to name.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Satoru turned sweet again.

He brought you a towel, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face. “Come on,” he coaxed, his voice softening. He guided you to the bathroom, his fingers lacing with yours, and drew you into the shower.

Under the warm water, he washed your hair, his hands threading through your strands with care. His crystalline eyes softened as he began to tell you about his mission, his lips quirking into a small smile. From the counter, he produced a small box of mochi, your favorite snack.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. His arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressing against your back. “I’m going to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving behind only his affection..

Your heart sank at the mention of marriage. With them, you knew they’d find a way to make it happen—the three of you, bound together, no matter how impossible it seemed.

After the shower, you slipped into bed, craving the comforting warmth of the sheets. It was a small solace, a fleeting moment where you could envelop yourself in something soft and familiar.

Satoru liked to cuddle during naps, and true to form, his lanky arms found their way around you. He pulled you close, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into you. His kisses came next, peppered across your lips with deliberate exaggeration, loud and obnoxious.

You used to giggle when he did that. You used to squirm and laugh, batting him away as he grinned and pulled you closer.

But now, you stayed still, letting him press his kisses and settle into a nap with you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d giggled like that. Or the last time you’d laughed at all.

On their next mission, you had exactly six hours.

Exactly six hours for a stupid idea. A fleeting thought.

You’d planned this carefully, down to the second. When they asked where you’d be, you made some excuse about a doctor’s appointment. It was believable enough—Suguru always asked to see the summary of your visits when you got back, a habit you knew was less about care and more about control.

But this time, you lied.

There was no appointment.

Instead, you booked a one-way trip. Far, far away from Tokyo. Far enough that they wouldn’t be able to find you, at least not right away.

The States. It was the only place you could afford with the small stash of cash you’d scraped together over the years—birthday cards, Christmas cards, anything you’d managed to squirrel away without raising suspicion. You even bought a prepaid flight gift card, ensuring it couldn’t be traced back to you.

No suitcases, no sentimental keepsakes, nothing but the clothes on your back.

Before you left, you scrawled a simple note, placing it where you knew they’d find it. Just three words:

"I love you."

Ironic, isn’t it?

As you sat at your terminal, the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You told yourself a 14-hour flight wouldn’t be so bad. It was freedom, wasn’t it? The first real breath you’d taken in months.

But then, a familiar figure caught your eye.

Megumi.

He wasn’t alone—the other first-years trailed beside him—but it was Megumi’s gaze that stopped your heart. His dark eyes widened when they locked onto yours, a flash of recognition that made your stomach churn.

Your anxiety hit you like a freight train, crawling under your skin, seeping into your every bone as they walked past. Megumi glanced back at you one more time, his lips parting just enough to mouth the words: “I’m sorry.”

And then you saw it—his hand reaching for his phone, his fingers already dialing.

You didn’t have to guess who he was calling.

Your heart sank, but you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. You knew Megumi had his reasons—his own happiness to protect, his own precarious balance to maintain. He was trying to survive too, wasn’t he?

You understood. You really did.

But understanding didn’t make the fear any less suffocating.

You cried the entire car ride home, your sobs tearing from your throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Satoru didn’t even glance your way. His icy, dull gaze stayed fixed on the window, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your muffled cries and the hum of the car engine.

In the passenger seat, Suguru sat quietly, his expression unreadable. His hands rested on his knees, fingers drumming absently, as if the tension in the car didn’t weigh as heavily on him.

Poor Ijichi-san gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, clearly caught in a situation he didn’t want to be in. He glanced at you through the rearview mirror—sympathy flashing briefly in his eyes—before he quickly looked away, the moment shattered by Satoru’s cold, piercing glare.

The car felt suffocating, like the air had been sucked out, leaving only the weight of your despair and the oppressive silence of the two men who claimed to love you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the familiar sight of your apartment complex slip past the window. Panic prickled at the edge of your already frayed nerves, your grip tightening on the fabric of your clothes. A small sniffle left your nose, your voice coming out hoarse and broken.

“Where are we going, Toru?”

You turned your gaze to Satoru, hoping for an answer, for anything—but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t respond. His profile was cold, distant, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Your stomach twisted, guilt clawing at your insides. You must have hurt him. He always clung to your love like it was his lifeline. You must have broken that lifeline, snapped it in two with your attempt to run.

You shifted your gaze to Suguru, hoping for some clarity, but his face gave nothing away. His dark eyes flickered toward you for the briefest of moments before returning to the road ahead, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.

The car veered away from familiar streets, the urban sprawl giving way to the shadowy embrace of the woods.

Your chest tightened.

Every nerve in your body screamed as the car crept deeper into the forest, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels. Your mind raced with grim possibilities. Were they planning to leave you here? Like an unwanted dog, cast into the cold for daring to run away?

But then, just as the panic began to claw at you, your gaze caught the sight of something familiar—something that made your heart sink even further.

The tall, imposing torii gates emerged through the mist, their vibrant red striking against the muted greens and grays of the forest.

Oh.

The Gojo Estate.

“I don’t think I can trust you enough not to leave again,” Satoru said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically calm, almost detached.

He wasn’t usually the one to chide you—that was Suguru’s role. Suguru, who would dole out punishments with a sharp tongue or a chilling, parental tone, as though you were a misbehaving child. But now, Satoru’s words held a gravity that made your chest tighten.

“So,” he continued, his crystalline eyes fixed ahead, “I figured here, you could have a few more eyes on you. Maybe even enjoy it more. Who knows? You might even come around to the idea of being Mrs. Gojo or Mrs. Geto. Your pick.”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We already filled out the documentation. You’re married.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, the weight of them crashing into your chest. Your mind spun, unable to comprehend the sheer audacity of it, the sheer finality.

You felt chained.

Like a dog, tethered to their will, stripped of freedom, and locked away under the pretense of love.

They didn’t say anything as they walked you through the grand, silent halls of the Gojo Estate, and for that, you were almost thankful. The air was heavy with whispers and disdainful glances from the servants. A non-sorcerer? Their murmurs carried through the air, sharp and cutting, as though your very presence was an affront to their world.

When you reached the bedroom, Satoru’s hand guided you forward with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing yours as though nothing had changed. He led you to the edge of the plush, sprawling bed, and you forced a small, trembling smile to your lips—a weak attempt at peace, at hope.

His bright eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

But then his hands caught your wrists.

A light kiss brushed your lips, so soft you barely registered it over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The faint click of the cuffs was almost lost in the quiet, but the cold metal digging into your skin was impossible to ignore.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

It was Suguru’s voice that filled the air next, low and calm, like a lullaby that promised nightmares.

“You’re going to provide us an heir,” he said, his smile almost serene, even as your eyes widened in horror. “It was Satoru’s idea, actually.”

His smile deepened, almost teasing, as though he enjoyed the shock and betrayal etched across your face. “And you’re not leaving this room until you’re safe and pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Suguru’s tone carried a quiet, unmistakable happiness, as though this was something he’d always wanted. Maybe it was—he’d always longed for a child, hadn’t he? You turned your gaze to Satoru, searching for something, anything.

But all you found was the lovesick smile he gave Suguru.

Not you.

Your chest tightened as tears pricked your eyes, the overwhelming urge to scream, to sob, to lash out building inside you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sat there, the cold metal biting into your wrists, the weight of their love crushing the last sliver of hope you’d held onto.

You had grown numb.

Must be from all the love, right?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere suguru geto #yandere satosugu #Yandere Satoru x Suguru x Reader #Yandere Satosugu x reader #Yandere suguru x reader #yandere satoru x reader

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envy-of-the-apple · 5 months ago

Text

Fun Sized

Dark!Fairy!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You save a tiny fairy. Gojo Satoru decides that you and him belong together, regardless of how little he is and how little you think of him.

(Warnings: Yandere, not many warnings in this one ngl)

The fae are a dangerous bunch. You've heard more than enough stories to be spooked. Sirens will sing beautiful songs before dragging you into the depths. Dragons will burn you to a crisp before a second's thought. Nagas would make sure you were alive until the very end as they feast on your organs. Centaurs would use their powerful legs to stomp yours to mere twigs. Driders would suck your blood until there's nothing left but a husk of your body.

You've never heard anything about fairies. They didn't live in your region. Their lands were high in the mountains, where humans rarely traveled. Also, they were so tiny, according to the books. The biggest seemed to be barely the size of your hand. They were harmless, you concluded. Harmless to humans. Harmless to you.

He had been harmless. At first, you thought it was a cluster of leaves in the stream, but as the current drew it closer, you noticed tiny arms and a tiny face. He was unconscious; you didn't even know if the poor thing was alive.

The Fae are a dangerous bunch, but saving one tiny fairy couldn't hurt, right?

Your guest quickly proved to be a bigger hassle than you initially thought.

When you brought him to your cottage, he laid in a basket of warm linen, asleep for hours near the warm fireplace. The blueberry pie was still hot when you turned around and caught him staring at you.

It was silent for a while, and then you said:

"Do you like sweets?"

That's how your tentative friendship with the other kind started. Gojo Satoru (you later learned his name) was a boisterous thing. He did in fact like sweets, which helped bribe his friendship. You're surprised that he ate so much despite his stature. Did all faires have black holes for stomachs?

He healed up rather quickly. At first, you were afraid that his wings had crumbled due to the prolonged exposure to water. But after stuffing himself full of the blueberry syrup, he smiled widely before flitting out your window.

You thought that would be the end of it, but then he just came coming back.

Apparently, your baking skills left an impact on the small creature. He didn't visit often, but when he did, you would always make sure you had something. Whether it be cookies, brownies, or that blueberry pie he was so fond of. Anything was good enough for Gojo's taste palette.

"In the fae lands," Gojo said when you prodded, "sweets are too sweet. Yours is just enough." You weren't too sure what he meant by that, but you took it as a compliment. You were sure the fae wasn't something who'd give praises so easily.

It's not like you were upset at providing food for your tiny friend. Quite the contrary. You loved it when Gojo visited. You found him fascinating, the way he could fly miles and miles above your head. How tiny he was. The amount of times you had to hold yourself back from squishing him between your fingers because of how cute he was scared you.

And you hoped you were fascinating enough to entertain Gojo. You had to be; you don't know why else he'd keep coming back. Even after gobbling down your cooking, he'd lounge around your home, entertaining you with his stories. You learned of the other magical creatures he was in contact with, the students he taught, and how fond he was of them. You don't know why he was so open about sharing his personal life with you, in the stories fae hated humanity, but you would never complain.

It doesn't click as to why Gojo's so invested in you until he comes out and says it himself.

"Instead of me coming back and forth like this, why don't you just come live with me?" He says, "I would cut down my flying time by a lot."

You stare at him in amusement, sure he's joking. "I'm not sure how I'd fit in your house." You tease. "I'd probably crush all your furniture."

"I can make my house bigger." He announces. "Don't worry 'bout it, just say yes."

You stare at him, slowly realizing that he isn't as amused. He's still smiling, but there's no joke.

"No," you finally say, "I'm not doing that."

He cocks his head surprised as though he's never had someone reject him before.

"What?" He asks, "Why not?"

"Well." You clear your throat. "For one, I'm human, and you're a fairie. I don't think Fae would appreciate a human wandering around in their lands."

"Who cares about all that?" Gojo waves his hands around. "You'll be with me, anyways. It'd be fine."

"I don't get why you're so fixated on the human realm." His mouth turns into a sneer. "It's all so boring. Nothing ever happens. And our magic is much more advanced than yours." It's true. You can't disagree with that. Satoru didn't wear clothes made out of leaves or vines, unlike the common fairy stereotype. His clothing looked much more advanced compared to your loose cotton dresses. A black shirt with intricate buttons and long sleeves. Along with black trousers. You wonder what material could make his suit so shiny.

You laugh at his disgust. At that time, you saw Gojo as a tiny child clutching their mother's skirts, a cute puppy. You hadn't yet taken Gojo Satoru as the threat he was.

"It's because I am human." You say, not offended by his remarks. "So I like being near other humans."

He groans as though your logic makes no sense. "Yuji and the others ask about you all the time, though. They've been dying to meet you."

"You talk to your students about the giant that cooks for you? I'm flattered."

"You're dodging," he warns. You roll your eyes.

"Satoru, I'm not coming to live with you. It'd be too much of a hassle." You finally say. "Besides, you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type." He argues.

"Not mine." You smile, and then you make your first blunder.

"I like my men a little taller."

He stiffens, and you know you said the wrong thing. Your smile fades as does the cheery energy in your cottage. He says nothing, but he's zipping out your window before you can apologize.

He doesn't return for the longest time. You count the weeks. Guilt weighs on your shoulders, heavy and burdensome. Every day you bake something even tastier than the day before. Not even that is enough to coax him back.

You think you've lost him forever, when he returns on one sweltering summer evening.

"Hi." You blink. He's watching you, sitting idly on the window, kicking his tiny feet.

"Hi." He smiles.

You're happy enough to grab him with one fist and hugging him to your chest, but as always, you stop yourself. Instead, a shy smile rests on your face.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I really am...will you accept an apology pie?"

He grins wider, and you relax.

He eats, and you're grateful. Something you once cherished in your life has finally come back to you. You might not return Gojo's feelings, but you still care for him. You'd rather die than ever hurt him again.

"No, you're right." Gojo surprisingly concedes when you apologize for the third time. "We're too different. It'd never work out. Not as the way you are, right now."

You nod, grateful he's so understanding. "Exactly."

He's finishing up when he announces he brought you a gift.

"I've been working on it for the past few weeks," he cheerily says. "It took a while, but it's finally safe for human consumption."

He takes out a tiny glass bottle filled with something swirling and blue. When he asks you to bring a glass of water, you acquiesce. To your astonishment, when the elixer is poured, the entire water becomes a swirling mass of a color comparable to none other than galaxies. You're so mesmerized by the color, it's enough to stump your voice.

"For you!" He declares. "You've always been cooking for me; thought I might return the favor, just this once."

"What is it?" You ask, amazed by the color. You admire the glance, unaware of the glint in Gojo's eye.

"It's kinda like the wine you have in the mortal realms, but a little less poignant." He gives when you glance at him. "Go on, tell me what you think?"

You're too trusting, and so you make your second blunder.

Once you start, you can't seem to stop. The taste is otherworldly, addicting. You drink and drink, not wasting a single drop. You're breathing heavily once the cup detaches from your lips.

"Amazing." You say before looking at him. His eyes are too wide, but you're too distracted by the taste still on your tongue. "Seriously, what was that? Can I make it here?"

He scratches the back of his head. "Not really, the ingredients are pretty hard to find." He shrugs. "Besides, it's supposed to be a one-time use."

Your eyebrows twist, and then the world sinks.

You're falling. You think you are. You don't really know. Everything feels like it's stretching. The walls of your tiny little cottage get higher and higher and higher. The floor gets more and more warped. You're sinking, sinking through the air. When you scream, nothing comes out. You feel like you're choking because you can't breathe, and then your vision grows black.

The next time you open your eyes. It's still dark, and to your horror, you realize you're buried underneath something.

You panic, clawing and tearing your way out. The material gives away easily. It's fabric. Cotton. But there was so much, an undying ocean of fabric. You lift yourself up from the pile and that's when you realize you're completely naked.

The mountain of cotton you just climbed to the top of was your old dress.

Everything was gigantic—the table, the chairs. The windows seemed endless. The ceiling looked miles above you, and you know what happened, but your brain can't formulate it because it can't be—it just can't be.

There's a flutter of wings. You always thought he was so quiet before. Now, he's all you can hear. Immediately, you wrap your body with the cloth. It's hard to keep still; your body is buzzing with nerves and you still can't understand. You have to force yourself to look at him.

You don't know why you expected shock, guilt, something other than the pure manic glee on his face. Satoru towers above you, head tilted. He bends down, cupping your trembling face in his hand because he's big enough to do that now.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more adorable." He coos.

You can see him now. His skin isn't pale, it's borderline translucent. His canines are sharp and pointy. And his eyes. Oh God you've never seen eyes so terrifying before—an endless mass of blue, threatening to swallow you whole.

He wasn't a cute little fairy. He was anything but that.

"Gojo..." You start, heart squeezing. "What did you do.."

You know. He knows. That's why he ignores your question entirely.

"I'm surprised it worked." He says, mainly talking to himself. "Shoko said it might be a dud, and she was so sure of it, that I mostly believed her."

"But now look at you!" He roughly pinches your cheek. "You're the perfect size now."

"Stop." You blubber, pushing his hand off of you. "Don't touch me. Change me back. Change me back."

He frowns. "Why would I do that? You being human-sized was always such a hassle. Lumbering around. Way too loud. Don't get me wrong, I adore you either way." He proclaims like it's something benevolent. "But this has its charm."

He leans forward, and you scuddle backward in fear. His grin widens.

"So, am I tall enough for you, now?"

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere scenarios #short king gojo #he doesnt take that too well tho

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