#yandere chrome

[unhappy-last-resort]

Has no one talked about how Chrome's hands are fucking HUGE. Man's got some serious grippers going on.

Imagine you're just going about your business on Babylonia and suddenly you feel something grab your arm and you look over to see a huge gloved hand dragging you into an empty meeting room. You might think you're about to be kidnapped by some asshole, but no, it's just Chrome in his Arclight frame. He really missed you and is totally not mad you haven't responded to his messages yet, quit giving him that look and he just wanted to check up on you! Why the empty meeting room and not in the hallway? It's just more comfortable this way, now you both can talk freely! Why do his hands keep wandering and digging into your skin? Just an accident! He forgot himself for a moment he'll keep doing it, don't worry about it!

By the time you can leave the meeting room, you can still feel his gloves over your skin despite there being no marks. Of course, you won't notice the little bruises he left until you change. He swears it was an accident though and promises to never ever do it again, he was just checking you for injuries is all! It's really your own fault for getting hurt all the time and making him paranoid <3

I'm saving the size kink for something else, I just wanted to draw attention to his gargantuan hands. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[animeyanderelover]

May I request Tsuna gen yan hcs? From katekyo hitman?

I already did Hc’s for Katekyo Hitman Reborn but I haven't done the Lighting Guardian and the Mist Guardian yet so I will add them. I still can’t get over the fact that Lambo shares in his older forms the same VA as Nanami from Jujutsu Kaisen.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, guilt-tripping, jealousy, isolation, abduction, threats, sadism, death

Khr Hc’s

Lambo Bovino (10 Years Later)

🐮​There is nothing quite like seeing Lambo age throughout the years as he turns from a demanding and spoiled child to a true lady's man, though he is still prone to reverting to his crybaby personality. The thing about Lambo now though is that he actually knows how to approach someone he finds attractive and that is quite useful for him the moment he develops an obsession with you. With an increased amount of awareness that he has earned over the years he is actually lucid of his obsession and is even tactful enough to decide that it would be wiser to not let you know about that for now. That is a problem for future Lambo for when you do find out eventually but it isn't something he should worry about too much in the present. He has had a lot of experience at this point already with receiving affection from other people, mainly women who swoon over him, and it is this experience that actually helps him to get successfully closer to you as he knows how to charm his darling with sweet words and gestures.

🐮​Despite the lazy demeanor that he often carries around with him Lambo actually pays close attention to you. His feelings are serious after all so it is in his interest to get to know you better and it is this attentive behavior that earns him a lot of points with you. After all it is very flattering to experience that he notices it when you wear new clothes or have a new haircut. Sometimes he still reverts back to the childish antics he often exhibited during his childhood, especially if he is upset or scared. It is a stark, and admittedly jarring, contrast to what you are used to, especially since he seeks you out for comfort afterwards. In such moments he is clingy and demanding, unwilling for you to leave him alone as he cries tears. You may have pity on him whilst he is in such a condition which he might use to his advantage or you might just find him annoying and plan to leave him alone which honestly only makes things worse as he would wind up crying only more when figuring out that you plan to leave him alone.

🐮​Jealousy is one possible emotion that can make him upset and reduce him to a crying mess. Luckily there is some time you have before it gets that far as Lambo figures that he doesn't help his image by letting you see him as a bawling and sniffling mess. He ends up digging his own grave more than just once though as he never rejects invitations when he is being invited to parties and he takes you in most cases with him which means that he lets you be surrounded by lots of other people. He doesn't mind if you socialise with others, he isn't that needy and insecure after all. What tends to get under his skin quickly though is when you start complimenting other people or gushing over them excessively whilst he is right next to you. He starts tugging nervously at his collar as the atmosphere turns quickly uncomfortable whilst he tries to save his face and slowly guide you away. If worst comes to worst though you are left with him sobbing and throwing a tantrum all whilst clinging to you.

🐮​In actual fights Lambo has grown a lot more dependent but he still needs another 10 years before he is completely unfaced. Still though, he will defend his darling or at the very least run away with them to ensure their protection if he realises that he is being overwhelmed in a fight. In preparation to hopefully never embarrass himself in front of you by running away from an opponent though Lambo is surprisingly thorough to ensure that you are well protected so that hopefully a situation will never even escalate that far. Being one of the ring bearers for Vongola brings its advantages after all which means that he is able to keep tabs on you and place you under special protection. During fights he'd probably have to ensure that you are not anywhere within his vicinity since he is not yet in full control of his powers and wouldn't want to accidentally hurt you with his electricity. I don't think that he has yet fully gotten the needed willpower to take someone's life, that is going to need another 10 years.

🐮​A certain amount of protection is going to be needed considering that he is the Lightning Guardian yet Lambo does ensure that there won't be any grand restrictions within your overall daily life. He can't let you walk around completely unprotected either though but he is actually able to reason pretty well with you as he explains the situation to you. Some small sacrifices have to be made but otherwise he promises you that you can go on with your life however you wish to do. In case of an emergency you will have to be escorted away though, especially if your identity is leaked to potential enemies of Vongola. That is probably the closest you will get to an abduction with this Lambo though even if this might already be a scary and equally upsetting experience. You're most likely going to be kept under tighter security from that day on, may even spend a longer time in their headquarters until the risk has been removed or until Lambo has regained his shaken composure which may take a while, especially if you were hurt or got dangerously close to being injured.

🐮​At times it feels like you are dealing with two different people. Sometimes Lambo is the more rational one in situations who acts for the most part calm and mature and in other moments you have to baby him as he loses his composure and starts seeking protection from you. You receive a ton of different gifts from him, he is especially fond of gifting you clothes he believes would make you look even prettier than you already are. Honestly, the relationship works pretty well as he flies very well under the radar due to his largely serious and calm attitude but the problem appears the moment his composure is stripped away from him and he is reduced to a crying and frightened mess. He knows that it's pathetic but he hasn't worked out just yet how to stop acting like a crybaby and if you were to be appalled by this clingy and unbearable part of his personality Lambo may grow more desperate and would in return be more prone to burst out in a tantrum in front of you.

Rokudo Mukuro

🌫️​From his respective verse Mukuro is honestly one of the worst choices one could end up with. He's cruel, manipulative, apathetic, controlling and incredibly possessive of his darling. He owns you and for that he is free to do with you whatever he wishes to do and you can either give in and accept that or try to rebel, entertain him a bit before he punishes you and then slowly breaks you apart. It's no secret that he has a sadistic side to him and whilst he may claim that neither one of you enjoys it when he has to punish you for throwing a tantrum, you know better than to believe his words if the gleam in his eyes is anything to go by. The only small blessing that you have that Mukuro treats punishments very much like reprimanding a disobedient dog. As soon as he believes that you have learned your lesson he will stop tormenting you, though he won't be the one who will directly take care of you afterwards as he instead asks Chrome, Ken or Chikusa to cater to your basic needs afterwards whilst he observes from a distance.

🌫️​He can really get into your head. He's perceptive, he has done his research on you and to make things even worse he is a talented illusionist. It is terrifying to be within his presence as he notices every twitch of your fingers and every subtle move of your body, there is really only little that you can hide from him. He's scheming, he knows how to shut you up with a few simple words and he knows what spots he has to target to threaten you to burst out into tears and all of that whilst not even raising his voice once. There is this air of superiority and intimidation that he always carries around with him and Mukuro has no plans to lessen the fear you have whenever you hear as much as his name. He wants and needs that level of control above you. He's a terrible person and he has embraced that already long ago so he sees no need to play pretend with you. You're going to see the real him and you will fear and adore him equally for it the longer time passes and the more he starts messing with your mind.

🌫️​He is possessive, not jealous. He'd like for you or anyone else to not even dare to associate such a pitiful feeling with him as he sees himself above it. He is above it. Loyalty and obedience are after all two things he expects from you whether he is currently spending time with you or is taking care of business which leaves you a little room to breathe as his mere presence is enough to often make the act of breathing normally a task incredibly difficult. You would be sorely mistaken to believe that just because he is gone you can sneak away and meet people you haven't seen in months due to the isolation he puts you through. Just remember that Mukuro always finds out the truth and you would only get yourself in more troubles if you were to lie to his face in the naive hope that he wouldn't see right through you. Do you just enjoy being punished by him? If so you could have just asked him kindly instead of getting other people involved. Begging and apologising won't work on him as you plead to leave innocent people out of it. After all both sides have to learn a lesson, wouldn't you agree?

🌫️​Whilst he has no qualms Mukuro is actually not someone who actively gets his own hands dirty. He is the type who lets others do the dirty work for him as he often sends out Ken or Chikusa to do the crude part for him. He does get heavily involved in scheming plans or messing with the mind of other people. He doesn't even spare those who have done nothing wrong besides interacting with you when you were trying to escape or family and friends who you just wished to talk to without his permission. He wouldn't kill them but the illusions and threats that he puts them through have an even worse effect as he essentially turns them against you, installs fear into their hearts so that they won't humor your futile hopes the next time you attempt to reach out to them. His skills of possessing people and playing around with their mind are some of the most frightening abilities to have since he can torment their very sanity and souls, a method he thinks is much more entertaining than simply putting a bullet through someone's head as he can allow himself the time to even take it slow, basking in his sadism.

🌫️​Isn't it only natural to keep a priced possession to yourself? To Mukuro it is and it is his possessive attributes that wind up isolating you from everyone and everything you used to know and love. You are kept in a building, locked away for the rest of your life all whilst Mukuro continues roaming around freely. It is honestly painful to know that he doesn't even bother spending much time with you as he often vaguely informs you that he has other important things he needs to take care of, never telling you what it is he needs to do. Whether it is out of convenience or actual consideration from Mukuro's part, you aren't left completely to your own devices. Chrome is there, Ken is there and Chikusa is there as well, meaning you at least have some company. All of them are only an upgrade from Mukuro's terrifying personality yet none of them would ever help you to escape as all of them are loyal to Mukuro and even try to warn you of the consequences that were to happen if you would attempt to run away.

🌫️​Sometimes you feel like Mukuro doesn't really care about you at all if he is gone for weeks without you hearing anything from him and even if Chrome tells you that he loves you in his own way you almost feel hurt. For what did he take you after all if he doesn't even "love" you? Admittedly, if you happen to be someone who is a naturally very affectionate person and longs to receive lots of affection as well Mukuro would be the worst choice for you. He doesn't show any of the twisted love and the care he has for you easily to the point where you can't help but feel like he doesn't love you at all. He doesn't need to for as long as he has your obedience that is enough for him. Yet whenever he takes notice that you aren't doing well he mostly asks one of his subordinates to look out after you, specifically telling them what it is that they need to get for you before adding that he doesn't wish them to tell you that it was him who told them all of it. It is Chrome though who reveals that secret to you one day, assuring you that Mukuro is actually always watching over you when he returns.

Chrome Dokuro

🟣​Chrome has been severely neglected and mistreated before she was saved by Mukuro and it is this past that has led her to be socially very awkward, inexperienced and shy. For quite a long time she has only ever really clung to Mukuro or the people he associates himself with and it is for that reason that she is quite overwhelmed when she finds a person she herself is interested in without Mukuro being involved in even a tiny aspect. Having only ever relied on Mukuro though initially she tries to avoid you and forget about you simply because she almost views her fondness of you as some sort of betrayal for the man who saved her life. Her obsession though has already gotten out of hand and it certainly doesn't help that she can't even control her own emotions very well either due to her insecurities. You are always a persistent thought inside her head and she doesn't know what to do with you. She wants to get to know you, wants to talk to you but she simply doesn't know how to do it.

🟣​Too shy and even frightened to speak with you Chrome resorts to being nothing more than a stalker for the following months. It is all that she seems to be able to do, watching you from a distance all whilst her own heart is doing sommersaults in her chest. She's still feeling conflicted though, torn apart between her loyalty to Mukuro and her newfound fondness for you. It feels like she is doing something terribly wrong which is why she attempts to hide what she is secretly doing from Ken, Chikusa and even Mukuro himself. She should have expected though that the Mist Guardian has already known about her little obsessive crush though but his disproval never happens as he instead encourages Chrome in his own subtle ways to follow her feelings, even trying to get her to be more assertive and controlling. It is only after she knows that Mukuro doesn't think of her new obsession as any threat or sign of disloyalty from her side that Chrome gains the needed courage to go for you herself.

🟣​Feelings of insecurities and a lack of self-esteem are problems Chrome finds herself fighting with even if she does want to get stronger on her own terms without having to depend on Mukuro. It is her clear inexperience though that makes her all the more awkward and insecure when she tries to get your attention all whilst you are busy talking to other people simply because she doesn't know what she should do or say to let you know of her current emotions. Chrome gets quite easily jealous though most of the time it isn't the kind of jealousy that you might expect. Chrome is just envious. Envious that other people can approach you as easily as they do all whilst she is a few feet away, her legs seemingly stuck to the ground as she stumbles over her own thoughts all whilst trying to come up with something to say to you. You will have to learn how to read her as she will most likely remain quiet despite her jealousy during the first few phases of the relationship until she eventually learns how to speak up and stand up for herself slowly.

🟣​Despite her connection with Mukuro she is not nearly as cruel or bad as he is though she is no saint either. She has a soft spot for people you care about and would never get them in harm's way as long as she knows that none of them are treating you badly. She doesn't hesitate to enter a battle either and she shares some powers with Mukuro, meaning that she is able to use illusions as well. Despite her shy and unsure appearance Chrome is actually willing to murder people but only if she deems them to be as too much of a risk if they were to be left alive for you. She loves you and whilst this realisation takes her a while to figure out she starts feeling a responsibility to protect you as soon as she has found out. Differently from Mukuro who is much more open with the cruel things he does, Chrome keeps very quiet about such things whenever they occur. She understands that you probably wouldn't react very well if she were to tell you that she murders people for you and assumes that for that you would appreciate it more if you would never find out at all.

🟣​She is still figuring things out. Emotions really are quite confusing, especially the love she is feeling for you. She longs to spend time with you but she is never able to shake off her habit to stalk you as her understanding of spending time with you seems to be that of her silently stalking you whilst you aren't even aware that she is there. People like Chikusa have already asked her why she isn't just trying to move in with you as he thinks that her behavior is quite pathetic yet Chrome gets much too nervous whilst considering moving in with her. She isn't used to such closeness and intimacy. It would be a new and unfamiliar experience and she tends to cling to what she knows and is familiar with, even if it isn't healthy. She does like your home though as she is familiar with it from her countless hours of stalking you. It's cozy and just so like you so she'd like to stay with you in there if she were to ever consider living with you. That's why you will always be brought back to your home though she does tell you that for that to happen you will have to follow certain rules and instructions or otherwise she might be forced to keep you somewhere else.

🟣​You should be mad with her and at times you definitely are but at the same time it is hard not to feel some sort of pity for Chrome. Whenever you lose your temper and lash out she just silently stands there and lets you vent out without even defending herself. She has written a lot of letters to you during the time where she was stalking you almost every day yet only a few of those letters she wrote were actually delivered to you and that only after a lot of consideration, hesitation and doubt. All the other letters were thrown away as she sometimes spent a couple of hours trying to figure what she even wanted to write to you. In general Chrome has an easier time standing up for you than she does standing up for herself which may lead you to feel somewhat more protective over her despite the situation you find yourself in and whilst she insists that you don't have to get yourself in troubles for her deep down she is very happy and the happiness only deepens her obsession.

[midnightlee25]

Yandere Reactions: Learning that their darling was just using them (Chrome)

Chrome: 

Learning something like this would shatter him to the point of breaking him out of his reality.  

At first, he didn't believe someone as kind and perfect as his darling could do such a thing. 

He's in shock for a while before making a whole new reality for himself. 

Of course, his darling could never do anything like this; they had to have been tricked into it by someone. 

So now he plans to keep them away from such awful people by making sure no one can ever trick them like that ever again. 

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.6  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.8

p.7

AN: Oh babe, this thing was a real bitch 'n a half to crank out. Sorry for the delay. I was right in the thick of editing when Google Chrome had the audacity to update itself. I will never edit on my ao3 text box ever again. lesson fucking learned, yeah? get ready for somethin

warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

the bitch n' a half

Megumi’s decision to enroll at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech caught you completely off guard.

For as long as you’d known him, he’d shown little interest in becoming a sorcerer, dismissing the world of cursed spirits and exorcisms as something he didn’t want to be a part of.

You’d never pestered him about his cursed technique either, sensing early on that it wasn’t a topic of interest to him. You figured if he ever wanted to talk about it, he would.

So when he announced his plans at the dinner table, the words felt like they’d come out of nowhere, leaving you blindsided.

“You’re…serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep your tone steady, though the surprise was clear in your voice.

Megumi gave a small nod, his expression as stoic as ever, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Yeah,” he said simply, his voice firm. Just where the hell—

You were supportive, of course—you’d never hold him back from a choice like this—but his sudden decision, combined with the way he’d been acting over the summer, left you feeling....unsettled. Something about it just didn’t add up.

The change in Megumi had been slow and subtle, but impossible to miss.

Over the past three months, he’d grown distant, retreating into himself and spending more time in his room than with you.

The boy who used to trail after you, helping with chores or lingering in the kitchen just to chat, now seemed intent on keeping his distance. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up between you—a large, impenetrable barrier that left you feeling helpless and unsure of how to reach him. You're relationship regressing to something that felt a little more than just indifference. And the ache of his absence settled heavily in your chest, a familiar weight that was all too similar to the isolation you’d endured within your clan.

Whenever you tried to ask gently if something was wrong, his responses were curt and dismissive.

“I’m fine,” he’d mutter. His tone sharp enough to discourage any further questions. If you pressed, he’d retreat entirely, shutting down any chance of meaningful conversation.

It wasn’t just his words that had changed—his entire demeanor was different.

He’d grown skittish, almost wary. A casual touch on his shoulder or a playful ruffle of his hair—gestures he once accepted without hesitation—would now make him flinch, his cheeks flushing an uncharacteristic red. Not meeting your eyes.

Hugs, something he’d finally grown comfortable with over time, had disappeared altogether, replaced by a deliberate and careful distance.

Even when you knocked on his door to call him for meals, he’d answer from behind it. His voice clipped and muffled rather than coming out like he used to. Like he was afraid of you.

You couldn’t pinpoint what had caused the shift, but it left you anxious, as if something important was slipping through your fingers.

You’d tried bringing up Megumi’s decision to become a sorcerer with Toji, hoping for some clarity or even reassurance. Instead, he’d brushed you off with his trademark nonchalance.

“Well, it’s the kid’s death wish. What do I have to do with it?” he’d muttered, though his irritation was poorly hidden. Toji’s avoidance of the topic didn’t help.

When Megumi did emerge from his room, he seemed different each time you saw him, the changes more noticeable as the weeks passed. Over the summer, he’d shot up in height, now towering a head or two above you by the break’s end.

His lean frame had started to fill out, and his once-soft features had taken on a subtle sharpness, hinting at the man he was growing into.

But it wasn’t just his appearance.

Megumi carried himself differently now, with a quiet restraint that felt intentional, as though he were holding something back. Even his interactions with Toji had shifted. The explosive arguments that once echoed through the house had become less frequent, replaced by a tense silence that felt all the more suffocating.

And with each passing day, you heard less and less from Megumi altogether.

Maybe it’s just hormones. Was I this moody at his age?

Adding to your unease was the unsettling shift in Toji’s presence. He’d been around more lately, taking up the spaces Megumi left vacant, though his company wasn’t exactly comforting.

His sharp taunts and teasing demeanor made every interaction feel strained and somewhat awkward. And then there were those quiet dinners—the ones where it was just the two of you sitting across the table.

Still, you exchanged a few sentences here and there, yet the silences always seemed heavier than the words.

Toji had noticed the change in Megumi, too, though his reaction was far from helpful. Instead of offering advice or insight, he leaned into his usual brand of provocation.

He spent more time loitering in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter with that infuriating smirk that seemed to suggest he knew far more than he let on.

“Looks like the kid’s growing up,” Toji drawled one evening, his sharp eyes flicking toward you as you worked at the stove. “Getting pretty tall now, too. Bet he doesn’t need you hovering over him anymore.”

You frowned, sparing him a glance. “I wasn’t hovering,” you said, turning back to the pot. Still, your tone carried a note of defensiveness you couldn’t entirely hide. Always when it came to Megumi.

“Sure you weren’t,” Toji said, his smirk ever-widening. “Though I gotta admit, it’s funny, you know. Watching him get all flustered around you. Kid blushes like a lovesick fool.”

Your grip on the spoon tightened, and you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation. “What are you even on about now?”

Toji’s teasing tone dropped slightly, a sharper edge creeping into his teasing voice as he stepped closer.

“Come on, it’s obvious. You really don’t see it? The way he stumbles over himself? Turns bright red every time you so much as pat his shoulder? The kid’s got it bad.”

Your hand froze mid-stir, Toji’s words hitting you like a bucket of ice water. Slowly, you turned to glare at him, heat creeping up your neck despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“That’s ridiculous,” your voice low and tight, attempting to dismiss the insinuation.

Toji, ever the perceptive fucker, didn’t miss a thing. His smirk deepening, his amusement clear.

“Is it, though?”  he drawled, his tone thick with mockery. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. His eyes zoning in on you. “You sure about that?”

“Cut it out,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” he said lazily, clearly enjoying himself. “But you gotta admit, it’s a little weird. Him acting that way around his mom. And with you being so… sweet with him? You’re what—eighteen? You wanna play mommy that bad?”

The taunt made you flinch slightly.

“What? Don’t like the title? Cause Megs sure seems to love calling you that when he thinks I’m not around. "Mom this, Mom that." Real cute, honestly.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of embarrassment and frustration rising in your chest.

“He calls me that because I’m his stepmother,” you shot back, trying to sound firm, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

Toji leaned in, his breath ghosting over your neck, his tone dipping into something darker and deliberately provocative. “Oh, yeah? Swear I’ve heard him at night,” he said, his words slow and venomous. “‘Mommy—Mommy,’” he mocked, dragging the word out sinfully, savoring each syllable as his grin twisted into something wicked.

He watched your face carefully, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as your expression froze in shock. “Not exactly what you’d expect to hear coming from your kid’s room, huh?”

His words hit you like a slap, sending a shiver up your spine. Heat surged to your cheeks as you angled yourself away, gripping the spoon tighter.

“Toji,” you snapped, your voice sharp, teetering between embarrassment and frustration. “That’s disgusting.”

“What?” he replied with a feigned look of innocence, shrugging lazily, though the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t waver. He finally leaned back.

“I’m just pointing out what I’ve noticed. Kid’s got a lot on his mind these days, doesn’t he? He may not be talking to you, but trust me—he’s thinking about you. A lot.”

“That’s enough,” you bit out, your voice firm. But Toji’s continued on.

“Hear me out,” his voice thick with mockery, and far too laid back for the topic at hand.

“Before all this sorcerer crap, he was glued to your hip. Don’t act like you didn’t notice. Always trailing after you like you hung the damn moon. And you? You let him. No—you didn’t just let him—you encouraged it.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you stirred the pot, refusing to meet his gaze. “He’s just a kid,” you said tightly, your voice low. “He needed someone to lean on.”

Toji barked out a laugh, the sound cold and condescending. “Yeah, lean on. That’s what you wanna call it. Kid doesn’t just lean on you, sweetheart. He worships you. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person on Earth who gives a damn about him.”

“He’s figuring things out,” you retorted, trying to inject some finality into your words—end this shitty conversation with him, though even you could feel the weakness in them. “It’s just a phase.”

“A phase,” Toji repeated with a snort. “Right. A phase that’s got him locking himself in his room and avoiding you like the plague. You think that’s normal? You think he’s just ‘figuring things out’? Sweetheart, I’ll give him six months before he grows a pair and spills his guts. Don’t come crying to me when the kid drops a confession on you.”

The spoon clattered against the edge of the pot as your hands stilled, and you turned to glare at him, your heart pounding. Why were his words effecting you so much?

“Megumi’s not like that,” you said firmly, though the quiver in your voice betrayed your conviction.

He tilted his head as if considering you.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. But don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. The way he’s acting? He doesn’t just see you as his stepmom. When he finally figures it out…” He trailed off, his grin widening, flashing his canines. “Oh, It’s gonna get real messy—for the both of you.”

Your fists clenched, heat flooding your face as frustration and unease warred within you.

“Are you done?” you hissed. “Can you stop now?”

Ignoring you, he chuckled, a low, grating sound that made your skin crawl. “Don’t be surprised if I kick the bucket and you end up with a marriage proposal on your hands. Kid’s already been giving me those killer glares. It'll be any day now, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, desperate to shake the knot tightening in your chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, turning your back on him and focusing intently on stirring the pot.

“Maybe,” Toji said with a crooked grin, tossing a wink your way that only made your irritation spike. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, he strolled out, leaving the room in a silence that felt heavy and suffocating. His words shouldn’t have gotten to you—absurd, cruel, teasing for the sake of his own amusement—but they lingered, scratching at the corners of your mind like an itch you couldn’t ignore.

The way Megumi had been acting lately—so distant, so evasive—came rushing back to you.

Was it really just growing pains? A harmless, fleeting crush? It was normal for boys his age to feel that way, wasn’t it? But Toji’s pointed remarks, for all their venom, planted a seed of doubt that you couldn’t easily dismiss.

Even so, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest that came from missing him.

The day before Megumi was set to leave for Jujutsu Tech, you made a quiet vow to yourself. His growing distance, the walls he’d carefully built between you—it all weighed heavily on your heart. You couldn’t let him go without at least trying to understand what had caused the rift.

Despite the silence between you and the lingering sting of Toji’s teasing remarks, you couldn’t deny the soft spot you had for him. No matter how far he went or what path he chose, you wanted him to leave knowing one thing—he would always have a home with you. Always.

Softly, you knocked on Megumi’s door, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. From inside, there was a creak of the bed, then his low, detached, "Yeah?"

"Can I come in for a minute?" you asked gently, your voice betraying the uncertainty you felt.

After a moment’s pause, his footsteps approached, the door creaking open.

Megumi stood there, towering over you, his sharp gaze locking onto yours with an unreadable expression that made your chest tighten. His recent distance, the coldness in his demeanor, still left you feeling somewhat awkward.

"I just wanted to talk," you said softly, breaking the tension. His eyes flickered away, thinking for a moment, before returning to meet yours. With a small nod, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter.

You hesitated, nerves prickling under his impassive stare, but forced yourself to step inside. This was Megumi—the same boy who used to shadow your every step, who helped with chores and sat with you on quiet evenings.

But now, the room felt heavier, the air charged with something unsettling. Unfamiliar. You perched on the edge of his bed, your hands nervously smoothing over your knees, while he leaned casually against his desk. The distance he maintained felt purposeful, deliberate.

He looked so different. His posture was composed, his arms crossed as he regarded you with an air of quiet authority that felt nearly foreign. His once-boyish features were sharper now—defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed far older than they should.

He looked uncannily like Toji.

Handsome. The word slipped unbidden into your thoughts, and your stomach twisted with discomfort. You immediately pushed it aside. This was Megumi—your stepchild. You were the adult here, a maternal figure. There was no room for such thoughts, no excuse for the nervous energy buzzing under your skin.

“What’re you doing here?” His voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, startling you. It was sharp, direct, his gaze cool as it swept over you. The weight of his attention made you squirm, a sensation you couldn’t quite place.

“I—” You faltered, suddenly unsure of how to bridge the gap that had grown between you. “I just… I wanted to talk. You’re leaving tomorrow, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

His expression didn’t shift, but his head tilted slightly, as if considering your words. His eyes, however, lingered. They moved deliberately, tracing the curve of your neck, the nervous way your hands fidgeted in your lap. There was something in his gaze—quiet, intense, and unsettlingly focused.

You looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks. There was no reason to feel this nervous, no reason for the air to feel so charged. It’s Megumi. And yet, the way he was watching you, the sheer presence he carried now, made you feel small, vulnerable, like you were suddenly under scrutiny.

It reminded you too much of Toji—the quiet confidence, the unnerving calm, the way he seemed to peel back your layers without a word. You felt desperate to ease the silent tension.

“I just…” you stammered again, your voice weaker now. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. We haven’t… we haven’t talked much lately.”

Megumi didn’t reply, yet his stare remained, and for a moment, you swore there was something almost predatory in his expression—an intensity that made your chest tighten.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn’t want to spook you.

Pushing off the desk, he crossed the short distance between you, his steps measured and quiet. You stiffened, your breath catching as he loomed closer, his shadow falling over you. Your instincts screamed to move, to retreat, but you stayed frozen, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Megumi,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. His name sounded more like a plea than you intended. He didn’t answer, his towering presence swallowing the small space between you.

The sharpness in his eyes softened, just slightly, but the tension in the air remained, coiling tighter with every passing second. Whatever words you’d intended to say were gone now, lost under the weight of his presence. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were speaking to the boy you’d once known—or someone else entirely.

For Megumi, this was agony—pure, unrelenting torture. Watching you sat on his bed. Your wide, uncertain eyes—meeting his with such sincerity, was unraveling him bit by bit.

You looked so natural in his space, so right, like you belonged there.

But it wasn’t enough. Not like this.

His heart thundered in his chest, erratic and deafening, and it took everything he had to keep his expression impassive. He couldn’t let you see just how much he wanted—needed—you to stay.

But deep down, he didn’t know if you even saw him that way. Maybe you never had. Maybe to you, he was just a kid—someone to care for, to look after, not someone to lean on or depend on. The thought stung, even as he tried to push it down.

And the worst part? He hadn’t given you much reason to think otherwise. That was why he was leaving. That was why he needed to change.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his tone flat, though his piercing gaze swept over you, making you feel small, trapped under its weight.

“I…I told you, I just… I wanted to talk. You’re leaving tomorrow, and you’ve been avoiding me,” you said, your voice hesitant but steady, searching for his eyes.

His jaw tightened as his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense and defensive. “I’ve been busy,” he said simply, though the lie didn't move past you.

“Busy avoiding me,” you countered softly, your words gentle but probing. You didn't want him retreating again, couldn't let him pull back. You leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but, now, he stubbornly refused to meet your eyes.

“Why does it matter?” he muttered, sharper now, his tone dismissive, almost annoyed. “It’s not like I’m gone forever. I’ll be back next summer.” He was going on the defensive again.

“It matters because I care about you,” you said, holding your ground. “You’ve been distant, Megumi. I just want to understand what’s going on.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head, his gaze set on you. “There’s nothing to talk about,” though the way his voice dipped, betrayed him. His fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body visible.

“That’s not true,” you replied gently. “I know something’s wrong. I can see it. Please, just.....talk to me.”

His expression flickered then, a crack in his armor, letting something raw and vulnerable slip through. “You wouldn’t get it,” he finally says, his voice even quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Try me,”

The silence stretched, taut and suffocating, before he finally spoke. His voice was low, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.

“I’ll protect you.”

His words completely caught you off guard, and you blinked, unsure how to respond. “Megumi, what are you—?”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’ll get stronger. Strong enough that you’ll never have to worry about them. About anything. I’ll keep you safe.”

There was something unyielding in his tone, a quiet desperation that left you reeling. “Megumi…” you began, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in conversation, but he shook his head sharply.

“You don’t understand, I’m not letting them take you away. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you here.”

Those words hung in the air. Heavy and final, leaving no room for argument.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. You really hadn't expected...this. Toji’s teasing, his warnings—it all clicked into place, and your stomach twisted with unease. “Megumi, did someone tell you—?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “All that matters is that you’re safe. That you stay here. With me.”

“Megumi…” you tried again, but his silence was impenetrable. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you felt your resolve faltering. He was already shutting down, retreating further into himself, and you didn’t have a damn clue how to reach him. So much for being a good mother. Then again, you thought bitterly, your role model wasn’t exactly the best to begin with.

You hesitated, torn between the urge to comfort him and the gnawing voice in the back of your mind telling you to leave quickly. “I don’t need you to protect me, Megumi,” you said softly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay calm. “I’m here to protect you. That’s what family does.”

“Family,” he repeated the word bitterly, as if it personally offended him. He straightened, turning halfway to glance at you over his shoulder. “Is that what this is to you? Just… family?”

“Of course it is,” you replied. “That’s what we are, Megumi.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as a low, humorless laugh—almost a scoff—escaped him. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it?” he said, his voice sharp and cutting. “Just the kid you have to look after. The one you’re stuck with.”

“Megumi, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his voice sharper, meaner than you’d ever heard it directed at you. His eyes locked onto yours, unrelenting, and something stirred behind them—something dark, layered, tangled with emotions you wouldn't even begin to name. His voice came out desperate, rushed and

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand how much I—”The words broke off, his jaw clenching as if the very thought of finishing the sentence physically hurt. The silence that followed was suffocating, the unfinished confession hanging between you like a live wire, charged and volatile, threatening to ignite everything you thought you knew about him.

“How much you what?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through the thick, suffocating silence. You took a cautious step forward, your chest tight with uncertainty but unable to let the moment go unresolved.

He didn’t answer immediately, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second. Then, finally, a quiet, almost guttural confession slipped from his lips, as though being dragged out against his will.

“How much I care about you,” he said, his voice low and raw, trembling with suppressed emotion. His eyes flicked to yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You’re all I think about. Every day. And the thought of them taking you away, of losing you…”

His voice faltered, breaking as he trailed off, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with barely contained emotion.

Your chest tightened painfully as you struggled to find the right words. “Megumi… I care about you too,” you began cautiously, your voice soft, like treading on fragile ice. “But this—what you’re saying—it’s not…”

“Don’t.” His voice cut through yours, sharp and raw, almost desperate. His fists clenched tighter, his gaze burning into you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Don’t brush this off,” he said, his tone walking the line between a demand and a plea. “Don’t tell me it’s just some… phase, or whatever excuse you’re going to use to push me away.”

Your conversation with Toji replayed in your mind like a broken record as you stepped back slightly, the weight of Megumi’s words pressing down on you like a physical force. But it wasn't enough. His intensity was suffocating, his desperate gaze pinning you in place. You couldn’t ignore the vulnerable and raw emotion in his voice, the way his words seemed to carve themselves into the air between you.

“Megumi, you’re leaving tomorrow,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “You’re starting a new chapter of your life. This—whatever this is—it’s not something we can just… talk about right now.”

“So when?” he shot back, his voice rising, trembling with an edge of anger that felt dangerously close to breaking. “When I come back? When it’s too late? Tell me—when am I supposed to say it? When am I supposed to matter enough for you to see me the way I see you?”

His words struck you like a hammer.. You opened your mouth, searching for a response, but nothing came out at first. His eyes were on you, demanding answers. Finally, you managed,

“You do matter, Megumi,” your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold steady. You could feel the sting of tears threatening, your composure slipping with every second under his intense scrutiny. “But this… I don’t know how to—”

“Just don’t leave,” he whispered, his voice breaking, raw, needy. “I’ll get stronger. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… please. Don't leave.”

His vulnerability clawed at your chest, each word heavy with a weight you didn’t know how to carry. The silence that followed was unbearable. Suffocating. Guilt scrapped along you conscious.

He turned away, his shoulders slumping under the burden of what he couldn’t say—and what you couldn’t answer. You opened your mouth, wanting to comfort him, to offer anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

The moment stretched too long, aching and unresolved, before you finally stepped out, the door clicking softly behind you.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice laced with defeat.

But you were already gone.

And the next day, Megumi left for Jujutsu Tech.

p.1

p.8

AN: To be continued soon. please give a follow and reblog if you want to stay updated - or follow along on my ao3

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[strikehawkatyourservice]

Ehhh I'm super mad with me right now

I FORGOT A TWITTER ACCOUNT THAT WAS MAKING A YANDERE VISUAL NOVEL OF PGR AND I DUNNO HOW TO FIND IT ;;-;;;

I got some images of how the characters look I think but I can't find it ;;-;;

Ok... I only got this ;;-;; like I'm ever going to find the account now ;;;;-;;;;

If the owner of the account can see this please tell meeeeee

And if someone else know PLEASE TELL ME

[chaosblob]

Masterlist / Prologue

*Cast One*

ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ = Romantic Yandere

ꨄ︎ꨄ︎ꨄ︎ = Platonic Yandere

✖︎ᰔᩚ✖︎ = Romantic

✖︎ꨄ︎✖︎ = Platonic

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 = "Enemies"

۵ = Possible Yandere

Page 1 of ??

Interest: ✖︎☁︎✖︎

Name: Y/n

Quote: "..."

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Kohaku

Quote: "You're actually quite strong aren't you?"

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Chrome

Quote: "This is Baaaab! Their so cool!"

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Senku

Quote: "How exhilarating"

Interest: ✖︎ꨄ︎✖︎

Name: Suika۵

Quote: "Woooah! You have legs now!"

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Ginro

Quote: "Here! Have this shiny thing i found!"

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Kinro

Quote: "...Stop looking at me like that"

Interest: ᰔᩚᰔᩚᰔᩚ

Name: Gen

Quote: "For eall-reay?!"

- - ->『 N̶e̶x̶t̶ 』

────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────

Fun Fact of the chapter!

I gave up trying to find a manga panel picture for Ginro

(This is cross posted this on Quotev & Wattpad!)

────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────

[thehandworld]

Who... In the fuck mind, rejected Mukuro-sama? Come forward and your death might be slightly less painful.

[katzkinder]

Yamamoto who never got a way to release more of his pent up energy, or an outlet for his simmering devotion, probably would have gone straight into genuine yandere territory, rather than a sleeping one who only wakes up in very specific circumstances

Tsuna will always find a way to tame something dangerous and it's not always good for him. In that particular instance, Yamamoto would be that something, though usually it’s Mukuro, who luckily is made much softer and easier to handle through his care for Chrome teaching him delicacy. Still, he’s very flashy, like a poisonous creature, so keeping his distance until Mukuro is manageable is much easier for Tsuna.

Yamamoto isn't a flashy person, though. He’s a spur of the moment guy who can unintentionally do flashy things because he doesn't think about the consequences.

If Reborn didn't scout him... It would probably be something as simple, mundane by comparison of what Tsuna has been put through, as taking his bat and cracking it, hard, against someone's head, with the same amount of force he'd use for anything else with it.

Because he got fed up.

"Tsuna, right? You okay?"

And he's smiling, offering his hand, like he didn't just cave another boy's skull in with a single hit. An older boy, sure, but still just a boy who had been picking on Tsuna.

"My house is around here. Dad can patch you up; you're bleeding!"

Tsuna's hand trembles and he tries not to look and his voice is stuck in his throat. Save him, save him, somebody... Reborn, where are you? Gokudera, Bianchi, somebody...

Yamamoto pulls him up. "Sorry. I just. Couldn't take it anymore. Even the new transfer has been harassing you and you were alone and I kind of... Snapped?" Like it's just something normal. Something to be apologetic and sheepish about, but not horrified.

Tsuna can't even make his voice work enough to clear up the misunderstanding about Gokudera. The hand holding his is rough and a little cool to the touch.

"I'm sorry. I should have done something sooner. You're alright now, though!"

No. He's really not.

A few days pass. A local high school boy is missing, and Yamamoto Takeshi swings an arm around no good Tsuna’s shoulder like it belongs there while the baseball club manager scratches his head and counts the bats yet again. One is missing.

The body is never found.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Chauvinism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @meri47.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent | Superman x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Plans for Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, and Slight Codependency.

You woke up to the feeling of something burning into the back of your head.

Again, true to the most literal definition of the word, burning. You bolted upward, bringing one had to the back of your scalp as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with the other. Exhaustion weighed you down, made it difficult to think about anything but the searing pain burrowing into your, the stiffness of your joints, the static numbness pricking at your fingertips, but luckily, you didn’t find an injury, didn’t smell burning hair, didn’t feel flesh melting off of bone or blisters forming across delicate skin – even if you were uncomfortably warm in that familiar, ‘held your hands too close to an open bonfire’ way. Still, you had to force yourself to calm down, to tear your attention away from your own startled distress and turn your focus outward.

You weren’t on fire, which was good. That was good.

But, you were in a strange room with strange crystalline walls, which was bad.

Very, very bad.

You swallowed down something thick and dry that’d lodged itself in your throat. The scenery was as blank as it was alien – all featureless, all bizarre, little more than a series of hexagonal pedestals that erupted from the ground without pattern or intention and four chrome walls so well polished, your own distorted reflections were able to corner you on all sides, and so tall, you weren’t able to make out the ceiling that had to be looming somewhere far above your head. The only actual piece of furniture seemed to be the bed you were sitting on; a remarkably normal mattress swamped with remarkably normal sheets, blankets, quilts - all doting cutesy, sappy patterns, all things you’d find in the bedding aisle of a particularly folksy home-goods store.

Partially out of curiosity and partially out of hope that you’d be able to dispel the knot of dread coiling in your stomach, you turned over the corner of the nearest quilt, finding a paper tag still on the end of its plastic toggle. That, for as thankful as you were not to be lying on a bare stone floor, was almost the most concerning thing you'd seen so far. It meant that someone had found the time to prepare this, to get ready for you. It meant that someone had decided to bring you here, and had given your abduction enough forethought to buy a fucking blanket.

You were almost tempted to curl back into yourself, to cover yourself in a stranger’s blankets and pretend you’d never woken up, but any delusions you might’ve had of being able to sleep this off like a bad dream were dispelled by the sound of a man clearing his throat, a new weight coming to rest on the other side of your bed. You jerked around the face the new presence, your eyes instantly landing on the monster who’d—

— on your coworker, Clark Kent, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

Your coworker, Clark Kent, who was inexplicably dressed like Superman.

For a second, all your panic and all your fear seemed to disappear in favor of making more room for complete and utter confusion. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and admittedly, his get-up looked a step above what you’d find on the clearance rack of some out-of-season costume store. You couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten it. He was smiling, too – that gentle smile, the same one he wore as he slipped a mug of freshly brewed coffee onto your desk an hour before either of you were supposed to be so much as thinking about getting to work, as he rubbed the back of his neck and admitted that he got too caught up while he was writing his last article and pulled his third all-nighter that week. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but relax. Clark was here, which meant that wherever ‘here’ was, it couldn’t be that bad. You couldn’t be in that much danger if Daily Planet’s resident sweetheart had managed to make it out unscathed.

“Clark!” You scrambled toward him, already grinning. “Oh my god, thank fuck you’re here – I’m don’t know where we are, and my head really hurts, but I don’t think we’re—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You were out for a while – try to remember to breathe.” His tone was like his expression – light, soothing, comforting enough to have you nodding along in an instant, to have you doing your best to inhale and exhale without cutting yourself off with more half-formed fears. He moved toward you, his fingertips brushing against your bicep before he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You melted against him, and with an airy chuckle, he went on, keeping up a tenor that could’ve lulled you to sleep in any other circumstance. “You said that your head hurts? If you feel dehydrated, I get you something to drink.”

“No, that’s aright, I’m alright. I just—” You glanced towards the crystal walls, towards the nonexistent ceiling. “Do you know where we are?”

There was a slight lilt to his smile, a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder. “If that’s what’s got your heart beating out of your chest, you can let your guard down. We’re in the Fortress of Solitude. Unless a supervillain found a way to terrorize the North Pole, you’re perfectly safe.”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. “The Fortress of Solitude? I’m not an idiot, Clark. What do you want me to think – that Superman needs a house sitter?”

He was quiet, for a second.

Then, empathy practically dripping from his tongue, he said, “Honey, I am Superman.”

He’d hesitated, but you didn’t. Your reaction was instantaneous, automatic; a swell of bubbling laughter and a playful elbow driven into his side. You loved Clark, but he wasn’t a superhero. He kept a running list of the names of his coworkers’ pets, to make sure he never mistook Rebecca’s dog for Max’s rabbit. Whenever he stubbed his toe on a doorframe, he’d apologize to the doorframe. When aliens rained down from the sky or monsters erupted from the ground, Clark was always the first to run, and while you couldn’t blame him, you couldn’t say his tendency to make himself scarce as soon as the villain of the week reared its ugly head was very heroic, either. “That’s not funny,” you managed, eventually, in spite of your nervous smile. “We could be in danger. If you want to put on a Halloween costume and pretend to be a superhero, at least wait until we’ve gotten back to Metropolis.”

To his credit, he kept a straight face. “I wouldn’t lie to you, (Y/n).”

“At least try to make it plausible, then. I mean, he’s an alien, for fuck’s sake, and you’re from southern Kansas. He can fly, and you get stuck in traffic every morning. I’ve been to your flat, and everybody knows Superman lives in the Fortress of—”

Your voice died in your throat. Your mouth fell shut, and you went limp against his side.

After several seconds of stubborn silence, you forced yourself to spit out a soft “Prove it.”

His grin broadened. With a single hand, he took up the scruff of your blouse and lifted you off of the mattress without a hint of strain or trepidation. You were tossed, cursing and thrashing against his hold, into the air and caught in his lap, every step of the process just as effortless as the one that’d come before it. On reflex, you clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and cursing under your breath. He only laughed, glazing over your distress, your confusion in favor of paying more mind to your amazement. “The laser eyes can get a little out of hand, and flying indoors is…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Is inhume strength enough, or are you going to make me break out the x-ray vision?”

“No, that’s not— I think you’ve done enough.” You felt breathless, like you’d just run a marathon. You felt drained, and exhausted, and frail, but you forced yourself to smile up at him, to remember that he was still your coworker, still your friend, still Clark Kent.

And if you knew anything, you knew that Clark Kent couldn’t hurt a fly.

(You also knew that Superman would’ve been able to break your neck with a flick of his wrist, but you tried not to think about that.)

“This is great,” you kept your tone bright, cheerful, burying your anxiety beneath a heavy layer of brimming enthusiasm. “You have to tell me everything! As soon as we get back to Metropolis, you’re going to—”

“About that,” he cut in, only somewhat apologetic. “Metropolis might have to wait. This can be a sensitive time, and I thought it might be better for you to stay here, with me, just until you’ve adjusted to…” There was another pause, another sympathetic smile. The heel of his palm pressed into the small of your back, and against your will, you were reminded of just how easily he could crush your windpipe, or break your spine, or rip your heart out of your chest before your body had time to give out. “To this. To us.”

You didn’t have his resilience. Your expression immediately dropped. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t waste time, didn’t pretend to believe it was a genuine question. “Think of it as a precaution. You’re just going to stay somewhere safe and quiet for a few weeks, let some new information soak in, and when you’re ready, we can go home together.” He bowed his head, his lips ghosting over the curve of your shoulder. You tried to let go of him, to put a little distance between yourself and Clark, but his hand rose the back of your neck, keeping you pinned against his chest as he went on. “I tried to think of a way to do this at home, but it wouldn’t have worked out. You’re going to be in danger, and this—” He nodded toward the crystal walls. “—is one of the only places where I know you’ll be safe. From the people who want to hurt me, and from yourself, while you’re still learning.”

“Learning what? Clark, I might be a reporter, but I’m not going to sell your secret identity to the first paper that makes a bid.” Another half-hearted shove to his chest, another attempt to give yourself space to breathe. He only held you tighter, his smile pressing into the side of your neck. “I-It’s not like you can keep me here, either. I mean, it’s not like heroes hold civilians hostage.”

“Heroes do what they have to do,” he muttered, his voice stifled by proximity, his breath warm against your skin. “’specially if it means keeping the people they love safe.”

It felt like a stupid thing to ask, given your situation, your position. It felt like a waste of breath, considering you were in his lap, in the heart of his secret lair, with his mouth pressed against your skin and his hands drifting toward your waist, and yet, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “You love me?”

There was a throaty laugh, a squeeze to your side. “With all my heart.” There was no hesitation, no reluctance. If you’d been standing, your legs might’ve given out. “I wish it didn’t have to be so complicated. I really did try to find a workaround, but if I tried to approach you as Clark, you’d never be fully protected from everyone who’s after Superman, and if I tried to love you as Superman – well, then you’d never pay Clark a second glance. I didn’t want you to only know half of who I am.” A kiss, this time, shallow and fleeting, pressed into the corner of your jaw. “This was the only way I could show you who I was without putting you in harm's way. You’ll learn the ropes here, and when you’re ready, we can go back to Metropolis and get you moved into my place—”

A waste of time, a waste of breath, a waste of hope. Still, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from making bad decisions, today. “What would you do if I didn’t feel the same way?”

This time, it was a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. He didn’t try to kiss you – to actually kiss you, thank God – but it was a small mercy, further dampened by the fact that he was still holding you, still keeping you as close as you could possibly be. After long, agonizing seconds, he raised his head. If he was worried, if he noticed the tension in your shoulders, how stiffly you held yourself, you couldn’t tell from his easy smile, the levity in his tone. If anything, he seemed excited, eager to plan out your future together with or without your cooperation.

“If you didn’t love me…” He tried to laugh, but the air hitched in his throat and he settled for a wistful sigh. “Why are you asking? Have something you want to tell me?”

“It’s a hypothetical.” Your tongue felt swollen, your head heavier than it should’ve been. “Just… indulge me, alright? I’m curious.”

“Like I said, you don’t have anything to worry about. If you took a little time to come around to me, I wouldn’t mind – it wouldn’t change anything, either.” It was a corrupted type of reassurance. Rather than soothing your anxiety, it only seemed to make you feel more sick. “I’d just have to work a little harder, keep a closer eye on you. I mean, I already plan on keep you as close as I can, but—” He clicked his tongue, brushed a few stray hairs away from your face. “—I guess I’d have to hold you a little tighter. Until I could trust you to come around on your own, at least.”

He'd already taken you to an impenetrable fortress in the middle of a frozen wasteland, hundreds of thousands of miles away from the nearest person. You weren’t sure how much more tightly he could hold you.

Dread welled in the cavity of your chest, something sweet and sickly rising into the back of your throat, but you managed to nod, to lean against him. He welcomed your cooperation, rewarded it with a low, throaty sound of approval. “I should show you around. There isn’t much to see, but, y’know, common courtesy and all that.”

“I’m… actually still pretty tired.” It wasn’t a lie. You were exhausted, and you wanted more than anything to crawl into the nearest hole and wait until this had all blown over. But, there weren’t any holes you could crawl into – just a bed, a few mirrored walls, and a man you had formerly thought of as Clark Kent. “I think I might need to take it easy for a couple hours, just to give my brain time to process all this. Would… would that be okay?”

That, that was what made him falter – earning a slight lapse, a new quirk to his smile – but he held himself steady, only nodding as you shifted off of his lap. Hesitantly, with no small amount of apprehension, you edged away from him, daring to put just an arm’s length worth of distance between yourself and him and letting out an ounce of tension drain out of your rigid form when he didn’t immediately decide you weren’t worth the effort, when you didn’t find yourself reduced to little more than ash or pulverized viscera. “Of course. Give me a few minutes, I’ll get you something more comfortable to—“

“This is fine.” Your voice cracked, but you tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “I mean, I’m fine. I just— I think I need a little time to myself. To take this all in.”

His disappointment was visible, but he didn’t argue. You waited until he’d left your room, until he was out of sight and out of earshot, to slip back under your mound of blankets and shrink into yourself. You were exhausted, and yet, you’d never been more awake in your life. Sleep seemed like a distant dream, leaving yourself helpless and unaware like a lurking nightmare.

It was all you could do to lie there, small and vulnerable, and try to ignore the eyes burning into the back of your neck.

[buryustogether]

-> i really fucked it up <-

jackie welles x reader (v)

wc: 6.6k

summary: jackie told you not to take this job. now you’re fucked in more ways than one.

warnings/tags: kidnapping, some mild torture, violence, blood, weapon use, swearing, established relationship, angst, couple fighting, smut, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, possesive jackie, almost a dash of yandere if you SqUiNt

author’s note: started working on this, had to go to the hospital. bon appetit. (spanish to english translations at the bottom.)

based on ‘i really fucked it up’ by girli

Jackie had told you that this was not a job you could do alone. He’d warned you from the very start, when you’d stepped into Vik’s clinic while he was getting his chrome repaired and presented the plan to him with nothing less than a flourish and confetti. Yet even with your tactics laid out, with every detail plotted and every possibility planned, he still said no.

You had told him he was starting to sound like his mother. “You worry too much,” you had said and taken a seat beside the chair as Viktor had tinkered with a cybernetic in your man’s forearm. “It’s going to be low-profile anyway. Arriving tonight in a tiny port just north of Pacifica, in neutral ground. No gangs to claim it. No one to hear about it but you and me.”

“And where did you hear about it?” Viktor had asked.

“Nowhere,” you’d replied. They had both given you identical looks of skepticism that made your skin crawl. “A fixer I met a few weeks back. He’s a choom. Hooked me up with a few good takes recently.”

Jackie had released a heavy exhale from deep within his belly. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from admiring the way his abs flexed beneath the fabric of his tank top as he breathed. “Still doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he told you as his hand was released and he flexed his fingers. He shook his palm out. “Just let it go, carino.”

You wished you had listened to him.

It must have been hours since the Maelstrom had caught you while loading crates of Kiroshi tech into your ride, eyes wide and lips parted in shock like a lizard in the Badlands stuck frozen in a pair of approaching headlights. It must have been hours since they had knocked you to the ground with a couple well-placed pistol whips that made your head spun, since they zip tied your wrists and ankles behind your back, manhandled you into the trunk of a Thornton, and brought down the butt of a shotgun against the surface of your temple.

There were no windows in your little makeshift cell, so you had no idea what time it could have been.

But it had to have been hours.

When you woke to a reality-splitting, teeth-gnashing, tech-glitching headache, you had discovered your captors had handcuffed you to a bathtub faucet over yourself so that you were forced to recline back in the tub to avoid your wrists snapping. The wall to make the bathroom private had long ago been torn down, giving you a generous view of the rest of the abandoned apartment the gang was using as a hideout. It was just as you had expected from cybercosis-pushing freaks like them; ratty couches and scattered drug bowls, pieces and bits of bloody tech littered across tables and countertops, a spotty television playing somewhere along the far wall. A number of them milled about, coming and going, kicking up feet or pacing with automatics clutched in hand. Your mind was far too much of a fuzzy static to even think of counting them.

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea why the Maelstrom had not killed you on the spot when they showed up to nab the Kiroshi tech and you’d already been there. You had seen them shoot to kill for worse. Hell, you’d once witnessed a junkie get his guts blown out over spitting too close to a Maelstrom’s shoe.

You didn’t know why you were here, why they hadn’t popped your head off with a simple squeeze of the trigger. You did know, however, that you needed to get out of here - before they suddenly got any ideas and started picking you apart for your chrome.

Pulling gently against the handcuffs around the faucet already digging bruises into your wrists, you sat up as much as you were able and sniffed. The air reeked of sitting water and mold. If you had to guess, you were probably still in Pacifica. The fact struck you as odd. Maelstrom’s turf bordered Watson to the north, not all the way down here in the high-as-hell land of the delusional wash up actors. Something was up.

You blinked against the black eye that was surely forming on your face and licked your cracked lips. Sweat beaded on your upper lip, and you wiped it off on your upper arm. No reason to give them any sign that you were actually incredibly nervous.

“Hey, toothpick,” you called to a Maelstrom reclined back in a couch within your vision. He was skinny as all get out, and the five red cybernetic eyes drilled into his face made him look like some kind of fucked up bobble head. “Can I get a little something to drink? No offense, but your service here sucks. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

The goon rolled his wrist to flip you off before settling back against the ratty cushions again.

“I’d really like to speak to your manager,” you went on, craning up in the filthy tub. You couldn’t imagine what you must have smelled like. “This is getting to be unacceptable.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little bitch.”

“Make me, big boy.”

In less than a few moments’ time, the goon had gotten to his feet, crossed into the dilapidated bathroom, and brought down a chrome-d out fist against the planes of your face. Pain like fire and ice raced through your systems, throwing your head back and pulling a startled yelp from the back of your throat. Tendrils of fury and shock ebbed through your veins, but they couldn’t do much against the rocking, uncoordinated sensations now holding the reins to your world.

“You better learn to get that tongue under control before you lose it,” the goon said somewhere above you, and you felt him shove your face against the side of the grime-ridden tub. “The Voodoos don’t take too kindly to backtalkers.”

Attempting to keep the bile in your throat down, you blinked a few times against the haze clouding your vision. You felt a bit of hot, thick blood slowly trickling from your nostril. Was your nose broken? “The Voodoo Boys?” you asked through the thundering in your ears. “I didn’t even think you and them brushed dicks, with your hunting ground being up north.”

The goon’s boots crushed broken glass beneath his weight as he leaned back against the sink that looked ready to collapse with just a wrong look in its direction. “We don’t,” he said, then spat on the ground before pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. “Black magic fools have got a pretty price out for your head, baby. Turns out they don’t take too well to having their gun market shot up.”

You sniffed at the blood leaking from your nose.

Oh - yeah, you had done that. A few weeks back, you’d picked up a gig that required the need for a human trafficker to be taken out before he could make his business boom. Turns out, he’d been hiding in Voodoo territory. One thing had led to another, as they had the tendency to do, and the entire ordeal had ended with a dead trafficker, a bullet graze to your arm, and a small firearms market in Pacifica in hysterics trying to escape your gunfire.

Much as you despised this city sometimes, you had sworn an oath to yourself when you first began to pull dangerous stunts like this all those years ago. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t let an innocent person get caught in the crossfire.

It had been easy at first. Deal with business in back alleys where no one was around, and no one but those who deserved it got hurt. But things slowly got complicated. Jobs required public spaces and less room for error. Civilians got curious and peeked behind the curtain. Accidents happened.

There had been an instance that still stuck in your mind to this day, a young man who had been so absorbed in the music blaring from his headphones he hadn’t even heard you screaming at him to move as your target raised a pistol. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. You could still recall the smell of iron as you tied a tourniquet around the kid’s shoulder and called emergency services on your vision screen. He had cried. Begged you not to let him die. Apologized for getting in the way, anything and everything that came into his disoriented mind.

You never knew if he made it or not. The ambulance had whisked him away too quickly, and the shadows you’d been hiding in were too dark for the officers to spot you.

That day you shot up the Voodoo Boys’ gun market, no bystanders had been injured. You made sure of it.

But it seemed they still had not liked the bullet holes stuck in the walls.

“So what?” you finally said as the Maelstrom goon exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You going to trade with them or something?”

“Precisely,” he replied, then inhaled again and blew the smoke in your direction. The cloud of white made your eyes water, but you refused to let him see how the pain made you squirm. “Deal’s going down when the sun’s up, so I’d make my peace with whatever god, if I were you.” He grinned a sickly-looking smile, showing off the metal caps on his teeth that made him look like a mechanical demon of some kind. “I hear they like to play with their food before they eat.”

He left you in the tub, hands cuffed above your head and blood spilling from your nose, down your cheek, into the fabric of your collar. Everything in you ached, especially the place somewhere deep in your middle where you’d been kicked a number of times back at the docks. You wouldn’t doubt it if a rib had been cracked.

Christ, you were so fucking naive. Of course your new fixer had sent you right into a set up. Now that you thought about it, you had once seen a Maelstrom tattoo poke from his sleeve when he lifted his arm. He was going to profit from this circumstance, Kiroshi tech or ransom.

Turning your face so that the goons wouldn’t see the red lights that flooded over your optical units, you brought up your vision screen and attempted to call Jackie. Before the first ring even had a chance to begin, a message erupted across the screen.

OUTGOING CALL UNAVAILABLE.

Releasing a slow, pained breath, you shut your eyes and rested your throbbing head against the edge of the tub. They had told you not to do this, much less alone. Jackie had told you to drop it, because he’d been in this business longer than you, and he knew when lost causes were lost. Fuck, you should have listened to him. Why did you have to be like this? So gung-ho, so eager to impress even when you had no one to prove yourself to?

Deep down, you knew why. It was because you were a street rat. A kid who had been pawned for a few grams of drugs, a mutt that had been raised by the bouncers and madams and right hands of gang leaders your entire life. It was because the world had decided early on, before you could even speak up for yourself, that you were going to be a no one.

Then, in what had seemed like your first stroke of luck, you had met another no one.

Jackie had been running with the Valentinos when you first met him; he’s been nothing more than an errand boy then, some scrappy kid with a limp in his leg and his teeth bared when someone even glanced at him. You had been caught rifling through the side bag of some big shot Valentino’s motorbike and dragged by the hair to the guy who’d been left in charge while Daddy Val was out of town. Your punishment was to be death. Your executioner?

Jackie Welles.

A final test, they’d said as they handed him the gun and told him to take you out back, to see if he was really Valentino material.

You remembered the look in his eyes as you stared up at him, his barrel pressed to your forehead and tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for mercy. He’d looked so hesitant, so tentative to tighten his finger around the trigger and finish the job. You saw yourself reflected in his gaze; just some kid trying to make it by in the city, doing things that would stain your hands so irrevocably you wouldn’t recognize them when you looked down.

Jackie had not painted himself with your blood that day. Instead, he’d hauled you to your feet and raced with you away from that back alley, away from the Valentinos, away from the fate the universe had set for you both.

You had been inseparable ever since. First there came the friendship, the inside jokes shared over food copped from his mother’s kitchen and singing along to the radio while you helped him in his garage. Then came the something more, slowly at first, then unstoppable. The lingering touches while patching up after street fights, that first kiss shared on the roof, the feeling of his body on top of yours and your legs locked around his hips and the moans and cries and gasps swallowed up by the other.

You suddenly felt like a stupid little kid, frightened and wanting to run to him. You were V, for god’s sake, one of the most infamous mercenaries in Night City, but goddamnit, you wanted your boyfriend to hold you close and tell you that you were safe.

Fuck, you were pathetic.

You were sure if the Maelstrom had blocked your communication devices, they must have also found a way to disrupt the tracker in your head that only Jackie and Viktor had access to. You had no way of calling them, letting them know you needed them, crying out for help.

Your man wasn’t coming to save you.

No one was coming to save you.

Just like you insisted on doing this job alone, you would die alone.

It couldn’t have been earlier than five in the morning or so when the Maelstrom goon you’d spoken to before shoved your head against the tub to wake you.

“Wakey wakey, sunshine,” he said in that glitchy, fucked up voice of his. “Time for your field trip.”

You suppressed a groan as he unlocked your wrists from the tub faucet and you slumped down, your arms screaming in relief. You’d lost feeling in them maybe a few hours ago, after they’d been numb and tingly for too long before that to really know. But it was all too short-lived. The goon hauled you out of the tub and through the wrecked apartment toward the front door. There, another freak waited with a bandana wrapped in his hand.

“Get that shit away from me,” you said and squirmed when he began to pull it around your head. The first goon connected his fist with your neck, which had you reeling long enough for the blindfold to be tied snug over your eyes, and another to be tied over your mouth. Your teeth bit into the dirty fabric and a flood of disgusting tastes shot onto your tongue. You tried your best not to gag and puke then and there.

A hand grabbed the back of your head and brought you close to another face. Even through the flavorful rag in your mouth, you could still smell the rotten meat on his breath.

“Listen up and listen close, doll face,” he said against your ear. We’re goin’ to walk outside and you’re goin’ to sit tight and silent while we work this deal. No yellin’, no runnin’, no bullshit. You copy?”

You swallowed thick, then nodded.

“Good. Let’s move.”

Behind the blindfold you saw the faint flash of daylight as the front door opened and you were marched outside. The warm, salty air of Pacifica hit you like an obligated embrace. The smell made your nostrils twitch. Fuck, you missed the smell of the apartment you shared with Jackie, of the noodle bar outside the complex and the leather of his bike.

The Maelstrom goons were soon joined by a number of others, as told by their mumbled greetings and the footfalls that surrounded you. You walked for what seemed an eternity, tripping over concrete jutting up and overturned crates lying in your path only to be yanked up by your collar when you stumbled. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually walking you into the obstacles in your way.

After what could have been either ten minutes or fifty, you were yanked to a halt. If you listened close, you could hear the sound of the waves and a nearby highway. You were by the beach.

Your attention was pulled to somewhere in front of you when heavy, almost ground-shaking footfalls approached. You felt the grip on your collar tighten slightly.

“This is her?” asked a man in that heavy Jamaican accent the Voodoo Boys spoke in.

“Yeah, this is the one,” replied a Maelstrom somewhere to your right. “Scanned for facial recognition and everything. It’s her.”

Footsteps came closer. You were forced to take a step back when the goon holding you cowered slightly.

The Voodoo man said, much closer now, “You give her here.”

“Not until we see the eddies. Pop ‘em into my account, and then we’ll hand the chick over.”

There came a long, stifling few moments of quiet as you assumed the eddies were transferred between accounts. It was agonizing. You didn’t exactly like the Maelstrom, but you knew that compared to the Voodoo Boys, they’d been treating you like royalty. You felt yourself sweating, your palms growing sticky, and tried to come up with any kind of plan. There were way too many of them to make a run for it - plus, you were cuffed and blinded. It would be like shooting an eyeless street rat.

Your heart nearly exploded from your chest when a large, beefy hand wrapped around your upper arm. “Money is yours now,” said the Voodoo man as he gripped you right. “And girl is ours.”

The Maelstrom had just let go of your collar when, from somewhere to your left, there came a familiar holler. “You all are gon’na wish you’d never fuckin’ gotten out of bed today, hijos de perra.”

You jerked in your captor’s grip.

Jackie.

You heard the sounds of guns being raised and safeties being flipped off, but the gunfire reached them first before they’d even thought to pull their triggers. Blood spattered across your face and you ducked for cover beside what you felt to be a van, bringing your aching, screaming arms up over your head. Your nerves were all alight with panic, never sure whether the bullets spraying the tarmac nearby were from your captors or your savior. All about you, Maelstroms and Voodoos shouted and yelled, scrambling for some kind of order or direction. A grenade exploded close enough that you felt the heat through your clothes, and it drove you to your stomach and underneath the van. The smell of gasoline and concrete enveloped you, but you preferred it to the reek of blood and lead.

You didn’t bother removing your blindfold, because you knew that even if you did, you’d still be squeezing your eyes shut. Suddenly you were back to that moment all those years ago, on your knees over a dying young man trying to staunch the bleeding assure him everything would be fine.

And in this moment, you didn’t care that it might have made you weak or pathetic or small, but you were afraid. You wanted someone to tell you it would be alright, that you were going to be fine.

After what seemed an entire lifetime, the firefight fell to a now-deafening silence. You listened to distant footsteps against the ground, praying with everything you had in you that you would recognize them, that they belonged to the man you loved. A moment later, a string of Spanish curses rang out across the bloodied battleground.

“Hijos de puta! Eso es lo que obtienes cuando jodes con mi chica. Ardeos en el infierno, todos vosotros!”

“Welles,” said another man. “We even now?”

“Yeah, yeah, hombre, scram out’ta here. We’re even.”

Still beneath the van, you listened to the sound of cad doors slamming shut and tires screeching as vehicles peeled away from the scene. They were wise to book it so soon after the fight; NCPD would be swarming the place in a while, especially being so close to the highway. Had you been your real, sensible self, you would have crawled out, grabbed Jackie, and high tailed it. But you were too enveloped in the smell of gasoline and the feeling of blood that was not your own slowly drying on one side of your face.

“V?” called Jackie from somewhere nearby. His boots crunched against shattered glass. When he spoke again, his voice was more strained than it had been before. Fear danced on his tongue. “V!”

You finally forced yourself to reach up and tug the gag from your mouth. “Here,” you called in a shaky voice. “I’m here.”

Not even a moment later, hands were guiding you out from under the van and onto your own wobbly feet. The blindfold was gingerly pull over your head, and you winced as brightness like the second coming of Christ took over your world. Jackie gripped your shoulders so hard they ached, staring down at you with an intensity you knew would melt your soul if you met his eyes. So instead, you kept your gaze stuck on the chains around his neck, ashamed and frightened and so incredibly exhausted.

A long, long moment later, he exhaled a heavy sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of an entire world on it. “Come on, chica,” he said, placed a hand on the small of your back, and began to lead you toward his car where it had been parked on the empty side of the lot where the deal was supposed to take place. “Let’s get you out’ta here.”

The ride back to Little China was one of the worst you’d ever had; hell, you preferred being unconscious in the trunk of the Maelstroms’ van than this. At least then you hadn’t had to face the silent, seething wrath of your boyfriend.

Jackie said nothing as he drove, only kept one hand on the wheel of the car and the other on the stick shift between the two of you. His expression had darkened into one of fury, but it was the quiet kind, where his lowered brow and his slightly lifted jowl spoke for him. His shoulders had locked into a tense square and the grip he had on the front wheel had paled his knuckles.

You wished he would do something. You wished he would yell at you, scream and swear, tell you that you were an idiot for going after that shipment when he’d specifically told you not to. You wished he’d pull the car over and make you walk home. Fuck, a tiny part of you wished he would hit you.

But you knew he wouldn’t. Jackie Welles would never hurt a soul in his life that didn’t deserve it - not ever. In all the years you’d known him, he had never once raised a hand toward you, made you even think he would in his rare moments of anger and fury. Sometimes he yelled, sure. You’d once even seen him hurl a glass against the far wall. But he had always apologized for raising his voice. He’d apologized, and cleaned up the glass, and lie his head in your lap as you told him it was alright.

No, you knew he would never hurt you, even if his mind was gone and all that was left was a walking piece of muscle and chrome.

So you both sat in the poisoned silence, uttering not a word.

He took you to Vik’s place first. There, he stood with crossed arms and a stance that would have sent fucking Arasaka himself running while your ripper popped your nose back into place, repaired your chrome, overrode the bug the Maelstrom had installed in your head.

Then he took you home.

Jackie told you to undress once you arrived at your apartment with a single command that punctured a fresh hole in your lungs. “Strip,” he said, dropped his gun belt in your shared weapons vault, then disappeared into the bathroom.

You were not one to disobey in this state.

He helped you bathe, even took a rag and gently wiped away the blood that had spattered across your face, trickled down your nose and across your lips and chin. He extended your arms under the water to inspect bruises. He washed and cleaned scrapes. When you were finished, he brought you a fresh pair of night clothes, then helped you limp up and into bed.

You sat on the edge of the mattress, watching as he muttered quietly to himself in his mother tongue and stripped off his tank top. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his bronze, sun-kissed skin, but the sight didn’t invoke the same feeling it would have yesterday. Instead, all you felt was shame, and anger, and most of all, helpless.

When he kicked off his boots, still mumbling under his breath, you finally punctured the thick tension hanging over you.

“Will you please talk to me, Jack?” you said, gripping the comforter beneath yourself. “Please, say anything.”

“Oh, mujer,” he barked from across the room as he shook his head and faced away from you. “You don’t want me to talk to you right now. I ain’t got any words you’ll like.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes at him. “Hit me with ‘em,” you snapped in his direction. “I’m not some fucking kid, Jack. I can handle you telling me what a fuck-up I am, or that I need a babysitter or some shit.”

“You wan’na play this game with me, V?” Jackie stood from where he had been bending over to grab his boots and throw them in the corner, drawing himself to his full height that threatened to challenge the doorway behind him. “Fine. I was gon’na tell you that you ain’t got your fuckin’ head screwed on right, but it seems like maybe you know that already.”

“What made you just now notice?” you snipped, your voice dripping with an acid you hardly ever took up with him.

“I don’t know, maybe it was when you go and get yourself nabbed by the fuckin’ Maelstrom and I got’ta call in favors I’ve been savin’ to get your ass, because Dios forbid you get yourself into a situation that requires one goddamn gun to fix.”

You sniffed defensively and looked away, attempting to push down the lump that was forming in your throat. You hated when you fought with him. You hated it when you suddenly felt more alone than you ever had because the one person you would move heaven and hell for was looking at you with a disdain that tore into your heart. “Good to know you lost a few precious fuckin’ favors to come and get me.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You couldn’t take it any more, couldn’t take the way his eyes flashed and his teeth bared the way they did when he was angry enough to become part animal like this. Pressing a hand over your mouth to keep him from seeing your bottom lip quiver, you lay down in the bed and rolled over so that your back faced him. Your chest constricted and your throat squeezed as you tried to silence the cry that was crawling up your throat. You only half-succeeded. A small squeak escaped your mouth and a shudder racked your body.

You shut your eyes tight to the rest of the world, instead focusing inwards. The injuries on your face throbbed as you continued to pull a painful expression against your cries. Your rib wailed in agony. But most of all, your heart ached more terribly than you really ever recalled it doing.

Why hadn’t you listened to Jackie? Why hadn’t you put your damn ego aside for once in your fucking life and listened to someone else’s advice? You’d done it again; you had fucked around and found out the price of doing so came from your own pockets. Now you were dirt broke and still too proud to beg.

You pulled in a shuddering gasp and clutched at the pillow beneath your head. “I’m sorry,” you said, just loud enough so that he would hear you. “You were right. I shouldn’t have fucking gone. I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”

For a long moment, the apartment was empty. You began to think that Jackie had left and you’d been too washed up in your own world to even notice. But then the floor creaked in that spot it did near the center of the apartment, and a moment later the bed dipped behind you.

“Aye. Come here, chica. Let me look at that pretty face.” Jackie wrapped his arms around you and, with a flex of the muscles in his biceps, hauled you up and over so that you were lying cradled against his bare front. Gone was his vicious, animalistic expression he’d worn just a few minutes ago, now replaced with that gentle look reserved for late nights and early mornings. He exhaled tiredly and used the callused pad of his thumb to wipe away the tear that had been trailing down your nose.

For a moment or two, neither of you said a thing. This kind of silence was different than the one that held the car captive. This was soft and peaceful, not at all laden with the kind of anger and hurt as before.

“I’m sorry for yelling, amor,” he said, his voice a soft husk. “I just…” He sighed again and shut his eyes before touching his forehead to yours. His nose nestled against your own. “I got freaked. Real scared. Like, out’ta my mind kind’a shit. I didn’t know where you were. Hell, had to scour that damn port to find one of those cyber freaks and make him tell me where you were.” There came another short pause. “We got dangerous lives, V. Things happen in this kind of work. But if somethin’ ever happened to you… I ain’t so sure I would be here in this world after you left it.”

A new, fresh wave of tears muddled your vision as you gently nudged his nose with yours. “I’m right here, Jack.” Despite the aching in your chest, you forced a tiny smile onto your lips. “You’re still stuck with me.”

Jackie let out a small, breathy chuckle that fanned across your face. “Guess I am, querida.”

Using what strength you had left in your bruised and battered body, you craned your neck up and gently, ever so softly, pressed your lips to his. His brow relaxed as you kissed him, his mouth at once moving against your own. You’d had years to practice this, get it right; and it was so, so right.

Jackie’s tongue gingerly swiped over yours, silently asking permission to be let in. You granted it through the smile trying to flood across your features. He always asked and asked and asked, even if he knew the answer would always be yes. It made your heart flutter and your belly flip. You opened your mouth to him and he shifted you closer so that his tongue could lay claim once more to your own, your swelling lips, your very senses.

The Maelstrom and the Voodoo Boys had been fucking idiots to think they could keep you, could own you.

You already belonged to Jackie fucking Welles; and he made sure everyone knew what was his.

As the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate to connect the two of you together again, your core began to ignite to life. When one of his hands settled on the upper plane of your thigh, you released a soft sigh and felt yourself begin to ache with need.

And you told him so.

“Jackie,” you breathed into his mouth, your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. His ink played like magic beneath your fingers. “I need you. Please. Make me fucking forget they even touched me.”

In response, he captured your lips again, this time more feverish and starving-like. One large, labor-scarred hand kept you up and pressed against him while the other began to glide up over your sleep shorts and toward the waistband. You felt your cunt clench with the promise of what was rapidly approaching.

“Oh, my chica,” he whispered. “I’m gon’na make you forget your own damn name.”

His hand found its way inside your shorts through the waistband, long and thick fingers finding their home at the warm apex of your thighs. You released a small moan when his digits slowly inserted themselves between your legs, expertly sliding over your folds and back up again.

“Already wet for me, chica bonita?” he purred against the shell of your ear. His pointer finger slid between your slick folds, edging along the spot where knew your clit was begging for attention, before he swept it back down toward your entrance. “I barely even started to touch you.”

Words had left your vocabulary entirely, vanished into the dawn as the tip of his finger finally found your clit and began to rub slow, gentle circles around it. A shockwave of pleasure rolled through you like thunder, drawing a whimper from the back of your throat. You pressed your face deeper into your special spot on his shoulder, open-mouthed and already following his hand with your hips.

Jackie shushed you as he continued to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, planting kisses to your forehead and the surface of your temple. His fingers left your clit to travel down your center toward your entrance, where you could feel your arousal already leaking onto your thighs. He gathered some of it with his index finger, then teasingly began to dance around your needy pussy.

You moaned unabashedly, gripping his bicep as your hips bucked. “Fuck, Jackie,” you whined against his pec. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not today.”

“Heh. Sometimes I can’t help myself, especially with this pretty pussy that’s all mine.” Without much warning other than that, he slipped his finger into your cunt until he was sunken in to his top knuckle. A broken, gasping cry was wailed into his skin. He chuckled to himself and continued to kiss your head before slowly pulling his finger out and pushing it back in.

Christ above, you’d never get tired of this feeling. You swore you felt each and every callus, every tiny little line that made up his fingerprint, made him who he was. His finger stroked your walls so perfectly it was hard to believe your cunt wasn’t made for him specifically. Maybe it was. Maybe you were built for him, and him for you, because god almighty, was this a fucking match made in heaven.

Jackie slowly added a second finger to your hole, his palm brushing against your clit every time his hand brushed against your naval. “My poor pretty baby,” he cooed in a low, husky voice that made you clench around his fingers. “Can’t leave her alone for five minutes, can I?”

You’d die happy if you never left his sight again. Why on earth would you want to, when he was fucking you so good with just his fingers? Every nerve ending within you was alight with a heavy, shocking pleasure that felt like you were being electrocuted. You’d happily let him do just that; stick live wires to your skin, just as long as he was fucking you at the same time.

Your hips were bucking up into his hand now, your back arching in his lap and your nails leaving angry red indents in his shoulder. “Ah! God, Jackie, holy shit. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Slowly, you were beginning to feel that wonderful, familiar coil tightening inside of you. It was a wound-up spring only he could wind like this, in the way you would have gone mad without after knowing it for the first time. Your bucks became more frantic, your arousal sliding down your thighs and soaking your sleep shorts.

“Jackie! Jackie, oh fuck, I’m -“

His fingers slipped out of you completely. You actually let out a half-scream of frustration and alarm, your eyes flying open from their dazed state. He peered down at you with lust-blown pupils and an expression you could not place in the heat of the moment. Was he mad? So overtaken by the hard on pressing against your shoulder blades he himself was becoming lost to the world?

You got your answer when he leaned down close to your face, his lips just barely brushing yours when he spoke. “You know I love you too fuckin’ much to lose you, bebe,” he drawled. When your hips thrusted upward, searching for his hand, he grabbed your hip in a bruising grip. “Promise me you’ll never pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll let you cum.”

Oh, he was an animal. A sick one at that. But - weren’t you, as well?

“I promise,” you practically cried against him, your knuckles pale from how hard they gripped his shoulder. “I promise, Jackie, I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“I promise I’ll listen to you,” you babbled as tears of frustration formed in the corners of your eyes. “I promise I’ll never leave you again. I’m yours, Jackie. I belong to you.”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound came out when he plunged his fingers back into your cunt and set a brutal, bruising pace. You went limp in his arms and he held you upright with one hand as he thrusted his digits in and out of your sopping pussy. That coil in your stomach wound, weeping joyfully to have been stretched more, and you came with a garbled cry of his name. He slowly withdrew his fingers and you felt your release slowly dripping from your abused entrance.

Jackie made sure you were looking at him when he brought your slick to his mouth and sucked it off his fingers.

If you thought you were tired before he had finger fucked you raw, you knew that space between sleep and consciousness now. Your eyelids threatened to shut for good as you tilted your head against your man’s shoulder and exhaled a shaky breath.

“I’ll be holding you to those promises,” Jackie said, then placed a sweet, gentle kiss at the space between your brows. “Rest, dulzura. I’ve got you.” He nestled his chin onto the top of your head and held you just a bit tighter. “Ain’t no one takin’ you from me again.”

translations:

carino - sweetheart

hijos de perra - sons of bitches

Hijos de puta! Eso es lo que obtienes cuando jodes con mi chica. Ardeos en el infierno, todos vosotros! - Motherfuckers! That’s what you get when you fuck with my girl. Burn in hell, all of you!

hombre - man

mujer - woman

Dios - God

chica - girl

amor - love

querida - dear

chica bonita - pretty girl

bebe - baby

dulzura - sweetness

[unhappy-last-resort]

Chrome, perhaps one of the most dependable and trustworthy constructs you've ever met. If only you knew how crazy you make him.

At first he excused the way he felt about you. You're a very capable and unique person, it's only natural for him to...observe you so closely, it's purely to help him understand you better so he knows how to use you when he needs to.

His habit of keeping an eye on wherever you go is simply because you have a tendency to get hurt is all. Nothing more. And no, he's not upset that you keep bottling all your up all your feelings, or run off in the dead of night to tell some other construct who has ties to the ascendants...He's sure you have your reasons, he'll just have to make sure you know he's available for you more often.

But then, all of a sudden the world started to feel more dangerous than it ever has been. It's impossible not to think about losing you, about you dying alone somewhere, or being ripped to pieces by hetero-creatures and corrupted. He has nightmares of it every time he sleeps, of you being taken away from him.

Perhaps that's why he started tracking you, placing little cameras in your room, setting up a secret comms channel that's only open one way so he can hear everything you do and everyone you talk to, no matter where you are. He's learned so much about you this way. You're rather reckless in who you talk to, but what's more interesting is the sides of yourself you show to each individual. He hates to admit it, but it brings him a kind of voyeuristic joy to be able to watch you like this. Whenever he's missing you, you're always a button away, whether you realize it or not.

Sometimes, he thinks of taking things further. Just to see how far he can take it, but for right now, being present for everything you do is enough.

[sanjoongie]

Library of Illusion: Masterlist

When you're down on your luck and are looking for an artefact that will fix all your problems, why not get dicked down in order to retrieve it? The Library of Illusion event hosted by CultofDionysusNet

📚Summary: The loss of your love drives you to unimaginable lengths, through incomprehensible stories, just to acquire an artifact that would revive him. Will you succeed, or will you get sucked into a story, never to return? Welcome to the Library of Illusions, where nothing is as it appears to be, and yet anything is possible, as long as you play by the rules.

Introduction↬

Wooyoung is the guardian of the horror section (slasher bf! Wooyoung and exception! Reader)↬ Better Run

Yeosang is the guardian of the fantasy section (dragon! Yeosang and knight! reader)↬ Horns

Yunho is the guardian of the sci-fi section (fixer! Yunho and merc! Reader)↬Chrome Upgrade

San is the guardian of the historical fiction (high priest! San and egyptian goddess! Reader)↬Pray to me

Mingi is the guardian of the adventure section (space explorer! Mingi x alien! reader) ↬Honey

Jongho is the guardian of the mystery section (android partner! Jongho and Human detective! Reader)↬ Blue Blood

Seonghwa is the keeper of the keys (flower zombie! Seonghwa and survivor! Reader au)↬Strawberries and Cream

Hongjoong is in the restricted section (yandere! Hongjoong and darling! Reader)↬ Don't you love me?

↭Master list of Event here↭

[gem-knight-lady-opal]

Fannon vs Canon: Beyblade X addition

Fandom Chrome:

Big Brother to X

Canon Chrome:

YANDERE ALERT!!

I REPEAT

YANDERE ALERT!!

[jusmango-shake]

🥭:Welcome to my rules post! Please read it before asking.

Masterlist!

Rules!

Allowed

Nsfw (I'm an adult dw,)

Mildly kinky shit

Poly relationship

Dub-con (Drunk, high, etc)

Yandere (stalking, possessiveness, imprisonment, etc)

Basically anything, Still though. Ask if you're not sure about something.

!!NOT!! Allowed

Non-Con (even for the yandere, too dark. It js don't sit right wit me)

Character x character

Romantic Adult x Child relationship

Non aged up Kid character X Kid character Nsfw/suggestive

Zoophilia, pedophilia, the normal x3

Oc x character

More info!

🥭: I have a very short attention span, so I will not be taking any requests that aren't from the shows/games stated below. I also go on hiatus quite often and randomly at that. if I have "Hibernating" in my bio, well, it means I ain't available.

Fandoms I'm in!

Currently: Blocktales

Writing for: Griefer (sorry CK fans)

EddsWorld

Writing for: Tom, Edd, Matt, Tord, Jon

Fire Force

Writing for: the adults and minors (ask)

One Punch Man

Writing for: Saitama, Sonic, Garou,

Mumen ily mumen , Fubuki, Charanko,

Genos

Dr Stone

Writing for: Senku, Gen, Ryusui,

Chrome, Kohaku, etc (ask)

[blissfuloni]

❝ RP AD♡꒱ (09/24)

Hello all!! My name is Onyx and I am in search of a cool, swag, epic roleplay partner (who is 18+) that wants to also be friend outside of rp!! Information on lil ole me!;

I'm 20 years old

I go by she/her (cis female)

10ish+ years of roleplaying/writing under my belt

MOSTLY fast reply time (i sleep a lot :P)

Timezone: EST

-

What I write for: ʚ Fluff ʚ Angst ʚ Smut 〰 ʚ OC x CC (double ups ONLY!) ʚ B x B ʚ G x G ʚ NB x NB/G/B [✹IMPORTANT: I do my best to stay away from most yandere stuff, especially stuff dealing with S/A just because of my own personal trauma! Other than that, I can handle most of it!]

-

As mentioned earlier in my post, I want to be able to befriend my rp partner! I wanna know how you're doing, if you need to talk, ect.! I just want to be able to grow a friendship and not just a partnership for rp!! I don't bite! I roleplay ONLY ON DISCORD!!! I use to roleplay in tumblr DMs but then notifications wouldn't go through or somehow the DM read itself as opened and I hadn't opened it? It also is a struggle to talk outside of roleplay in tumblr DMs, lol! So because of this, I am a discord only gal!! ⟶ Since the roleplay will be taken place on discord, this means I will making a server so I can organize everything! Different channels include out-of-rp chat, an rp chat, a visuals chat (for outfits, hair styles, ect.), and others!! I've ran into this problem once, but made me realized I've never specified this in my last rp ad! I do a collab type roleplay! This means (in my head) I roleplay in the same rp universe your oc exists in! My oc and your oc could be friends in such universe or just have mutual friends in common, who knows! I've always rp'ed this way and honestly would like to keep it this way, it doesn't make anything confusing. One final thing before I get into fandoms; I don't really care about reply length? I do, but I don't. As long I see you're doing your best to reply, I don't mind! I understand life is busy but you need that shot of dopamine! I always do my best to match my partner's length in reply but typically I do a 1-2 paragraph (various lengths) as a reply. Starters are different though! If I am in charge of the starter, I typically write up and a little past the nitro word limit in discord. Do not fret though! You obviously do not need to match my 6+ paragraph starter, lol!

-

Fandom time!! I have a list of all my fandoms [here], but I am super into these right now and am desperately looking for a twst rp !! ☆ Twisted Wonderland ☆ Our Life: Beginnings & Always ☆ Dr. Stone ☆ Jujutsu Kaisen

For any fandoms listed above, here are the characters I'd like if you could play against my OC(s)!; ☓) Malleus Draconia or Trey Clover x Akako ☓) Idia Shroud x Alanis Briar ☓) Lilia Vanrouge x Senki (not a finished OC) - ☓) Baxter Ward or Cove Holden x Atlantis - ☓) Gen x Eden (DRST) ☓) Chrome x Cynthia (DRST) ☓) Ukyo x Anzu (DRST) - ☓) Satoru Gojo or Suguru Geto x Annamaria ☓) Ieiri Shok x Salem ☓) Megumi Fushiguro or Yuta Okkotsu x Eden ╰› Obviously !!! We do not have to use multiple OCs if you do not feel like it! I also see it as playing even-steven in a way, if you're using only one OC, I would like to only use one OC. Just so it's fair!!

✹ If you're interested PLEASE don't be afraid to message me on this account! <3

[chaosblob]

"Somethings...Fishy" Masterlist

Warning!

Cast/Love interest

Prologue