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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

��I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel�� secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.” You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.”

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen iimagines #yandere gojo satou #gojo satoru x reader #yandere geto suguru #geto suguru x reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 4 months ago

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Marks

Hi all! I wrote this for @jeguluskinktoberr but it's not explicit so I decided to post it here as well! Slightly NSFW! TW for an unnamed character giving a nonconsensual lovebite, but it's very quick.

“Absolutely not,” Regulus admonished, pushing eager lips away from his neck, rolling his eyes frustratedly.

The boy who had been happily kissing him a second ago pulled back, sending him a glare. “What? Why?”

“No marks,” Regulus stated, frowning. “Absolutely not.”

The mood was lost after that.

It was a rule of his. He’d never, not once allowed a boy to leave a mark on his body. Perhaps it was some sort of unresolved trauma, founded from years of not having control over his own life. Maybe it was just stubbornness and not wanting to be ‘owned’ by anyone. Either way, he hated the idea of bearing a physical sign that he’d allowed another person that type of vulnerability and power.

Barty and Evan teased him. As they marked each other up for the sheer pleasure of seeing who could make a hickey stay on the other longer, unabashedly biting each other’s necks in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room, Regulus kept his skin pristine.

Once, he slipped. Got a bit swept up in a drunken exchange and woke up the next day with a small bruise on his neck.

The feeling was awful. His skin crawled and goosebumps formed on the back of his neck as he looked in the mirror. He felt sick. He was marked. What would people think when people saw? That he’d let someone else in so far as to be able to do something so vulnerable? That he wanted someone to do that?

He’d almost cried.

But instead, he just found Sirius, asked for some makeup to hide the mark and held his head high, vowing to never let someone touch him like that again.

James Potter was not someone, though.

As they grew closer, Regulus found that somehow, the Gryffindor was able to knock down walls he didn’t even know he had. Part of him hated it. How was it that this annoying, obnoxious, overly-extroverted boy was able to make him feel so ridiculously safe? How was it that he was able to make him feel loved and valuable and free? It was insane, and there had to be a catch.

But part of him melted with it. Wanted to soak up every bit of James and never leave his side.

Never before had he wanted to belong to someone. Wanted to be vulnerable with someone.

So as James kissed gently up his neck, making him moan and arch into the touch, he couldn’t help but whisper, “More,” his voice gruff and needy.

And when he awoke to a smattering of marks in the hinge of his jaw the next day, he didn’t hide them. He smiled to himself as he walked through the halls, chuckling at the whispers that followed him around.

Let them stare. He was too busy looking at James, anyway.

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suempu · 10 months ago

Text

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

#alien stage #ivan x reader #alien stage x reader #x reader

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jointherebellion215 · 11 months ago

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Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood.

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.”

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid.

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 7 months ago

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Yandere Coworker (Part 16)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(3443 words)

tw: afab reader, infantilization, nonconsensual touches from Cyprus, butchered Spanish, slight injury, violence, cyprus got pretty mad

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 17

You twisted the knob and let the door creak open, the foreign noise made all parties quiet. From the gap, you peek out and see Cyprus, his mother, and another person standing by the doorframe, it seems like the stranger has tried to push their way in but couldn't succeed, thanks to Cyprus's hulking figure serving as an immovable gate.

Cyprus shot you a glare as he gestured for you to go back into the bathroom and close the door, he did so by jerking his head in the general direction of your original hiding place.

"Who's there?" The third voice was deceptively soft and kind, it couldn't be one of the voices shouting so fervently. It is feminine, and you immediately assume the worst; one of his insane exes is here. You made the smart move to retreat back and shut the door behind you, but you still pressed your ear against the barrier. It allowed you to listen to their muffled voices.

"Get the fuck out of my sight or we're calling the cops." Cyprus sounded aggressive with his guttural growl, which made you appreciate the way he speaks to you these days with the sweetest coos and murmurs.

"Who was that, Cyprus!?" You winced when the stranger let out a shrill shout. It is followed by the sound of struggling and yelling from Cyprus and his mother. It sounded violent, there was clattering of furniture and vague thudding, to which you can only deduce that the stranger is destroying the place and Cyprus is trying to stop it from happening.

There were panicked exclamations from Cyprus's mother amongst the chaos. In the end, you heard a slam so loud that it echoed throughout the apartment and caused the bathroom walls to reverberate. There was muffled screaming, but it was much softer than before; you assumed that Cyprus successfully shut the door on her. Aside from her deranged shouting, the living room was mostly quiet, and you deemed it safe enough to leave your safe refuge.

You cautiously opened the door and slipped out of the bathroom once more. The front door is locked, latched, and barricaded by a sofa. Cyprus is staying clear of the door, you could hear manic banging on it.

His mother is nowhere to be seen, but you hear her voice talking on the phone from her room. It sounds like she's talking to an emergency line operator.

Ignoring the frightening sounds of insanity outside, Cyprus calmly walked to you and firmly wrapped his arm around your waist. He pressed an assuring kiss on your head as he led you into his mother's bedroom. You asked him what was going on, and to that, he merely flashed you a smile. "Don't worry about it," Cyprus said as he shared a look with his mother before shutting the door behind him.

You saw his mother hastily walk to the door, blocking it with her body as if guarding it. All this while, she was still on the phone with the operator. You think that she's trying to stop you from getting out.

You took a few steps and decided to sit on a chair, it's probably not very safe to be outside anyway. You nervously wring your hands as your ears continued to pick up on the shouting and hitting. All you could do was pray that the police would be here soon, even if Cyprus is a professional boxer, his fists are no match with a bullet if she happens to be armed and dangerous.

You waited and waited. Somewhat grateful for the older woman's presence in the room. Even if she doesn't look like she could physically do much to protect you, the idea that she's willing to be a barrier between danger and yourself is heartwarming. Yet pitiful, she is only doing this because she perceived you to be the best option yet; she is paying for her son's atrocious taste in women.

The two of you waited, the operator stayed on the phone with her. You were sure that the stranger's havoc was audible enough for the microphone in her device to pick up.

It felt like eons before it slowly became softer and softer, you deduced the deranged woman somewhat lost interest and walked away. You sighed in relief but tensed up when you noticed Cyprus's mother was still not as calm as you like. She widened her eyes when she realized where you were sitting.

You let out a surprised exclamation when she suddenly grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from your resting place.

Your questions are shortly answered with a deafening crash and tiny stings as shards of glass give you small, but painful cuts on your skin. His mother rushed to open the door, dragging you out of the room and pushing you into Cyprus's protective arms. He was eerily silent, staring at the cause of his mother's glass window shattering. You adjusted your head, so you could see past his muscular structure.

A rock. Not particularly large, it's smaller than the size of your palm, resting on the floor with glistening specks of broken glass illuminated by the lights above. Other than that, nothing seems to be amiss, except unintelligible, distressed yelling coming from outside.

The implications sent shivers down your spine, the three of you aren't on the ground floor. That means whoever Cyprus invoked the wrath of, was powerful enough to hurl a rock to break a window at this height. The fear subconsciously made you sink deeper into Cyprus for comfort, so he wrapped his arms around you tighter. He pressed numerous kisses on the crown of your head as he whispered words of assurance, but you were too occupied to register what he said.

After that, you heard a car alarm go off along with disordered metallic whacking and banging. You think she's in the process of destroying Cyprus's car; he, his mother, and you were hoping that the police would be here sooner. He sighed softly, you knew that he was angry and despondent, who wouldn't be, knowing that the vehicle that you bought with your hard-earned money was being eviscerated? However, Cyprus is clearly trying to control his temper around you, so as to not make any brash decisions to put you in harm's way. As shown by his enraged shaking. The idea of compromising your safety was the only thing stopping him from rushing down the fire stairs and beating her half to death.

His mother rubbed his arm to calm him further. She shared a sympathetic look with you.

The woman was long gone when the police arrived. It took almost all evening for them to gather evidence and everyone's statements. Dinner was long forgotten, the beer was at room temperature and his car was totaled; the offender managed to mar it so badly, it couldn't even start anymore. There were fluids of different colors and viscosity leaking out of his once functional vehicle, and Cyprus had to arrange for a flatbed tow truck.

You were treated for the minor cuts you sustained by the paramedics, Cyprus refused to leave you alone with them. Almost raising hell when one of them politely asked him to give you a bit of privacy, luckily you were there to tell them that you're fine with him being around to supervise.

His mother drove the two of you back to his apartment, Cyprus held the sourest look on his handsome face as he was in the foulest mood. It was so bad, that he didn't even care to touch you in any way nor did a sound leave his lips. His eyes are perpetually trained forward on the windshield, you don't think he blinked once; even if the headlights of another car were shining directly into his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty, feeling like you caused all of this just because you're nosy. Maybe if you stayed still in the bathroom, his Ex wouldn't have done this much damage.

Luckily the drive wasn't that long. Before you felt too compelled to say something, his mother announced that she had reached your destination.

Cyprus gave her a curt goodbye before storming out of the car. But he didn't ascend the stairs yet, he merely loitered nearby to wait for you. His fingers are twitching, itching for a cigarette or ten. To quell his urges, he leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, letting himself steam in his fury. His steely eyes never left you, though.

You excused yourself and got out of the car too, in a much calmer way.

"Mija." She had her window rolled down. She gestured for you to come closer.

You did, and you received a maternal kiss on the cheek, a solemn goodbye for now.

You were about to pull away and return to Cyprus, but she held you by the wrist. You turned your head back to her, it appears that she has something more to say.

"He is not angry at you." She gave you a kind smile. "Please don't worry, my son loves you very much."

Was it obvious on your face? Either that, or she's a mind reader.

You dismissed yourself and walked up to him. His mother drove away and you hope that she gets home safely. No doubt, she's still shaken by that.

He uncrossed his arms and approached you too in large strides, spooking you. But he didn't do anything other than to tuck his arm under your knees, to carry your bridal style. This, of course, embarrassed you. So you protested, but it was quickly shut down when he shot you a threatening glare and barred his teeth, like a dog. You shrunk back and let him carry you up the stairs like this; perhaps this is his way of cooling off now, seeing that he doesn't want to break his smoke-free streak.

He unlocked the door, opened it, and immediately locked it behind him. Cyprus, despite all his anger, sets you down on the couch extremely gently. He marched off into the bathroom but he didn't close the door behind him as he merely washed his hands with soap. It didn't take long before he returned with clean, dry hands, You didn't even notice that he had set your medicated drops on your lap.

"Look up." You didn't dare to make a fuss, his tone was already strongly suggesting that he was not playing with you. He swiftly applied your eye drops before recapping them and putting them away.

You were rewarded a kiss on the forehead and a praise, "Good girl." He whispered softly as you squeezed your eyes shut. You wonder if he's just going to do this each time he administers your drug until you're cured.

Cyprus shot up and spent no time going to the kitchenette. You watched him prepare the utensils and ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner. You were curious why he would rather go through the trouble of doing so instead of ordering food delivery. But you weren't comfortable asking him that, so silence hung heavy in the air.

He looked exhausted, and you knew that there were an impossible number of thoughts behind those grey eyes that were concealed by the glare of his glasses. You felt some sympathy for him, after knowing a bit more about his history earlier.

As it turns out, the offender was indeed, an Ex of his. Cyprus has moved many times due to constant harassment from his previous lovers and the police's incompetence. She is one of them, but not the sole terror. She had found his mother first, and she was stalking her for months; around the time you and Cyprus became an item.

The woman tried to gain his mother's favor, leaving gifts, running errands for her, and trying to talk to her every chance she got, all to his mother's approval for their relationship and to know where his son was. It was completely inappropriate, that she would pretend to be incredibly close to his mother, following her to church gatherings and introducing everyone around as Cyprus's mother's daughter-in-law. This terrified his mother, but she was sadly used to it, as this wasn't the first or even the fifth Ex to do this.

She tried alerting Cyprus through texts or by calling him, but he has the bad habit of brushing her concerns off. His exes would usually lose interest in her over time and leave her alone without Cyprus's intervention. After you started "dating" him, she couldn't get a hold of him, as he was constantly too busy enjoying the healthiest love life he ever had. Cyprus knew if he had told her about you too soon, they would get into a fight; his mother would always assume the worst in his girlfriends no matter what he says now. That's why, he decided to surprise her with your existence earlier today.

As it turns out, the conversation that he had with her all afternoon was about you, gushing about how amazing of a person you are, telling her how happy you made him; and as his mother, she could see it. She could see that you are actually a positive force for her son. Someone entirely different from the types of monsters he would always attract. You're so lovely, so kind, so docile. She only wished that Cyprus would shut up for a while so she could tell him about the looming threat of one of his stalkers. But every time she tried to change the subject, Cyprus would cut her off and talk about you instead, too blinded by his infatuation with you to realize that he was foolish.

Alas, she could also see that her son loves you much, much more than you love him. Maybe that was the missing piece after all, that Cyprus is a giver, not a receiver. There is always a downside to everything, and in this case, it was the fact that you don't seem to want this relationship. But she thinks that can be worked around, she just needs to convince you to stay and she will try her damned hardest to do so. A mother wants nothing but to see her son happy and thriving.

In a sense, this was his fault. This is entirely his fault, you should be absolved of all blame. He should feel like crap, not you. Cyprus deserved this, if only he listened to his mother, if only he picked up his mother's phone call from time to time if only he hadn't stopped by at her apartment... if only he hadn't met you--

Your train of thought was broken by Cyprus nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, greedily inhaling your scent as he trapped you in his arms. You made no move to stop him, to stop his fondling or kisses.

"Stop blaming yourself." He mumbled against your skin as he rubbed his hands over your thighs. You didn't deny it, because you knew that you did, no matter how much you tried to squash the guilt.

"It wasn't your fault." He continued, pulling you into his lap and resting his chin on your head. "And I'm not mad at you, so stop the pouting... even though you look so fucking cute doing that, I don't want my baby feeling bad about something she didn't do, or caused." His fingers were stroking your bandages covering the cuts from the glass shards, it was feathery and uncharacteristically gentle.

Just with that, you broke down into tears. Sobbing and gasping for air, it felt like your mind was acting separate from your body; as you told yourself to stop whatever it was you were doing, but your mouth kept spewing quivery apologies to Cyprus. You gripped hard onto his shirt and cried, wetting the fabric and making it cling to his chiseled chest.

You felt vibrations as he chuckled at your involuntary reaction. "Aw, come on, doll. I already said I wasn't mad at you." You felt his lips curl up into a smile.

You hid your face and whimpered, embarrassed and still guilty over what had happened. Cyprus coaxed your arm away from your face, and you saw him smirking down at you with such amusement.

"Is my baby still guilty?" He cooed, "Oh, you're such a sweet, selfless, kind girl. You're paying a price that wasn't meant for you... what can I do to take your pretty little mind off what happened, mi cielo?" He teasingly pinched your cheek. You wanted to slap his hand away, but you're still quite upset.

"¿Quieres un beso, hm?" His Spanish rolled effortlessly from his tongue, perhaps it was too fast for you to catch, so you were momentarily distracted from your despair. "No, ¿quieres muchos besos, mi corazón?"

He grinned widely when he saw that you were slowly coming off that loop of self-pity.

You stared at him dumbfoundedly. "Say 'Sí'."

You entertained his request, only to be attacked by a flurry of kisses on your face. You kicked your legs in the air, but it was futile. It's not slowing him down.

Cyprus ended it with a long, passionate press on your lips. He has his eyes closed and you close yours too, as you allow the bliss of the moment to wash the unease away. He slipped his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare flesh as he enjoyed the warmth you shared with him.

However, he pulled away. Earlier than usual, but he cupped your cheeks and pressed his forehead against yours. "Don't you ever feel bad for that bitch. I don't want you to feel any of this was your fault. I don't want you to feel pity for her and I don't want you to feel pity for me." He murmured.

"I can take care of myself, and I sure as hell can take care of you." He paused momentarily to give you a quick and playful peck on the lips. "I love you, baby. I'm never letting you go, no matter what. I don't fucking care what I have to do, I'm never leaving you and I'll go through hell to keep you if I have to." Cyprus gave the shell of your ear a sensual nibble, sending jolts down your spine.

You stayed still as he showered you in love for a minute, slowly recovering from earlier events and absorbing his words.

"Te amo." He whispered before mischievously blowing hot air into your ear, making you jerk away and whine. This merely made him laugh at your flustered face. "There's my girl, my whiny, weepy, baby doll."

You complained, telling him not to do that. He ignored it and smiled wider.

"Te amo." Said Cyprus.

You asked what that meant.

"Hm? You have to be specific, Cariño." He brought your hand to his lips, grazing them against your knuckles. "I said many things in Spanish, I won't know which one you're referring to unless you specify."

Te amo, you wanted to know what that meant. So you repeated it in front of him. And at that moment, you felt a sense of deja vu, but you pushed it away.

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Ya sé que sí." Cyprus suddenly tickled you on your sides, making you involuntarily show him a smile and letting him hear the peal of laughter he had been craving all day.

Suddenly, he firmly but lovingly pushed you off his lap, onto the couch and got up, because the pot containing tonight's dinner was bubbling over. Cyprus left the stove on for too long, too busy consoling you in his own bastard way to realize that it's making a mess.

"Shit!" He cussed, the dish was ruined. Unsalvageable from its mangled corpse, there is no way he's going to eat it, let alone feed you.

Usually, something like this would stress him out to the point he would have a whole pack of cigarettes for dinner instead. But ever since he had you, Cyprus has learned to laugh it off. Because you just had that effect on him, that calming effect that no nicotine or drug could give. It's quite literally, addicting.

He dumps the pot into the sink with a face that's visibly uplifted, a major improvement from before. Cyprus turned around and opened a cabinet, he stared at the contents for a while before looking back at you.

"Shrimp, chicken, or beef?" He asked while presenting three packages of instant noodles with three different flavors.

#yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere concept #oc cyprus #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #tw afab reader #tw fem reader #tw yandere content #tw infantilization

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dilfartist · 2 years ago

Text

Missed - short (pt.2)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; it’s the week after Leon’s attack and the scientists examining and aiding Leon, need your assistance.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW; Dead dove do not eat, non-con, there isn’t really a smut scene, depends on how you interpret it, nonconsensual touching, messed up shit, ooc Leon. NSFW. Also tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged but its acting weird so few may not be notified.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Nothing seems real to you anymore.

Your boyfriend working for the government was more than enough news to handle, but Leon obtaining some parasite, becoming one himself understandably tended to hurt your head.

After last week's events, you come by daily. While they did request this of you, you would have done it anyways.

Every day you wake then drive straight to the facility holding him; never missing a day. And with each passing day, he grows worse. His body changed, sprouting more veins than the last time you saw him. He looks lifeless. His baby blue eyes are now a piercing ruby color, that stare into your soul.

Leon as a person has altered. He’s more touchy, touching you anytime he can. Leon doesn’t care for your opinion, or consent on the matter. Not anymore. Aggression is a main part of his personality now. While Leon was rarely aggressive with you, it still terrified you to see him throw a tantrum and nearly rip out a security guard’s throat because you wanted to leave early.

His presence alone has grown suffocating. And You’re starting to get uncomfortable just being around him.

And the experimenters monitoring Leon aren't helping. They only ever approve of you around to gather intel. Sometimes they’ll guilt you into staying in his enclosure, observing his actions on the other side of a double mirror. Other times they’d full-on pay you to spend five or more hours with Leon. Of course, you’d have no issues if Leon acted like his old self. But that was the issue. He wasn't himself anymore.

It’s currently two o’clock and you’re attending Leon’s daily visits.

“We have one more experiment we’d like to run on Leon, but we need your help to explore what we’d like to explore.”

You nod, observing Leon from the other side of the double mirror. Leon sits crisscrossed next to a large television watching MTV mindlessly, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Leon sports grey sweatpants and a slight sauce messy white tee.

You turn your head finally providing your attention to the scientist beside you, “What is it?” you questioned.

She fixed her glasses to look down at her clipboard, “Well, Leon has been very emotional lately. We’d appreciate it if you’d go inside and just talk with him.”

You lift an eyebrow looking at her septically, “Is that all?”

She nods. “Yes, that is all. You know he only communicates with you.”

“Alright then.”

You enter Leon’s isolation when the door slides open. Leon’s room contained paper-white walls, an extensive mirror, both a couch and bed on opposite sides of each other, a television, and a bathroom area. It felt like a zoo enclosure.

Leon took a minute to glance your way. He was too captivated by the flashing images on the television. Wanting to get the interaction over with, you called out for him. “Leon.”

Leon’s eyes darted in your direction. “(Name)!” he jumped up, jogging over to you. He hugged you tightly, running kisses up and down your neck. You're frozen in an awkward position, “Hey, missed you too, Lee.”

Leon ceases his kissing, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Been wondering when’s the next time you’d visit.”

You chuckle, “I visit every day, Leon.”

“It feels like an eternity when you're not around.”

Leon and you lay on the couch, Leon resting his head on top of your chest. You held him close, staring at the ceiling. For abeat there was a pregnant silence, the both of you focusing on each other’s company. Then Leon spoke. Leon asked about your life: how was work? Was anything new happing? Any recent drama. He yearned for a bit of normalcy. Wanted to forget about Spain. Just wanted his main reflections on you.

Since Leon’s trip nothing was the same, not for him. Not for you. While, yes, his normal life ended after the raccoon city incident, he managed to somehow have a- what would you call it? Semi-normal life. Living with you at least.

But now it was gone. The las plazas had terminated any chance of normality for Leon. And if by chance the government’s scientists somehow cured Leon of his parasite, he’d still be left with the side effects of retaining the Las plagas for as long as he did.

Leon’s body had changed in such drastic ways. And his main concern was the upsurge in his libido.

Hours and hours he’d fist his cock, mulling on the times you’ve sucked his cock. No matter how hard, how fast, or even the time spent he couldn't stop. It hurt too much if he did. The other day the pain didn't go away until he fainted from exhaustion. He needed you. He needed to stuff you so bad it physically pained him.

His mind was barraged with thoughts of breeding your sweet pussy. Leon wasn’t the idea of having kids with you, honestly, it thought about a lot. However, this was different. It was an obsession now. Thoughts on breeding you made him cum so quickly, it became his number one fantasy.

Laying here listening to your rambling on the next-door neighbor's fight last night, his nose picks up an ambrosial smell originating from you. You smell sweet. Oh so, so, so sweet.

Leon’s ears ring, deafening him. His eyes focus on your clothed thighs. How he missed the plush skin he used to lay on after a hard week of work. More than that, he missed planting kisses on them; earing drawled out moans of his name.

Almost like an instinct, Leon’s rough, calloused, hands griped your hips. You halt and looked down at him with curiousness. Uncertain of his next actions, you press your hands against him. Worriedly you utter his name, “Leon?”

Leon refuses to acknowledge the call of his name. His main priority being his cock beginning to stiffen in his sweats.

You swallow nervously, endeavoring to pry his hands off. “Leon, please take your hands off me.” you plead in a stern manner, to come off more as a command.

Leon shakes his head. “No,” he responded, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much I need you, (Name). It's torture not having you stroke me.” he nearly moans at the last part. He climbs up the couch to be face to face.

Leon’s eyes held an immense dose of desire as he looks at you through his eyelashes. “Please touch me, baby,” he whines. “Want ‘ya so bad!” he grips your hand, placing it near your mouth to plant a kiss.

You glance at the mirror, silently pleading for assistance. Comprehending Leon’s increase in strength, kicking him off wouldn't be an option since his grip on you tautened. “Leon, stop!”

Quickly you thought of a method of escape. You acted, moving to the side for your body to decline to the ground. Both you and Leon fell to the ground, dragging cushions with you. Immediately you are on your feet, dashing to the door. You slam your fist against the metal, bruising them in the process. You could care less. Your shouting so loud your throat starts to sting. Yet there’s no reply.

You know there are people out there! You saw at least five before entering.

Then a thought comes to mind. Did they plan this?

Leon yanks you out of your shock, slamming his body against yours. Your nose whacks against the metal, prompting a whine of pain. Akin to a vampire, Leon laches on your neck, trailing kisses up and down. He sucks, bites, and drags his tongue over the marks as his hand travels down the slit in your pants.

“Sorry, baby, can’t deny myself any longer!” he apologizes, surprisingly genuinely. You accept your fate, sobbing silently to yourself.

On the opposite side of the mirror, a group of scientists observe the interaction. They all have their clipboards out, noting down every action, movent, and emotion. A Handful of them watches in revulsion while the scene unfolds in front of them. Others treat it as any other experiment, having no sympathy for you. After all, they have no idea if you’re the worst person in existence or not.

There's one thing for certain. They’d be investigating the pregnancy of a human mother and a parasite having father.

Tagged

@fbiopenups , @athanasia-day , @leonskndy , @ineedrealfriends , @destinys-dreamer, @carlosluv3r, @connorsoddsock, @sl33paholics , @explosiongamora , @idiotuvu-blog , @tarcroach, @mikeywaysghost, @jinna-aka-ninja , @lovelysserafim, @jujupia , @lomaeuwu, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @sammy213ui , @stella-fleurets, @elliellielliesgirl

#yandere leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #Yandere leon #las plagas! leon #yandere themes #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #yandere resident evil

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solar4seekstron · 24 days ago

Text

I. Don’t. Care.

TFIDW!MTMTE!Yandere!Possessive!Drift x Cybertronian!GN!Reader x TFIDW!MTMTE!Yandere!Toxic!Ratchet Onshot

Introduction Movie/Series Oneshot Masterlist

Content: 18+

TW/Tags: Toxic relationship, mention of Abuse, Shower scene, a few make out sessions, nonconsensual touching and action, Drift being a switch, Ratchet is pretty quiet and one note in this but he’ll do more near the end. He’s just the quiet type. Bit of manhandling, viewer discretion is advise, abuse, This is basically a dark fic so Ratchet and Drift act like their darkselves, Happy ending.

Notes: Reader is the same height as Drift and Ratchet. Shown a few times in the fic when two bots touch forhelms it means trust and respect. Can be for both romantic and platonic relationships. Drift is in his 2nd form for the lost light

You were a former Autobot Guard. You worked alongside Rodimus and Ultra Magnus in the Lost Light ship.

You once worked alongside Red Alert as well before his passing.

You were also the Conjunx of Drift and Ratchet. You three became a poly relationship after the two got together sometime after joining the Lost Light.

You’ve had a crush on them both for a good while.

But never made an effort to confess. Seen as only a good friend before. That was until one day when Ratchet and Drift appeared in front of your berth room.

Drift having a large grin on his dermas while Ratchet only had a smile when you greeted them. That was the night the two confessed and asked for your cervo to be their Conjunx. Taking you by surprise.

Honestly, you just thought the two were just straight-up gay. But guess they have a thing for neutral bots as well.

Since then they made sure to bond with you that very night. They were so gentle and sweet the entire time. Like as if you three have been together long before.

But you couldn’t help but have this feeling of dread. Like as if there was something else just sitting there the entire time.

Days went by since then. Things remained mostly the same and your spot alongside Ultra Magnus Rodimus. You took notice of the two though.

The way how Drift and Ratchet always seemed annoyed and upset whenever you had to go to work in the morning.

Sometimes the two even tried to take turns with getting you to take the day off and just spend time in the room. Either it be both or one of them.

Today was no different. Get yourself polished and ready for your day before making it for Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Springer's meeting.

You looked in the mirror of your shared berth room with the two.

Drift has already left to meet up with Cyclonus for sword training while Ratchet didn’t start his shift for another hour. You smiled as you checked out your frame before turning around to look at Ratchet.

His arms were crossed and a frown was plastered on his dermas like always.

You made your way closer to him before leaning down to gently hold his cheeks. You then spoke as he just stared at you. “I’ll be home before dinner. We can order your favorite dish at the bar you like on the ship.”

Your dermas soon touch his. The kiss sweet but his remained a little. Colder and Still. He’s returned it though. His cervos moved to hold the side of your waist while he held a firm grip.

The kiss lasted for a little while longer. When you chose to pull away, you were stopped when he kept his firm grip on your waist.

You kept trying to pull yourself free but instead, he wouldn’t budge.

You tried to brush it off with a chuckle. Your dermas only a couple of inches from his while his frown remained. He would keep staring at you.

“Ratchet I’ll be back before you know. And besides you know you’re allowed to visit.”

He continued to just stare at you. Before reluctantly letting you go. “I’ll see you later then. Then at home.”

Your smile remained once you gave him a small peck on the dermas once more. You then stood fully straight. Then make your way to the door before turning your helm and waving bye. Ratchet doing the same while remaining on his spot.

The door shut behind you. You let out a small. Breath that you’re sure he wouldn’t hear. “Phew. He’s getting worse every day.”

You started to walk to Rodimus and the others. Clocking in and greeting the others as you pass by. Rodimus was already waiting for you inside as he was holding a data pad and was speaking to Rodimus.

He would turn to you once Ultra Magnus walked away to speak to Springer.

Rodimus with his usual grin soon greeted you. “Hey! There’s my favorite bodyguard!”

You chuckled as you walked closer to stand by him. “How are the Mrs? Still cranky about you coming to work instead of staying home?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you responded. “He tried his best again this morning to keep me from coming in. He was more upset than he usually was before.”

Rodimus let out a chuckle. You both make your way to the meeting room.

”I don't understand those two. Drift is a part of my team and yet he gets upset when you come in two.

Honestly, he’s the same guy who asked for today off so he can spend the day having a date with Ratchet. At least I think that’s why.”

You were a bit confused and spoke.

“Strange, Ratchet never said anything about having a date with Drift today. More like just angry that I was leaving than a night with Drift. Or something.”

You and Rodimus looked at each other then shrugged. Once in the room, Rodimus took his seat. You stood next to him with cervos behind your back.

Another guard on the other side of Rodimus as the meeting soon starts.

But the meeting is instructed when the doors to the room open. The door faced toward Rodimus. Who now sat there confused when he saw Drift being the one to open the door. You looked confused as well.

Both you and Rodimus exchange looks before looking back at Drift.

Who made his way over as he spoke. His voice was stern. Something both you and Rodimus weren’t used to hearing.

Drift then asked for the guard on the other side of Rodimus's chair to move so that he may take the spot. The guard looking at Rodimus for permission.

Rodimus gave an unsure nod. The guard walks out of the room. Drift taking the guard's spot.

You stood there while the meeting commenced. During it, you noticed that at the corner of your optic. Drift was glancing at you. You’d then feel a pull in your spark. It’s Drifts.

The meeting lasted for a good while.

You and Drifts spark pulling at each other. He wanted you to look at him while you just wanted him to cut it out. After a couple of hours. The meeting was finally over.

You and Drift waited for Rodimus to stand. Both walked behind him as you made it out of the room. It wasn’t until Rodimus made it to his office.

With both you and Drift in. The door closed is when he finally spoke.

“Drift, what was that? You said you were taking the day off?”

Drift then spoke. “Apologies. I just had a change of Spark.”

You glanced at Rodimus who did the same to you. Then you both looked at him. You finally speaking.

”Drift that was a very important meeting. You can’t come and go as you please-“

”What makes you think you can speak to me like that? Ratchet said you thought about taking the day off. You’re never home and we barely see you.”

”Drift me and you have the same job. And Ratchet is a medic for the ship. Checking patience and most times he isn’t even off the clock since he’s the best on this ship.

I chose to come in because I owe Rodimus to keep working for him. And we’re old friends. You think he doesn’t miss me too?”

You bit back. Driftonly glared at you while Rodimus stood there quietly for a moment.

Rodimus then walked over to Drift and spoke to him.

“Buddy listen. I get it they’re your Conjunx but they have a job just like you. Why don’t you go back to your shared berth room and I’ll let them out early today, alright?”

Drift just stared at him before looking at you. You just stared back at him when he finally responded. “Fine..”

He walked over to you. Place a gentle cervo on your hip and place a soft kiss on the side of your helm. He then gently whispered “I’m sorry, sweetspark. I’ll see you at home.”

From there he walked away. Leaving you and Rodimus alone. You let out a soft sigh before turning toward Rodimus. Who was currently leaning against his desk.

He seemed like he had something on his mind. You then made your way over to him and bow your helm. “Sorry about that. I’m not sure why he did that.”

Rodimus remained still with his arms crossed. He just looked at you as you spoke. After you finish. He then spoke.

”Is everything alright back in the room? I never even Drift acted like this before. And I hope Ratchet isn’t treating to in such a way either. I’ve noticed they’ve been a bit more controlling when it comes to you.”

You just let out a sigh before you spoke with your voice softer and almost tired.

”They’ve been acting like this for a while. I’m not sure why it started but, every day becomes a bigger challenge more and more when all they do is argue with me.”

Rodimus's optics widen a bit before asking once more. “Would it be inappropriate if I ask…….?” You then responded.

“No, they haven’t been able to interface with me because they only end up ruining the moment by trying to make me quiet.

”Quite? That doesn’t sound like them. So they want you to be something like a housewife?” You let out a chuckle. “Yes. That….” You remained silent. You then looked at Rodimus with a more softer expression.

“We’re good friends, right? I can tell you anything?”

Rodimus's smile on his dermas grew a bit wider as he looked at you. “Well if you’re kind enough to listen to my troubles. I hope you can come to me to listen to your troubles.”

He said warmly. Your smile growing a bit. And so you continued.

“Honestly, it’s getting more and more hard to live with them. At times Ratchet seems to try to hold back from hitting me. And Drift is so controlling of what I do and eat. So when we’re in our berth room it’s hard to enjoy their affections.”

You sighed and rested your cervo against the desk. Rodimus stands fully straight from leaning against his desk.

His cervo was placed on your shoulder as he spoke.

”Y/N…Are you in danger?” You looked at him before speaking.

“I don’t believe so. But I….” You remained silent for a moment. “I’m…starting to fall out of love with the two. I. I don’t remember when it started. But I just can’t when I’m around them. I- I want to leave. It’s so miserable there.”

You teared up a little. Feeling yourself sad and shaking a little. Rodimus noticed, taking a step closer and giving you a gentle hug. His helm leaned down next to yours.

You soon return the hug. Crying softly into his shoulder. A few minutes went by until you both pulled away a little.

He then pressed his forhelm against yours. You both stared at each other before he spoke. “Whenever you’re ready or need anyone. My help. I’m just a comm call away. Alright?:”

You continued to smile. Giving him a nod. “Go ahead and continue your shift. I’ll let you know when you’re allowed to leave.”

You thanked him. Bowing your helm once more before making your way out of the room. The day carried on from there. But your spark still felt that pull. This time both Ratchet and Drift.

Unsure of what to say or do once you return.

———————————————————————————-

Before you knew it, your shift was over. Rodimus had let you out earlier. Wishing you a good day. It was just past 2.

You made your way over to your shared berth room. Your spark lets the two know you’re getting closer. As you opened the door, you had forced a smile on your dermas.

Ratchet and Drift were currently making out on the berth. Ratchet sitting on the berth while Drift was on his lap.

Basically in each other's arms. Their kisses filled the room. You ignored them. Locking the door behind yourself and making your way to the counter and washroom.

Putting your sword down. You then closed the door behind you. Getting in the shower to clear your mind. It always helps.

So, as you got started with in-between your frame, you started to think about Rodimus. Not letting it get through your spark so the others won’t know.

On the other side of the door, Ratchet and Drift finally pulled away from their heated kiss.

Drift held the side of Ratchet's helm while he smiled with almost a grin.

Ratchet looking more tired than happy. With a small smile though on his dermas.

The two then turned their helms toward the door for the shower. Then look back at each other. Drift places another passionate kiss. Whispering against the kiss as he stared down at him.

”Let me talk them them. And you go get reservations ready mm?”

Ratchet just nodded while his cervos gave Drift's waist a nice squeeze after gently rubbing them while kissing.

Drift then made his way off him. Standing up and walking over to the shower room.

You don’t hear him as you continue to think. There was a shower curtain between while your mind wandered. Still feeling the touch of Rodimus when he hugged you along with the other times you both were affectionate.

Before and after creating a relationship with Drift and Ratchet.

You continue as you rest your cervos against the wall along with your forhelm.

Optics closed. Even thinking about the good times you had with Drift and Ratchet before their actions and responses started to act differently.

You continued until you felt two arms wrap around you from behind.

You remained still and turned your helm towards the side to look at him. His helm was next to yours. Along with the front of his frame against the back of yours.

Your helm then resumed facing the wall while he spoke.

”I’m sorry for my behavior this morning sweetspark. I never meant to embarrass you.”

His cervo then gently held your chin making you turn your helm towards him like before. His smile is still there. “Won’t you face me sweet spark?”

You hold back a sigh. Slowly turning around as the shower oil falls behind him.

You then leaned your back against the wall. His cervos remain around your waist, keeping you close. His forhelm against yours while he kept smiling.

Your arms go around his arms and cervos holding the back of his shoulders. You both stare at each other before he starts another kiss.

This one is heated and passionate. His first kiss to you on the dermas of the day.

You hesitated, not really in the mood. But you know he’ll get mad at you if you don’t respond. And so, you returned the kiss. Trying to give the same passion in return to him. This continued for several minutes.

He soon forced his glossa past your dermas. The shower sounds out his moans and his cervos gripping the sides of your waist and back. Before moving to your aft.

He pressed you harder against the wall, his panel against yours. Trying to get some more action out of you. His cervos movin to under your things. Making them wrap around his waist once he picked you up.

Your back frame is still pressed against the wall. Your cervos moving to hold the side of his helm.

You know what he wants.

But while he continued you both then feel a very strong pull through both sparks from Ratchet. Drift pulled away a little and let out a chuckle. He then looks back at you.

”Someone’s getting jealous. I suppose he should get back to Mr. grumpy pants.”

Your fake smile is still there as you give him a nod. He gives another long and lustful kiss this time. Holding each other close until you both felt it was time to get out.

You both then walked out. His cervo holding yours after cleaning up.

Ratchet was ready for your date tonight. The three of you make your way to your favorite place to eat on the ship.

————————————————————————————-

You stayed quiet the entire time. The three of you sitting at a round and circled booth as you waited for your energon. Being between the two as they chatted.

Their cervos holding each other on the table.

Drifts other cervo holding yours under the table while Ratchet's own remained on the table. The two speak about possibly having a sparkling. And who will carry them.

You just started to zone out. Their weirds became white noise for you as you looked down. You could only let out a sigh before looking at Ratchet.

He was staring at you y the side of his optics while Drift continued. From there, ratchet finally spoke once more once Drift was finished.

“Maybe Y/N should be the carrier. They have the best frame to grow a sparkling and to have carry.” You just stared at him with wide optics.

Drift then let out a sad grown and spoke.

”Why not me?” Ratchet responded with a bit of an annoyed tone.

“Because if you didn’t get rid of those thighs then you would’ve been picked first to carry our sparkling. And besides my body isn’t that well functioned to create a sparkling in my spark chamber.”

Drift just grumbled while you looked back and forth at them. The two looking at you with a small mile. Drift's smile only grew wider than when he spoke.

“What do you say, my love?”

He brought your cervo up, still holding it. Bringing your cervo to his dermas. Speaking once more. “Would you like that, my dear? Be the carrier for both of your Conjunx? That will make us very happy.” He kissed the back of it. You just kept staring at him with optics that showed almost worry. Something Ratchet noticed.

”Sweetspark? Do you not like that idea?” Ratchet asked. Scooting a bit closer to you before speaking. You stumbled with your words.

You looked across the table. Looking at the exit the two stared at you.

You finally spoke. Your only way out. “I need to freshen up. I wasn’t able to fully before we left.” The two just stared at you for a moment.

Glancing at each other. Ratchet looked back at you. Reluctantly he scoots down the seat to give you a path. You got out and as you stood Ratchet grabbed your wrist and whispered.

“Don’t take too long. Our Energon will be ready.” You just gave him a nod.

He finally letting your cervo go.

You made your way to a room next door. A place for bots to freshen out and polish a bit. Like for dates and such. Once in you just stared in the mirror.

Rodimus words flowing in your mind. You take in a deep breath and walk out. Making your way towards the two. Both seem like they’re in deep conversation. That’s until they noticed you.

You decided to sit next to Drift where he’s in the middle. Before he can get out to let you get in the booth. He let out a soft chuckle before scooting closer to you and placing his cervo on your lower back.

Whispering into your audio sensors with a smile.

”Sweetspark, you’re always in the middle.” You glanced at him and spoke. All the while ratchet just watched. You responded.

”I just wish to sit here, sweetspark. Is that alright?” You forced another smile.

Drift just stared at you. His optics show he wishes to do and say something. But he’s holding back. The energon soon comes and is placed in front of you three. Drift takes the spot in the middle.

The dinner continued while you all ate in silence. From there young mind wondered.

Until you finally gained your courage. “Um. Ratchet. Drift. I’ve been thinking and I think now is a good time to…speak.”

The two just glanced at you before looking back at their food and seemed to not pay much mind. You continued. Your voice is soft and steady as you plan out your words as carefully as you can.

“Drift. Ratchet. I’ve loved all these years and times together but……I” Ratchet soon interrupted you.

”Come now Y/N. You’d be a great carrier for both our sparklings. And of course, Drift will carry my sparkling. You carry both of ours. The perfect balance. If you’re still unsure then we can talk about it back in the berth room.”

Drift nodded in agreement.

You just looked down at your food. Tired and unsure. And so, the dinner continued.

—————————————————————————————

After dinner. The three of you made your way to your shared berth room. Ratchet gripping you cervo while you just looked down.

Unsure while walking, your spark grows more and more nervous each moment.

Once upon return, Ratchet let both you and Drift step in first. Once the door closes behind him. His arms wrapped around your waist. Pressing a soft kiss on top of your shoulder.

Letting his helm remain next to yours as he looked down. His optics glance at you with a stare.

”You’re not trying to make us sad now, are you? Make us miserable or lonely. You love us don’t you?”

His voice was deep for a moment. He just stared at you a moment longer. You struggled to find your voice. Drift coming up to you.

His cervos holding the side of your helm and he leaned his own closer to yours.

”You love us. Don’t you sweetspark?”

You are trapped. And there’s no escape right now. So, swallow your fear. You finally opened your intake. Giving them a satisfied response.

“I do. I do love you both.” You remained silent. Drift and Ratchet continue to stare down at you. You then spoke once more.

“I just. You both have changed. Not as cheerful or calming as you both once were.” One of Drift's cervos on the side of your helm moved to hold your neck. Giving it a gentle squeeze.

This made you hold your glossa. He optics piercing. Ratchet is the one to speak next.

“Maybe if you didn’t think about other mechs and always leaving to work to be with him! Then we wouldn’t be so damn cruel.” Ratchet's arms gripped you tightly. You stumbled with your words.

“I-I don’t mean to. It’s just-“

”Just. What?” Ratchet spoke. Drift finally let his cervos off you. Walking over to the large berth and sitting down. Ratchet then turned you around by the shoulders, gripping your arms tightly.

Then keeping you close while his voice remained deep and stern.

”After we have our sparklings. You’ll realize, your place is with us. So get that damn bot out of your mind and thoughts. You took an oath to be faithful. So be it. You going to stop acting up?”

His helm is close to yours now. Right in your face.

You just stand there staring at him. What else can you even say? “Y-yes Ratchet. I’m sorry”

He remained silent for a moment. Drift has gotten into the birth. Energon cups ready for the both of you with his usual smile. Ratchet cervos moves to hold your hips and press his forhelm against yours. Pressing forward, forcing your forhelms to touch.

His spark giving you a lot of pressure. Ratchet gave you a small smile when you submitted. Releasing a deep chuckle.

“There’s my Sweeetspark. Why don’t we lay together…and think of sparkling names. Hm? Doesn’t that sound nice?” You just gave a nod.

His dermas connect with yours with soft passion.

Drift watching with glee as Ratchet tries to start a make-out session. You thought being the first to pull away.

”Let’s uh..lay down yeah?” Ratchet let out a deep chuckle. He guiding you to the berth with him. You of course being put in the middle. You decided to sit up.

Drinking your energon while Drift placed soft kisses on your shoulder.

Ratchet drinking his then lying down. Drift whispering into your audio sensors but loud enough for Ratchet to also hear.

”Well since we figured all that out. Why don’t why try to fix up the mood. Hm?”

He spoke, his cervo moving to your thigh, then just over your panel. Ratchet just rolled his optics. You turned your helm to him a little.

About to speak but he was fast to beat you to it. Placing his dermas on yours while his cervo started to rub against your panel.

You kiss unsure, Drift doesn’t seem to care. His cervos gently pushed you back into the berth while he continued. Ratchet looked at you both before turning his frame to face you both.

Your frame started to panic when you heard Drift's panel click. You thought fast.

Pulling away from the kiss. Your cervos gently presses against Drift's shoulders. He seemed to be upset as he stared down at you. “I’m..really tired tonight. Maybe another time. Once my attitude gets better?”

Drift just stared at you. Before letting out a deep chuckle. “I suppose you have a point my dear…sleep well my love.”

He layed on his side of the berth. Lying on his back. A grin on his dermas while his optics closed. You remained on your back. You glance at Drift before looking at the ceiling.

Ratchet returned to his back. His arm making its way under you and bringing you closer.

Soon making you lay on your side. Your cheek on his shoulder. His arm around your waist. He then whispered. His voice is both low and threatening.

“You’re quitting your job tomorrow. Or else.”

His optics glared down at you. You just stared at him before looking down You remained quiet. Then looked away closing your optics.

Feeling his cervo press into your stomach. You both fall asleep in silence. At least. The two did.

——————————————————————————————

It was late at night. Still in Ratchet's arm. Only switching positions. You were still on your side while Ratchet was on his side then. Both arms are wrapped around your waist.

Drift on his side behind you with both arms around both you and Ratchet as much as he can.

Are you still awake. Very slowly, you move your frame to sit up. Make sure to move Drifts and Ratchet arms off you. Sliding up. Be as careful as you can. Falling off the berth with a small thud.

You checked. Seeing the two haven’t woken up. The two initiatively cuddled each other while letting out soft hums.

Slowly you stood up and made your way to the door. Your frame shaking a little. Just as your cervo was about to reach for buttons to the door.

You felt a hard pull in your spark. Causing you some pain. Looking behind you, you say Ratchet sitting up. Drift still fast sleep.

You slowly walked back. Knowing he’ll get more mad if you don’t. You felt your frame struggling to stop shaking from fear.

Once in front of him, you just looked down. Ratchet gently patting his thigh. Telling you to sit on his lap. Slowly you moved your legs over his. Take your place on his lap. Your knees against the berth.

You looked down at him. While his optics stared up at you with a dim light in his optics. His cervos placed their selves on your hips. Having a very firm and tight grip keeps you very close. He would whisper in a deep voice.

“We both know Drift is out like a light right now. So tell me. Why were you about to leave?”

You stumbled with your words. “I-I just. The idea of having sparkling scared me. We don’t even. Have our own house or more than one room!” You whispered in a hushed tone.

He then spoke to you once more. “Well…that’s an understandable reason I suppose. But. You should come to me first. I am a doctor….Why don’t we go to the shower room? We don’t wish to wake up Drift now do we?”

You just nodded. Getting off his lap slowly. His cervo holding your wrist and guiding you to the shower center in the room. The door closed behind him.

“Sit on the counter.” You do so. Your back towards the mirror. Ratchet made sure the door was locked. Soon standing in between your legs. Cervos on your thighs.

”Now Y/N, what will you do tomorrow when you wake up?” You just stare at him before responding. “G-give my notice t-that I’m Q-q-quitting.”

He responded with a smile. “Good. And what will you do after that?”

”Carry….carry both your and Drift sparklings. Become a carrier to both sparkling f-for the rest of my life alongside you and Drift.” One of his cervos gently held your chin.

The grip is very strong. “I’m sorry if I scared you sweetsaprk. I just can’t imagine a life without you. A life without both you and Drift. You both belong to me. You’d never break my spark, right?”

Slowly you shook your helm. You finally spoke while staring down at him. “Ratchet please-“ Silence.

Your words paused. Before you can process, you realize your helm was turned to the side. Your optics were wide while ratchet remained still. But Ratchet then grabbed you by your arms pulls you off the counter.

Turning around and slams you against the wall behind him. You both still facing each other,

You then felt his frame press harshly against your own. You finally feel the slap on your cheek. Ratchets are all in your face now. An angry expression covered over his own. His tone was rough and hush.

”You think you’re slick? Thinking you can just go around doing as you wish without my knowledge…..” Your helm was turned to the side while he spoke, optics shut tightly. Trying to not cry.

“Try to do this one more time. And you’ll deeply regret it. I say what goes. So be more like Drift and go to sleep. And sleep.”

Your frame continued to shake. Waiting for Ratchet to just do whatever he needed to do next. Flinching when you felt him press the front of his helm to your sigh.

“I’m sorry my sweetspark. I get so mad so easily. Why don’t we go la down more before it gets later. After all, you’ll be a stay-at-home carrier.” His cervos have moved to hold your waist. Pulling you closer.

Placing a soft kiss on your sheet and neck.

He then pulled you with him back to the berth. Drift is still peacefully asleep.

You now facing Drift. Ratchet hugging you from behind with a small smile. Small tears fall from your optics. Struggling to keep them in the entire time. The hours went by. And the tears never stopped.

—————————————————————————

That very morning you pretended to be asleep. Drift got up before you and Ratchet like every other morning. You took this chance when you watched him get in the shower.

With ambition on your mind. You made your way out of Ratchet's arms. But his arm squeezed tightly around you.

His dermas close to your audio sensors as he asked. “And where are you going?”

“I…wish to shower with my other Conjunx of course. I-is that alright?” You turned your helm towards his. He just stared at you before nodding.

You made your way out of the berth. Ratchet going back to sleep. You made your way to Drift. Glancing behind you to see Ratchet optics closed. You then had the craziest idea pop into your helm.

This can be your one chance…You looked back at Ratchet. He was soon snoring.

He was always too tired for anything. So with a shaky break, you quietly made your way to the door. You might never get this chance again.

And so, all in one fast motion. You quickly opened the door. And Ran.

Running down the hall past some bots before transforming. Soon feeling a very heavy pull in your spark. It was from Ratchet. You ignored the pain the best you could.

Soon calling Rodimus, who of course sounded cheerful. “Hey! What’s u-“

”Rodimus, please! I need your help! Ratchet and Drift are trying to keep me home and things are getting worse! Just- Just please I need your help!” You interrupt him in a panic. You then feel another heavy pull rom Drift now.

”Alright alright, where are you now?” he asked with worry.

”I’m headed your way. Please if you can help me get away I’ll forever be in your dept!” You were so close now. Rodimus then responded. “Don’t worry, me and Ultra Magnus will keep you safe! Just stay on the call with me!”

You responded. “Ok ok.”

You were got to the doors. Transforming and getting inside. The guards didn’t stop you. Rodimus having told Ultra Magnus to let the guards know.

Once inside Rodimus made his way out of the long hall and hugged you once you got close enough.

Ultra Magnus is there to help comfort you. The two worried since you.

Sounded panicked over the comm. Rodimus kept holding you and asked what happened.

You responded, still in a bit of a panic. “Ratchet. He wants me to quit my job. Last night he hit me and slammed me against the wall when I tried to leave.

They..they want to sparkling trap me and keep me locked up..” You cried in Rodimus's chest.

His cervo rubbed your back while Ultra Magnus informed the others. Rodimus then walked you to his quarters next to his office. You two then heard Drift and Ratchet at the front doors while the guards kept the two back.

Their pull to your bonds getting harder to ignore.

Ratchets' voice booming for you to look at him while you and Rodimus kept walking.

Your frame shaking. Rodimus trying his best to comfort you the best he can. Once he closed the door. He held you as you broke your bond with the two. Causing you much pain. Once the pain was fading.

Rodimus ticked by your side for the rest of the day.

Both Ratchet and Drift are being dealt with.

————————————————————————-

A few months passed since then. Drift and ratchet were sent back to Cybertron for your safety. Everything that happened was kept secret.

Rodimus made sure to give you a room close to his own so he’ll check up on you.

You continued to work for him. You both even grab lunch at times.

Eventually, you felt yourself become more and more safer with the ship and Rodimus. Your old feelings from before everything happened.

Where now coming back to you. Do you mind only having been racing since.

You were unsure if Rodimus even felt the same for you. You start to remind yourself how he’s the leader of an entire ship. He’s either not interested or is seeing someone else.

Trying to get the thoughts out of your mind.

That is, until one day while you were on your shift. Rodimus seemed to be speaking to a purple femme. Those two seem to be close. Never seen or met her before.

You remained still, staring forward when the two walked out together.

The two departed as they both smiled at each other. You glanced but looked away when Rodimus turned to you while the femme walked away.

Rodimus noticed you looking. Casually taking a step towards you as his cervos go behind his back.

You kept looking forward. Your mouthguard is on as your optics look forward.

Rodimus stood next to you, silence between you both for a moment before he finally spoke. “It appears it’s time to start our lunch?” You looked at him before closing your optics, then nodding.

Rodimus's smile grew a bit larger. He then opened his office door, gesturing for you to enter. “Let’s try a different spot this time. Shall we?”

You were a bit surprised but just nodded. Walking in. Take just a few steps in when you hear Rodimus's door closing. He walked behind you.

Placing his cervos on your hips as he spoke next to your audio sensors. “I see you watching me while speaking to that femme. Jealous?”

He teased. You let out a small sigh before responding. Turning your helm a little to look at him. “I just had no idea you had a Conjunx. Curious was all.”

He let out a deep chuckle. Moved to step in front of you as he spoke. “That femme is my oldest friend. And she’s Skids Conjunx.” You were surprised. “Oh.” You said surprised.

He continues to smile down at you. His cervos holding your chin to make you look at him after you just looked down. You stared at him as he spoke once more. “Come on, let's have some energon. Shall we?”

He walked to his desk. You soon follow behind. Having a nice lunch together, for the day.

Tags: @acceptme33

I got a little too into this BUT MAN WAS IT WORTH IT UGH!!!!!! I hope you guys were able to enjoy this. I didnt feel like making a sad ending with this one.

As always a repost is appreciated and i hope to you guys in the comments and the next one!

#transformers #x reader #transformers x reader #drift x reader #drift x ratchet #idw drift #drift #idw ratchet x reader #transformers ratchet x reader #ratchet x reader #ratchet idw #tf ratchet #transformers ratchet #ratchet #idw

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aftgficrec · 7 months ago

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Hey,

My friend wrote her first fic and it’s quite good, I was wondering if you’ll mind sharing it ? Thank you in advance :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56720794/chapters/144189409

We’re always really glad to see new authors. Hope they’re having a good time in the fandom! - S

Can you see the soul in me? by MidnightBreathe [Rated E, 26584 words, incomplete, last updated July 2024]

“Neil’s life was never his, it wasn’t when his mother runs with him, nor when his father cursed him to look like a mess of scars. It wasn’t when he ended up raising Alex. But it ends now, now he will take ownership of his life, of his body even if he has to become worst than the people who keep him awake at night”

In a AU where people can have magic and powers, Mary decided to make sure Neil has better tools to survive without her and Neil decided to stop being an antisocial rabbit and fight back to save more than just his life.

*This is a more mafia-ish story with magical elements and there will be HUGE differences in characterizations in order to develop the story, please mind the tags and world building to help you. This is going to be a LONG fic, little focus on EXY but I love the complexity of Nora’s characters and I wanted to write the type of story I want to read in this fandom. Some canon events will remains and I copy some extract from the book for exy stuff.*

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nonconsensual kissing, tw: nonconsensual drug use

#reader submission #rec #neil josten/andrew minyard #universe: canon divergent #au: magic #au: single parent #theme: angst with a happy ending #theme: enemies to lovers #theme: slow burn #theme: bamf!neil #theme: protectiveness #theme: the mafia #theme: cursed #tw: violence #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: nonconsensual kissing #tw: nonconsensual drug use #frenchyclassylovely

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theredofoctober · 11 days ago

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MANNA- CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: STEAK

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon/rape, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, death mentions, Stockholm Syndrome, nonconsensual choking

Read after the cut

---

Will forces the stiff brooch of your fingers to open, uncovering the flattened clot of meat and the grease sodden note within. The ink is still clear against the page despite your efforts to ball it up in your palm.

Will reads it, his eye line cutting zigzags across your questionable calligraphy.

“One,” he says, and you take a fumbling step towards the stairwell in want of sanctuary from that solitary word.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, throttling the bannister in your grip. “This is a good idea, right? This is how you prove to Jack that there’s human meat in the house. This is how you prove for sure that Hannibal’s the Copycat and the Ripper.”

You believe the doctor is wise enough to have cleared the basement of evidence in readiness for his guests’ arrival, and know not to bank on it to buy your way out of your imprisonment.

“I told you not to act without me,” says Will. “I should have known you’d disregard me at the first opening.”

His words are like a robber’s knife, going in and in with spiteful jerks.

“But I didn’t do it in the end,” you protest. “I changed my mind. I turned around. Jack doesn’t know anything.”

“It doesn’t matter. Go upstairs and wait for me in Hannibal’s room.”

Your chest constricts at the command.

“Why his room and not my own?”

Will’s lip draws back from closed white teeth, and the threat of him is ozone in the air.

“You know why. Go. And if you disobey me this time not even Hannibal will hold me back from what I’ll do, so don’t bother hiding under his skirts. Move.”

Made pathetic by despair you say, “Don’t do this. You love me, Daddy.”

"And you threw that right in my face. What's the matter with you?"

There is no trace of understanding in the boil of his gaze, nothing of the alliance you’d been so close to cementing behind Hannibal’s back. Whatever that was in its brevity has run from him like liquor from a shattered glass. You cannot pick up the shards, either of you. All that would come of it would be blood.

"You're crazy," you whisper, and Will lunges as though to snatch you up by your neck.

With a squeak you clear the stairs three at a time, crawling the top ones on your gut like a toddler, unable to walk.

You lock yourself into Hannibal's ensuite bathroom and stand heaving chlorinated air, your hands compressing your stomach. Through the freakish eye of your disorder your reflection in the mirror above the sink is a sweating gourd, grossly rotund.

You are surely no good for eating; perhaps that is the reason you will survive this new stupidity of yours, and no other.

Gripped by an awful tension you listen to the ambiguous noises of the occupants on the floors below, chuntering what prayers you remember to what Gods have died in place of the new.

Already you know the motions at work beneath you, how Will must lean into the ear of his friend to whisper of your duplicity, how together they will devise some way to have Jack take a premature leave of the house.

You’d known even as you'd thought to place the paper kiss of Judas in his pocket that you’d be whipped for it by means literal or otherwise. Yet you think you’d rather take leather to the back than be humiliated by sex, so personal and eroding an attack as you take it to be.

They wash you of yourself through such intimacy, your jailers, intend to complete your transformation into their loyal bride until, so wed, you lose the ability to hate them.

Suddenly you miss your parents with an acuteness that brings you to tears. Yet you'd been so scarcely consoled by either mother or father even as an infant that you realise with a choke of horror that it is your abusers you would go to for such love.

You sink down against the shower door, taking comfort in the pain of your spine taking the glass, a kind of penance.

An hour scrapes by, a second, a third. Footfalls rise under you, and doors clap open and shut in their frames.

Voices start up outside the locked bathroom with a suddenness that drives your teeth into your lip against the scream that would otherwise bring you to further shame. Silence is courage of a kind your impulsive nature rarely allows you to keep; it would not be so bad a time to hold it now, you think.

"She's hiding from us," says Hannibal on the other side of the door.

"From you," Will corrects. "Like a child afraid of nightmares.”

“The child she is. I'm surprised we haven’t found her under the bed."

Their mocking you is only the prelude to a harm of brutal extremity, yet you put your hands across your face until tears roll through your closed fingers.

A polite knock strikes the door above your head.

"Come out, Little One. If I must break in to get you out then I'll be far angrier with you then I am presently."

Hannibal’s voice is soft, almost humorous, and for this reason you doubt his rage could be greater if you’d spat in his eye with an oath.

Continuing in that same amiable tone he says, "I know you didn’t go through with your betrayal, which Will and I have taken into account. But you must come out to face us both. You’re adult enough for that."

You answer in a strained, percussive whisper.

"I can't."

“By force or by your own decision you must leave that room,” says Hannibal patiently. “It would degrade both yourself and us if you insist upon the former.”

Will remains silent, his disgust so loud as to speak on his behalf.

There is little aim in examining your options, being that both end with you under a man.

Exhausted, you accept that it was your very foot that tipped the bucket beneath the gallows and, in defeat, open the door.

You see Hannibal peering down at you with the visage of a cemetary angel before Will seizes hold of you, setting you roughly on your back upon the bed. He leans across you, making a lock of your arms in his own, and the stench of him—fish dinner, wood smoke, snow-soaked dog hair, and drink—buries you so densely that you feel like the same animal he is.

He presses his leering face to yours and there is still love in it, that of the autumn killing dream.

“Fight me if you want to,” he says. “Haven’t you figured out that’s what we want by now?”

“I see you’ve reverted to your previous role,” Hannibal comments as you rigidify in Will’s arrest.

“I never really gave it up,” Will answers. “Did you expect me to?”

“I did not, but I’m interested to know why you returned to it so soon. Were you so compelled by her suffering that you couldn’t restrain the urge to correct her mistakes, or were you grasping for a dominance you feared you’d lose through neglect of that power over her?”

Will’s eyebrows start a yard up his forehead.

“We’re both her fathers. That implies an equal standing, unless you’re feeling a particular impulse to submit.”

Hannibal’s gaze pours over Will like resin—searching—hoping for confirmation of an erotic inference.

“Can’t say that I am,” he says at last. “It’s never served me to yield. In the interest of my professional and personal endeavours I find myself needing to be in full control of all variables.”

"And yet she still slipped through your hands, or almost did. She would have sold both of us to Jack, and it's on you for trusting her to wander away from the table without making sure she stayed in her room. Are you losing your head, Dr Lecter?"

"No more than you are. You too left her alone long enough to form dangerous ideas and to act upon them, or near enough. We both hoped that she would develop loyalty to the family by now, and we've each found that hope shattered."

"You hoped," says Will, and he twists the cord of your arms for emphasis. "I doubted. But our problem isn't with her lacking the right emotions. It's that she still thinks she can cut us off like a teenage runaway whenever she feels like it. She's a brat. We haven't purged that trait, and if we haven't succeeded at this stage I doubt we ever will."

"Nevertheless we should persevere with our attempts to tame it, somewhat," says Hannibal dryly. "I believe it’s high time we begin."

Upon that verbal cue Will pulls a thick roll of packing tape from his pocket, brought with him from his home with the clear intent to use should such an event as this arise; he’d already been in doubt of your demure turn in behaviour and had kept his ears pricked for its merest change. That same knowing is in his eyes as he leans on you to tie your wrists together, near winding you with the force of his weight.

As soon as it lifts again you suck in a litre of air and begin to plead with them both.

"I know I shouldn't have done it, I know, I know, it was really bad, but I turned back, right? I did, I—"

"I should tape your mouth, too," Will says. "But Dr Lecter thinks that's a bad idea."

“Her airways must be clear,” says Hannibal with evident regret. “We can experiment with that notion in the near future.”

Thinking of his expensive toys you shudder deeply. A gag or bit between your teeth, the straps cutting the membrane of skin at your lips’ outer corners—

“No,” you say. “Please. Hannibal— Daddy—"

Will drags your head upright, and Hannibal stoops down so close that he could kiss you on the mouth if he were so inclined.

Instead he only says, “Through us you’ll receive absolution. You’d respect us far less if we withheld this from you.”

Then he touches your neck the way he did the day he’d asked how you would kill him, pressing gently down on either side of it until you thrash, light-headed, in the grace of his hand.

The flat gems of Will’s eyes watch, intent, and one of his arms twitches as if restraining the urge to pull the other man away from you, or else to him.

“Grasp her like this,” says Hannibal. “A slight pressure is all that’s needed.”

For an instant you are rendered unconscious, in a state of calm and terrible bliss. How they frighten you with the helplessness of falling into that space of not quite sleep, extending their control over not only your body but your wakefulness, as well.

You can’t deny you would have asked for this in more consensual circumstances. In your old life you’d watched a specific clip over and over you’d found of a pretty actress taken roughly in some false dungeon and had placed your own fingers around your throat until you came.

But in that video the performers had been subtly attentive to each other with gestures and murmured check-ins. Rather gentle, in retrospect.

It’s doubtful these men will ever ask for your agreement. They plunder and consume and have killed with the same irreverence; to ask if you’ll allow your own rape is illogical, a black sort of joke.

Hannibal removes his hand from your throat, then, and without hesitation Will’s takes its place, squeezing far tighter than is necessary to replicate the desired effect.

You go limp within seconds of this, your gaze roaming over the light feature above you as your body jerks with the spasms of an inexistent electrocution.

Without a hint of his previous trepidation Will slaps your cheek to wake you. You rouse slowly, unwillingly; it’s easier to be out than aware of him in his anger with you.

“No more,” you whimper. “I don’t like it, I don’t like it—”

“If you did I’d start again with something else,” says Will bluntly. “I’m tired of you pissing on every rule we set for you.”

Again he chokes you in and out of that cursed quarter sleep.

Observing, Hannibal says, “Penetrate her.”

"Gladly," Will replies, and with a nasty smile on his lips he lets himself free of his clothes.

You kick at him weakly, not daring to strike the groin or his belly lest you enrage him all the more. He throws your legs apart with ease and snaps the elastic of your undergarments, uncaring of the expense, which is vast.

Then with his hand a gorget around your gasping throat he perforates your resistance, his lean form a weapon of adrenaline. You flail in the maelstrom of him, buffeted by the strike of his palm dredging you out from each choking attack.

For him to have almost lost access to your body, to have been deprived of what is already rationed by his work— he’d love to core your innards with his knife and teach you through death what a bitch you’ve been to scorn him.

But then again perhaps it wouldn’t be a blade he’d employ; from the feel of him you think he’d use his hands.

His beautiful face is pale with a yearning for slaughter as he licks your skin of its taste. Weak from his fucking and the rounds of suffocation you sprawl, a boneless corpse hung upon his cock. Your cunt is a channel of aching.

Hannibal only watches this go on; you're vaguely surprised that he does not touch himself, nor does he say a word throughout the rape.

Only his eyes communicate their want— not for you, but for the man that takes you like a conquering soldier, wishful that he were the one to endure his power.

Will ends the act while you're passed out upon him, slowing to an idle stir of his hips as he fills you with white warmth. When your eyes are too slow to open he catches you by the chin and shakes you about.

"Why do you have to make us so ashamed of you?"

You should laugh in his face, call him a killer again, but you only cry limply, stung by the coarseness of his voice.

As Will stands Hannibal makes as if to have his turn.

"Don't touch her," snaps Will.

The older man stops at once.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

Nonplussed, Hannibal turns his head aside as though the angle will assist him to understand.

"May I ask the reason?"

Working up his zipper, Will says, "We aren't where we were with our friendship. The time erased from memory— I'll never get it back. You stole it from me, health and reason, too. I resent how little any of it’s affected you. You’ve lost nothing, and I think maybe you should.”

"I'd like us to begin anew," says Hannibal, and it occurs to you that he is pleading; he may as well be on his knees. "To progress from my misjudgement we can only advance and establish a new way of being."

Will’s mouth warps in a grim smirk.

"It's not that simple. You benefit from my presence here with you, and with her. You've orchestrated every moment of this relationship and feasted upon it like an emperor. For once I want to see you go hungry."

Astonished by the development of this conversation you glance at Hannibal, picking apart each mite gesture of stress in his composure.

"Very well,” he says. “I starved profoundly, as a boy."

Sympathy brushes Will's expression, buried quickly under hard disinterest.

"Then you'll survive."

He swivels to leave, ignoring the trembling heap of you on the bed, the piteous hand extended like the paw of a menagerie animal through the bars.

"You're going?" asks Hannibal.

"The dogs miss me. Winston keeps running away. Can’t let it happen again.”

"And when will you return to us?"

The rapidity of Hannibal’s questions, though spoken entirely without emotion, gives away his distress at being left so abruptly and in obvious discord.

"I'll be by in a couple of days," says Will. "Whenever Jack's squeezed me dry of all I’m worth."

He lets himself out of the house alone, coolly satisfied with his retribution.

In silence Hannibal approaches the bed to untie you and smooth your dress back down over your bare legs again. That he doesn't assault you even after Will has left and is unable to see the act fills you with an inappropriate hilarity. Of the two almost lovers Hannibal— the eater of flesh—is so serious in his submission to the other's desires that he enacts his will like a ritual, private, but nevertheless in hope of it being recognised.

He has you follow him to your own room and bids you to sit as he takes away each of your books and records to lock up in a cabinet along the hallway.

"You'll consume only what I decide for you until I see proof that you’ve learned from this evening," he says. "I think we’ll also return to regular therapy."

You don't argue, merely sit upon your mattress, a doleful waxwork, too stunned by what's occurred to offer a response.

"I read your journal," says Hannibal, suddenly. "There were some interesting ideas covered in even those short entries. I'd like you to continue penning your thoughts."

Stirring, you say numbly, "What's the point? My writing is awful. Even though it's just supposed to be a diary I can't stand hearing my own voice. I wish I was good at it, you know? Poetic, I guess."

It is odd to hold such a dialogue with the doctor after he conducted such sadism upon you through his friend. You are used to it, however, this domestic order of evil.

"Artistic skill comes with practice," says Hannibal. "A worthy exercise is to study a piece of work you admire and attempt to replicate it. For instance, you could take any sentence you like and rewrite it in the style of Nabokov or Dostoevsky to better understand their methods."

You pull a face.

"I don't want to be a mimic, though. I want my own way of writing."

"By breaking down the construction of literature and the patterns within it you'll begin to see how you can apply similar—though not identical—practices to your own work. All the greats have done so with those they admire."

Something of this conversation leads your mind on another track, one connected through the canon of a more vicious form of art.

"Dad," you say. "I'm the Lover's second muse, aren't I? That’s why you’ve involved yourself in the case. It's so obvious. I'm not just a distraction to the killer; he’s been interested in me long before you or Will ever met me. That's why the second wave of girls look like me, and it’s part of the reason why you agreed to accept me for treatment.

“The minute you saw my case and realised who I was you took me from the Lover right from under his nose just because you could. You didn’t want him to kill me before he finished creating enough dolls for him to show Will who he is. You knew I was the perfect gift for him."

Hannibal makes a militantly neat pile of the last of your books and brushes down their spines with his hand.

"Yes," he says. "I did."

Part of you had known it always, had sought out what detail of you raised you beyond the tossing out of the class of Rude to which you belong.

"Jack and Will know, don't they?" you ask. "They know who I am to the Lover."

"They've suspected for some time. Having looked at all the Lover killings anew it's become clearer still. Will chose to conceal this information believing you were not mature enough to bear so sinister a burden. I imagined you'd guess but preferred to allow that thought to develop without my interference and so cause you less harm.”

Your pulse is a drunken rhythm in your temporal membrane; you put your hands to your ears, uncertain how to be rid of a noise inside your own head.

“That’s why you weren’t afraid to speak so openly about the killer in front of me,” you say. “You were never lying about your theories, exactly; you were testing out alternatives to be sure the one you had was right.”

“Just so. Two of the Lover’s past victims were old classmates of yours; it was only missed because both girls had switched schools many times. One of them changed her name when she and her mother fled from domestic violence in her teens.

“The other you knew when you were so young I doubt you remember her, and besides, you were a lonely child and wouldn’t have thought of her as a particular friend. Most of the girls who have been killed are strangers to you. The Lover wasn’t such a fool as to play his hand too openly.”

Dazed, you spill back upon the bed, drawing the sheets over your eyes.

"All this time you've tried to make out you took me because you thought you could help me, but really it's because you liked the idea of me being yours and not his.”

Your tone—brash, accusatory—is met with unsettling calm.

"That's only one reason. The others remain to be true."

"You've put such a target on my back. The Lover knows exactly where I am at all times. What's stopping him from just walking in and taking me? Did you ask him to back off or something?"

"He is unaware that I appreciate the full extent of your importance to him. I left him under the impression that I was an admirer that enjoyed the notion of him toying with the FBI through you. But even if he concludes why we have housed you here the presence of Will and I here will discourage him from descending upon you.

“He knows that I would defend you, and how easily I could reveal him. Jack has offered us police surveillance, but I assured him that wouldn't be necessary. The likelihood of being observed is enough for the Lover to keep his distance for now."

Sniffling, you say, "You just don't want to make things harder for yourself."

"It wouldn't matter either way. The Lover will be apprehended soon, and my pursuits will continue as before."

You peer out from under the sheets with a bleak interest, unable to guess whether Hannibal still means to wait for Will to unveil the Lover's identity or if there is some other reason he resists excising the Lover's presence from his life.

A man as jealous as Hannibal surely cannot stand that this third party hungers so openly to take you to his bed and to the grave. You cannot quite work it out.

"Why aren't you more angry with me, anyway?" you ask him. "You're talking about everything but what I did, and you should be furious. You should want to give me away to the Lover. I don't get why you're so—"

"Your naughty behaviour is unfortunately an expected routine. Besides, you thought the better of your escape: while I'm displeased you even considered such an act I have forgiven Will far greater without reprimand."

Starting, you say, "Will? What do you mean?"

"I know that he suspects me as both the Copycat and the Chesapeake Ripper, and that he has already hinted at his suspicions to Jack. They were dismissed due to Will’s claims that they were caused by his recent illness."

Registering your alarm, Hannibal adds, "You needn't appear surprised. No doubt you've discussed my killings with him."

There is a gentle barb to this last statement that challenges you to lie.

"I didn't know he'd talked to Jack," you say carefully. "I never thought he would. Are you sure about this? What are you going to do?"

"I suspect a conversation will be had with Will when the time is right."

Though too polite to shrug there is something of the gesture in Hannibal's response.

"You're not going to stop seeing each other, are you?" you ask, getting down from the bed with a wince at the throbbing wound of your misused cunt. "You both hurt each other. You're not going to... break up over this, right?"

Hannibal turns from you, carrying your books off into the cupboard which he locks up with a silver key.

"It's in your best interest that we remain together," he says. "But you’ve already come to this conclusion, have you not?"

In the days that chase out that the shadow of that night you are disconsolate in the face of a third punishment: the withdrawal of all affection from Hannibal, who becomes as dry and distant a caretaker as your mother had likely hoped of him.

He turns his face from kisses, removes the tangle of you from his body should you attempt an embrace. Sensuality will not win him back after such hurt inflicted on the heart, this he means you to grasp.

Once you would have jigged for joy at the difference, but instead you find yourself feeling lonely and displaced, beginning to doubt that you are as invincible as you'd believed.

Yet you’re still allowed your incredible room, still given access to your designer clothing rather than made to go nude or in rags, yet you find you've become jaded by all this excellence, or else seek it in a more esoteric format.

To your humiliation you find yourself begging for the kindness you've lost one night you cannot eat a steak you know is surely human; something in the taste convinces, something in the colour of blood that flees the hunt of your knife.

"I'll vomit," you say. "Sorry, but I will. I can taste it in my throat. Please, I promise I'll eat dessert, I’ll lick the plate—"

"There is no dessert," says Hannibal icily, and he takes the dish away with a swipe of the hand so sharp as to almost break his code of elegance.

Shortly after, still hungry and secretly proud of your resistance to eating, you're summoned into the living room, stopping short at the sight of Hannibal with a red rope like a serpent coiled through his closed hand.

You recognise instantly the purpose in his stance, the meaning of the table carried to the chancel of the room, its surface polished so severely that you see your master in it upside down, his every detail there preserved.

"Undress," he says, "and lie down. Don't attempt to argue with me. I don't want to raise my hand to you today."

He means to bind you for sex, the rope entwined like bindwood around your naked torso, the lengths cutting obscenely into the flesh, this detail a torture of a uniquely psychological nature.

This has little do with dinner, you realise, but with your previous mistake, one so close to calamity that you may never cease to pay for having made it.

Dizzy with fear you pick off your clothes garment by garment, and lie down on the table on your belly, your chin against the mirror of its face.

"No," says Hannibal. "On your back. I intend you to be seen."

But he turns you himself, his hands under your loins and breasts, the rope already quick at work between them. You sob as he wraps you in a net of his creation, a beautiful fretwork designed to portion up your body in a mosaic of skin and string.

Will steps into the room sometime during the operation, his face like a cyclamen above the upright collar of his dark jacket, lovely and cold.

"What's this, a peace offering?" he comments as Hannibal steps aside to allow him a better view. "You can't regift something I haven't even returned, especially when I've been using it so freely. Try again, doctor."

You strain your neck to get a look at Hannibal's expression, which in a contained fashion seems determined.

"You begrudge me for pushing you towards your transformation," he says, "and yet you indulge in it with such delight. This anger only serves to deepen the fracture in this household; had we remained united as we were before she might never have felt compelled to leave. Your antagonism makes her feel unstable."

Will scoffs at the turning of blame upon him, ripping off his jacket in testy jolts.

"She asked me to tell her I love her. You know that she would never have willingly let that go if she didn't find herself so nauseated by another truth she had to swallow."

"Yet you've known that truth far longer than she," says Hannibal sharply, "and yet you chose to remain. Why did you dissuade Jack from investigating me in the end? Was it for her sake alone or was there something else that you stood to lose?"

The men—Will pacing, almost prowling, Hannibal rigid by the table—come so close that they could easily touch. At least one of them wants to.

"You think I'm still a porcelain trinket," says Will. "That I'd crack at the first length of distance between us."

"I know that you are not, but nor are you a solitary animal. Certainly you could hunt without me, but you'd think of those hours we claimed together and know the pleasure of it could never be recaptured alone. It would be a shallow play, a grasping imitation of what came before."

Will stares into Hannibal's eyes with such spite and fascination that you've never been more glad to be ignored.

"Your arrogance is in bad taste. You haven't even asked me to forgive you."

"Because I don't expect you to, and because you've not asked for forgiveness from me. I've killed for less than you have done, but all I ask is that you remain."

Hannibal reaches out and touches Will's face so lightly that only your proximity to the two men reveals that his fingers make contact. To your amazement Will allows this without turning away, even shifts his proud cheek slightly in Hannibal’s direction.

"So you miss me that much.”

"Yes,” says Hannibal simply. “I began this for you, Will. Never forget it."

Will smiles without teeth.

"You began this for yourself."

"I've never denied the selfishness of my desire. Can you own that of yours?"

The younger man sobers to ponder this.

"When I'm stranded inside the Lover's thoughts you're always what brings me out of it. You reveal him to be so weak. There's nothing beautiful in what he creates, only a desperation to be loved by those that never can. But in what you've done— I see the art. I saw it before I wanted to. I see it now with her."

He lays a hand on one of your trussed breasts, and a stone of pleasure rolls down the path of your imprisoned form. You regret that you cannot hate him so purely any longer, this beast that now knows what he is.

"I want to see you with her,” says Will suddenly. “When you're alone with her I know you can be brutal. I want to witness how you hurt her, and how you make her so devoted to you afterwards."

Hannibal steps in against you, his covered arousal against your despair.

“Join me," he says, but Will shakes his head.

"Not this time."

"Then tell me in plain words what it is you want."

Will stands by your head, looking across you into Hannibal's eyes.

With a foreign silkiness he says, "I want you to fuck her, Hannibal. Please."

A purely sexual thrill runs through the other man, and as you lie speechless in the fog of their joint sickness Will bends to murmur in your ear.

"I love you," he says. “Remember that the next time you try to run away.”

Then Hannibal slides you down the shear of his cock, plying your body under him like mud in a bully's fist, and all the while Will watches the act it’s not you he sees, but him.

#manna fic #hannibal fic #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #yandere will graham #yandere hannibal lecter #will graham x reader #tw rape #tw noncon #tw nonconsensual choking #tw death mention #tw abuse #cw stockholm syndrome

58 notes · View notes

suusoh · 7 months ago

Note

would be funny, if Nina had a gf, and due to Johan's tendency to see him and nina as the same, he'd drop by casually, disguised or not, while nina is away. What's wrong? Nina is him and he's Nina! There's no complications with kissing him! You're basically kissing his sister! (Eaten ask)

your brain anon...........like EXACTLY. exactly. God this is sooo hot and weird which is johan's brand. He is karl marxing the fuck out of his sister's girlfriend. What do you mean "meet my girlfriend"? You mean meet OUR girlfriend. right? (tw: nonconsensual kissing, yandere)

Could you imagine bidding your girlfriend, Nina, goodbye after she spent the whole evening at your place? You whine and beg her to stay longer, clinging onto her, but she rolls her eyes playfully and insists she has to go.

She gives you a loving parting kiss on your lips, then plants even more– on your nose, cheeks, and finally your forehead– before she reluctantly pulls away. Any more, she jests, and she won’t be able to leave.

"You know I hate leaving you like this," she laughs softly. "But don't worry, I'll make up for today once my exams are over. Okay?"

She gives you one last final kiss before finally leaving, waving at you as she walks down the street.

You sigh and close the door, already missing her.

You really love Nina, but sometimes it feels like she doesn’t have much time for you. You understand she has her exams, a part-time job, and aikido training, which doesn’t really leave much left for you. Still, you can’t help but feel a bit greedy, wishing she’d at least dedicate a part of her to you. You're her girlfriend, after all.

You sigh one last time. No use.

She’s already spread too thin, and you know if you tell her your concern, she’ll worry and try to double her efforts to make time for you. No way in hell are you going to give her any more stress in her life. Although today was just half a day together, you're grateful. Even if it left you unbelievably craving, aching for more…

You hear a soft knock on your door. Is it Nina? Did she forget something? Oh, your prayers have been answered. You just wanted one more second with her. You open the door immediately, an excited smile on your face.

"What did you forget this ti-"

"Missing me already?"

You freeze, standing dumbfounded. In front of you is not, in fact, your girlfriend, but a tall, blonde man smiling softly at you.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't— Do I know you?" you ask, trying to stay cool. He must have the wrong house to ask something like that so proudly. You’ve never met him before.

His smile doesn’t falter at your question. He continues looking at you, his eye contact unwavering.

"You do." he answers, calmly leaving no explanation, still smiling softly.

You’re getting nervous. He keeps staring and smiling at you. You try to get a good look at him. Is he a mutual friend? An old classmate? A person you pissed off once? You’re at a blank. Though… the more you look at him, the more you notice how similar he looks to… to your… what the hell.

Why does he... look... a bit like Nina?

No. You chalk it off. He just has blonde hair and blue eyes, and the fact you’re missing your girlfriend terribly doesn’t help. But even then, their facial features strike a matching resemblance. It’s a bit uncanny.

You let out a nervous laugh and smile sheepishly at him. "Look, I’m really racking my brain here. Have we met before? I’m really sorry if I can’t recall…"

You give him his cue to introduce himself, to remind you who he is, to be offended at you forgetting—anything! He’s just standing there, staring down with that same smile. Your eyes dart around, seeing if this is a prank. A small uneasy pit forms in your stomach.

A beat passes by. You still wait for his reply.

You can't help but start feeling creeped out. Stupid. Always ask who’s there before opening the door. Just ask him what he wants with you and get it out of the way.

"Hey uh, I-"

He kisses you, his lips softly crashing against yours, hands gently cradling the back of your neck. He’s not forceful, but his hold is steady. You squirm and try to break free, but he quickly shushes you and holds you closer, entrapping your lips in another long kiss.

You think of quickly think of biting him, but he gently pulls away right before you can go through with the thought. His hands come up to tenderly cup your face, his thumb softly brushing against your cheek as he looks at you.

Your vision begins to blur from your tears, your legs wobbling from the fear of the situation.

"I don't know you!" you practically scream out. Your desperation kicks in as you continue to panic. "P-Please. please. please. I'm sorry. I don't know you. I don't… I don't… please… I-."

You cry softly, pleading with him. He just continues cradling your face in his hands, looking at you with that godawful eerie smile. He leans back in, slowly murmuring,

"Shh…"

He continues peppering kisses all over your wet cheeks. "You do know me," he whispers, kissing your nose. "And you know I need to make it up to you," he says, kissing your forehead. He hums softly and leaves another final chaste kiss on your lips.

"And you know I hate leaving you like this."

#WAHHHHHHHH EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU ANON FOR THE FOOD 🙏#LIKE ANON U GET ME. THIS SHIT HAS BEEN VIBRATING IN MY MIND FOR SO LONG. I AM BARK BARK BARKING #comrade johan #HAHAHHAAH #I want to expand on sooooo much more of this it's insane. I lobe him. I want to lock him out the door while it's raining and just watch him #To think i was actually going to make this wholesome and comedic and have nina walk in accidentally.#or have her introduce you to him and the first thing he does is kiss you on da lips.#either way she is there the whole time like >:O!!!! what the FUCK johan!#anyways first attempt at fic writing.....pls be kind ;3;#anon please come back we need more 🙏🙏🙏 we love it.#yandere johan x reader #johan liebert x reader #nina fortner x reader #johan x reader #anna liebert x reader #yandere johan liebert x reader #yandere johan liebert #yandere johan #c.nina fortner #c.johan liebert #f.monster

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

Note

omg hi i love u sm like ur the best writer EVER !!!! but anyways i wanted to ask for a kidnapper!könig or ghost x chubby!reader?? it's totally fine if u can't do it!!

THANK YOU!! i love you, too! your words are so sweet and don't go unnoticed :'3 i hope you enjoy :p

tw: nonconsensual touching, dub-con/non-con (coercion, manipulation) guilt tripping.

i can totally see kidnapper!könig and kidnapper!ghost loving and appreciating a chubby partner ;3

soft flesh on their rough, calloused and scarred hands when he forces you to come sit on his big lap, whispering humilating things in your ear while you weep and sniffle quietly.

könig adores having a chubbier partner because he likes to have weight on his bouncing thigh when he pulls you down onto him. it keeps him grounded, so he can use it against you and guilt trip you into feeling guilty for wanting to sit elsewhere.

don't you want him to feel comfortable in your presence? you're his safe space, schatz... don't be so cruel and selfish.. :(

simon loves all body shapes and sizes, he loves rolling over in the middle of your night, grunting lowly from sleepless nights, clinging to your body and burying his face in the crook of your neck to layer kisses on your supple skin while touching you all over. he just assumes you're asleep, so he gropes and touches you all over despite your shaking! -- a poor leaf in the wind.

kidnapper!könig loves having you ride him after manipulating you. in the cold chamber, he leans back, one burly arm holding his muscular, brute body up while he tugs on the chain around your neck held tightly in his other large hand whenever you slow down your pace. keep up... make sure you milk him for all of his thick, hot, sticky cum that he has to offer.

“oh--meine liebling, aren't you a sight? so pretty riding my cock, yes? so, so soft, engel.”

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Worship of a Sacrificial Lamb.

Pairing: ???!Gojo Satoru x Yandere!Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Kidnapping + Prolonged Captivity, Physical + Psychological Abuse, Wildly Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Codependency, Suicidal Ideation, Mentions of Previous Suicide Attempts, and Blood. Gojo's Not The Yandere But He Sure As Hell Isn't Normal Either. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were sure, beyond the point of reason, that Gojo Satoru was an angel.

A guardian angel, actually. Maybe even your guardian angel, if you were going to let yourself be so sickeningly romantic. Even if you were going to hold yourself to some kind of distorted rationality, you weren’t sure how anyone could ever so much as look at him and not see an act of irrefutable divine intervention. He had the body of a marble sculpture – as if some great, ancient master of their art had taken decades aside to carve the embodiment of all things good and beautiful – and a face any model would’ve killed for. His hair was the most brilliant shade of white you’d ever seem, purer than cloud and softer than velvet, and there was a special place in your heart reserved entirely for his lips – pretty and pale and so lovely that if you ever got the chance to kiss him, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

Of course, his eyes were your favorite. Not that it was easy to pick a favorite part of Satoru – no, you’d spent long hours deliberating over the perfectly straight arch of his jawline and the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, the gentle slope of his shoulders and harsh angles of his hands – but if you absolutely had to, you’d say his eyes were the part of him you spent the most time thinking about, that you adored above all else, that would’ve wanted to keep for yourself if you couldn’t have Satoru as whole. The color of the sky and twice as clear, you could still remember the way they’d seemed to glow in the dim light of the deserted street where you’d first met, the way your heart broke just a little every time he blinked or fluttered those perfect snow-white eyelashes. If you could’ve, you would’ve liked to keep a spare set in a small glass jar – something clear and sturdy that you could carry with you whenever you didn’t have access to the real thi—

“...ma’am?” And then, leaning forward, flashing a perfect smile and snapping his perfect fingers, “I think I might’ve lost you, there.”

You perked up, nodding frantically before thinking better of it and, with a sheepish smile, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I—” You paused, clearing your throat and taking a sip of your coffee before going on. “I’m just having a little trouble concentrating. You can keep going.”

That was enough to earn a breath of a laugh from your perfect Satoru, and immediately, you fell in love with him all over again. He mirrored you, taking a sip of his own drink (some awful, adorable type of frozen hot chocolate served half-drowned in whip-cream) before responding, his melodic voice akin to birdsong and rainfall and every other delicate, beautiful thing in the world. “I know it can be a lot to take in. For someone in your situation, especially.” What that situation was, you weren’t entirely sure. Still, you nodded and smiled like he’d said the most comprehensible thing you’d ever heard. “Just try to stay with me. I promise – curses are a lot less scary when you know what they are.”

His head lulled to the side, his perfect eyes lulling into something softened and dream-like, and just like that, he’d lost you again. It was unfair, honestly. He’d been the one to invite you, scrawling down his name and phone number on a scrap of paper with the excuse that he owed you an explanation, but you’d picked out your meeting spot (a café on the edge of business district, somewhere he’d never go on his own but that suited his preference to a T), made sure you arrived half an hour early to claim a table in the most secluded corner and order a drink you knew he’d like just in time for his to be fifteen minutes late. You were lucky, really. Anyone else would’ve noticed your starry-eyed gaze and giddy smiles and figured out that there was something deeply, deeply wrong with you, but not your Satoru. He was probably used to hero-worship, even if the thought of anyone else sharing the same connection with him that you did was enough to make you grit your teeth.

Now wasn’t the time for that, though. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts as the corner of his lips quirked downward – the closest thing to a proper frown you’d ever seen him wear. Whatever he might’ve gone on to say about wizards and invisible monsters was lost entirely as he trailed off, his eyes darting to either side behind the dark lenses of his glasses. “Sorry, ma’am, I think I—” With an uncharacteristic clumsiness, he pushed himself to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. In your peripheral, you watched for concerned samaritans and curious onlookers, but came up empty. That was good. That made sense. It was a busy coffee shop during the late-morning rush on a weekday – who’d ever think to pay attention to the couple in the far corner? Even half of that couple was a deity in the flesh. “I think I need a second.”

It was smart of him – to make such a hasty retreat. He barely waited for you to give one final, enthusiastic nod before cutting through the crowd and disappearing into a unisex bathroom.

It was smart, but it would’ve been smarter to run somewhere you couldn’t follow.

Saliva pooled under your tongue, your fingers drumming erratic and involuntary rhythms into the table, but while Satoru might’ve been an angel, you had the patience of a saint. You counted down the seconds, nursing your coffee and occasionally checking your phone, until three minutes had passed, only getting up when you were sure you would’ve been seen waiting. Rather than moving towards the exit, you positioned yourself at the edge of the counter, flagging down the youngest barista – a mousey girl in her late teens, with an expression that said she’d do anything to be helpful and a shrunken quality that told you she’d do even more not to get in trouble. “I’m so, so, so sorry to bother you, but—It’s my boyfriend,” you started, wringing your hands together and keeping your eyes on the floor. There was a sick thrill that came with calling Satoru your boyfriend, even if it wasn’t true, but you were careful to keep your tone strictly apologetic. “He’s, uh—He’s got a thing about crowds, and he’s kind of having an episode. Is there any way I could get him out of here without making a scene?”

There was – an employee exit just next to the door to the storage room, one that opened up directly into a back alley that would’ve kept a comfortable distance between you and the main road. Her eyes lit up, but she made a show of looking concerned, of glancing to her smothered coworkers, before looking back to you. “Well, we’re not supposed to let customers—”

“Please?” You tried, and then, with a type of cloying desperation, “It’s kind of an emergency. He just really needs to get outside.”

It took a second, then another, but finally, she cracked with a muted sigh. “There is a backdoor – past the bathrooms and to your left. I… I have to ask my manager, but I should be able to leave it unlocked.”

You didn’t have to fake your gratitude. You bowed your head, mumbling ecstatic little ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’s as you turned on your heel and moved towards the restroom. You’d been prepared to pick the lock, but Satoru must’ve been more affected than you realized – he was already so out of it, he’d left the door open. You could only be thankful no one else had seen come in. You couldn’t imagine there was anyone in the world who could resist taking advantage of someone as wonderful as Satoru in such a vulnerable state.

Grinning to yourself, you shouldered the door open and stepped inside, shutting and locking it behind you.

Satoru didn’t make himself heard to find. He’d collapsed onto the faux-marble vanity, his feet still on the ground but his back braced against the mirror, one hand clamped around the side of the sick while the other struggled to form one of the strange, distorted symbols he’d used the night you met him. His half-lidded eyes widened when he saw you, his mouth falling open, but he didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. You couldn’t blame him. The sedative you’d used was strong enough to put a grown man under with a single dose, and you’d given Satoru enough to put a horse into a coma.

“Hey, pretty boy.” You took a tentative step forward, and when he didn’t react, another. His fingers twitched, but whatever he was trying to do was forgotten as soon as you took him by the hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “It’s not that bad, is it? You should just be a little tired.”

Again, predictably, there was no response. His perfect lips opened wider before sealing into an acute, adorable pout, and you drank in the sight like a man starved.

Cooing, you leaned in closer – placing your body in the space between his open legs and squeezing his hand before letting go entirely. Rather, you cupped his face, admiring the pink flush spread across his pale cheeks, the glossy sheen over those beautiful eyes. Suddenly, it was too much to take, and you jolting forward; your mouth crashing into his and your tongue pushing past his lips, his teeth. His taste was euphoric – caramel and cream and everything good and sweet and divine – but you didn’t give yourself long to savor it before you pulled away, dropping to your knees. You hadn’t meant to move this quickly, but you loved Satoru. You worshiped Satoru.

And no real acolyte would ever refuse to kneel in front of their sacred alter, if given the chance.

Disappointingly but unsurprisingly, he wasn’t hard. You let his jeans and boxers (the latter patterned with pure-white bunnies – cute) pool at his ankles as you wrapped a fist around his cock, pressing a kiss into the curve of his shaft. Like every other part of him, his dick was perfect – long and lean, with a slight left-leaning tilt and a few thin, ridged veins that you dragged you tongue over before taking the head into your mouth properly. Admittedly, it’d been a while since your last hook-up (and even longer since you’d cared enough about another person to put any more than a passable amount of effort in), but everything about Satoru seemed to come naturally to you. His reactions were limited to a vacant stare and the occasional, breathy noise, but soon enough, you felt him stiffen against the flat of your tongue, filling out your fist where you pumped lazily over his shaft. If it’d been anyone else, you might’ve been disappointed at just how quickly he went from soft to stiff to leaking thick beads of arousal, but not with your Satoru. Of course he was sensitive. Angels were supposed to be delicate.

Using one hand to brace yourself against his thigh, you reached up with the other and found his hand, still hanging dully where you’d left it. It was a bit of an odd position – trying to hold his hand while bobbing your head and doing your best not to choke on his cock – but you made it work. It wasn’t long before those little, breathy noises built into cracked whimpers and airy whines, before you could feel him twitching against the roof of his mouth. It was hard to see, given the angle, but when you thought to look, you could make out tears forming in the corners of his eyes, something new knit into his expression. It wasn’t quite distress – or, at least, not the kind of distress you’d been expecting – but you didn’t recognize it. That didn’t really matter, though, not if you were being honest with yourself.

It was coming from your Satoru, and that was enough to make it beautiful.

You moaned around him, and a pitchy keen slipped past his numb lips, his grip going vice-like where he held your hand. You swallowed him down to the hilt as he came, determined not to waste a drop of what you’d fought so hard for, before pulling back, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his cock for a lingering second, then another before that connection snapped and severed you from him completely. Suppressing the urge to mourn its loss, you pushed yourself to your feet and pulled him close – pressing a kiss into his neck, then his jaw, then the corner of his lips. “Such a good boy,” you purred, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “My good boy. My perfect little angel.”

This time, Satoru did react – slumping against you even as his hand remained braced around yours. You took him by the shoulders, leaning back just far enough to see his eyes lull, blink, then shut entirely. He wasn’t unconscious - you could see a certain stiffness to his shoulder, a rigidity to his posture – but it was clear that you’d worn him out. You smiled, shaking your head as you raked your fingers through his hair and laughing as you found it just as soft as you’d imagined. “Think it’s time to go home, ‘toru?”

Rather than pull away from you, he seemed to melt even further. It was barely more than a whisper, but you made it out as clear as day. “…home?”

“Yes, angel,” you laughed, pressing your lips against his forehead.

“Home.”

He was asleep by the time you reached your car, and thoroughly knocked out by the time you got back to your townhouse – a modest machiya in a neighborhood that valued its privacy. Admittedly, carrying a man twice your height with triple your weight in muscle could’ve gone better, but you managed. There was a short list of things you couldn’t do for Satoru.

The sedatives had already proved less effective than you’d been promised, but still, you had plenty of time to get him into his bedroom, lock the titanium collar around his neck, and most importantly, change his clothes. You’d already picked out a new wardrobe for him – all whites and creams and soft pastels, nothing as harsh as the restrictive, black uniform he usually wore. Not that Satoru didn’t look good in black; you were sure he’d look breath-taking in anything! Even if he decided to wear, you didn’t know, an all-leather body suit, you were sure he’d—

…

You’d have to look into ordering a custom set. Preferably in white, but you’d settle for blue, if you had to.

You’d also made sure his room suited him, too. After making sure you had the bare necessities (deadbolts, bars over the windows, etc.), you might’ve gone a little overboard. You wanted Satoru to feel comfortable, so you made sure to work-in a few of the cute, soft things that reminded you of him – string lights and stuffed animals and plush blankets all the same color as his hair. You knew he was prone to migraines, but you couldn’t stand the idea of letting him put anything between you and those beautiful eyes, so you compromised with permanently low lighting and heavy curtains over his singular window. Entertainment might be an issue, since you obviously couldn’t give him anything with an internet connection, but—

You heard Satoru stir, and immediately, every logistic thought you might’ve had died and fell away. You’d planned to keep your distance while he woke up, but in an instant, you were perched on the side of his bed, your gaze fixed on his lax expression as he slowly woke up.

It was surprisingly peaceful – his slow trek back into consciousness. Long seconds passed between the first awkward stagger in the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the moment he actually opened his eyes, still glassy and unfocused with exhaustion. You didn’t rush him. It was all you could do to watch as he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled himself up, only to collapse against the headboard just as quickly. A hand drifted to his shirt, fisting at the alien material, then to the collar around his neck. He didn’t try to take it off, which was good. You didn’t want to have to resort to something so ugly so early on.

Finally, he seemed to perk up – glancing around his new bedroom, as if evaluating it. When he turned to you, you smiled, and Satoru remained blank.

You broke the silence. “Welcome home, ‘toru.” You swallowed back the temptation to tell him how happy you were to finally have him here, how long you’d been waiting for this moment, instead centering your attention on his needs. “Do you want something to drink? You shouldn’t eat so soon, but you were out for a while. It seemed like you could use a little rest.”

A beat passed, but eventually, Satoru shook his head – as polite as could be expected, given the circumstances. “…you’re the one who kidnapped me?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re not a curse-user? Or working for the higher-ups?”

More made-up words. You decided to let him have his fun. “No, I’m not.”

“Why, then?”

Your smile widened. You’d been hoping he would ask. “You’re not dumb, Satoru. The day you found me—” Or, rather, the day you’d found yourself in his arms, barefoot and shaking, caught by a divinely beautiful stranger after taking a long fall off of a short building. The day you’d fallen in love with him. The most important day of your life. “I’m sure you know that no one actually pushed me.”

And, even if he didn’t, it couldn’t be hard to believe. There were only so many reasons a salary-worker would be on the roof of their office building in the middle the night, only so many reasons you would’ve left your heels and your coat on the same ledge you’d eventually topple off of. He’d been kind enough to get them for you, as you sat sobbing into your hands on the curb. He only pursed his lips, though, his eyes remaining perfectly lifeless. You took that as a sign to go on.

“My job is—” Terrible. Pointless. Soul-sucking. It paid well, and nothing you did was particularly hard, but the constant overtime and mindless pencil-pushing meant you had very little time for yourself and even less to show for it – besides the paycheck, of course. You couldn’t even say you hated it. You’d just been so ready for something, anything else, and it’d worked, in a way. You’d gotten Satoru. “—pretty boring. I’ve never really liked spending time with other people, and I’m not particularly good at anything aside from busy-work, so I really didn’t have a reason to stick around. But, then you saved me, and you were so kind, and so heroic, and I—”

You shut your eyes, curling your hands into fists. Not unlike a schoolgirl, too embarrassed to confess properly. “I love you, Satoru.”

There was no response, not at first. Internally, you panicked – what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he didn’t realize that this was for the best? What if he’d rather die than—

“You…” His tone was light, airy, only the slightest traces of shock shining through. As if he didn’t believe you. “You love me?”

“More than anything.” And, just like that, you were spilling open. “I—I thought it’d be enough to keep an eye on you from a distance, for a while, but after a few days – after seeing how much you worked and how little you slept and how terribly you took care of yourself – I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t live without you, and, well,” You cut yourself off with a sudden laugh, only a little forced. “You couldn’t have gone on much longer if I hadn’t stopped in. Not like that.”

For a second, he seemed to regard you. It was strange, how hollow he seemed compared to how vibrant he’d been every time he’d spoken to you previously, but you didn’t mind. Not all gods could be cheerful ones. Even divinity had to be morose, from time to time.

Still, your racing heart beat a little faster when the corner of his mouth twitched into a slight, cocked smile. He didn’t say anything, but he shifted, reached out, tentatively resting a hand on your knee before bringing it up to your thigh, then your hip. After waiting for you to nod (which you did, eagerly), he pulled you closer – into his lap. You managed to keep your guard up for all of three seconds before he collapsed onto you entirely, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You melted against him with just as much pathetic desperation, grateful beyond words to have the distance between you finally closed. “Do you really mean that?”

“And then some. When you reached out to me, my heart almost burst with happiness. It was hard to believe you even remembered that I existed.” You nestled against him. “I meant what I said about wanting to take care of you, too. You shouldn’t have to worry about yourself ever again, not after everything you did for me.”

There was more, of course. Rules to go over, punishments to warn against, specifics to lay out, but he wasn’t fighting back, or trying to escape, and he was tucked so sweetly against you – it would’ve been a shame to move, let alone start listing off threats. Thankfully, tragically, Satoru ripped the band-aid off first. Slowly, he lifted his head, drawing back just far enough to dart back in for a clumsy, lip-bruising kiss. You’d already, technically, stolen his first, but there was a difference between kissing his limp body and feeling his lips move sloppily against yours. It was a fragile, immature connection – all scraping teeth and kneading hands and Satoru’s little, throaty moans, but you didn’t dare break it off until your lungs ached. Even then, you held him as close as you could as his hands fell to your waist, a thumb slipping under the waistband of your skirt and—

“Down boy,” you laughed, and Satoru glanced up, pouting. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but not so soon. You’re still in shock, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

The impulse blowjob a few hours prior felt unnecessary to mention.

Satoru seemed conflicted. He was still in that sort of blank, softened state, but he let out a whine by way of protest. It was all you could do to sigh, kissing his forehead before going on. “Later on, ‘toru. After I’m sure that you can be trusted to behave.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to make love (‘fuck’ felt to crude, ‘sex’ too clinical; making love wasn’t perfect, but it was what you had) to Satoru. You would’ve done anything to take care of him, anything to keep him happy, but there’d always been a gap in your mind when it came to your own pleasure – an instinct that urged against expecting your love to be requited. As far as you could guess, it would come with time – after you’d started thinking of him as less of an angel and more of something able to love you back. The delay was for the best, really. Intimacy would make you vulnerable, exploitable. You needed to show Satoru how strong, how strict you could be, first.

“That sucks.” It was almost endearingly childish, just how shamelessly he sulked. It took a few more pecks and another minute or so of coddling before he sighed. “You can keep kissing me though, right?”

“Of course,” you said, automatically. It was a dangerous promise to make, with plenty of chances for unwanted escalation, but you never would’ve been able to say ‘no’ to Satoru – not so directly, at least. Not when he was looking at you with those beautiful, pitiful eyes.

“Anything for you.”

“So when are you going to use the collar?”

The question was posed casually, unprompted and unrushed. Still, you paused, humming as you glanced over to Satoru. He’d gotten more talkative in the two or three weeks since you brought him home, but he still seemed caught in that quiet, liquid haze of tranquility – all easy smiles and half-lidded eyes and slow, sloppy kisses from the moment you came home to the second you had to leave. He seemed to be enjoying himself, spending his time basking in your affection and letting you take care of him, and that made you happy. All you’d ever wanted was for him to be safe and looked after, and he was. You could make sure of that, now.

(Admittedly, there was a small, negligible part of that had expected there to be some resistance – a hissy fit, a muted protest, something aggressive and combative that wouldn’t be calmed with a few kind words and a gentle touch – and mourned the fact that Satoru was taking this all so well. It wasn’t that you wanted him to hate you, but you’d always struggled to trust what came to you easily. If you had to work for Satoru’s love, you could be sure that you’d earned it. If you had to smother him into submission, you wouldn’t have to wonder if he was only lulling you into a false sense of security before stealing away all the tools you used to keep him safe. You tried not to be so pessimistic – outwardly, at least.)

“I won’t have to, preferably.” Pulling a towel off of the nearest rack, you bent down to his height and started to ruffle his hair dry. He shut his eyes, but didn’t try to stop you. Currently, he was sitting on the wall of your bathtub, only partially dressed in a pair of tan sweatpants while you finished drying his hair. You could shower alone before work in the morning, but Satoru needed more care. He needed to be treated like something precious, and he’d already proved that you couldn’t trust him with such an important responsibility. “It’s kind of a last resort. It should only go off if you try to leave.” And then, as you burrowed your nails into the towel., “Is that… Is that something you’re going to do, ‘toru?”

“Never. You keep me too good n’ spoiled.” He flashed you a lazy grin, and just like that, you were looking away, biting down on your tongue, trying to coax your heart back into beating at a steady rhythm. You pretended to be busy rummaging through the nearest drawer for a brush, but Satoru only laughed. His next question was just as probing. “It came with a remote, though, right?”

“…like I said, it’s a last resort,” you repeated, too flustered to lie. “I don’t want to hurt you. Unless you tried to escape or attacked me, I really can’t see myself doing anything so—” Blasphemous. Unforgivable. Sinful. “—harsh.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Like always, he was a little too quick, a little too willing. You bit back a scowl. “I just think it could be romantic, y’know? I’d get to see how much you’re willing to do for me, or something like that.”

You forced a bark of a laugh. “There’s nothing romantic about me hurting you, baby. ‘specially not if I’m only doing it because you acted out.”

“I promise, I’m tougher than I look.” Another smile, even more dazzling than the first. Again, you felt your head start to speed up, only to stop beating entirely the second he went on. “I used to have this friend – Suguru – and he’d—”

Your hand was in your pocket before you had time to stop yourself, the plastic remote clenched in your fist before you had time to think. You’d never read the manual, never thought you’d have to use it, but that didn’t matter. There was only one button, and it only did one thing.

Satoru’s voice cut out as the current picked-up, pumping the maximum voltage into his throat. Satoru didn’t scream, didn’t thrash, but he reacted – going rigid as his beautiful eyes went painfully wide. The whole thing was silent save for a low, almost inaudible buzzing-type sound, and you kept your thumb pressed into the singular button for a second, then another, before forcing yourself to let go. Even that was more difficult than it should’ve been. You couldn’t stand the idea of hurting him, but…

Fuck. You would’ve done anything not to hear Satoru say his name ever again.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t collapse. When it was over, he only buckled forward – catching himself on his thighs as he dragged in a jolting, ragged breath. You were on your knees in front of him in a second, his face in your hands and your mouth on his cheek, his forehead, his neck, as if you could kiss away the pain. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” you chanted, each word less coherent than the last. “It’s just—I’ve read about him in your diaries, and I should’ve known you’d bring him up, and—”

“I love you.”

You went quiet.

You tried to pull away from him, but his arms lashed out; wrapping around your midriff and pulling you closer – burying his face in the dip of your shoulder, the crook of your neck. Again, he repeated, “I love you.”

For a second, you thought about pulling away, about sending him back to his room while you pulled yourself together. For a second, you considered reaching for your remote, again.

Then, you settled against him, shutting your eyes and resting your head against his chest.

“I love you too, Satoru.”

Admittedly, Satoru’s apartment was the closest thing you had to a guilty pleasure. The first time you’d broken in, you were still on the fence about just how much he needed your help, but by the third, or the fourth, or the fifth, you’d already made up your mind about bringing him home. You’d only visited a handful of times since, but it was nice to stop in every now-and-then, to remind yourself there were two distinct eras of Satoru’s life – prior to the day he’d met you, and post. Getting to spend a few minutes tucked into a space so essentially Satoru wasn’t something you were opposed to, either.

You made your way slowly through his former home – stepping over heaps of abandoned clothes and stopping to straighten forgotten piles of cluttered paperwork he would never be forced to re-visit. Satoru didn’t have any close friends or family who’d stop by uninvited, which meant every little detail was exactly how Satoru would’ve left it. The fridge was still empty, the freezer stocked with frozen, pre-packaged desserts; the walls were still empty and drab, utterly devoid of life; and best of all, his bed still smelled exactly like him. It was a silly thing to be so excited about, especially when you had the source waiting for you at home, but you collapsed onto the mattress without hesitation, shutting your eyes and basking in the evidence of just how hopeless he’d been, before you had a chance to—

Clipped footsteps, followed shortly by the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open. You bolted upward, your pocket knife (because self-defense was important when you treated breaking-and-entering like a hobby) in your hand in a fraction of a second, but the intruder didn’t seem quite so concerned.

It was a woman – deathly pale and worryingly gaunt, just a little too short to be considered average. She regarded you with a cold stare before nodding by way of greeting. “I’m guessing you’re Satoru’s girlfriend?”

The irritation that came with hearing someone else use his given name was immediately overshadowed by pure, euphoric delight. Smiling like an idiot, you asked, “He calls me his girlfriend?”

“Oh, I’m not going to repeat what he calls you.” Her gaze dropped to your knife, now little more than an afterthought. “You can drop the weapon,” she said, holding up a manila envelope stuffed to the point of bursting. “Just here to pick up his lesson plans. It’s been a pain in the ass – having to cover for him since you two started playing house.”

She sounded agitated, but only mildly so. A small, rational part of your mind urged you to linger on the mild irritation in her voice, the odd casualness in the way she spoke to you. She couldn’t have talked to Satoru recently, not the months he’d spent with you, but if she was concerned for his safety, she wasn’t concerned enough to bring up the issue now.

The vast, easily distracted majority could only chant girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.

You opened your mouth, ready to ask if Satoru had talked about you often, if he’d ever mentioned your name, if she remembered word-for-word what he’d said about you, but she was already gone – muttering a curt goodbye and slamming the bedroom door behind her. By the time you could force yourself off of his bed, she’d disappeared entirely.

That day, you picked up roses as white as his hair and forget-me-nots as blue as his eyes on your way home. Just to remind Satoru how much you really loved him.

Satoru greeted you as soon as you got home, like he’d done every day since you gave him permission to roam freely. You didn’t call out, didn’t ring the bell, and yet, as soon as the door was closed and locked behind you, he was there; his arms wrapped around your waist and your body hauled against his. He held you in that bone-crushing embrace for a second, then another before lowering you back onto your feet. You clung to him for just a little longer before letting go.

He always seemed to be smiling, but tonight, he was beaming. He pulled you into an eager kiss, only to jerk back just as abruptly, too excited not to start talking while his lips were still pressed against yours. “Happy six-month anniversary,” he managed, quickly enough for the words to blend together. “I, uh—It’s not much, but I got you something. I thought it’d be cute to leave it in your office, but that might’ve been— I mean, I can bring it to you if—”

“Remember to breathe, ‘toru,” you cut in, laughing. He let his head lull to the side sheepishly, and you went on. “You got me something?”

“It’s not a lot,” he reiterated, still shy. “I’m sorry, I’m not really used to this. I wanted to have dinner ready when you came home, too, but I think it needs a few more minutes.”

It was hard to believe, sometimes – just how lucky you’d gotten. There were only so many human beings who could say they’d met an angel, and you got to come home to one every night.

“You’re perfect.” Satoru blushed, and you pulled him close, pecking the bridge of his nose just underneath the bar of his glasses. “Finish up. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen to tell you how much I love my gift.”

Reluctantly, you detached from Satoru, and made your way to the home office you’d all-but abandoned after bringing Satoru home. His present sat on the edge of your desk: a small mason jar, just the right size to sit in the palm of your hand, filled with water and finished off with a jet-black ribbon tied around the lid. Two spherical objects floated near the bottom. Even from a distance, you recognized them immediately.

Satoru’s eyes.

If you’d been holding the jar, you would’ve dropped it. They had to be fake, but they couldn’t be – replicas wouldn’t have been so bright, so organic, so perfect. He’d been wearing glasses, but you’d been able to see his eyes, and— and even if you couldn’t, it wasn’t like he’d be able to carve his own eyes out in the nine hours you spent away from him. Had there been blood on his clothes? You couldn’t remember, now. Was he hurt? Had you ever seen him hurt himself? He couldn’t have left, but—

You felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your midriff, drawing you against a broad chest. The metal of his collar pressed into the back of your head as he slotted himself against you. “You mentioned how much you like my eyes, once,” Satoru explained, the eagerness in his melodic voice now painful to listen to. “I… I thought you might want a couple spares. For when we can’t be together. And, after dinner, I thought we could finally…”

He trailed off, embarrassed. Still, what he wanted was clear.

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything.

Then, with a heavy exhale, you forced yourself to glance over your shoulder, facing Satoru with a smile. “Not tonight, ‘toru.” You’d never been thankful not to be able to see the clear blue of his eyes, before.

“But soon. I promise.”

You couldn’t find Satoru.

It was hard to believe, even as you hunched against the wall of his bedroom, your knees pulled into your chest and tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes. You’d looked everywhere – torn apart every room in your house, overturned furniture, called his name until your throat ached – but he just—he wasn’t there. You’d checked the locks (still in-tact) and all the windows (decisively unbroken), but the only sign of him you’d managed to find was his collar – cold and abandoned, undone and left carefully on the foot of his bed. It would’ve been impossible for him to take off without the remote still sitting safely in your purse, the mechanism was strong enough to endure getting hit with a car, and yet, it was here, and he wasn’t.

God. You were so fucked.

The open collar sat on the floor next to you, your pocket knife immediately next to it. Satoru was gone. He’d left you, or been taken – it didn’t matter. Your life was over. He’d go to the police, and you’d be arrested, and you’d never get to see Satoru again. Even if he didn’t go to the police, he was never coming back. Either way, it was a death sentence.

You were never going to see Satoru again.

Half-consciously, your hand found your knife, fingers curling around the handle. For the first time in months, you remembered what your life was like prior to meeting Satoru. You remembered what you’d tried to do - what you would’ve done, if he hadn’t been there to save you.

You drew in a shaky breath, tightening your hold on your knife and raising it – first to your chest, and then thinking better of it, your throat. You weren’t very strong, but you weren’t very durable, either. If you were lucky, it’d only take a minute or so before—

“Baby?”

You stiffened, blotting out. For a moment, your mind went perfectly, euphorically blank.

When you came to, you weren’t pressed against the wall, but on your knees – straddling Satoru’s waist. The knife was still in your hand, but you couldn’t see the blade. It was buried in Satoru’s stomach to the hilt.

To his credit, he didn’t scream. His reaction was uncannily alike his response to the shock collar – wide eyes and parted lips, pain and shock only visible in the absence of his smile. Warm blood soaked through the fabric of his uniform jacket, washing over your hand, but you didn’t care. Only half-voluntary, you pulled the knife back and brought it down. You did it again, and again, and again, each motion repetitive and mechanical. You’d never killed anyone, before. It was unfair that the first had to be Satoru.

It was only when the blade of your knife met loose pulp rather than solid flesh that you paused, dropping your weapon entirely. Rather, your hands found his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin through tattered fabric and tearing. You let out a miserable sob as you clawed at his chest, trying aimlessly to dig to his heart. “You left,” you whined, like that would explain anything. “You were gone, and I couldn’t find you, and I thought I’d never see you again, and—” You cut yourself, gasping. “And you’re dying. Oh my god, Satoru, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

It never occurred to you to call an ambulance. Your body seemed to move on its own, clambering down just far enough to tear at the waistband of his pants, to free his cock. “’m just fine, princess,” he muttered, but you weren’t in a state to listen. With a frantic sort of desperation, you pumped your fist over his length, his blood serving as good-enough lubrication. Satoru let out a low groan – the noise impossible to read as pain or relief. “Even better, with such a pretty view.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Your fist wasn’t working. Too frantic to be graceful, you forced his cock past your lip and fucked the tip into the hollow of your cheek, doing your best to ignore how his natural bitter mixed with the near-overwhelming iron-tinge. That, at least, got you a reaction – another rough groan, his hand in your hair as his tip started to leak arousal and you felt his shaft stiffen against your hand. You almost choked on your own relief, but Satoru soothed you, his blunt nails scrapping over your scalp as he cooed. “Been waiting so long to see you like this…” He trailed off, laughed. You felt another jolt of fresh blood leak from the tattered flesh of his stomach. There was enough to pool on the floor below him, now. “’m sorry – did I say that already? Thought I could step out for a second before you got home, deal with a last-minute mission, but—” His voice hitched as you let out another sob around him. “—clearly, my pretty girl can’t be left alone for so long.”

You couldn’t understand why he was still talking. Every word hurt more than the last – like he was trying to make it that much harder for you to do the only thing you could. When you pulled away from him, it was only to let out a fractured cry, to bury your face in his thigh, muffling your voice until it was only a whisper above nothing. “You can’t leave me. If I don’t have—If you’re not here, then I can’t—”

“Hey, hey, don’t talk like that. I’m not going anywhere.” You felt the hand in your hair dip lower, cupping your cheek. Another caught you by the chin, tilting your head back, until you were staring at Satoru – blood-drenched and glorious, sitting up and smiling down at you. He shouldn’t have been moving, you shouldn’t have let him move, and yet, it was all you could to do jolt upward and throw yourself against his chest, your mouth latching instinctually onto his neck. You’d always been so careful not to bite, not to bruise, not to do anything that’d leave a mark and mar his perfection, but suddenly, your love felt less like an act of pure-hearted preservation and more like the desperate throes of a forsaken acolyte clinging to the blessings of a dying god. It was hard to worship divinity as something everlasting when your hands were stained in its blood.

So you didn’t try to. You dug your teeth into the side of his throat without reservation, cautious only not to visit the same patch of skin twice. Satoru felt any pain, if he could feel anything after losing so much blood, his only reaction was an airy laugh and a shallow kiss to your temple as his hand found your hips, then your sides. You felt yourself leaving the ground long seconds before your processed that Satoru was lifting you up, and even then, your awareness was burdened by a numbing sort of confusion. You wanted to tell him not to move, not to breathe, to let you help. You wanted to find your knife.

In the end, though, you only strung your arms around his neck and let him lay you on his bed, the mattress dipping where he kneeled in the space between your open legs.

In a daze, you felt your skirt being slid up to your waist, your panties shoved aside and replaced by the soft warmth of Satoru’s mouth. Like always, he was adorably clumsy – the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as his tongue lapped and traced over your pussy. His fingertips dug too harshly into your thighs, his tongue thrusting into you too erratically, his little whines and occasional whimper too pitchy to allow for any real reverberation, but your poor nerves were so fried and your heart was still beating so fast and it would’ve taken a miracle for you not to cum – moaning pathetically as you bucked into his mouth. You’d imagined this scenario before, pictured yourself showering him with praise as you taught him exactly how to make you cum on his pretty tongue, but this was too quick, too abrupt, too out of your control. You weren’t in a state to teach. If he learned something from this, you doubted it would be the right lesson.

You reached for him as he straightened his back, but Satoru caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his stomach. Rather than mangled flesh and exposed viscera, your palm pressed against perfect in-tact, perfectly seamless skin. Like he’d never been injured. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of death only a few minutes ago.

Like you’d never even touched him.

“See, baby? I already told you – I’m not going anywhere.” His smile was soft, his voice soothing, but he was distracted. With a fist curled around his shaft, he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance, heavy beads of his arousal drooling onto your cunt and down your slit. “You had me worried for a while, there.” This time, his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “I know what I’m good for. Thought you might get sick of me before I ever got a chance to prove it.”

It would’ve been impossible to tell if Satoru was still in pain, or if he was capable of feeling something so human at all. The hurt that sliced through your chest, though, was agonizing. “I would never do that, ‘toru.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, too – it’s unfair to keep comparing you to him.” He bowed his head, dipping low enough for the heat of his breath to ghost over the shell of your ear, when he went on. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

There was a shuddering inhale, a sudden pressure against your slit. He pushed into you slowly, less concerned with your comfort than he was savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him, of your body inviting him deeper, closer. You held your breath, doing your best to memorize every curve and vein, to accommodate him even as his length threatened to split you open. It wasn’t painful, but even if had been, you wouldn’t have complained. This was what you were supposed to want. This was what you were supposed to do for Satoru.

You could only wonder, then, why it felt so cold.

It was only when hips pressed into yours and he was fully hilted inside of you that he picked himself up – a hand planted on either side of your head, a broad, careless smile plastered across his lips. You registered that his lips were moving a full moment before you recognized the sound of his voice, as angelic as it was unbearable.

“I love you.”

For the first time, you didn’t bother trying to say anything at all.

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