#yandere death x reader

[hana-no-seiiki]

PLATONIC! YANDERE SIBCON! DEATH THE KID x READER

888 FOLLOWER SPECIAL (Thank you all so much!)

warnings: incest but as a joke. reader is biologically related to dtk, death and asura so they implicitly look alike. reader is described as perfectly symmetrical. angst.

status: unedited.

i.

Your father couldn’t have been more blatant when it came to favoritism. It was always [Y/N] this, and [Y/N] that. As the youngest out of all your siblings you were given special priority as a child up until the present.

‘[Y/N] is just the cutest, can’t you see?’

What was even worse was that Kid absolutely enabled such behavior.

Instead of being bitter like a normal person, he joined in on the spoiling.

You wouldn’t have minded it if it was just that. Who wouldn’t love to be spoiled by gods themselves?

But Kid always piled nagging on top of it all. In fact, it was twice as much as how he’d drown you in gifts.

‘[Y/N], fix your posture! What if you get back problems at a young age?!’

You were slouching for just a moment. In your room. Alone. How’d he even get in—

‘[Y/N] what is with your hair ? Your symmetry, it’s ruined!’

You only had a single lock of hair out of place. You had just woken up. Your breakfast was abandoned as he had yanked you to take a bath and style your hair.

“[Y/N]—“

“兄上!” You yelled. Swerving your body so fast that you almost fell down just to meet him eye to eye. You took a deep breath first, calming yourself as to keep your voice steady. “Please leave me alone. Aren’t you supposed to be away on a mission ? “

“But—“

“They’re right, Kid. Besides the sooner we wrap things up the sooner you’ll get to hang out with [Y/N]-様” Liz came to your rescue. Honestly if it weren’t for her, you were sure Kid would have been literally glued to you with how clingy he could be. He treated you like the most entrancing painting there could ever be, as if a second not looking at you would kill him.

At the realization of such an idea. Kid finally composed himself and dashed off. With not a farewell or goodbye wave in sight.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N]-様! We gotcha covered.” Patty squeezed your cheeks. Even she wasn’t immune to your cute charms.

“My wish to be left alone extends to the both of you. ”

“Eek!” The two teleported 5 feet away from you as they heard the tone of your voice. Despite being a powerless Shinigami, your presence demanded fear and respect. You were known for being an even more uptight version of your brother which was an achievement in itself.

“R-right! On our way!”

ii.

As the son of the embodiment of law and order. Death the Kid had a terrifying obsession with perfection. Particularly the perfection that is symmetry. The beauty of balanced reflection in its most immaculate form. The aesthetic of faultless proportions and details that make the whole so pleasing to the eyes.

The aesthetic of you.

It was natural for siblings to lovingly hate each other’s existence. Kid has literally battled his own brother.

But in that principle’s wake was your existence.

His passion to beat Asura seemed so human, so insignificant when it came to you.

Unlike him you had no ‘Lines of Sanzu’ and was thus never considered to be a candidate to become a Death God. You were never a threat. So he had no problem accepting his Father’s doting nature towards you.

You were always so cute. Always working hard for a future you wanted. A future that’ll never be yours. Your ambition was so infectious that along with succeeding his father, he wanted to be perfect for you.

You only deserved the best brother. One who had his lines completed. One that didn’t look like ugly, asymmetrical pig that he was in the present.

You weren’t home, as always. But Kid had gotten skilled at finding where you are. Call it his brotherly instincts but the most it would take for him to find you was a day.

You were gone for a month.

When Kid found you, you looked even more aggrieved than usual. The scowl on your face made heavier when you saw him.

The talk on the way back home was awkwardly silent. Despite that he still cherished the moment. It was rare to have someone as amazing as you alone all to himself.

“兄上?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you such a creep?”

“[Y-Y/N] . . . “ You gaze at your brother as crocodile tears fell from his beautiful face.

“If I disappeared that means I don’t want people to look for me. So don’t waste your time searching. Why can’t you understand that I want to be alone?”

“But—“

“Look for me and I’ll hate you. More than I already do.”

“You . . . hate me ?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” You blew a strand out of your face that Kid often waxed to keep things ‘perfect’. Surprised that he doesn’t comment on it. His eyes have completely dimmed.

“. . . No . . .”

“If you died I wouldn’t care. At all. So don’t extend your sympathy towards me. It’s disgusting not to mention patronizing.” The distance between you two grew more as he stayed still and you kept walking.

Your final words to him goes unheard at that point. “You’re the next God of Death. Respectfully speaking, act like one.”

Kid couldn’t stop thinking about your words from before. Siblings naturally had love-hate relationships. But hearing you say that up front still left him shaken.

During battle, he kept muttering and muttering, completely unfocused. He would have been hurt terribly if it weren’t for the others shoving him around. Even then, he didn’t so much as budge as he was thrown to a wall. “No . . . it couldn’t be . . . have they perhaps . . . “

“What’s up with him?” Black Star stared at him while cleaning his nose with his pinky. The fight wasn’t dire at the very least and he was used to Kid’s unorthodox personality, but this time the young Shinigami was somehow more out of it than usual.

“Less talking, more fighting.” Maka scolded. She had long since given up trying to get Kid to fight and instead instructed Liz and Patty to wield each other. It wasn’t ideal but it was at least functional, unlike a certain raven-haired young man right now.

“That’s it! They must’ve hit puberty!” Death the Kid suddenly shouted. The side of his fist hits his palm as a lightbulb switches on in his mind.

“Not this again . . . “ Liz rolled her eyes. She tried moving him from an incoming attack but he doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oh, my poor [Y/N] they must be so confused! They don’t hate me, it’s just that I’ve been lacking as a brother!” His eyes sparkled at the revelation that hit him. “I must go back and tell them how much I love them!” He took off, forsaking the rest to find [Y/N].

He gets about a meter away before Liz carried him back.

“Nuh-uh. We have a kishin to take down!”

“My sibling takes priority!” He flailed around in her arms, slapping her in the process.

“Even I’m not like this towards Patty. You need to stop worrying about them so much. You’re more like a nagging wife at this point! Face it, Kid. They don’t like you much less want you around all the time.” Liz scolded him. Getting more and more irritated at his behavior by the second. You’d think she’d get used to his sibcon tendencies, but it still managed to amaze her how little he cared for anything but [Y/N].

“Oh no . . . what have you done?” Maka covered her mouth in shock.

“H-Huh? What do mean? I just talked some sense into—“ Liz doesn’t notice he stopped thrashing til he screeched into her ears.

“That’s it! You’re a genius Liz!”

“I am?”

“In order to keep my baby sibling safe and sound I have to marry them!”

“Wait what— That’s not what I meant—“

“I’ll get the papers sorted right away!”

And he’s gone. Poof. Just like that. Liz completely frozen in place.

“I pray [Y/N]-様 extends you their mercy.” Tsubaki, now in her human form, bowed. Genuinely fearing for Liz’s well-being.

Patty, on the other hand, stuck her tongue out. “Bye Bye, sis!”

“Patty, not you too!”

iii.

MONTHS EARLIER…

Your Father was an eccentric being. He annoyed you to no end but thankfully not as much as your brother did.

You inherited his obsession with Peace. Something that you defined as moments that you were alone. Free to just exist and not worry about being perfect all the time. Peace to you was the lack of your brother, the embodiment of chaos.

You’ve always wished to be separated from him, but knowing there was a potential for that to actually happened gave you the first taste of fear.

Is this what humans felt? This adrenaline rush, this excitement? All that in addition to dread and sadness at the same time?

“Is it true?”

“What is it, my darling?”

“Is it true that when 兄上’s lines connect . . . you . . . “

“Where did you hear this, child?” Death moved forward. His large body shadowed yours.

You neither move away or closer. Instead you stayed still. Eyes firmly kept in place. On his.“Answer me, 父上.”

“Yes.” The god looked to the skies. Even he had a time to depart from this world. Death was something not even the divine can escape.

“Will I also . . . ?”

“I don’t know.” His large gloved hand extended to pat your head.

“Then he’ll be all alone?”

“Hopefully not. Are you worried for him—“

You replied before he could even finish, “Why would I be? He’s the one responsible for worrying between the two of us.”

Death then picked you up. Holding you close to his face.

“父上？”

“Yes, my darling?”

You said nothing, stepping forward to hold your creator in an embrace.

“I love you too, child.”

iv.

THE PRESENT…

“[Y/N]?”

Death the Kid isn’t human. Far from it. He’s a god. He represented Law and Order; Death.

But in the face of all this, his responsibilities, his status, his entire being. He feels so utterly meek, so awfully human when he was with you.

Gods aren’t supposed to have favorites. Gods are supposed to maintain a balance when it came to their affections over mortals.

But for you, and only for you. Kid lowers himself. To love, to fear, to worship.

“What?” Your small hands barely half the size of his reached to cup his face. “Spit it out, 豕.”

“Will you stay with me . . . for the rest of eternity?”

“You’re my family aren’t you? Of course I will.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. You’ll always be here for your brother.”

“Tch. Misplaced worries is a weakness, get rid of it.” Your hands moved to leave his face, but he doesn’t let it happen. Instead he traps it there, where it belonged.

“Anything for you, my dearest sibling.”

Right. Kid had nothing to worry about. You were here with him. Living, breathing. Still as perfect as you’ll ever be. You were all that he had. You were all that he needed.

Still. He could not shake away the feeling of nothingness within his heart.

Notes: [These are mostly for me + explanations so feel free to skip] Y/N uses formal speech and ways to call their family members.

For Kid they use, Aniue and for Death they call him Chichiue which means exalted or honorable brother and father respectively.

It’s only when they asked Death to answer them that they drop the formalities and use casual language. But even then they still call him exalted father.

From what I studied, formal speech in some situations can be quite rude and robotic. So despite seeming like they respect their fam they’re actually being condescending if not distant. I might be completely wrong though so feel free to correct me.

It’s kinda like going up to friend of yours for years and using the same extremely polite language you might use for strangers or seniors in work.

Lastly, in case you didn’t understand; in part iv DTK replaces [Y/N] but made them more childlike, completely changing the way they spoke. Mirroring the way Death created him to be a better version of Asura. Also 4 / IV sounds like Death in Japanese.

Anddd a little reminder that whenever I tag a character as Yandere that means they have unhealthy ways to love. Please do not romanticize or seek to replicate it in real life. Despite adoring his sibling, Kid subconsciously looks down on them and sees them as powerless. True love always comes with respect people. He also changes a ton of personality traits for the replacement, only keeping their looks and disdain towards him. He only ever ‘loved’ certain parts of them.

Thank you for reading and for the 888 (now 900+) followers!

TRANSLATIONS:

兄上 — Aniue — (Archaic) Exalted / Honorable Brother

様　— Sama — Formal suffix/honorific.

父上 — Chichiue — (Archaic) Exalted / Honorable Father

豕 — Buta — Pig

©️ hana-no-seiiki 2023

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Yandere!Dragon Hybrid that protects his pregnant mate with violence, ready to tear apart anyone that comes close to where they’re nesting.

He’s keeping you on his bulging cock to keep both of you warm as the snow rages on outside.

Soft purrs leave his throat, his claws running over your swollen belly as his scarlet eyes stare down at you with utter adoration. Cumming inside is the only option for him! You have to be claimed after all!

The decorations in the cave are a bit unsettling, but you get used to the human skulls and bones of unknown origin eventually.

Besides that, it’s quite beautiful, with jewels and gold glittering all around, he’s quite proud when you take notice of his hoard, and adores to ravish you when you’re wearing some of the treasure he’s collected!

Only the finest silk and softest blankets are used to build your nest, along with fabrics he’s cum all over! After all, his scent should soothe you, he’s your mate!

Defending you and keeping you safe are his top priorities. He’ll bring home his kills like a house cat bringing you a mouse, confused on why you cry and scream when he drops a mauled human in front of you.

He worked so hard to protect you, don’t you love him? Aren’t you proud? It hurts his feelings a little… but he once heard from a human that happy wife equals a happy life, so he spoils you to make up for it.

Pampering you comes at a close second on his list of priorities.

Your belly is so swollen with his child that eventually, walking becomes hard! He does everything for you. Hunting, cooking, bathing you, it’s all to show his love and utter devotion to you, his everything.

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 1: Dinner Time

Prologue

TW: Past neglect, death, violence, mention of blood, drinking

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

"Eight years in hell. . ."

You were seated on top of a desk playing with a snow globe in your hands.

"Can really make you go crazy." Your head hits the wall behind you, slowly turning to the bleeding man on the ground, once again receiving a blow to the face from a man dressed in dark red.

"P- please. . . I don't know anything. I swear." The man whimpers as he begged.

You sighed. "You're lying. I really, really hate liars' doctor." You through the snow globe onto the ground, shattering the glass. The man in red took your small fit of rage as a signal and pulled out a gun, pressing it against the doctor's head.

The bleeding doctor felt another type of fear the moment he felt the cool metal against his temple.

"W-wait! Wait! Please! I have a family; I'm begging you please!" The doctor cried and begged. The man in red glanced to you, you sighed and waved you're hand off. The man in red put his finger on the trigger, about to shoot.

"WAIT- Gotham hospital! She was at Gotham hospital!"

The man in red paused and glanced over to you.

You walked closer to the doctor, crouching down to the man's current level, as the man in red slowly pulled the gum away, the doctor felt a large wave of relief wash over him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nods "She s-saw Doctor Hill, that's all I know, I promise that's all I know."

You stay silent for a moment before standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The Doctor felt relived. Wanting to go back to his wife and kids, hug them as tight as he could-

BAM!

The Doctor fell with a thud. Blood slowly seeping out of his body as you tossed the gun you used to shoot the doctor to the man in red.

"That's for lying" You mumbled as you stare at the doctor's body with indiffrence.

You've been out of Arkham for almost a month now. You should be relaxing, try to fit back into society. But no, your mother was missing, the Falcone's didn't know where her whereabouts were, some made comments of her abandoning you the moment you got out, which coursed them to have a slow death for their crude comments.

Your mother loves you, and you know she would never abandon you. So now you're searching. But you aren't getting to her fast enough. And your growing impatient. You wanted to come back out into the world and run into the arms of your mother, but your just met with Gotham's ugly mug. It angered you beyond words.

The man in red, Rex, works for the Falcones, but has come to be loyal to you. Rex followed behind you as you walked out of the room and down the halls.

"Give doctor hill a visit for me, will ya?" You spoke coldly as your heels clicked loudly walking down the empty hall of an abandoned building. Rex nods before speaking up.

"What about you Miss Falcone. Are you going back to the Falcon manor?"

Ah, yes. You took your mother's last name. All done in paper. No more, Y/n Wayne. That little girl is dead.

". . . No, I need to grab a few things."

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Alfred knows you have been out for a month, so why have you not come back to the manor?

Alfred tried to keep in touch as much as possible during your time in Arkham. Every phone call, he could hear that sweet innocent girl he knew fade. He has tried to phone you multiple times but no use. Even tracking you down with was difficult, Alfred has tried to tell Bruce about his worry for you not coming home, But Bruce seemed to almost immediately shut down at the mention of your name.

He's worried for you, he just wants to see you, and make sure you're okay.

There was a met Gala being held today. Preparing for it was exhausting, but it was like that every time a gala had to be held. Everyone scattered all over the manor.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred entered the kitchen, the gala's close to an end, the rich of Gotham turning in for the night. But Alfred comes to a stop when he noticed a woman in the kitchen, dressed in a dark red dress, her back faced to him as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Excuse me ma'am, you're not supposed to be in the back here." Alfred spoke firmly with his usual stoic expression. The woman in red slowly turns around with the wine glass in hand. Then she spoke, the face, Alfred surely does not recognize, but the voice. He knows your voice.

"I rather be away from the crowed, if you don't mind." You gave the older man a small smirk as you see the realization hit him.

"Miss Y/n?"

Your small smirk cracked even wider. Alfred walks closer, shocked to see you here, in the kitchen munching on some sweets, just like you used to when you were younger.

You shrugged with a small giggle slipping from your red lips

"The one and only"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"Miss Y/n, come, Master Bruce must know your home!" Alfred might not show it a lot, but he is overjoyed to see you in the manor again. You've grown so much.

"Ah, well I was hoping to just grab some things from my old room and head out." You try to walk off to the back staires

"Nonsense, come, come." Alfred needed you to meet the family. For the family to see you. He touched your back as to lead you out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

You immediately flinched away.

Your negative reaction causes the butler to coil back.

"Miss. . .?"

You let out a weak cuckle.

"Sorry, I'm not fond of being touched." You began to meekly rub your hands together. Alfred comes to realize your time in Arkham has damaged you in some way's he might not be able to know yet.

"No need to apologize miss Y/n." Despite the small awkward moment Alfred still managed to have you walked out to see the others.

You felt an immense amount of DeJa'Vu. The walls, the detailed engraved in these walls. These walls haunted your dreams. Only half of your childhood was spent in this manor. You remember running down those stairs once Bruce came home from work. Skipping through these halls after getting a solo part in choir, something Bruce never really paid mind too.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Almost everyone was here tonight. Jason, Dick, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Steph couldn't make it. Barbra was spending time with her father. And. . .

Bruce watched as his children chat, argue, laugh. He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his glass of white wine.

"Where's Alfred?" Damian spoke up as he turned his head in search for the butler that is always usually hovering around. Bruce shrugs

"Most likely in the kitchen."

Suddenly, the doors open, in comes Alfred with a smile on his face.

"Alfred." Bruce can tell Alfred seems to be in a more chipper mood than he was in half an hour ago.

"We have a visitor." Alfred's words confused the others. Then you stepped up. You scanned the room. Some faces new, some old. Others were still confused, either not recognizing you due to the years that have passed, or the fact they simply didn't know who you were.

But Bruce didn't take long to recognize you. And the way he paled at the sight of you, it just made you smirk at his reaction. Dick was quick to follow the realization.

"Y/n . . ." Bruce mumbled.

Jason's head whipped to Bruce once he heard the name. Looking back at you then to Bruce.

"Y/n, we thought you were still . . ." Dick tried to speak, but he seemed to get more uncomfortable with just thinking of his words.

You wait for Dick to say the words, but clearly, he was still in shock to say it.

"Arkham? I've been, rehabilitated." You say this with a soft smile.

Jason, trying to process what the actual fuck is going on right now stayed silent. Damian also confused spoke up.

"Father who is this woman?"

Your eyes snapped to the young boy, your head tilt for a moment. Walking closer to the table. Your heels click as you kept your eyes on the young boy, and Bruce kept his eyes on you. Still not believing you were out.

"I'm his daughter. Blood, daughter." You spoke as you kept a playful manner to yourself. The Damian frowns. "Imposible. I'm fathers only blood child."

You paused for a moment. You seem to be analyzing the situation.

"Is that what dear old daddy said." Your chuckle, almost darkly, as you sipped on your glass of red wine. Alfred pulled up a seat at the end of the table, across from Bruce. You took a seat.

The room that was once filled with chatter and warm air was now silent and tension filled the air. You leaned back into the chair; Alfred re-fills your glass.

"Thank you, Alfred." You kept a small playful smile on your red lips. You let out a small sigh before speaking

"So, what did I miss?"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢?"

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴ ʟɪɢʜᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ʀᴇɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴇs

Yan light who was obviously obsessed with you, even Misa could tell.

The first time she ever met light in person was the first time she's ever met you. It was when she went inside his room to discuss methods on how to kill L and such, when she noticed you in the corner, in his bed all cozy.

"light, whose that." Misa asked, jaw slowly clenching. "My wife, now tell me more about those eyes of yours." Light responded stoically, as if Misa wasn't even worth his time.

Yan light who doesn't show any interest in Misa, not even bothering to pretend to be her boyfriend.

"nope, I have a wife." Light said quickly shutting down the idea. "What?! But it'll be suspicious if your only with h-"

"shut up, woman. You don't know anythi-"

"mh..."You groaned, rubbing your eyes slowly, opening them to find out who the hell was lights crazy ass talking too.

Your tired gaze then landed on a goth girl with blonde hair who seemed to be glaring straight at you. "Oh hey..Light, I didn't know you were bringin' a girl." You said, lazily wrapping the blanket around you so you could get even warmer.

"I know, sweetheart, I'll tell ya next time alright? Go back to sleep, okay baby?"

Yeah, Misa has never tried so hard to not pounce on another girl like today.

Yan light who sprinkles and showers you with compliments in front of Misa, shamelessly tryna kiss your neck as if he didn't have a blondie glaring daggers at the both of you, but more specifically you.

As soon as Misa got home, she with no hesitation, wrote your name in the death note as she bit her nails out of sheer anger. Light was supposed to be her knight in shining armor, not be totally obsessed with you!

'y/n l/n dies as she gets ran over at exactly 10pm while walking home.' is what she wrote, tapping her nails against the table anxiously

Yan light who whined when you wanted to go home, saying that you could only go home one time a week to see your family, and that's it since he's a clingy fuck

"light, you practically keep me in your bed all week long."

"yeah, and that's how it's supposed to be!"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your black jacket and heading out but not before saying bye to his little sister and mom

As you were walking home, you with no care in the world, crossed the street after looking both ways, before seeing a huge burst of light.

Misa was FUMING LIKE RAGE QUITING when she saw you the next day, perfectly fine as light was all up on your body, practically straddling you as he wraps his legs around your waist, not planning to let you go ever.

This happened a few more times, over and over, and Misa got really creative with it, even trying to get you to fall into your washer machine.

Yan light who notices all these tricks, and acts that Misa does, smirking "Stupid woman, doesn't realize that my baby can regenerate."

Yan light who now is more protective over you though, practically glaring and insulting Misa any chance he gets with no shame.

Yan light who loves you so so so much not even death can tear you two apart, he's yours, and your his.

Yan light who is never gonna let no ones filthy hands on you.

GUESS WHOSE BACKKKN

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[megwritesriddles]

In the Back of Your Mind ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Young! Severus Snape x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 4 - Stalking. Severus is in love with you from afar. Severus is also very good at legilimency. You show a tiny bit of interest by helping him out in class and he loses a little more of his self-control.

Tags: Stalking, P in V, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving, a LOT of it), Very dubious consent, Mind manipulation / control, Brainwashing, Improper use of legilimency, Toxic relationships, Yandere Snape, Creepy perverted behaviour, Fantasising, Implied loss of virginity, Self-blaming.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 3.7k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Severus in this fic is written to be a walking red flag, don't seek this kind of relationship irl!! I started to get a headache toward the end of writing this, sorry if it's noticeable in the writing!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Splat, Severus’ books thud to the ground. A cacophony of laughs erupts behind him, led by James Potter, a satisfied smirk on his face from having caused this mild inconvenience. Severus huffs and rolls his eyes, luckily hidden by his mop of long black hair. He bends down to pick up the books, not at all surprised when James nudges one further away with the toe of his shoe. He shuffles forward and picks it up too, straightening himself back up, head hung low. He shuffles across the hall to lean against a wall further from the marauders, who hoot and laugh at him. Even putting himself in their shoes he can’t understand what’s so funny about watching someone pick up books. None of it matters anyway, because you’ll be here soon. Perfect you. You always arrive at this class at 12:56, with your friend by your side. You’d usually be chatting, finishing off a pastry from lunch, whatever had taken your fancy that day, Severus guessed it would be the Pumpkin pasties today. He watches the clock above the door into the potion's dungeon, feeling a familiar tingle of excitement. Just as he knew you would, almost exactly as the clock struck 12:56, your voice drifted around the corner down the corridor. He watches behind his hair as you come into view, chatting happily with your friend, carefully holding a hand in front of your mouth as you chew. He imagines you spotting him, smiling and making your way over, giggling and offering him a bite of your pastry. He’d go to bite it and you’d withdraw it playfully, just to tease him, you’d laugh that bright laugh you have and he’d give you a chastising look before stealing a kiss from you, making you smile wider. You’d wrap your arms around his neck, pushing closer so that–

He’s yanked from his thoughts by Slughorn opening the doors to the lab, the heavy wood scraping unpleasantly against the stone floor. Everyone starts to head inside, he keeps his head down as he enters, hanging back at his usual spot at the back of the room, the spot with a perfect view of you. He places his books down, watching as you quickly scoff the last of your pastry, a pumpkin pasty as he’d guessed before the lesson started. Throughout the lesson he’s watching you, barely concentrating on the topic at hand, he doesn't need to, he already read up on it in his own time so that he can watch you. He’s lucky, in a way, that he only has you for potions, no matter how much he wishes you always there, always by him, always in view, else he may never learn anything at all. You lean forward on the desk, your chin in your palms, legs swinging under the desk. He can vaguely make out the outline of your bra through the back of your uniform shirt, it’s black, clasped on the final row. He almost jots this down on his parchment before he catches himself. He imagines that if he told you this, you’d laugh and call him something childish and endearing, like a ‘silly sausage’, flicking his nose gently. He’s lost in this fantasy, this world where he can tell you that he’s watching you and you find it sweet, going through the motions of setting up his workstation for brewing. He doesn’t even realise that Slughorn is calling out to him until your head turns towards him, looking curious. He notices with a start that the entire class is looking at him, the marauders laughing tauntingly among themselves.

“Er… what?” he croaks out, his voice a little rough from barely speaking all day. He hears a few more chuckles, but not from you. Kind, perfect you. You just glance between him and Slughorn without a hint of judgement in your eyes.

“Your hair is getting rather too long, boy, you’ll have to tie it up for this potion, it’s very volatile,” Slughorn chortles from the front of the room. “Do any of the ladies have a spare?” He addresses the room. The marauders and a couple of the other boys explode with laughter, several of the girls immediately shake their heads, or do nothing, except beautiful, perfect you. You’re picking up your bag and digging through it without a second's hesitation and he could kiss you right now, not that there was any time he felt like he couldn’t. Your friend, obviously shamed into action by you, flicks half-heartedly through her bag too. The rest of the class returns to setting up.

“A-ha!” you exclaim, pulling out a plain black hairband from your bag. Black like your bra, his brain supplies, but he shakes that off because you’re walking over to him. He’s immediately sweating, luckily you’re unlikely to notice through his robes, although you may notice the growing sheen on his forehead. You stand in front of him, smiling like an angel. He’s not this close to you often, somehow you’re even more ethereal up close. He takes a shaky breath as you extend the hairband to him. "Don't listen to them, Black is only about an inch away from needing one himself,"

“Th-Thank you…” He mumbles, brushing your fingertips with his own on purpose. It feels like a thousand fireworks exploding under his skin and he smiles shakily. You smile and shrug.

“Just get it back to me when you can, or keep it honestly, I have hundreds and you’ll probably need it again,” you explain happily. You always seem to have nothing bringing you down and he admires it, wishing he could be so positive, perhaps it’s easy when you’re as flawless as you are. You skip off back to your workstation to your friend. He has something in his hand that is yours, something he’s allowed to keep, something he didn’t have to snatch when you left the room. There’s a couple of your hairs stuck around it and he shivers in excitement. This is something you have used, and he has it through legitimate means. He’s floating on air. While everyone else is beginning to brew, he hides behind his cauldron carefully laying down your hairs in his notebook, making sure not to break them, securing them so they don’t fall out.

Eventually, once he’s sure he can’t extract any more of yours from the hairband, he finally ties his hair back into a low ponytail, getting to work. He’s confident he can catch up on the brewing time he missed, even as he keeps being distracted by the sight of you across the room, your hair pulled up out of your face in the same type of hairband you gave him. You’re gorgeous, somehow more than usual, which shouldn’t be possible or, frankly, legal. He’s often wondered if you’re part Veela somewhere far back, because of how absolutely perfect you are. Through extensive research of your family tree, he was able to prove himself wrong, but he still wonders. His potion expertise allows him to catch up on the potion, still being awarded the best potion in class by the end of it. He almost feels bad for everyone who actually put some effort into brewing just to lose to him again, but that feeling melts away when he spots you grinning at him as Slughorn announces his win. The two of you have never been friends, but you have always been silently friendly toward him, refusing to be swayed by the rumours about him. It’s perhaps what he loves the absolute most about you. He’s packing up when you approach him again, smiling softly.

“I actually like your hair up like this,” you whisper, reaching over to gently flick the end of his short ponytail. Severus doesn’t know if you’re teasing him or not. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, both by your words and your playful touch. A hundred images of fantasies he’s had about you over the years flash through his mind. You’ve touched him! Willingly! In that playful way, he’d always imagined you would. It takes a lot of effort to remind himself that he can’t just kiss you right now. His mouth falls open and he lets out an undignified throaty noise. He quickly covers it up with a cough, blinking rapidly.

“I um… you… do?” he chokes out. You study his face for a moment, he’s sure you’re about to change your mind. You could never be so cruel though, he knows this, you’re too wonderful.

“Yeah… it’s nice to see your eyes sometimes,” you tease. Severus forces himself to laugh back casually, trying to force down the love hearts that are practically forming in his eyes. He also has to stop himself from grabbing you, never letting you move away again. He regrets holding himself back when your friend comes up behind you and ushers you away to your next class. You smile at him over your shoulder as you begin to leave. He quickly decides to use the compliments you’ve just given him against you. He wonders how much you really meant to them, but he has to try anyway. He invades your mind, silently smug about your lack of defences even after all this time. He feeds you a vision based on what you’ve just said. His head between your perfect supple thighs, looking up at you with wide needy eyes, his hair pulled back just like this, devouring your sweet cunt. He knows he’s been successful as he watches you suddenly flush and turn away, your cheeks bright red.

He doesn’t really know how you feel about these visions. He’s been invading your mind and planting them since the end of the fifth year. He would love to stick around in your brain, find out how you react to them, do some digging, and find out how you really feel about him, but he can’t risk it. The longer you’re in somebody's mind, the more they can feel the foreign presence. You’re still yet to put up any wards, even rudimentary ones, so he assumes you don’t realise you’re being invaded. You also haven’t started to avoid him more than normal, if you realised these visions were coming from someone else, there would only be one logical conclusion as to who they came from, but you haven’t withdrawn or confronted him in any way, so he figures he’s safe for now. The nature of the visions he gives you is probably enough to distract you from the momentary uncomfortable tingle of someone else being in your brain. He’s been experimenting for a long while to see what thoughts you react to the best. He often sits in the dining hall, somewhere where he has the perfect view of you, and plants various thoughts. You don’t seem to school your emotions very well, so he gets a vague idea of how you react to each scenario. He’s tried visions of him bending you over, roughly taking everything he wants from you, he’s tried visions of him begging on his knees to please you and everything in between. You blush beautifully at each one, whether from embarrassment or arousal, he isn’t sure. He can’t wait to feel your cheek heat up under his hand, because he will get to feel it, some day. You don’t seem to like the more extreme scenarios, complete domination or complete submission, but you don’t seem to mind either way if the power dynamic is a little milder. He doesn’t mind, he would be anything for you, do anything. What you seem to like best is when he feeds you a vision of him eating you out. He supposes it makes sense, it’s completely focused on your pleasure, so it’s practically all he’s been giving you lately. Sometimes he holds you down and calls you a good girl, sometimes you’re riding his face and calling him a good boy, you seem to like it either way. It makes him unbelievably smug.

After dinner, he’s trailing you and your friends to your common room, just to make sure that you’re safe, nothing more. He’s a little careless, feeding you the same vision over and over, enjoying watching you blush and stutter from afar as you try to chat with your friends. You probably think you’ve been hit with a lust potion or something, as he isn’t letting you think of anything else. It seems you hadn’t lied when you’d told him you liked his hair in the ponytail, as every time he gave you the same vision from earlier, he noticed your thighs tense. This isn’t a reaction he gets from you often at all, usually, it’s so subtle that he can be convinced it was unrelated, but this vision, in particular, seems to have you doing this every time. He’d dropped his fork at dinner just to duck under the table to watch your thighs clench, the sight nearly making his mouth water. He wished he could get under your table and spread your legs, make that vision a reality, but sadly he could not. He would do it in a heartbeat if you asked, fuck the consequences, fuck who could see. Maybe one day, if he kept torturing you with this vision, you would come begging. He feels his cock twitching eagerly in his trousers at the thought. You disappear into your common with your friends, him watching from around the corner. He sighs in disappointment, deciding to leave you be for the night since he can’t delight in your lovely little reactions any more. He hangs around at the corner for a moment, debating whether to head outside onto the grounds to watch you through your dorm window like he often did. The mini telescope he had to buy for Astronomy had turned out to be a fantastic use of money, even if he did often see your roommates instead. He had seen them all in various states of undress by now, but he couldn’t care about any of them in the least, he only had eyes for you.

Over the next few days, he eases off a little, realising how reckless he’d been. He couldn’t risk you knowing what he’s been doing, he can’t imagine that would end very well, even if you had seemed to grow to like the visions he gave you. He didn’t stop altogether, because that would have arguably been just as suspicious. He keeps it tame, one or two a day, maybe a little more innocent than normal. He can’t help but continue to use the information about you liking his hair back, making sure every fantasy he feeds you has him that way. He keeps your hairband, pulling his hair back every day now, because it makes you look at him just a second longer, and he’s obsessed with it. Lucius comments on it, saying it looks odd, but he couldn’t care less. It makes secretly watching you harder too, as he can’t hide behind his hair so much, but he makes do, all for those extra glances. He continues his routines, waiting for you to emerge in the mornings from your common room by hiding around the corner, watching you at every mealtime, trailing you back to the common room in the evening and then watching you through your window whenever he feels the need.

One night, once he’s happy you’re safely back in your common room, he turns to leave but trips slightly over his feet. He glances down, realising with an exasperated huff that the laces on his oxfords have come undone. He crouches down to tie them, setting his other knee on the ground. He fumbles with them unnecessarily, frustrated with himself. He vaguely registers footsteps approaching him, but not enough to react before he hears a voice.

“Oh… Severus, what are you doing here?” your soft angelic voice echoes slightly in the empty corridor. You seem confused, and, arguably, you have reason to be. The only thing down this corridor is your common room, and he has no excuse to be here. He swallows, staring straight down at the ground, his mind working a mile a minute.

“Here to return the hairband,” he grunts, thinking fast. It’s the only excuse he has, even if you had told him to keep it. He looks up at you from his crouched position, you’re a lot closer to him than he thought. He realises how similar this position is to some of the ones he’s forced into your brain. He’s pleased to notice, from the flush on your face, that you make this connection too, without it being planted. He shifts slightly, lowering both his knees to the ground and facing you properly. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with barely contained arousal. You’re flushed and shy as you look down at him and he dares to invade your mind to see what you’re thinking. He can’t fight the twitch of his lips as he creeps into your mind, only to find you’re imagining him, just as he is now, pushing up your skirt and burying his face between your legs. He shivers, you’re thinking of this all on your own. There’s a nag at the back of his mind, telling him you don’t quite seem to want to be thinking this, but he ignores it, reaching up for your thighs. You yelp in surprise as his cold, long fingers press into the warm skin of your thighs and he pulls you forward.

“Wha- what are you doing?” you squeak, stumbling helplessly toward him. He doesn’t answer, he feels possessed, and he’s already salivating. He brushes his nose against the skin of your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt, making you gasp. You smell divine, a vague hint of your perfume, presumably stuck to the fabric of your skirt, a hint of something that he realises, with a growl, must be your arousal. You try to step away, but he grips you harder, keeping you in place. He knows you want him, even if you don’t seem to know it yourself. You whimper as he licks a stripe up your thigh, the taste is faintly salty and he groans in pleasure. He hears the old castle creak slightly, reminding him that the two of you are out in the open. He withdraws slightly. You look utterly dazed above him like you don’t understand what’s going on. You realise that he’s walking you to a cleaning cupboard nearby, and your legs just blindly follow him. You want to protest, but can’t seem to find it in you. You had been fantasising about this for years now, even if the reason for these fantasies never seemed to make sense. He brings you in, shutting the door behind you. He’s kneeling again in an instant, he almost looks crazed as he bunches up your skirt. He doesn’t even give you time to acclimate before his tongue is on you through the material of your underwear. You gasp out loudly as he tastes the small wet spot of fabric, when did you even get wet? He takes a long deep sniff, his nose nudging at your clit through the fabric. He licks at you desperately until the material is soaked through, both with his saliva and your arousal. You were shocked by just how intensely your body was reacting to all this. You let him slide down your underwear, figuring there’s no point stopping him now. You lean back against the wall as he buries his head between your legs, shaking his head slightly to get even closer, the movement making you moan softly. He’s undeniably eager, lapping and slurping at you, but it’s fairly clear he’s never done this before. This is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s determined to make the most of it, the scent and taste of you making him feel insane. He rubs you all over his face, wriggling his tongue against you, gripping the flesh of your buttocks to keep you in place. He’s mumbling against you, about how long he’s been picturing this, but you can’t quite hear him, which is probably for the best. He makes up for his lack of experience with his enthusiasm, the way he’s looking up at you like he’s desperate to please. You find yourself falling apart all over his face shockingly fast, biting your lip to stifle your whines.

“Thank you, thank you,” he mumbles over and over as he laps you all up. He pulls away and you go a little limp, sliding slightly down the wall as he stands. You barely register what’s happening as he turns you around pressing you up against the wall, your eyes widen as he pushes inside you, but by now you’re well past the point of no return, so you simply brace yourself against the wall. He humps you like a dog in heat, sloppy and fast, you’re glad he made you orgasm earlier because you don’t get the feeling you will be cumming from this. Not that it feels bad, in fact, it feels quite good, making you moan as he bullies against you. He grips your waist tight with his slender fingers. “This is perfect, everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he whimpers in your ear. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m never letting you go, you’re mine now,” you know what he’s saying is worrying, but your fucked out mind can’t quite realise the true danger of what he’s saying and what your lack of protesting is solidifying in his mind. “All mine,” he growls, his hips stuttering violently. He buries himself as deep as he can. “Fo-forever,” he groans shakily as he spills deep inside of you. He holds you there for a long time, your body limp in his arms as he pants against the back of your neck. You feel lightheaded, you can’t believe everything that’s just happened to you. He kisses your cheek, over and over, as if it's some sort of compulsion. “Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles repeatedly, the reality of everything starting to sink in for you. Maybe you should have believed the rumours about his mental instability, maybe you should have kicked him away when he first grabbed your thighs, perhaps you should be telling him right now that you’re not his, but instead, a string of words come out of your mouth, feeling like they’re only half your own.

“Can you eat me out again?”

And he happily complies, sliding back down onto his knees.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[honeykaes]

futile cure

mara-struck!jing yuan x reader II 4.5k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no pronouns, heavy angst, multiple major character deaths, can be read as yandere, monsterfucking, handjob, blowjob, deep throating, creampie, rough sex, info might be wrong because i haven’t completed 2.4 story quest yet, unedited

synopsis: with jing yuan’s blessing, you left the xianzhou’s luofu to join the astral express crew and follow the trailblaze. one hundred years later, the newly appointed general, yanqing reached out to you in desperation. Your former boyfriend is now mara-stricken

The air around the Express was lively as folks chimed with champagne, laughter, and music. Another world was saved, and another Stellaron crisis was averted. 

You sat at a table with two others who had been on the Express for the longest time, Dan Heng, the incarnation of the once-feared Dan Feng, and the living Stellaron himself, Caelus.

The three of you were focused on the 3 young crew members that recently joined, bickering and teasing one another in the corner of the train car. The corner’s of Dan Heng’s lips curved up, admiring the young group. His olive eyes drifted down to his cup, swishing the liquid side to side in thought.

“Y’know they’re bickering the same way you and March used to,” Dan Heng murmured. Caelus chuckled, leaning his elbow against the table. He rested his hand against his cheek in amusement.

“Kinda weird, we're the old ones now. Does that make me Mr. Yang and you Miss Himeko?” Caelus joked. You rolled your eyes at his response.

“Yeah, you wish. You still act as goofy and immature as ever, Caelus,” you retorted. Dan Heng sighed, looking off at the group of young travelers again.

“...I miss them. Miss Himeko, Mr. Yang, March…” he trailed off. The three of you remained silent as music played out, along with whatever the other group was talking about. Seeing them so happy after completing their second mission brought nostalgia. It seemed just yesterday that you all were in their positions.

Your gaze softened, looking at Pom Pom reprimanding them for being too loud. 

”I do too. Sometimes I wish all lifeforms had the same lifespan.” you murmured, looking at your own reflection in your drink. Caelus' face momentarily lit up, as an idea popped into the eccentric's head.

“Y'know what. Why don’t we go back to one of the worlds we used to like old times! Penacony! Jarilo-IV! Oh! Even your hometowns in Xianzhou Alliance’s Luofu!” Caelus suggested. Your heart churned hearing him say the Luofu. It had been decades since the crisis there where you had left to join the Astral Express, leaving your former boyfriend behind with his blessing.

You could still remember his soft gaze and sad smile, holding his hand with your own:

“The heart of a gentleman cares not about his own selfish desires, but of all that it encompasses from his breadth of heart.”

You hadn’t seen Jing Yuan in ages. You had heard he had retired and his apprentice—now grown—took the mantle of his position but you were too busy saving a world to attend the ceremony.

”...Personally, I prefer not to. However, (Y/n), I think it might be beneficial for you. Catch up on your old friends and see him again might do you some good. Although we are trailblazers, some of us with homes can get homesick. These opportunities are rare,” Dan Heng suggested.

Caelus quickly grabbed his drink, shooting it back and slamming it back down to the table. 

”Exactly! So, are we in agreement to go to the Luofu?” Caelus murmured, nudging you. You opened your mouth to retort to the drunken human stellaron but your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Your elbow nudged his stomach as he groaned before you lifted your phone up to see the message.

Your eyes widened, lips parted seeing the message on your phone. It was from Yanqing. You hadn’t spoken to him in years.

As the general, he rarely reached out to you. Even prior to his promotion, you could tell he held some animosity towards you for choosing the path of the Trailblaze and leaving his master, Jing Yuan. 

You couldn’t blame the child, just bore his unapproving gaze with a sad smile.

”Please come to the Luofu when you can. It’s important and I need your help. Only you can help him.”

Your heart sank as your grip on your device tightened. Out of all scenarios, there was one you could think of that Yanqing would bite his pride and reach out to you. But part of you didn’t want to believe it. It would make it real.

”What are you so focused on all of a sudden?” Caelus murmured, looking over your shoulder before getting quiet. You pulled your phone back and placed it on the table. Caelus peered at you with sympathetic eyes as Dan Heng’s narrowed in confusion.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, confused about your sudden somber and worried expression. You get up from your seat, the joy of the celebration completely gone leaving nothing but fear, longing, regret, and worry.

”Pom Pom,” you called out. The group of young travelers looked at you, noticing the change of your tone.  The small conductor turned to you, leaning his head to the side in confusion.

“Yes, Mx (Y/n)?”

“Please set a course to head to the Xianzhou's Luofu.”

Docking at the Luofu ship you could feel your heart beating a mile per minute. You felt light-hearted, stomach churning from the amount of anxiety bubbling throughout your body. Yanqing would only reach out to you for something serious.

Had something happened to him? He seemed fine when you last visited, but that was decades ago…

”Jing Yuan…” you muttered, looking down on the ground. Dan Heng had convinced the group to stay on the Express for the time being. The boys you had known for so long knew you wanted to handle this alone. You’d have to thank him later.

Disembarking alone onto the ship, you could barely focus on the hustle and bustle of the square. Your pace was fast, gaze scanning and looking for someone familiar.

You finally focused on the tall young man with arms. His hair was long and tight in a low ponytail. When he opened his eyes, the familiar amber greeted you back. Your eyes softened as you approached him.

“Yanqing! you grew up. Oh! Wait, I guess I should call you General Yanqing now,” you chuckled awkwardly. Yanqing forced a smile, his brow furrowed from stress. You could see the bags under his eyes, from countless restless nights. Whatever this was, it was truly getting to the newly appointed general. 

“Yanqing, what’s wrong…” you asked. The Cloud Knights adjacent to him looked to the General as he sighed.

”Let’s speak in my office, away from noisy ears and gazes,” he replied. You were caught off guard, by how deep his voice was. He had changed so much that the young apprentice who used to always come to you about stories of Jing Yuan.

As the two of you reached his office, you noticed a woman sitting on his desk. Your eyes narrowed trying to pinpoint where you recognized her, before a small smile appeared on your face.

”Yunli? Is that you?” you asked. Her eyes lit up as she gave you a polite smile..

 “(Y/n), it’s nice to see you. I hope this blockhead hasn’t been too rude to you,” she replied. Yanqing grunted at her response.

”Not the time, Yunli!: he barked. She rolled her eyes, unamused at the blond.

”I don’t care!” she seethed. “The idiot is still prideful but I was hoping he, at least, bit his pride and contacted you.”

She strummed her hand along the wooden desk in irritation. You could see a silver band on her finger. Once again, it seems you missed a lot in your time Trailblazing. You turned to look at Yanqing once more.

“Yanqing, what’s going on?” you asked again. Yanqing massaged his brow, lips parting as he tried to find the right words.

”Master, he…” he struggled. “You know about Jingliu, his master, right?” 

Your eyebrow furrowed. You could recall his somber face as he told you stories about her. She was an accomplished warrior who was a part of the High Cloud Quintet. Dan Feng's sin led him to his next incarnation, Baiheng died, a newly immortal Yingxing became the barely quelled mara-stricken Stelleron Hunter Blade, and Jingliu got mara-struck as well and went mad…

Leaving Jing Yuan by himself. 

But it was not as though you could judge, you ended up leaving him too.

”Yes…”

”...Jing Yuan is mara-struck.”

Time seemed to pause as those words continued to ring out. Mara-struck? Mara-struck? Haha no. He couldn’t…could he really? This is what you feared when you got that message from Yanqing.

”What do you mean by that,” you whispered, struggling to process the information. Yanqing looked at Yunli and sighed.

“When Jing Yuan retired, it was because the mara was getting to him and affecting his cognitive abilities,” he responded. “To not cause panic with the public, I and a few others said he had retired before I was promoted as the new General.”

You balled your fists, nails digging into the flesh of your palms.

”...He had been suffering for that long and you didn’t tell me Yanqing!” you out. Yanqing tightened his jaw, Adam's Apple bobbing as he tried quelling his dry throat in shame.

“You were so busy going off and traveling! I didn’t think you cared or had the time to care!” he shouted back.

”You should have told me! I would have come back to the Luofu for him!” you barked back. Yanqing’s nostrils flared as he took a step forward.

”Yet you still left the Luofu despite Master!” he shouted back. The two of you stared each other down. Your chests were heaving, ready to yell, shout, and bicker; whatever insult and claims that came next but neither one retorted. Soon, the anger in both of your eyes subsided back into pain and shame. Both of your gazes shifted away.

”...Where is he” you whispered, eyes fluttering to stop any tears threatening to drip down.

”.Held in a secure solitary confinement. The knights I have patrolling that area have said he has been getting more aggressive. We don’t think we have much time before he tries to escape,” Yanqing admitted.

It was beginning to get harder to bat away the tears as you shook your head at the new information. You always thought you would greet Jing Yuan with that lazy smile of his again. Not…a monster, an abomination of Yaoshi’s. 

”.What do you want me to do then?” you asked. Yanqing paused as Yunli sighed and got up from her seat, walking next to him. 

”Those soldiers have heard him call your name at night. For some reason, your name has a soothing effect on him. Makes him…almost normal again. As normal as you can get being mara-struck, I guess,” Yunli revealed.

Her hands weaved with Yanqing who struggled to come up with words. Yunli clicked her tongue gazing at him before turning back to you.

”.Yanqing, thought it was best for you to come. As a last effort to try to quell the mara within him. If this doesn’t work, he will be forced to subdue his master to protect the Luofu and Xianzhou Alliance,” she murmured. Yanqing's eyes closed at Yunli’s blunt words. 

You looked down on the ground. 

Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan who always pulled you back in bed, lazily cuddling with you whenever it was time for you two to get up. Jing Yuan who would tease you with Tanghulu, stealing the last fruit without you realizing it. Jing Yuan who got you to hand the sparrows that seemingly always loved to land on him. 

Jing Yuan whose lips dragged across your ear, whispering how much he admired you.

Jing Yuan who was the first person to tell you they loved you.

“Mx (Y/n)?” Yunli called out. You snapped out of your thoughts, quickly wiping away the tears that managed to spill out.

“Yes! Sorry, Yunli. Continue…. “ you replied. Although Yunli’s mouth opened to respond the next words were not heard but Yanqing

”Will you go and see him, please…” Yanqing begged in a broken whisper. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

”Yes, but with stipulations…”

Out of the places of the Luofu, you had explored and aventured, this was the first place you had never gone.

The secret unit had over five levels of security clearance and four levels underground. There was specialized personal guarding the only entry point. You and Yanqing walked in silence until you finally reached the final floor, where there was a single cell.

In the corner, Jing Yuan curled himself into a ball on the bed. His hair was wild and unkempt, but pieces of glowing ginkgo leaves seemed to be growing from it.

Yaoshi’s curse was claiming another.

Yanqing looked at you, eyes worried.

”Are you sure about this…” he murmured. You try to give him an encouraging smile to subside his fears.

”I’m positive…” you murmured.

Yanqing silently nodded as he opened the door to the former general’s cell. Jing Yuan didn’t move or react. You walked into the cell before the door was shut behind you.

”12 hrs. Remember, no one is allowed in here until then. Okay?” you called out behind the iron bars. Yanqing hesitated but nodded.

“Knights, clear out this level and guard the one before it,” Yanqing yelled out. 

“Yes, General!” they all shouted in unison. The Cloud Knights in the area stood rigid and saluted before making their way up the stairs with him, leaving you and Jing Yuan alone.

You turned to him as he slowly uncurled himself, laying on his bed. His head had leaned against the concrete wall, a collar on his neck, wrist, and ankles. 

You had heard in some cases, Luofu technology for high-risk prisoners would include these mechanics to induce an electrical shock but knowing Jing Yuan and his extreme power, it probably didn’t work on him.

His eyes finally met yours, narrowed and calculative—not the lazily warm way he used to. The biggest shock was how red they were, like freshly spilled blood than the warm golden light of the sun they used to be.

“You, why do you seem familiar? Who are you,” he grunted. You forced yourself to smile, gaze softening.

“Jing Yuan. It’s me. I know it’s been awhile. My hair might’ve changed a bit, but it’s me…” you whispered. You reached your hand and placed it on his cheek. As he recoiled back about to plant a counter attack on you, you could see him pause. He cautiously leaned back into your touch, eyes gazing up in your searching.

”...(Y/n)? You stayed. You didn’t leave after all!” he murmured. You could feel your heart shattered, as he grinned, wrapping his arms around you. His head leaned into the nape of your neck. 

”I’m so happy you decided to stay after all. I didn’t want to be selfish and prevent your dream from seeing other worlds in an attempt to find a solution to Yaoshi’s curse…” he whispered, hugging you tighter. “But I wanted nothing more for you to just be by my side…”

He leaned away, eyes now an orange hue, mind, and body fighting against the mara in his system. He leaned away, grabbing your waist. His once usual lazy grin on his pale face.

”Marry me…”

”Jing Yuan...”

”Marry me…please. I’ll find you the best ring I can tomorrow, so forgive me for being so forward. I want to spend these centuries with you, and you being here in front of my eyes proves we are meant to be with each other,” he murmured.

You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in tears hearing his confession. You had left wanting to find a cure, to fight against an Aeon, to see Jing Yuan happy that no one else in Xianzhou would have to fear being mara-struck, but you found yourself here.

The one person you feared most getting it, without anything to show for your travels. How did you think you could compete against an Aeon? Perhaps this was Yaoshi’s personal punishment to you.

Jing Yuan sighed, getting up. His chapped lips kissed the salty stream of tears from your cheeks.

”Shhh, qīnàide. Why are you crying, my love? This should be a happy moment,” he cooed. You shook your head, lips quivering as you hiccuped and struggled to stammer words out.

”Jing Yuan, I love you too. Of course, I would marry you but…”

”No but’s. You said yes…” he teased. You placed your hands on his cheeks, pleading with him. You pressed your forehead against his, hoping your touch would ground him.

“Jing Yuan, I did end up leaving. I still haven’t found a cure for mara…for you, for everyone suffering on the Xianzhou. It’s been over 100 years since I left and joined the Astral Express.”

”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Your blurry vision looked up to see Jing Yuan. His eyes were red again, but they gazed softly against yours. He brought his hand down, gently caressing your soft hair.

”I know. I’m sorry for being confused at first. I’m sorry you’re seeing me in this state, but I still meant what I said,” Jing Yuan sighed as he brought your crying form on his chest, lying beneath the uncomfortably small bed.

”...I’m not going to be able to stop this, am I?” you asked the now fluid Jing Yuan. He flashed a somber smile. 

“...No.”

“Yanqing…”

“I know…”

You paused not knowing what to say.

“...I do have a favor to ask you though. However long we have to be together…” he murmured 

“Marry me. Be mine for an hour, a day, anything. I’m just happy to have you in my arms once more.” he murmured. Lifting his hand to wipe more tears. His nails were sharpened and black.

”...Anything for you, Jing Yuan.”

His lips reached over and kissed you. Hand gliding up your sides as if to remember the feel of your skin beneath his touch. His large palms found a way beneath your shirt, guiding the fabric over your head and onto the ground. 

He grabbed a handful of your chest. Lips moving away from your lips and trailing on your jaw and neck. You could feel his teeth were sharper than before, the tip of his canines grazing the sensitive subtle areas of your neck.

Jing Yuan easily ripped through his thin shirt, revealing areas where the mara could be physically seen, botches of his skin beginning to blacken and glow in golden hue.

Your hands gently glide down his large pectorals and abdomen, resting at the waist of his loose pants. Your hand darted beneath his pants, feeling his heavy cock beginning to rise from your touch.

Jing Yuan’s whole body shuttered before letting a grunt out. You tightly gripped his length, pulling it in a rhythmic motion as his breaths got heavier and heavier. Precum budded at his tip, as his cock quivered from your jerks.

You shimmied his pants down, as his cock slapped against his abdomen. You leaned down, poking your tongue out to lick the slit of its head. Jing Yuan grunted, eyebrows furrowed. His nails buried in the thin mattress of the bed, desperately trying to control himself.

Kissing his tip, you opened your mouth engulfing his length to your mouth. Salty yet sweet precum was already leaking down to your tongue. His grip was getting tighter, as an almost unhuman growl came from him.

“F-Fuck, darling!” Jing Yuan choked out with his head hung back to the wall. He desperately tried to quell his desires, wanting nothing more than to pull your head all the way down till he felt the back of your warm, wet throat. 

You bobbled your head up and down, fingers drifting down your pants. Noticing this, Jing Yuan easily ripped the fabric—exposing your slit, drooling and waiting for him. As your tongue hit a prominent vein at the back of his cock, his body became more rigid— gingko beginning to glow more. 

His large fingers swiped a finger between your folds and let it nudge against your throbbing clit with every stroke. Feeling your slick dripping down your inner thighs and his finger, he pushed past your puffy folds and slid it inside your dripping pussy. You bit your lip, barely muffling a moan feeling him pump. His eyes lapped up every shiver and moan from your lips. Memories of the times he had claimed you coming back to him. 

He could feel your cunt fluttered down on his fingers drilling inside of you. 

He wanted more. 

He wanted to make up for these hundreds of years of not being beside you.

“...(Y/n)!!” Jing Yuan grunted. He let his desires finally get to him as his hand went down to your head, pushing you deeper against his cock surprising you, as you slightly choked. His hips slightly bucked, as you grabbed onto his thighs nostrils flaring to try and breathe.

His hips jolted as ropes of thick cum shot to the back of your throat. You tried swallowing, but it felt like a never-ending stream. Eventually, you lifted your head coughing as his essence streamed down your lips. His pace continued to be brutal, letting his thumb rub tight circles against your clit as your thighs squeezed together.

“That’s how I remember you. Come now, let me be reminded of that cute expression of yours,” he cooed. Your body shivered as your back arched, finally reaching your high with his name echoed from your lips. Jing Yuan smiled, sliding out of your pulsating cunt.

Jing Yuan repositions themselves, hovering on top of his still-hardened cock. It was still twitching as the veins wrapped around it throbbed in excitement.

Cock teased against your slit, nudging the top against your needy clit repeatedly as it burned in stimulation. 

Catching your breath and looking down, you noticed his cock was unusual. In the darkness, you couldn’t tell much difference but observing it now, you could. You recalled him being long, and thick, with a few moles decorated near the base. It had a gradient now, his pale skin turning into an obsidian hue. His veins were golden, with every pulsate the light would brighten and dim. 

“I finally get to have you again…” he whispered out almost in ecstasy, moving on top of you.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance back and forth. Your body jolted as he slowly entered inside of you. You sucked a breath in, feeling him stretch you out wider and wider as he plunged deeper. 

Jing Yuan hummed,  letting his fingers swirl against your clit once more trying to distract you from the dull pain. A moan escaped your lips as he eventually bottomed out, tip hitting against your cervix.

Not even giving you time to get used to him, Jing Yuan began thrusting hard inside of you. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, fingers digging into the cheap sheets. The bed squeaked and moaned, wood hitting against the concrete wall with the rapid pace he had set.

His lips connected with your neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. His canines, poke you every so often. A groan escaped Jing Yuan’s lips, addicted to the feeling of having your cunt squeeze him, trying to milk every drop from him. His balls smacked against your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

Lost in the pleasure, Jing Yuan let one of his hands go from your hips, noting the crescent moons from his sharp nails already developing there before grabbing onto your chin. He was drinking up your expressions. The way your lips curled and shouted his name. The light sheen of sweat on your skin. The smell of your perfume mixed with sex in the air.

He drank up one hundred years' worth like a man starving.

“I love you…I love you…I love you...I love you…” he grunted. His groans were becoming more and more unnatural and inhumane, as you desperately clung onto him.  

Your velvety walls squeezed tight feeling the ridges of his cock rub against that mouth-watering spot inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist in a futile attempt for him to get even deeper. 

His cock twitched inside of you as he propelled his cock inside of you faster. With his continued ministrations on your clit, it wasn’t long until you reached your second climax wrapping your arms around him.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trail of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

You caught your breath as Jing Yuan’s gaze shifted to the side, seemingly colder before meeting yours once more and warming up again. You brushed your hand against his white hair clinging to his forehead.

“...Will you be leaving again soon? I’m sure you can’t stay in my cell forever. 12 hours right?” he asked, placing his palms on top of yours that were on his cheeks. You could feel his cock still pulsating inside of you, his lazily bucking into you every so often.

“...Yes, but then in 24 hours I’ll see you again. I’m staying, this time. I promise. I’m going to make you better and make up for all that time,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him. Jing Yuan merely stared at the wall, crimson mara-struck eyes narrowing before turning to you and smiling.

“As long as you remain in the Luofu, by my side, I will be happy…” he replied.

The world seemed almost grey, your mind as foggy as a cloud. You don’t know how long you have been crying for. You just knew your eyes were puffy and stung from how much you had. 

A few days after you saw him, Jing Yuan went to the point of no return. Many soldiers were lost in the chaos of it all. 

Despite your visits, and him acting…mostly normal with you. Whenever you would leave, you’d hear reports the next day on how aggressive he had gotten. It only took three days for him to try to escape.

Reports read that he was set on leaving with you, no matter what it took. Yelling how he had to make it to the Express to see you. Or how you were waiting for him in your old shared apartment together. How you had promised you would come back to him. 

Seeing you in the flesh and leaving again and again, even for short periods, left Jing Yuan’s mara-struck form desperate to get you back again and feel “normal”. His sanity finally had gone, leaving nothing but the mara to control your once beloved boyfriend.

Yanqing gave the last blow last night in a hard fought battle.

There wouldn’t be any more visits and the hope of finding a cure. He is gone, for good now.

Yunli had given you a key to his old place, insisting to get anything before the Cloud Knights removed everything.

Yet you found yourself curled into his old apartment and bed gazing at the unsent letters hidden in his desk drawer. Stacks of them for years. You could hear his voice telling you about his day, what he was working on, how Yanqing was improving, how he missed Jingliu

…How he missed you.

How he wished he actually proposed.

How he wished he started a family with you.

But most of all, how he wished to see you happy.

“It’s okay though. As much longing in my heart I have, I feel pride knowing you are saving other words and looking to help the Xianshou people. Whenever I look to the stars, I think of you. I love you. I wish I could see your smile right now.”

[yandere-wishes]

༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + -- mature short content !

Content Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, and violent fantasies. It delves into the unhealthy and dangerous mindset of a stalker obsessed with you. Reader discretion is advised.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

INCLUDES: Stalking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, cunnilingus, fingering, fem reader, choking, mentions of cheating, p in v sex in public, murder, death, he's not a good person, dom yandere?, degradation?, he can be a bit of a gaslighter, gore, and more.

*This is the third fic to this little mini series. Check out the first part, and the second part for a better understanding! He is referred to as "your stalker." The italicized portion is his inner thoughts! This fic is inspired by the show You, and this is purely fictional writing!*

SYNOPSIS: Your stalker's obsession intensifies as he becomes involved with another woman named Daniella Foster, who he views as inferior to you. Despite his disdain for your best friend, he engages in a flirtatious and sexual relationship with her, all the while fantasizing about you.

What's more dangerous than a sick, psychotic, and perverted man?

I ran out of your blood today.

Just four hours ago, I was completely fine. The vial of your period blood was nearly empty, but I was able to stick my finger inside to collect the last of your crimson essence. I sucked a particularly big blood clot off my finger, and I was able to start my day with a huge smile.

Four hours ago, I could claim that I was a normal and functioning man, someone you wouldn’t blink an eye at, and that was all thanks to you.

Four hours ago, I was able to brush my teeth, take a shower, and clean myself up for the day. I had an extra pep in my step, and I felt like I could take on the world with a positive outlook.

Don’t you see how much life you give me? Your blood alone has made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I could float up into space with just your plasma to help me survive.

But now, it was gone.

Your stalker stared blankly at the window as his body was jostled side to side, his hands tightly gripping the handle of his tote bag that rested on his lap. He tried to ignore the obnoxiously sick person near him, who didn’t even bother to cover their coughs. He closed his eyes to avoid staring into the eyes of another person across from him. He was sandwiched between two burly people: one shouted loudly into their phone, clearly having zero spatial awareness, while the other snoozed. The woman's head drooped as she nodded off, and her greasy hair brushed against his cheek.

She had a distinct smell of sweat and wet socks. Your stalker apologized to the man next to him as he slightly leaned his body away from the woman. He was stuck in this position unless someone took pity on him and spoke up.

His car was in the shop. The tire had unexpectedly given out, causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic. The car was old anyway, a gift from his parents when he first got his license in high school. That must have been, what, ten years ago? He didn’t like to think about his age; nothing good ever came from it anyway.

Your stalker rummaged through his bag, his hand searching for the familiar plastic tube he used to steal your period blood. His fingers brushed against a particularly sharp blade he kept for “safety” reasons before they wrapped around the vial. He had really tried to savor it. He would carefully open his mouth and tilt the vial just enough for a single drop of blood to settle onto his tongue. Sometimes he would pour a bit into his coffee, or he would put it into his food. Either way, it made him feel closer to you. It was a comforting notion to think about, that he was the only man and human who had access to you in such an intimate way.

Your stalker sighed as he put the empty tube back into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

He didn’t like taking public transportation. New York was known for having odd things happening on the trains, buses, and subways. He was pretty sure that last week someone had set a rat on fire, a poor woman got robbed in broad daylight, and a group of teens were filming their dumb YouTube prank videos on the elderly.

Your stalker felt a flare of irritation as the woman leaned on his shoulder again. He gently nudged her off and ignored the way she woke up all startled. He glanced down at his phone, counting the number of stops, and saw he had twelve more before he could get off.

He was going to Manhattan for a job. An absolute douchebag had hired him, and his name was Myron Vykolv. He was the type to spend his money on trips and a bedazzled car rather than giving back to charity. Vykolv was an artist's worst nightmare: fickle, a headache to deal with; but surprisingly, he had good taste in art. He had to; he hired your stalker, after all.

He pulled out his phone to scroll on social media, his eyes scanning the copious amount of braindead content, and he paused when he saw a familiar face. He pressed the buttons on the side of his phone, his screen flashing, and the screenshot he took was saved in his photo album. Your stalker zoomed in, and his eyes widened as he saw the perfectly harmonious facial features. The baby tee top had a cute graphic splayed on the chest area, hair slicked and pulled back into a bun, and gold hoops dangling from those nicely formed ears.

It was you.

He glanced down at the caption: "a coffee date with my favorite bff." Posted exactly five minutes ago. It wasn't your account, but it was the closest thing he had to you. Your stalker decided to follow your coffee-manic and bikini-loving friend, and every post and picture she had, you were in it too.

She made it almost easy to stalk. Jesus, what if a deranged man had decided to show up to her place in the Beverly Hills area on the street of— seriously? Did she really just post her full address online?

Daniella Foster. The epitome of a fun and ditzy socialite who spent way too much time at parties and clubs. A trust fund baby if there ever was one, with her daddy being a big shot in the entertainment industry. Despite all that privilege, she never quite made it big herself.

Your stalker snorted as he saw the array of failed projects she had been in. Modeling? Wasn't in the cards for her. Acting? Horrible. A piece of cardboard would've had more personality than her. Originally from Tampa, Florida, then she moved to California, where she had her comically large house, and then… she decided to bless us by coming to New York. Lucky us, right y/n?

Your stalker looked up from his phone and realized the train had come to his stop. He got up from his seat and quickly made his way out. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down: Daniella requested to follow you. That was fast.

He clicked accept.

She's a shameless flirt, your stalker soon found out, and he’s not the least bit surprised. Daniella slid into his DMs with a picture of her provocatively sucking a lollipop, and her first words to him were: “What do you look like?”

Gee, take a gander, Daniella. My profile picture is a high-definition shot of my handsome and sexy fucking face. But sure, ask me about my looks as if you were actually interested. Your stalker rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to respond to that message, but he had no other way of seeing you again. You would probably run at the sight of him, and that would be the most sane and correct thing you could do.

So, what does a man say when he’s mediocre, average, and you’re clearly out of his league? “I look like the man of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your stalker had spent hours sexting and courting this woman who had flooded his inbox. Even when he was painting for a client, he managed to multitask and send a dick pic. He sent her whatever she wanted to keep her hooked, and just by her messages alone, this must have been the only time a man actually matched her level of craziness and horniness.

Days turned into weeks and then soon into months. The moment he woke up, he would see that she had sent him hundreds of messages in one night—she must've been drunk again.

He spent hours reading each message, and he hearted the ones that he felt were the most important. It was actually coming to an end, thank God, but to his surprise, she asked him out on a date.

"So, what do you do? Who are you?" The girl in front of him asked.

He shouldn't have said yes because now he was sitting in a restaurant that he could barely afford or get a reservation to, and he had to be with this woman who wasn't you. She was dressed beautifully - he'd give her that. He liked the dark colors of her red dress, the way he could drink in the curves of her hips and chest, and how it gave him a clear view of her body.

Now, he wondered what you would have worn if you were on a date with him. Would you have put in this much effort and shown this much skin? Would you have laughed at all of his jokes to boost his damn ego, or knocked him down a peg? Would you have ordered something light so you could have sex afterward, or would you have eaten something hearty and called it a day?

He pretended to think for a while, all before he gently touched her hand, and his fingers caressed her soft skin. "Who am I?" He teased, his voice slightly deepened as he gave her a playful once-over. "I'm hurt. After all these months, you still don't know who I am?"

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" She tilted her head.

Your stalker sighed and he looked around briefly. This place was intimate, for high rollers only, and he could just imagine how much of his money was going to go down the drain. The tiny candle on the table, the white clean cloth, and the vase with a single rose was still too romantic for his taste. His thumb traced circles on her hand, and the other grabbed for his steak knife.

“I'm an up-and-coming artist,” He replied with a bit of a shrug.

“An up-and-coming artist, huh?” She echoed, her fingers now interlocked with his. “Do you come often?”

Lord, please have some mercy and shoot me. Do I come often? Wouldn’t you like to know, you slut. Is this the type of person you really want to spend your time with, y/n? Daniella is not you, and she could never be you. She parades herself around for anyone and everyone to ogle at—she is the epitome of what’s wrong with the dating scene. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No wonder she’s desperate enough to entertain me—of all people.

I know the type of people you like, Daniella, and it’s not me.

“You know what you’re doing when you ask me that.” he brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it. “I can tell you can make a man come often.“

Daniella giggled and her chest puffed out. She leaned closer to him, and he can practically drown in her scent of vanilla and cake. “I have an art piece that I think you'll appreciate. It's back at my place… wanna see it?”

Fuhhhhhck no. Your stalker slipped the knife into his pocket.

Your stalker smirked and he leaned in closer as well. He could see the makeup on her face, the gloss on her lips, and he could see a glimpse of her ample breasts. “I don’t know… is it one of a kind?”

Underneath the table, her leg started to caress his, and her foot slowly found its way to his crotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and he held onto her hand tighter. As much as he hated this, he would have been lying if he had said that the attention wasn’t nice. He felt the pressure around his groin tighten as she pressed her foot onto it, and she gently rubbed it up and down while maintaining eye contact.

“It’s an original piece…something that can’t be replicated. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Daniella said coyly, and she bit down on her plush lips.

She knew when to strike when the iron was hot. A taxi was called, and she made out with him in it. Her body was pressed up against his, and she felt his hand grip on her ass. His hand then slid up her thigh, his fingers ripped her black sheer stockings and two of them found their way to her entrance. He bit down on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She's a fun girl. She knew exactly how to inflate a man's ego and pride. He heard her sweet, light moans, and her hips started to grind onto his hand. His thumb played with her clit, and they only pulled away when the cab arrived at her house. He grabbed her hand and tossed a couple of bills at the driver. He slammed the door shut, and before she could unlock the door to her house, he pressed her against his body.

"W-We're in public...!" Daniella's face was flushed and she tried to close her legs, but your stalker was quick to pull them back apart.

He narrowed his eyes and tugged down her panties. "So? Don't tell me you have morals all of a sudden." he snorted.

He wished that she would just shut up. She opened her mouth to rebuttal but he wrapped one hand around her throat to keep her still and quiet, and he shimmied off his pants just enough for his cock to be out. "I didn't come here for you to talk all the damn time. Shut it, before I put that mouth of yours to good use."

Your stalker lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around him. His dick then entered inside her, and he groaned at how wet and ready she felt. It's been awhile since he felt actual warmth, and her walls started to clench around him. His breath is ragged as he fucked her. His eyes were closed and he couldn't help but bite down onto her shoulder. Daniella cried out, and her body was tense as his teeth broke into her skin.

"God... you needed this, didn't you?" He purred as he licked up the puncture wound. Your stalker then looked down to watch his cock disappear into her. "You need someone to fuck your brains out." He sharply thrust into her again, and his hands dug into the plush of her ass to help with the momentum.

Your stalker dragged his tongue across her bleeding shoulder, then pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. With one hand still gripping her body, he used the other to shove his fingers down her throat, silencing her whimpers."You're the prettiest whore I have ever seen. Isn't that right, y/n?"

Your stalker truly believed he was being intimate with you. Daniella, who? All he knew was you. All he ever wanted was to feel you, to taste you, and to be able to hear you mewl around his cock. He wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, to paint your skin with butterfly kisses, and for him to finally come inside you again and again. It actually pissed him off to no end that he had to be stuck here with her.

When he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he unceremoniously pulled out of her, and his white stream of cum dripped down onto the ground. He sighed as his dick softened, and he gently helped her stand on her own legs again. His hand dipped underneath her body, his fingers playing with her wet folds, and he spread them apart to furiously rub at her clit. Daniella gripped onto his arm to keep him firmly there until she felt her leg shake.

Your stalker watched with a bit of fascination as what seemed like an endless amount of juices squirted out of her. He got onto his knees and helped her to sit onto his face. After he cleaned her all up, your stalker suddenly remembered something and his hand patted down his pockets.

"Hey... I think I'm missing my phone." He started his little lie. "Can I borrow yours? I forgot that I had an important call--"

"Bag." She just said and pointed to the one that was tossed to the side.

He muttered a "thanks" before he went over and rummaged through her purse. "What do you think about doing this again?" he kept an eye on her as his hand aimlessly tried to look for her phone. "I had fun tonight, and I'd like to see you one more time."

He could feel the various items in her bag. A packet of cigarettes, two lip products, house keys, a whole perfume bottle, but fuck where was her phone?

He watched as Daniella rolled down her scrunched up dress. The woman then raised her brow and she crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure you said another woman's name."

"I didn't." He said rather quickly. "You drank a lot of wine--it was almost like you were trying to bankrupt me." He joked, and his hand firmly gripped onto what felt like a smooth case. He pulled it out of her bag and there it was. "What's your password?"

"Trying to change the subject, are we?"

"I'm pretty sure your phone is the subject, unlock it pretty please?"

Daniella pulled back her hair and she stared at him expectantly.

"I said give me your password, not a blowjob." Your stalker frowned.

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's my face dumbass." she then snatched her phone back from him.

"You don't use your thumb? What kind of update is that?"

"God, you're so poor." He heard her mutter.

That was so unwarranted, and sort of hurt.

Though it made him feel a lot better when he finally decided to slit her throat. Now that she was distracted, he discreetly pulled out the steak knife from his pocket before he dropped her bag and roughly yanked her back to him. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams as he dragged the serrated blade across her neck. The knife sawed through flesh, muscle, and sinew, blood spurting and gushing with each desperate pulse of her heart. It took him a while to sever her head completely, his arm burning with exhaustion as he hacked away, the blade catching on bone and gristle, her life draining away in a torrent of crimson.

Your stalker wiped his bloodied hand on her dress, he grabbed the phone off the ground, and he groaned when he saw that the screen was cracked. He tried his best to work the damn thing, his finger poking at the messaging app multiple times before it decided to open. Daniella had a plentiful amount of unsaved numbers but they had weird emojis next to them. One number was from a different country and had the eggplant emoticon.

Then he found the only saved number: y/n.

You're apparently a good girl and shared your location with your best friend. How adorable, you even share every given moment with her too. You even talked about how you were thinking about going back to your serial cheater of an ex.

Your stalker gasped, his head reeling back in shock. You were about to go back to your ex? Your ex, of all people? You couldn't have, what—moved on like a normal person? You couldn't have gone out and fucked around with someone new? Someone like him? It's like you purposely make the wrong choices just to be saved. Before he could be your little personal super hero... his eyes slowly made its way back to the body on the ground, and then to the keys that were in her bag.

Have you ever heard of cuteness aggression? The rush of impulsive behavior that you get after seeing a cute and defenseless puppy? I get that when I see you. I think you're so adorable that it makes my heart burst. Your stalker stared up into your apartment, and the car windows were rolled down to air out the perfume he dumped into the body bag.

However, there was nothing cute about this ugly pig-like fuck that touched your waist. That man had no redeeming qualities, and boy, did I want him to start squealing in pain. I wanted to pinch his body until he had yellowish-brown bruises all over. I wanted to crush his skull with my bare hands and feel his pulse drop. I wanted to be able to drink the blood shower that would come from their body and bathe in it. I want them to realize that you’re off the market, and that you’re solely mine.

They’re not good for you, love. You have seen that time and time again, and they have disappointed you before without fail; so why do you welcome them with open arms? It hurts to see your legs over their shoulders, and to see a bit of your face contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Is it the sex? Is it the way they give you a fleeting moment of what could have been if they weren’t constantly cheating on you?

That’s pathetic, and you know it. But it’s okay, I’m willing to look past this little transgression. It’s not completely unforgivable. They must’ve broken you down and made you vulnerable enough to pull your pants down. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

Your stalker continued to stake out your house, patiently waiting for your ex to come down to the lobby. The moment he did, your stalker would be ready. He might not have been able to get your blood, but killing your ex and taking his was like killing two birds with one stone.

Allure: This is the first fic I wrote that actually has y/n in it! And it's pretty unedited, so if there is mistakes I will probs fix it later on. This dragged on for waaay longer than it needed and tbh, I am never writing a long fic like this again LMAO

[delulustateofmind]

You Can't Just Play God

SatoSugu x Reader Inspired by a comic on Webtoon: Never Ending Darling and that one anon asking about how things would go if you were dating Geto and Gojo entered the relationship instead.

TW: No Curse AU/Modern Au, Horror? Yandere Behaviors (Obsessive, Possessive, Manipulation, Etc.), SatoSugu, Dubcon, Implied Noncon, Murder, Disturbing deaths, Blood, Gun violence, Reader Dies Multiple Times, smut, spooky lab tech (not used for smut), academic theft. MDNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

WC: 7.5k

Enjoy! I'm going to touch grass now :)

The cycle repeats.

A new age, a new era—and you had a goddamn headache.

The chimes of your alarm dragged you out of sleep, their shrill notes cutting through the haze clouding your mind. A groan slipped through your lips as you sluggishly threw an arm over your face as the sun’s obnoxiously bright rays streamed through your curtains, making everything somehow worse. Judging by the pounding in your skull, you had to assume you were hungover. Not that you could confirm it—these days, your memories were more like fragmented snapshots, and last night was no exception.

Reaching for your side table, you fumbled to silence the grating K.K. Slider alarm jingle that seemed ten times louder than usual. The sudden quiet was a relief, but only for a moment. Your groan deepened as you noticed the sweet note left behind by your boyfriend—no, fiancé. That term still felt foreign, awkward on your tongue.

“For the love of my life, please stop with your antics, sweet girl.” —Sugu.

Beside the note sat a neatly placed hangover tonic and a couple of pills, his familiar thoughtfulness easing some of the tension in your chest. You popped the pills and chased them with the tonic, grateful for his foresight, though the nagging truth lingered: you didn’t remember going out last night. At all.

The sensation wasn’t new, but it never got less unsettling. A blank space where memories should be. A creeping sense of unease settled over you as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your head throbbed with the effort, each beat of the headache a sharp reminder of how little control you seemed to have over your own life lately.

You padded downstairs in your pajamas, still half-asleep and half-questioning your existence. The familiar scent of breakfast wafted through the house, but it did little to clear the fog in your mind. Despite Suguru’s persistent efforts, you still lived at home with your parents. You’d insisted you weren’t ready to move in with him yet. He’d even offered to kick out his roommate and business partner—your college best friend, Gojo Satoru—to make space for you. You still said no.

“You’re so lucky to have a man like him, Y/N,” your mother chimed from the kitchen, her voice cutting through your haze. She stood by the stove, spatula in hand, her words laced with just enough mom judgment to make you wince. “He carried you home, helped you shower, and got you changed. You don’t find men like that anymore.”

You don't remember any of that however -

She wasn’t wrong. Somehow, you’d managed to score Geto Suguru, the golden boy of your university days and a literal campus heartthrob. Dreamy looks, a sharp mind, and a personality that could charm even the grumpiest professor. He was, by all accounts, perfect. A goddamn dreamboat. And all because you were friends—well, “friends”—with Gojo Satoru.

The term "friends" was generous. You’d been stuck with him for every group project and PhD research assignment imaginable, his sharp intellect rivaled only by his inability to take anything seriously. Yet, through some twist of fate, that irritating partnership had landed you Suguru.

And now, here you were: hungover, disoriented, and trying to piece together just how you’d gotten so lucky. Lucky wasn’t the right word—it was a miracle. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of miracle.

As you poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to last night than just drinks and laughter. Maybe you should stop drinking.

Because while you had a doctorate, had been part of some of the most groundbreaking research in the medical field, and somehow scored a partner who now co-owned one of the biggest medical organizations in the country…

You still didn’t have a real job.

Sure, you worked at a café on weekends, but that didn’t exactly scream “career success.” The smell of burnt espresso and sugary syrups clung to your clothes, and your paycheck barely covered your expenses and crippling student debt.

Suguru had been practically begging you to come work with him. He’d pitched every possible reason, his voice honey-smooth and infuriatingly persuasive. “We’d make a great team,” he’d say, always with that easy smile. Or, “You’d finally get to put that brilliant mind to use,” followed by a soft kiss on your forehead. And, of course, the practical approach: “You could stop getting burned by scalding coffee every other Saturday.”

But your answer never wavered. It was always a firm no.

Why should you take advantage of your boyfriend’s—fiancé’s—accomplishments? It wasn’t his fault you felt like a freeloader in your own life. But working with him would only cement that feeling, wouldn’t it? And let’s be honest: there was no way you could survive the smug, self-satisfied smirks Gojo Satoru would throw your way every. Single. Day.

The thought alone made your headache throb harder.

Your mother’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts—the kind of thoughts you really should’ve been saving for your therapist. “Did you hear me, Y/N? You’re lucky he even tolerates you living here at your age,” she quipped, half-joking, half-serious.

You sighed, forcing yourself back to the present as she set a plate of breakfast in front of you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if Suguru’s offer would ever stop looming over you.

“Can you bring Suguru his bento? Oh, and I made one for Satoru, too! You don’t bring him around anymore. I miss that cute smile of his,” your mother hummed, nodding toward the perfectly packed bento boxes lined up on the counter.

Dragging a hand down your face. At least running this errand was better than being stuck at home, drowning in wedding prep, and trying on half a million dresses your mom insisted on. “It’s the least you could do,” she always said, as if you weren’t already suffocating under the weight of your own existential dread.

“Sure,” you muttered, knowing resistance was futile. Besides, it wasn’t like you had any real plans today.

After a quick shower and throwing on something that looked presentable enough for public, you grabbed the bento boxes and headed out. The warm sunlight and cool breeze were a temporary reprieve, a small comfort as you made your way to their office—their office.

 It was better than the alternative of staying at home and listening to your mother’s words about floral centerpieces and seating arrangements. Barely.

Their company was part of this “new era,” the one everyone couldn’t stop raving about—and you’d been a huge part of its foundation. Back in the day, you and Satoru had cracked the code to altering DNA, finding a way to cheat death. If you could afford the astronomical price tag, mortality was no longer your concern. People who were once riddled with cancer could now return home cancer-free, spared the agony of losing limbs or enduring endless rounds of chemo.

You’d only been part of solving the formula, though. The groundwork. Satoru had the funding, the connections, and the relentless drive to take it further. Once you stepped out of the picture, you hadn’t kept track of the system or its progress. You didn’t ask, and no one offered answers.

The alteration had been applied to most of the foundational jobs—political leaders, police officers, high-ranking officials. It was a standard requirement now, a guarantee of longevity and efficiency in roles deemed too crucial to risk mortality.

These days, people were willing to go into crippling debt to get the procedure done, their desperation outweighing the staggering price. After all, what was a lifetime of debt if you couldn’t die? No risk of death meant no fear of defaulting, and for many, that trade-off was worth it.

The procedure had shifted society’s balance, turning death into a choice rather than an inevitability—but at a cost few truly understood.

The business was beginning to have a cult following after being backed by the world's leaders.

And yet, not everyone shared the world’s admiration for the scientific marvel housed within that towering, double-helix-shaped skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo. Protestors were a constant presence outside the building, their chants about ethics blending with the dramatic videos they displayed of humanity spiraling into chaos. You’d seen their demonstrations so many times it had faded into background noise.

Still, as you approached the sleek, futuristic entrance, a pang of guilt crept in. What had once been your passion now felt like a story you’d abandoned—a story that no longer felt like yours.

Maybe there was a hint of resentment buried beneath the guilt. Maybe, deep down, you wished you’d taken Satoru’s offer back then, even if you knew it wouldn’t have made things easier. But that was a door you’d slammed shut long ago, and no amount of hindsight could undo it.

Shaking your head to clear the thought, you stepped through the automatic doors. The familiar hum of the lobby enveloped you, the pristine white interior and futuristic decor unchanged since the last time you’d been here. Security nodded as you passed, their recognition swift and unquestioning.

The private elevator awaited a sleek capsule of steel and glass that carried you straight to the top floor. The ascent was smooth and silent, yet the weight in your chest grew heavier with every passing second.

There, you were greeted by Suguru’s stunning, sharp-eyed assistant. Even after countless encounters, Manami gave you that same unreadable look—like she was quietly sizing you up, or maybe judging you in some understated, professional way. It wasn’t outright rude, but it was just enough to make your skin crawl.

The treacherous thought crept into your mind, uninvited: Maybe he should be dating her instead. No—marrying her. She fit into his world so effortlessly. Polished, composed, and clearly brilliant, Manami seemed like the perfect match for someone as successful and poised as Suguru. Meanwhile, you still felt like a guest who’d overstayed their welcome, fumbling to keep up in a world that wasn’t yours.

It was a ridiculous thought, and you knew it. Late-night Reddit doom-scrolling had reassured you that insecurities like this were perfectly normal, even if they were soul-crushingly embarrassing. Deep down, you understood that your so-called “little life” wasn’t the problem. The problem was you—stuck in your own head, drowning in doubts that never seemed to let up.

But no matter how loud the voice in your head got, one thing you couldn’t ignore: Suguru would never leave you. You were sure of that. If anything, he clung to you like his life depended on it—unfortunately. And for reasons you couldn’t quite put into words, that unwavering devotion only made it harder to believe you deserved him.

You shifted awkwardly in the too-fancy armchair across from Manami’s desk, clutching the bag of bentos like it might save you from drowning. “Nice weather we’re having,” you mumbled, trying to fill the heavy silence with small talk.

Manami barely glanced up, her manicured fingers pausing just long enough to adjust the nameplate on her desk before resuming their rhythmic clatter against her keyboard.

“Hm,” she hummed, a noncommittal response that somehow managed to sound both polite and dismissive at the same time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at her. The room, much like the rest of the building, was sleek and pristine, designed to impress. But the air felt heavy, the quiet tension between you and Manami a constant reminder that this wasn’t your world. It was theirs.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever truly belong.

You sighed, muttering a quiet “Alright,” under your breath, and returned to fidgeting with the straps of the bag. Your eyes wandered down to the weight on your left hand—the engagement ring.

It was stunning. Too stunning. The kind of ring that screamed wealth and class, the kind that seemed like it should belong to someone like her. Another insecure thought, you supposed, but brushing it off was easier said than done. The gnawing doubt settled deep in the pit of your stomach, refusing to budge. Perhaps another conversation to save for your therapist. 

The soft click of a door unlocking snapped you out of your spiral. You looked up to see Suguru stepping out, his familiar, easy smile lighting up his face as his dark eyes landed on you. The way his gaze swept over you still sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he murmured warmly, his voice low and soothing as he extended a hand toward you.

You stepped forward, slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm yet tender, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. He gave your hand a small squeeze before adding, “You could’ve waited with Satoru, you know. He misses you.”

The mention of Satoru made your skin crawl. Missed you? That was one way of putting it. You were marrying Suguru, yet Satoru still didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. No matter how often you tried to address it, he always found a way to push the boundaries.

The casual hand lingering too long on your thigh. The hugs that felt tighter and lasted longer than they should. The kisses to your cheek that came far too often to be innocent.

You’d brought it up to Suguru so many times, and his response was always the same, a calm dismissal wrapped in a reassuring smile: “He’s harmless.”

But it didn’t feel harmless to you. Not even close.

Once inside Suguru’s office, you set the bag of bentos down on his desk, taking a step back to collect yourself. Before you could settle, he was already there. The door clicked shut behind him, his long, purposeful strides closing the space between you in seconds.

You barely had time to react before his lips crashed into yours, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into his arms. The force of the kiss left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his fingers pressed against the fabric of your shirt.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softer now, the affection in his voice sending a familiar heat blooming in your chest.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, into the comfort of his touch. He always felt safe. A fuel for comfort perhaps. 

“You were such a mess last night,” he murmured against your lips, trailing kisses down to your neck as he pushed you to sit on the edge of his desk. His hands guided your legs around his waist, holding you close as he continued his slow assault of affection. You swallowed hard against the tightness in your throat.

“You’re lucky your friend called me,” he added softly, his words brushing against your skin like a tease.

Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as his lips moved down the column of your neck. You’d learned not to push him away when he got like this—it always left you feeling guilty afterward.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Suguru’s fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, his hands warm and conscious as he hiked up your skirt. You shivered under his touch, the chill of the room clashing with the heat of his hands.

“Can we not do this with your assistant in the other room?” you managed to ask meekly, your voice wavering as his fingertips trailed over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m having a rough day, my love,” he murmured against your throat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t get much sleep after taking care of you last night. I need a little motivation to get through the rest of my day.”

Before you could respond, he gently eased you to lay back on his desk. It was then you realized it had been cleared—papers, files, and everything else neatly tucked away. Had he planned for this?

His lips continued their path down your body, leaving soft kisses and the occasional nip as he went. When he reached the space between your legs, he spread them carefully with his hands, his gaze lingering on you as if savoring every moment.

His tongue pressed against your clothed slit, sending a jolt of heat through your core.

“You’re not wearing the ones I bought you,” he noted, his voice low and teasing.

He was right. Instead of the delicate, expensive pieces he favored—like that itchy white G-string with the little gold charm bearing his initials “G.S”—you’d gone for the practical, cost-effective option: simple cotton underwear from a multipack.

“Wanted to be—” Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed against you, light and teasing, pulling the words from your throat before you could even finish.

“Wanted to be what?” he repeated, his voice dripping with honeyed amusement. His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it—a quiet demand. “Weren’t you taught to finish your sentences?”

The vibrations of his words sent another wave of shivers through you, and your body betrayed you, squirming under his touch. He hummed in approval, the sound low and indulgent as his hand trailed up your inner thigh, his fingers left your skin tingling in their wake.

With practiced ease, he pulled your panties to the side, his lips trailing soft, feather-light kisses along your skin. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and began to devour you, his tongue hot and insistent, moving with volitional precision that made your back arch against the cool surface of his desk.

It was overwhelming—the way his long tongue slid inside you, the way his thumb circled your most sensitive spot with just the right amount of pressure. He moved as though he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment.

You couldn’t help the soft, pathetic moans that escaped your lips, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for some semblance of stability. Suguru had always been like this—relentless, thorough, and determined to reach every spot that made you unravel.

It wasn’t just physical. He had you memorized. Every shiver, every gasp, every sound you made only spurred him on, his movements calculated to draw out your pleasure until your mind was spinning.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

His words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions bubbling to the surface. Love, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to believe his devotion was just that—devotion. But there was a weight to his words, an intensity that sometimes felt... suffocating.

He didn’t stop until your body trembled beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Suguru lifted his head, his lips glistening as he looked at you with a satisfied smirk. “See?” he whispered, his voice impossibly soft. “I know exactly what you need.”

And you believed him. How could you not, when he made you feel like this? Like you were the center of his world, the only thing that mattered.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “So, so good.”

In your haze, still trembling from your last orgasm, you felt the blunt, heated tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Gotta ease up for me, sweet girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint as he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by girthy inch. The stretch made your breath hitch, your body fluttering around him, still sensitive and raw.

“It’s not gonna feel good if you don’t relax,” he cooed, though his tone carried a sense of control, a reminder that he wasn’t stopping until he had all of you. Whether it hurt or not.

You did your best to loosen the tension in your body, focusing on the soft kisses he pressed against your lips, your cheeks, and the corner of your jaw. They were meant to soothe, but the way he moved—rolling his hips upward, grinding deep—made it impossible to fully relax.

His cock filled you completely, brushing against every spot that left your mind spiraling. The slow, deliberate way he moved, the way he stretched you open, had your hands scrambling for purchase on his desk. Your nails clawed at the wood, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they left permanent marks. Something you were sure he wouldn’t mind. 

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Taking me so well, sweet girl. Like you were made for this.”

Every thrust was deliberate, deep, and measured, as though he wanted to etch the feeling of him into every fiber of your being. He lifted his head to watch your face, his dark eyes locked on yours, taking in every gasp, every quiver, every plea that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice dripping with affection as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh, firm yet gentle as if he was afraid to leave a mark on you despite the harshness of his thrusts. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

Your mind was overwhelmed, the sensations blurring together as his movements became more insistent, relentless in their devotion to unraveling you. Yet, through the haze of pleasure, a small, unwelcome thought surfaced, bubbling up in the back of your mind.

When was the last time you took your pill?

The question lingered, sharp and intrusive, cutting through the heat pooling in your core. You’d been forgetting so much lately—little things, big things, all slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. But it had to be fine. It must be a safe day. Right?

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and low as his hips pressed flush against yours, burying himself to the hilt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As the words sank in, a faint voice in the back of your mind tried to warn you, tried to remind you of the way Suguru sometimes felt too much. But it was drowned out by the overwhelming mix of his touch, his words, and the way he seemed to pour his entire being into you.

You couldn’t say it back. Whether it was the overwhelming heat, the way you could only let out these broken little whines and moans as your body trembled beneath him, or the way his hot, sticky release spilled deep inside you, filling you up until you couldn’t think straight—you just couldn’t utter those three little words. Some little voice in the back of your mind urged you not to. 

After a moment’s rest, with him carefully cleaning you up, you noticed the delicate way he helped you into some fancy lingerie—pieces he apparently had stored just for moments like this. The charm with “G.S” engraved on it caught the sunlight, glinting mischievously as he slid the panties up your legs.

“Shall we eat with Satoru?” he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. You could only nod mindlessly, clinging to his arm while he reached for the bag.

You didn’t miss the way Satoru hugged you when you walked into his office, Suguru trailing behind. The way his arms lingered around you just a little too long, his lips brushing your cheek in what felt like more than a friendly kiss. Suguru didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. It was Satoru, after all. His best friend. His business partner. The two were inseparable.

You also didn’t miss the way Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders while the three of you ate. Suguru and Satoru were caught up in their conversation, filling each other in on meetings and plans, while you picked at your food in silence. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the strange mix of sensations you couldn’t shake. The cum soaking into the new underwear, the lingering fog in your head, the circles Satoru traced on your arm as he kept you close. Your gaze flickered to the photo on his desk—a snapshot of the three of you. Perfect smiles. Perfect lies.

“Did you hear me, sugar?” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, his tone teasing. “I was asking how the job search was going. You know, we could always work together again—for old times’ sake.”

You shook your head, forcing a meek smile. “I haven’t heard anything back yet. And the answer’s still no. I’m not into... medical research anymore.”

That was a lie. You were more than capable, but you didn’t want to work with them. You didn’t want to stay stuck in their shadow, even though you’d helped lay the foundation they thrived on.

Satoru chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly confident grin. The way his bright blue eyes glimmered with a glint of mischief. “Still so stubborn. You know, you were the brains behind half of what we’ve built. You’d fit right back in.”

Suguru’s voice cut in smoothly as if to diffuse any tension. “Let her breathe, Satoru. Not everyone is as obsessed with work as you are.” Suguru’s dark eyes settled on you for a brief moment, there was warmth to them, unreadable as always. 

You glanced between them, their banter as familiar as it was unsettling. They made it look so effortless, this balance of power and charm. But you knew better. You felt it in the way Satoru’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your arm, in the fleeting glance Suguru shot your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

The rest of the meal passed in a haze, their conversation blending into the background. You couldn’t shake the unease curling in your stomach. It wasn’t just the situation—it was them. The way they moved around you like you were something precious and fragile, seamlessly passing control back and forth, a trophy they both claimed but never outright acknowledged.

When the meal ended, Satoru stood, stretching lazily before offering you his hand. “Why don’t you come with me for a bit? I’ve got something to show you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to Suguru, who had already risen and was watching you closely. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. “I’ll clean up here.”

Caught between the two of them, you nodded and took Satoru’s hand. His grip was firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent an involuntary made your skin crawl. He led you out of the office and down a hallway you knew all too well. His space. His domain. His lab. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and Satoru turned, his impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours, as sharp as ever. “You’ve been distant,” he said softly, his words gentle but edged with something sharper. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your gaze drifted over the room, landing on the metal tables scattered with sleek technology. Computer screens hummed with life, displaying endless rows of code, their glow casting faint shadows across the walls. This used to be your life—back in college, when the hum of processors and the thrill of breakthroughs consumed you. Now, it all felt foreign, like a distant memory you weren’t sure you wanted to revisit.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept a distance,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your nerves. “I’m marrying Suguru, you know.”

The words hung in the air, a barrier you hoped he wouldn’t cross. But Satoru, being Satoru, ignored it entirely. You felt his warmth behind you before you even realized he’d moved, his tall frame enveloping yours in an embrace that felt far too intimate. His hands rested lightly on your stomach, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes. You stiffened as his breath fanned against your neck, raising goosebumps along your skin.

“Sharing is caring,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Suguru doesn’t mind. In fact…” His fingers tightened slightly, grounding you in place. “He likes it when we get along.”

Before you could respond, you felt the wet warmth of his tongue trace along your jaw. The sensation jolted through you, a yelp escaping your lips before you could stop it. Satoru’s laugh followed, soft and boyish, a stark contrast to the tension suffocating the room.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “But you don’t need to fight it. We both know you don’t really want me to stop.”

His words left you frozen, the weight of his overwhelming presence pressing down on you, suffocating yet intoxicating. Do you want him to stop? 

A fleeting memory surfaced as you stood there, frozen in Satoru’s embrace. It was from the early days of your relationship with Suguru when you’d first brought up Satoru’s antics. You’d been hesitant, unsure how to address the way his lingering touches or overly familiar words made you feel. Suguru had only smiled, his voice calm and reassuring as always.

Suguru’s calm voice had soothed you then, his words steady and reassuring. “He’s harmless,” he’d said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as if amused by your concern. “He knows, at the end of the day, you’re mine. Plus, the guy is ridiculously lonely. You’re his friend. He’s just comfortable around you.”

The words had settled over you like a balm back then, quelling your unease. Suguru’s confidence, his sense of control, had made it easy to brush off the way Satoru’s presence lingered in your life—always just a little closer than necessary.

But now, as Satoru’s lips brushed against your ear, as his arms anchored you in place, that memory felt distant. Suguru’s reassurance no longer felt like a safety net; it felt like permission. Permission for Satoru to blur the lines, to push boundaries that had never been as firm as you thought.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Satoru’s voice pulled you back to the present, his tone soft but knowing. His hands tightened slightly around your waist, a subtle reminder of his control of the situation. “It’s sweet, really. You always look so soft when you’re thinking about Suguru.”

You tried to pull away, but he only held you closer, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just keeping you warm. You’re the one who’s overthinking.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to steady your breath. “This isn’t right, Satoru,” you managed, though your voice sounded weaker than you intended. “Suguru—”

“Suguru trusts me,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “And you, too. That’s what makes this work, doesn’t it?” He shifted slightly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He said it himself—you’re mine, too.”

You wanted to believe it was just another one of Satoru’s games, another way for him to twist the truth to suit his desires. But the memory of Suguru’s calm, reassuring voice lingered as if Suguru had already told you—subtly, indirectly—that Satoru had his permission.

though as of late it seemed like memories all seemed to blur together.

Your instincts screamed at you to leave. To get out of this room. To get away from him. From the person who used to be your friend, your lab partner. The one who would sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study while sneaking glances at your coffee-stained notes. The guy who’d playfully nudged you into Suguru’s arms, making it all seem so easy. Was this all some kind of cruel fate?

“I have to pee,” you blurted out, the excuse too loud, too sudden, and too weak to be convincing.

Satoru didn’t seem to care. He eased back slightly, leaning casually against his desk, his ever-present smirk still in place. “Need me to walk you there?” he asked, his voice light, teasing—but his eyes betrayed him. That hungry look in his gaze lingered, stripping away any illusion of innocence.

“I’ll manage,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm.

You didn’t miss the look in his eyes—hungry, possessive. Like he didn’t care that Suguru had touched you first. The thought of Suguru’s “seconds” didn’t bother him at all. As if plunging his cock into the leftovers of Suguru's cum would be a delicacy. If anything, it seemed to excite him, and the realization made bile rise up to the back of your throat. Burning. Searing. 

“Alright,” he said with a lovesick grin that might’ve been charming to anyone else. “I’ll have Suguru meet us here.”

For most girls, a man like Satoru was a dream—handsome, confident, untouchable. And he knew it. So did Suguru. Yet they both clung to you, always hovering just a little too close.

Satoru and Suguru had always clung to you, hadn’t they? From the beginning, you’d been their constant. Their focus. You wondered why that was—why they always had, and why they always would.

As soon as the lab door clicked shut behind you, the words hung heavy in your mind, echoing like a haunting refrain. It’s not assault if he didn’t do anything, right? That’s what you told yourself, over and over, as your breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. You sprinted down the endless hallways, your heels clicking against the tile, your heart pounding in your chest. But no matter how fast you ran, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen, and nausea churned with every step.

You clutched at the memory of your friendship with Satoru, desperate for solace. He wasn’t always like this. He was your study partner, your confidant, the one who nudged you toward Suguru when you doubted yourself. But now? The person you once trusted felt like a stranger—no, worse, a threat.

Your head pounded, and the memories came.

At first, they were warm, and tender. Satoru laughed as he leaned over your desk, swiping your notes and teasing you about your messy handwriting before planting a kiss on your lips. Suguru sitting beside you on some date, drinking hot cocoa together while watching the rain. The three of you tangled together on a couch, their arms around you, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep in their warmth.

Suguru brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft as he whispered, “You’re everything to me.” Satoru, his grin wide and mischievous, spinning you in circles during a rainstorm, both of you drenched and laughing.

The sweetness eventually curdled.

Satoru’s hand tightening around your throat, his blue eyes blazing with something unreadable. “You don’t get to leave me,” he murmured, his tone eerily calm as you clawed at his arms. Suguru holding a syringe, his voice soothing even as your body betrayed you, muscles seizing as the world faded to black.

You shook your head, gasping for air, but the images continued to assault you.

These memories can't belong to you.

Satoru pressing kisses to your temple as he whispered, “I’ll always protect you, sugar bear,” the warmth of his embrace lulling you into safety. Suguru kneeling in front of you, a ring in hand, his voice trembling as he said, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

The images were overwhelming, suffocating even, like a weight pressing down on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you sprinted down the endless halls, your heels clicking against the cold tile.

Occasionally, your legs faltered, forcing you to clutch at the nearest wall for support. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to draw, as the haunting echoes of laughter and whispered promises mixed with screams and soft, deadly apologies. They chased you, just as real as the walls closing in around you.

Suguru standing over you, a gun in his hand, his dark eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret. “You always fight me on this” he whispered, and the shot rang out. Satoru’s voice, lilting and light, as he said, “Let’s see if you fly,” before pushing you off the rooftop, the sensation weightless and brief until impact.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as if you could banish the images. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

You stumbled into a random room, your fingers trembling as you punched in the passcode—your birthday, of course. The door clicked open with a mechanical hiss, and you collapsed inside, your knees hitting the cold, tiled floor. The sterile air burned your nose, the faint scent of chemicals making the knot in your stomach twist tighter.

The dim blue light cast eerie shadows across the walls, the occasional beep of nearby machines the only sound besides your ragged breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaking down your face as you tried to push the memories away.

Were they real?

Could they be real?

The warmth of their love clashed with the cold edge of their possessiveness, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, filled with glowing blue and green liquids, their contents swirling lazily as if alive. The machines beeped rhythmically, lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

But the images were relentless. Suguru’s hands pinning you down, Satoru taking free use of your body, the weight of their combined presence crushing you until you could barely breathe.

Each memory was like some cruel nightmare, swinging wildly between moments too sweet to bear and others excruciatingly painful. The contrast made it all the worse, the warmth of one memory twisting into agony in the next, leaving you gasping for air as you stumbled forward. Broken sobs escaped your throat as you crumpled to the floor, grasping at the cold tiles, desperate for something—anything—real.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you slowly came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, their glowing blue and green contents swirling lazily, almost hypnotically, as if alive. Machines beeped rhythmically in the background, their lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

You stared at the tubes, your mind racing. This wasn’t a random lab. It couldn’t be. The passcode, the eerie familiarity of the room—it all felt deliberate, intentional. Like you were meant to find this.

Your headache worsened, the pounding in your skull syncing eerily with the beeping machines. You pressed your palms to your temples, desperately trying to shut out the relentless wave of memories—real or imagined—that threatened to consume you.

But as you knelt there, shaking and breathless, one question clawed its way to the forefront of your mind, sharp and insistent, refusing to be silenced.

Why had they always clung to you?

And why did it feel like the answer was hidden somewhere in this room?

You had to be going crazy. That was the only explanation.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet, the sterile air thick and heavy in your lungs. Sniffling, your fingers trailed along the cold, metallic surface of the tables as you moved closer to the strange test tubes. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, the swirling contents inside the tubes illuminated by the dim, eerie glow of blue light.

Your breath hitched as you leaned in, squinting through the glass.

They weren’t just shapes or fragments. They weren’t abstractions of human life.

They were human.

They were you.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs as you stumbled back. Your gaze darted to the screen beside the tubes, its sterile, blinking message driving the truth deeper into your chest.

"Processing."

The word repeated in steady intervals, cold and mechanical, mocking you with its efficiency.

This wasn’t a lab for curing diseases or advancing medicine. This wasn’t about saving lives.

They were cloning people.

They were cloning you.

Your knees threatened to give out again, but you gripped the edge of the table, your mind spinning wildly. Fragments of memories, half-formed and blurry, clawed their way to the surface, demanding to be seen. This had been your research once. Cloning. You’d cracked the formula—found the key.

You remembered the argument with Satoru, his icy blue eyes flashing with a rare seriousness. You’d told him it was unethical. That it wasn’t righteous. That you can’t just play god. You told him you couldn’t live with what you’d discovered. That’s why you stopped. That’s why you stopped talking to him. That’s why you left research behind.

But what happened after that?

How had they gotten here—this point, with a cult-like following and resources beyond comprehension? And more importantly—where had you been?

The questions tore at you, each one heavier than the last. Pieces of your memory felt missing, like someone had reached into your mind and carved out chunks, leaving you with only jagged fragments.

Had they done this to you?

Had he done this to you?

And then, the darkest question of all clawed its way to the surface:

How many times have they done this to you?

Your gaze snapped back to the endless row of tubes, bile rising in your throat as the enormity of it hit you. Backed-up versions of you floated in a dreamless stasis, stripped of identity, reduced to nothing but a tool for their ambitions.

The room spun, the walls closing in, as the truth pressed down on you—suffocating, undeniable.

You weren’t just a researcher who’d stumbled too close to the edge.

You were the edge.

And somehow, they’d dragged you right back into it.

The realization shattered whatever fragile control you had left. Sobs erupted from your throat, raw and unrelenting, as the pounding headache in your skull grew louder, sharper, threatening to split you in two. The sterile hum of the lab faded beneath the weight of your anguish, until—

Crack.

The sharp, deafening sound of a gunshot shattered everything.

You didn’t even have time to react.

The world went dark.

“Guess we’ll have to start all over again tomorrow,” Suguru’s voice hummed, smooth and almost tender, as though he were speaking to a wayward child. “Satoru will be disappointed, but it looks like this version of you wasn’t going as well anyway.”

His footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness, unhurried and deliberate, as he approached the bloodied mess you’d become.

He crouched down beside you, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of pity and resolve. The gun fell from his hand with a hollow clatter, the sound reverberating through the cold room like an accusation.

“You should really stop with all your antics, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that felt almost cruel. “It’s really heartbreaking to do this every time your brilliant mind starts to turn.”

Suguru’s hand lingered, disturbingly gentle as he smoothed your hair back, his touch so intimate it made your skin crawl—if you’d still had the strength to feel anything.

“You always fight so hard,” he said softly, almost like a lament. His gaze drifted over your still form, dark and unreadable. “But you know how this ends. You always know.”

He straightened slowly, letting his words settle in the suffocating silence.

“And yet, you never stop trying.”

Straightening, Suguru cast a glance at the tubes glowing faintly in the dim light behind him. His lips curled into a faint, almost tender smile, one that never quite reached his dark eyes. “Don’t worry,” he murmured softly, his tone as much for himself as it was for you. “We’ll put you back together again. Just like always.”

He knelt down, unhurried, his movements precise. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully slid the ring from your finger, the gesture deliberate, almost reverent. For a moment, he stared at the ring in his palm, his thumb tracing the smooth band. Something flickered in his gaze—regret, perhaps, or something far more calculated. He tucked the ring into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

A quick call to the “clean-up” crew followed. His voice was calm, clinical, as if he were ordering mundane office supplies rather than orchestrating the erasure of a life. The conversation ended with a sharp click, his phone slipping back into his jacket pocket.

Suguru cast another glance at the bloodied mess on the floor, his lips tugging into a sad, almost bittersweet smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his tone heartbreakingly sincere, as though the words could absolve the horror of what had just transpired. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned, his fingers playing with the ring in his pocket, twirling it absentmindedly as if it were a trinket rather than a symbol of promises now rendered hollow. The door hissed shut behind him, the sterile room sealing itself in silence.

The hum of the machines was the only sound that remained, indifferent to the gruesome tableau they overlooked.

[fangdokja]

Two hearts, one unspoken promise—forever best friends.

❤︎ Synopsis. Two childhood friends, inseparable since kindergarten, navigate the ups and downs of growing up, their bond blossoming into a deep, unwavering connection that feels like home. As they face life’s challenges together, they discover that their friendship might just be the most enduring love of all.

♡ Book. World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Light Yagami x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. In the Name of Love - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 7,947

♡ TW. psychological and emotional trauma, loss of loved ones, abandonment issues, angst + tragedy, implied family issues, depression and mental health issues

♡ A/N. This is a request, but I have not yet fulfilled the full request (hence the lack of proof of request). When it comes to long-form content, it feels so wrong in my brain for my writing to not set up the atmosphere and vibes properly. It don't feel right. And anyways, this Part 1 is genuinely one of my LIGHTEST and legitimately wholesome works among all my writings haha. Wow first time posting wholesome yandere content? ahahhaahh. This is ACTUALLY SO GOOD. I COOKED GUYS (both in Part 1 and 2). ahhhhh. I WANTED TO INCLUDE PART 1 AND 2 TOGETHER. But. It's 15k+ together already ahhh. Also, important to note. Unlike my usual long form content, the 'introduction' before actually dark + nsfw yandere centric content may come after Part 2 or 3. WHAT. Did this become slower burn than the Yandere! Ex-boyfriend??? Bro, it's because I just had to include the childhood trope arc. Seriously.

Light Yagami was five years old when his family moved into the tidy, tree-lined neighborhood. His parents, proud and proper, spent days meticulously unpacking and arranging the house while Light obediently helped, though his mind was preoccupied with the mystery of what lay beyond their new front door.

“Light, dear,” his mother said, kneeling to his level, “why don’t you go introduce yourself to the neighbors? There’s a family next door with a little girl about your age.”

“All right,” he replied with his usual crisp, confident tone. Even at five, Light was the embodiment of charm and discipline, traits his parents were immensely proud of. He tugged on his neatly ironed shirt and marched toward the house next door, ready to dazzle the neighbors with his impeccable manners.

The house was a bit chaotic in contrast to the Yagami’s orderly new home. The lawn was slightly overgrown, and a lone bicycle lay toppled in the driveway. Light’s tiny hand knocked on the door with perfect rhythm—polite but assertive.

The door creaked open, and a woman with a wide, warm smile greeted him. “Oh, hello! You must be the Yagami boy! Aren’t you handsome?” She called over her shoulder, “Our new neighbors are here! Come say hi!”

Light’s chest puffed with pride at the compliment. “Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Light Yagami. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman’s laughter was bright as she introduced herself in return. “What a little gentleman! Please hold on. Let me call my daughter.”

She turned and called your name. Light heard the sound of something—or someone—dragging across the floor. Then you appeared.

Tiny, smaller than Light had expected, with oversized pajamas hanging loosely off your sickly frame. Your hair was messy, your expression vacant, and you held a stuffed black kitten in one hand as though it were a limp, lifeless thing. But the most striking part of you was your eyes—dark, hollow, and uninterested, like you’d already seen the end of the world and decided it wasn’t worth commenting on.

Light blinked. This was not the bright and cheerful playmate he had envisioned.

“Say hello to our neighbor, sweetie,” your mother said in a sugary tone. “His name is Light.”

You said nothing. Your gaze drifted lazily toward him, then back to the floor. You swayed slightly, as though gravity was a suggestion rather than a rule.

Light cleared his throat and stepped forward, undeterred. “Hi,” he said, flashing his most winning smile. “I’m Light. What’s your name?”

You stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, in a voice so small it was nearly a whisper, you muttered your name.

“That’s a nice name,” Light said, his tone bright and rehearsed. “Do you want to play?”

You blinked, slowly. Then you turned to your mother and said, “I’m going back to bed.”

Light watched, dumbfounded, as you shuffled back into the house, dragging your stuffed black kitten behind you.

Your mother laughed nervously. “She’s a bit shy. And... well, she’s been under the weather a lot, poor thing.”

“That’s all right,” Light said, his voice cheerful despite his confusion. He was used to people liking him. This was new.

———

Light didn’t give up easily. Over the next few weeks, he made it his mission to befriend you. He knocked on your door nearly every day, always with a new idea:

“Do you want to play tag?”

“I brought my soccer ball!”

“I found a cool bug. Do you want to see it?”

Your responses ranged from blank stares to monosyllabic grunts. Sometimes you didn’t answer at all, leaving Light standing awkwardly on the porch while your mother assured him that you were just tired.

One day, Light found you sitting on the front steps of your house, your stuffed black kitten in your lap. He approached cautiously, as though you were a skittish animal.

“Hi,” he said, sitting down beside you. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t look at him. “Thinking about how everything dies.”

Light blinked. “Oh. Um... why?”

You shrugged. “Because it’s true.”

Light frowned, unsure how to respond. After a moment, he said, “Well, yeah, I guess everything does die eventually. But that’s why we have to make the most of the time we have, right?”

You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do,” Light said firmly. “I want to do something great with my life. Don’t you?”

You tilted your head, considering this. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to sleep.”

Light laughed, a genuine, bright sound that startled you. “You’re funny,” he said. “I like that.”

You didn’t respond, but for the first time, you didn’t immediately walk away. Light took it as a small victory.

From that day on, you and Light fell into an odd sort of friendship.

He would drag you outside to play, and you would sit under a tree and watch him with a mixture of boredom and mild amusement. He would talk about his dreams and ambitions, and you would listen quietly, occasionally offering a dry, morbid comment that made him laugh despite himself.

Light Yagami, the star of the class, and you, the apathetic enigma, were an unlikely pair. But somehow, it worked.

────────────

The first day of kindergarten marked yet another stark contrast between Light and you. While he marched into the classroom like a young prince, his satchel impeccably organized and his confidence radiating, you shuffled in ten minutes late, pajama top peeking out under your sweater, and bedhead that defied gravity.

Light glared at you from his seat as the teacher politely redirected you to the cubby area. “You forgot your backpack,” she said, her tone strained with the kind of forced patience adults use for particularly hopeless cases.

You shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

Light’s hand shot into the air. “Miss Tanaka, I can share my supplies with her today.”

“Oh, what a kind offer, Light!” Miss Tanaka beamed.

Your disinterested gaze flickered to Light as you slid into the seat next to him. “You’re too much,” you mumbled, barely audible.

Light leaned over, his smile tight. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Do you even want to be here?”

“Not really,” you replied, laying your head on your arms. “But my mom said I had to come.”

Light huffed. “Fine. At least try not to sleep through everything. You’ll fail if you don’t pay attention.”

“Fail what?” you asked, voice muffled against the desk. “It’s kindergarten. What are they gonna do? Hold me back from learning colors?”

Light groaned, already regretting sitting next to you.

———

It didn’t get better. Every day, Light arrived prepared, polished, and ready to dazzle the teacher, while you dragged yourself in like you’d just crawled out of a cave. During lessons, he’d sit upright, hand raised with every answer, while you doodled spirals in the margins of the workbook he had to open for you.

“You’re not stupid,” he hissed during snack time one day. “I’ve seen your library. Who hides research papers under their bed? You could be at the top of the class if you tried.”

You tilted your head at him, crunching on your apple. “And what do I get for being at the top of the class? A gold star?”

“You get respect,” Light said, his voice rising. “You get opportunities. You build the foundation for a successful future.”

You shrugged. “I’m not really into respect or opportunities. I’m more into naps.”

Light clutched his juice box like it was the last thread tethering him to sanity. “Do you realize how frustrating you are? People would kill to be as smart as you.”

“Okay, so let them kill me,” you replied. “Then they can have it.”

He blinked, stunned. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Light opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, stabbing his straw into his juice box with unnecessary force.

———

One afternoon, Light cornered you on the playground after recess. You’d been lying under the slide, watching clouds with your stuffed kitten perched on your chest.

“Explain this,” he demanded, holding up a scrap of paper he’d found in your desk. Scrawled on it was a complex math equation, solved perfectly.

You squinted at him. “What?”

“This! You did this in, like, ten seconds during free time. Why don’t you do this in class?”

You shrugged, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Class is boring. I already know all that stuff.”

“Then prove it,” Light snapped. “Get the answers right during lessons. Participate.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll fail otherwise!”

You sighed, exasperated. “Light, kindergarten isn’t that deep.”

“It is if you want to be taken seriously,” he shot back. “What if people think you’re dumb?”

“They already do,” you said, stretching lazily. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me!” Light exclaimed. “You’re my...my first friend, and you’re embarrassing both of us.”

You raised an unamused eyebrow, staring at him. “Friend?”

Light flushed. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

For the first time that day, you showed some form of emotion—a small, amused quirk of your lips. “Wow, that’s a lot of effort to impress a lazy failure like me. You sure you’re not the embarrassing one?”

Light threw his hands up, stalking off. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Completely hopeless.”

You watched him go, your smirk lingering. “You’re funny when you’re mad,” you said to your stuffed kitten. It didn’t reply, but you imagined it agreed.

────────────

Light Yagami was on a mission.

Every morning, he’d march over to your house, perfectly polished shoes clacking against the pavement, carrying a spare set of pencils and a stack of workbooks just in case you’d “forgotten” yours again. He’d ring the doorbell with an air of determination that would make even seasoned professionals cower.

Your mother would answer, always frazzled and apologetic. “Oh, Light, thank you so much for your help! She’s...well, you know how she is.”

Light offered a tight-lipped smile, his patience stretched thin but holding. “It’s no problem, ma’am. I’m happy to help.”

And then he’d march up to your room, where you’d be sprawled on your bed, half-asleep, clutching that perpetually limp black kitten.

“Get up,” he’d order, pulling open your curtains to let the sunlight in. “You have a spelling test today, and if you fail it, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you mumbled, turning over to face the wall.

“I’ll never forgive you,” he snapped, grabbing your arm and hauling you upright.

You blinked at him groggily. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re insufferable,” he retorted. “Now get dressed. You’re not walking into class looking like you just rolled out of a dumpster again.”

———

It took weeks of constant pestering, but eventually, you caved—mostly out of guilt.

One evening, as Light sat at your kitchen table drilling you on basic addition, you noticed how tired he looked. His hair, usually immaculate, was slightly mussed, and his usually confident posture had a slight slump.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, interrupting his lecture on number lines.

Light blinked, startled by your uncharacteristic question. “Because someone has to. You clearly don’t.”

You frowned, fiddling with the edge of your worksheet. “You could just...not.”

Light sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re my friend. Friends help each other.”

Your stomach twisted with something unfamiliar. Was it guilt? Or...gratitude? Either way, you muttered, “Fine. I’ll try.”

Light’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I said I’ll try. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

For the first time that day, Light smiled—a genuine, relieved smile that made your chest ache a little. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

———

To everyone’s shock (and to Light’s immense relief), you barely passed your next test. The teacher, Miss Tanaka, called the class to attention, holding up your paper as if it were a trophy.

“Everyone, let’s give a round of applause for our most improved student!”

You wanted to disappear into your chair as the class clapped, but Light sat next to you, beaming with pride as though he’d aced the test.

During recess, your parents showed up unannounced, their faces glowing with joy. Your mom hugged you tight, tears streaming down her face. “You passed! My baby passed!”

“It was one test,” you muttered, mortified. “And I barely passed.”

“Doesn’t matter!” your dad exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a picture of you holding the crumpled test paper. “This is going on the fridge!”

Light stood off to the side, looking smug. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath.

────────────

One crisp autumn afternoon, you and Light sat together in the corner of the library. He was meticulously highlighting passages in his textbook, while you doodled lazily on a scrap of paper. The silence between you was companionable, save for the occasional scratch of a pencil.

After a while, you set your pencil down and leaned back in your chair, staring at him. He didn’t look up, but you knew he noticed.

“What?” he asked, his tone as sharp as the lines he underlined.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked bluntly.

He blinked, finally meeting your gaze. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the books, the papers, the entire setup. “You could’ve chosen literally anyone else to help. Someone smart, someone who wouldn’t drive you insane. But you chose me. Why?”

Light frowned, setting his highlighter down. “You’re my friend.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said flatly. “You made that choice before we were friends. So why?”

He sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Why do you think?”

“I have theories,” you said, counting them off on your fingers. “One: you’re trying to make yourself look good by being the hero who saves the hopeless case. Two: you want to use me somehow, maybe turn me into some kind of pawn. Three: you just pity me. Or four...you’re a masochist who likes torturing yourself.”

Light’s lips twitched, though he fought to keep his expression neutral. “Those are some dark theories.”

“You’re not denying any of them,” you pointed out.

He sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Fine. If you want the truth, I’ll tell you.” His gaze turned serious, his eyes locking onto yours. “It’s because you’re...different.”

“Different?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

“I mean...the way you see things,” he explained, his voice softening. “Most kids our age don’t say the things you do. They don’t talk about how they’d let someone kill them if it meant they’d get something out of it. Or how they don’t care about respect or opportunities. You’re...disconnected from everything. It’s like none of it matters to you. Not even your own life.”

You stiffened slightly, his words hitting a little too close to home. “So you think I’m broken or something?”

“Not broken,” Light said carefully. “Just...strange. Most kids don’t think about death the way you do. They don’t talk about it so casually. And they definitely don’t seem like they’re one bad day away from giving up completely.”

You swallowed, looking away. “Maybe they just don’t say it out loud.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you did. And it made me curious. I wanted to know why. I still do.”

“Curious?” you repeated, turning back to him. “That’s it? That’s why you’ve been dragging me out of bed and making me study? Because you’re curious?”

“Well, at first, yes,” he admitted, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “But then you started growing on me. You’re frustrating, sure, but you’re not...hopeless. You’re just someone who hasn’t been given the right reason to try yet.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’re weird, you know that?”

Light chuckled softly. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet of the library wrapping around you like a blanket. Finally, you broke the silence. “So what’s your endgame? What do you want out of this?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Honestly? I want to see what you’ll do if someone actually believes in you.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. You didn’t respond, unsure if you even could. But for the first time, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like to prove him right.

────────────

Over the years, Light’s persistence and your reluctant tolerance had blossomed into something neither of you could have predicted: an unshakable friendship. From kindergarten to grade school, you and Light Yagami had become inseparable—a fact that delighted your parents and baffled your classmates.

“You two are like an old married couple,” your mom teased one afternoon as Light sat at your kitchen table, carefully outlining a study plan for your next science test.

You gagged dramatically. “Gross, Mom. I’d rather marry my stuffed kitten.”

Light didn’t even look up. “The kitten has better manners, anyway.”

Your dad chimed in from the living room. “You sure about that, son? You’ve spent more time here than at your own house. Feels like you’re already part of the family.”

Light flushed, but he composed himself quickly. “It’s only because I need peace and quiet to work, Sir. Your house is quieter than mine.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here all the time,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I thought you just liked annoying me.”

“That too,” Light quipped, giving you a smug smirk.

———

Your parents weren’t wrong. Despite the bickering, the teasing, and the endless sarcastic remarks, the two of you were practically attached at the hip.

Weekends were spent either at your house or his, depending on whose parents caved first to the persistent question: “Can they stay over?” His room was always spotless, the air smelling faintly of fresh linen. Yours, on the other hand, was a cluttered mess of books, art supplies, and random knickknacks you refused to throw away.

Light always insisted on tidying up when he was over. “You’re a walking disaster,” he’d grumble, picking up a pile of papers. “How do you even live like this?”

You’d shrug, tossing a pillow at him. “I thrive in chaos. Unlike you, Mr. Spreadsheet-for-Everything.”

Still, for all his complaints, he never stopped coming over.

———

Trips with both families were another routine you’d both grown used to. Your parents and his got along swimmingly, exchanging recipes, stories, and laughs over bonfires and picnics while the two of you wandered off to do your own thing.

One summer vacation, both families rented cabins by a lake. Light had been determined to teach you how to skip stones—a task that proved far more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“You’re not even trying!” he groaned as your stone plopped into the water with a pitiful splash.

“I am trying,” you protested, flopping onto the grass. “You just have unreasonable expectations.”

“It’s basic physics,” he argued. “Angle, spin, and force. That’s all it takes.”

“Then you do it,” you challenged, crossing your arms.

Light rolled his eyes, picked up a stone, and launched it across the water in a perfect arc. It skipped five times before sinking.

“Show-off,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

———

Study dates became an unspoken tradition. Whether at your house, his, or the library, you’d sit side by side, each absorbed in your respective work. Light would meticulously annotate his textbooks, while you alternated between actually studying and scribbling doodles in the margins of your notes.

“You could at least pretend to focus,” Light said one evening, glancing at the tiny cartoon you’d drawn of him glaring at a stack of books.

“I am focused,” you replied, grinning as you added a speech bubble that read, “Don’t breathe near my books!”

Despite his exasperation, Light always made sure you understood the material. He had a way of breaking down complex topics into something manageable, and while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d grown to appreciate his efforts.

———

Free time was a mix of quiet companionship and playful banter. Video game marathons often ended with Light grumbling about your reckless strategies, while you’d laugh at his over-calculated moves. Reading sessions were even quieter—Light engrossed in a novel while you skimmed through whatever caught your interest.

“Do you ever read anything normal?” he asked once, holding up your dog-eared copy of a horror anthology.

“Do you ever read anything fun?” you shot back, gesturing to his thick political science book.

———

And, it's been like that, a normal friendship of two childhood friends.

But, after spending time with you constantly.

Light could tell you always kept him at a distance.

Even when you showed lazy smiles and seemingly emotional outbursts, nothing you did seemed... real. At least nothing genuine.

It annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

────────────

It was the same day every year.

For as long as Light Yagami could remember, you disappeared on this exact date, slipping away as if the world itself no longer had a claim on you. No calls, no notes, no explanation. You’d vanish without warning, leaving behind nothing but questions and silence. It was frustrating, baffling, and for Light, who prided himself on always knowing the answers, intolerable.

He’d tried everything—calling you relentlessly, asking your parents (who seemed strangely tight-lipped about it), even checking the places you frequented. But every year, no matter how determined he was, you eluded him.

This year, however, was going to be different.

Light sat at his desk, staring at the calendar with a furrowed brow. He had spent the last week piecing together fragments of information, retracing your habits, looking for any clue that might give him an edge. The truth gnawed at the edges of his mind—this day was important to you. It wasn’t just another day.

It was your birthday.

And yet, you always spent it alone.

———

When the day arrived, Light was prepared. He skipped school, opting instead to scour the neighborhood, the nearby park, the library—every possible place you might hide. Hours passed, and frustration simmered beneath his calm façade. The rain that had started as a drizzle was now a relentless downpour, soaking him to the bone as he wandered.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that he found himself near the outskirts of town, a forgotten area filled with rusting machinery and abandoned warehouses. Light almost dismissed it—why would you come here?—but something compelled him to look closer.

And then he saw you.

Huddled under the sagging roof of a dilapidated warehouse, you sat clutching your worn black kitten stuffed toy. The sight of you stopped him cold. You weren’t crying, but the emptiness in your eyes sent a chill through him. It was the same look you had when he first met you—hollow, weary, like the weight of the world rested squarely on your small shoulders.

Light didn’t approach immediately. For the first time, he hesitated, unsure of how to close the distance between you. The rain thundered against the metal roof, drowning out the sound of his shallow breaths. Something about the scene felt fragile, as though one wrong move might shatter whatever thread kept you grounded.

Finally, he stepped forward, moving carefully so as not to startle you. When he reached the small, makeshift shelter, he crouched beside you, his school uniform drenched, water dripping from his hair.

“You’re going to get sick sitting out here,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning in his chest.

You didn’t respond. Your fingers clung tightly to the stuffed toy, knuckles white, but your gaze didn’t lift from the ground.

Light didn’t press further. Instead, he slipped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The space was cramped, but he adjusted, shielding you from the worst of the rain that still managed to seep through the cracks. His embrace was firm yet gentle, radiating warmth despite his soaked clothing.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. He could feel the faint tremble in your frame, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. Light’s jaw clenched as he held you tighter, willing his presence to do what words couldn’t.

He didn’t ask why you were here. He didn’t ask what had happened. Those questions could wait. Right now, all that mattered was keeping you close, anchoring you to something steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “But I’m here, okay? I’ll always be here.”

You didn’t respond, but your grip on the stuffed kitten loosened slightly, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. It wasn’t much, but to Light, it was enough.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the rain showing no signs of letting up. Light’s teeth chattered as the cold seeped into his skin, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when you were like this.

He rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his eyes closing as he focused on the steady rhythm of your breathing. “I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t have to be alone. Not ever.”

———

The rain continued its relentless rhythm, pattering against the warped metal roof above you. The cold seeped into Light’s skin, but he paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on you—on the small, trembling frame in his arms and the fragile silence that surrounded you.

And then, for the first time, he saw it.

A single tear slid down your cheek, blending with the rain before it could fall to the ground. You didn’t sob. You didn’t even make a sound. The tears seemed to escape against your will, slipping out silently as if they’d been held back for too long.

Light’s breath hitched. He had never seen you cry before. Not once in all the years he had known you. You were always the one who laughed mockingly at his exasperation, who messed with him with your messy habits and lazy smile. But now, the person in his arms seemed like a stranger—someone hollow, distant, and impossibly fragile.

His arms tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer to shield you from the cold and rain. He felt an ache in his chest, a helpless frustration that he couldn’t name. He wanted to ask—wanted to demand—what had brought you here, what had hurt you so deeply. But the moment was too delicate. He couldn’t risk pushing you further away.

Instead, he spoke softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his tone gentle. “Let me keep you warm, okay?”

You didn’t respond, your gaze still fixed on the stuffed black kitten in your hands. Light’s eyes flickered to the toy, the one you always carried with you no matter where you went. He’d teased you about it countless times, calling you childish for holding onto it like a lifeline. You’d always deflected with a laugh, saying something about how it was “just a habit” or “blessed.”

But now, as he watched you clutch it with a desperation he hadn’t seen before, Light wondered if there was more to the story.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could better shield you from the rain. His movements were deliberate, careful not to startle you. “You always carry that thing,” he said softly, his voice laced with a warmth he rarely used. “I used to think it was just because you liked it. But…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

You didn’t look at him. Your fingers tightened around the kitten, its worn fur darkened by the rain. Light swallowed, resisting the urge to press further. Instead, he leaned his head slightly against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I’m here. That’s all.”

He could feel the faint tremble in your frame, the quiet, unsteady rhythm of your breaths. The rain poured on, but Light stayed where he was, holding you as though his presence alone could chase away whatever darkness had brought you here.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “Not while I’m here.”

Still, you didn’t speak. Your focus remained on the stuffed kitten, and Light felt a pang of frustration—not at you, but at his own inability to reach you. He wanted to fix this, to take away whatever was hurting you, but he didn’t know how.

So he stayed quiet, his arms steady around you, offering you the only comfort he could. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer than before.

“When you’re ready,” he said, his words gentle, “you can tell me. Or not. It’s up to you.”

Your shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and though you still didn’t speak, Light took it as a sign that his words had reached you, even if only a little.

He stayed there with you under the cramped shelter, the rain soaking through his clothes, his heart heavy with unspoken questions. But for now, he focused on keeping you close, on being the steady presence you needed.

Because whatever it was that haunted you, whatever it was that had brought you to this place, he wasn’t going to let it take you away. Not now. Not ever.

———

You sat there, clutching the black kitten stuffed toy tightly, your expression blank and weary. Light stayed silent, his arms still wrapped around you, his mind whirring with unspoken questions. Then, at last, you spoke.

“Kuro’s dead.”

The words were quiet, devoid of emotion, but they pierced through the air like a knife. Light blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Kuro? Who was Kuro? He had his theories—the kitten stuffed toy, perhaps—but he didn’t interrupt. He waited, sensing that you had more to say.

“It’s stupid,” you added, staring down at the toy in your lap, your voice flat and almost detached.

Light didn’t move, his arms steady around you, letting you take your time.

You cried silently, tears slipping down your cheeks without a sound, mixing with the rainwater that clung to your face. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you continued, your words halting and broken.

“Don’t… don’t tell anyone,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “But… I’m not close with my parents. At all.”

Light’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t speak. He only held you closer, letting you keep going.

“I don’t… I don’t even like them that much,” you admitted, your voice so soft he had to strain to hear. “I respect them. I’m thankful for what they’ve done, I guess… they’re humble, and they’ve done well for themselves. But…” Your voice wavered slightly, though it still carried that hollow tone. “I don’t love them. Not really.”

You paused, gripping the stuffed kitten tighter, as though drawing strength from its presence.

“I had one friend,” you said, the words trembling just slightly. “Before you.”

Light’s chest tightened at that. He didn’t speak, but his gaze softened, his arms shifting slightly to shield you more from the rain.

“A small kitten. I found him… Kuro. Tiny. Weak. Just like me.” You took a shaky breath, your tone still muted but tinged with a deep sadness. “I took care of him for years. Before I met you.”

You stopped again, your gaze distant, focused entirely on the stuffed kitten in your hands. “He… he kept me company. More than my parents ever did. Gave me more love than I’ve ever had.”

Light felt his throat tighten at your words, but he stayed silent, letting you continue at your own pace.

“But one day… one day, he disappeared.” Your voice cracked, and Light’s arms instinctively tightened around you, his silent way of telling you he was there. “I… I never found out why. I searched for him everywhere. I still do.”

Another tear slipped down your cheek, your expression still blank, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands clutched the black kitten stuffed toy tighter, your knuckles turning white. “Kuro… he loved me. I know he did. And I loved him.” Your voice broke. “But I never knew what happened to him.”

You paused, the silence heavy between you, before you finally spoke again, the words soft but heavy with meaning.

“It was on this day,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “My birthday. The day I found him… and the day I lost him.”

Light’s heart ached at the sight of you, so small and broken, clutching that stuffed kitten like it was the last piece of Kuro you had left. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but he knew words wouldn’t fix this. So instead, he held you tighter, leaning his head gently against yours.

The rain continued to fall, but in that small, cramped space, Light made a silent vow. He didn’t know how, but he would make sure you never felt this kind of pain again. He wouldn’t let you be alone—not on this day, not on any day.

For now, though, all he could do was stay by your side, his quiet presence a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

The rain poured down relentlessly, the chill seeping into your skin despite the tight, makeshift cover Light had helped you take refuge under. You still hadn’t moved much, your gaze locked on the black kitten stuffed toy clutched tightly in your hands. You were out of it—emotionally drained and distant, like you were too far away to notice anything around you.

Light stayed close, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, but this time, he gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His grip was firm but not forceful, a silent reminder that he was there.

You didn’t react. Not to the touch, not to the warmth. Your fingers remained limp in his grasp, as though nothing around you mattered.

After a long moment of silence, Light spoke softly, his voice steady and sure despite the emotions simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not going to leave you.”

There was no reaction at first, just the quiet sound of rain pattering against the warehouse roof. Then, finally, you murmured, your voice flat and resigned, “You don’t have to say that.”

Light frowned, but he stayed silent as you continued, the words coming slowly, emotionlessly. “I won’t be mad if you leave. Even if it’s you. I’m used to it. People always leave, eventually.”

The casualness of your words stung, like they’d been spoken countless times before. Light’s grip on your hand tightened briefly before he let out a low, frustrated sigh.

And then, without warning, he flicked your forehead—sharp enough to sting but not enough to hurt.

You winced, glaring at him in offense as you finally snapped out of your daze. “Ow! What was that for?”

“That,” Light said, his expression firm but his tone softer than usual, “is for saying something so stupid.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t get to decide that I’ll leave, or that anyone else will. And you especially don’t get to act like it doesn’t matter if I do. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You glared at him, the tears still slipping down your cheeks betraying the anger in your eyes. “It’s not stupid. It’s realistic—”

Light interrupted again, this time by pulling you closer, his free arm wrapping around you securely. “Stop,” he said, his voice quieter now, though no less firm. “You’re my best friend. Or did you forget I existed?”

You blinked at him, your lips parting in a faint protest, but no words came out.

“Too stuck in your own bubble to notice anything?” he continued, his tone softening just enough to take the sting out of his words. “Do you know how frustrating that is?”

You looked away, uncomfortable under his gaze, but he didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, intertwining your fingers even tighter.

“And though it’s embarrassing to say,” he muttered, his cheeks faintly pink but his expression sincere, “I love you. You’re my best friend, and I’m not going anywhere. So don’t say things like that, okay?”

You glanced up at him, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his words. For a moment, the faintest flicker of something broke through the haze clouding your mind—something warm, something soft.

Light sighed, brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face before resting his forehead lightly against yours. “I mean it,” he said quietly. “So stop acting like it doesn’t matter.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t pull away either. You stayed there, silent and motionless, as Light held your hand a little tighter, his warmth chasing away some of the chill. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone.

———

You clutched the black kitten stuffed toy even closer, holding it as if it were the only thing grounding you to the present. Yet, you didn’t resist when Light pulled you closer, his arms wrapping securely around you, his warmth seeping into your cold, damp frame.

Light buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling the subtle, familiar scent of you that always lingered—a soft, flowery fragrance that felt uniquely you. For a moment, his tension eased. He could feel the faint rhythm of your breathing, slow and steady, a sign that you weren’t as distant as before.

When he finally lifted his head, he noticed the shift in your expression. You weren’t out of it anymore—your gaze was clear, steady, and focused. He stared at you, his face inches away from yours. There had been moments before where you were this close, but something about now… felt different.

His eyes lingered on you, tracing the lines of your face—your soft features framed by damp hair, the way your lashes glistened with lingering tears. His chest tightened, and his heartbeat quickened, a rhythmic thrum he couldn’t ignore.

Light didn’t understand it. You were his best friend. You’d always been. But the way the air felt heavier between you, the way his gaze locked onto yours as if it couldn’t look away—it was unfamiliar. Strange.

You blinked at him, your eyes meeting his directly. There was no hesitation in your gaze, no walls, just you looking back at him. And somehow, that clear, unguarded look made his breath catch.

Without realizing it, Light leaned closer, the space between you shrinking. His heart thudded louder, and for the first time in his perfectly calculated life, he didn’t know why.

You tilted your head slightly, a small, curious motion that made him freeze. Light’s gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. He swallowed hard, shaking off the thought before it could form fully.

This is just normal… right? You’re best friends. That’s all this is. It’s nothing.

Clearing his throat softly, he raised a hand to your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He wiped away the last of your tears with a gentle touch, his expression softening as he did.

“There,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “No more tears, okay?”

You didn’t reply, but you didn’t need to. The way you stayed still, letting him be there for you, letting him take care of you—it was enough.

Light exhaled slowly, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment longer before he pulled back, his face still alarmingly close to yours. His gaze flickered down once more before snapping back to your eyes, and he forced himself to look away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Let’s… let’s get you warm,” he said, his voice slightly uneven. But he didn’t move away, his arms still wrapped around you as the rain fell around the two of you.

———

And then, you finally—hesitantly—wrapped your arms around Light in return. It was small at first, almost uncertain, but then you leaned into him, letting the weight of your stuffed kitten fall against your chest as your grip tightened around him. For the first time, you seemed genuine in not holding back, no barriers or pretense.

Light stilled for a moment, taken aback. The soft press of your arms around him felt different. It wasn’t just the act of hugging; it was the way you allowed yourself to depend on him, even if only for a moment. Slowly, his arms tightened, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from every storm that ever dared to touch you.

But then you spoke, your words cutting through the quiet. They were low, trembling, as if pulling them from within you was an effort: “People always leave, Light… It’s normal. It’s okay. I’ve stopped being mad about it. Even if they hate me, or forget me, or just… leave. It’s fine.”

You didn’t sob. You didn’t even sniffle. But the way your voice cracked faintly at the edges told him everything.

“It’s not fine,” Light said firmly, his voice steady even as his chest ached at your words. “I’ll never leave you. Never.” He paused, his voice softening. “Even if the whole world turns against you, even if everyone else leaves or hates you, I won’t. I could never hate you.”

He shifted, leaning back just enough to look at your face. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, steady, and filled with a conviction he hadn’t fully realized was there.

And then, it happened.

Slowly, tentatively, you smiled.

Not the lazy grin you threw out when deflecting his teasing, or the carefree smirk you donned when pretending nothing could touch you. This one was different. Small, shy, and vulnerable. A smile that spoke of a quiet happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time—perhaps ever.

Light’s breath caught. He was utterly at a loss for words, a rarity for him. He wanted to say something—anything—but his mind seemed to go blank, his focus completely captured by that tiny, genuine curve of your lips.

His heart stuttered in his chest, a rapid pounding that he prayed you couldn’t hear. His gaze flicked down, his thoughts racing. He didn’t even realize he was leaning closer again, his eyes tracing the soft lines of your face, the way your damp lashes framed your eyes, the faint warmth in your expression.

The urge came so suddenly, so powerfully, it almost startled him. A quiet, insistent desire to press his lips to yours, to see if that warmth would spread, to feel the closeness that his words couldn’t seem to bridge.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His face buried in your hair, his breath unsteady as he inhaled the faint, flowery scent of you—a scent he found oddly intoxicating. He closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to calm, to stop betraying the storm of emotions he didn’t fully understand.

What’s wrong with me?

But he wouldn’t let you know. Not now. Maybe not ever.

For now, this was enough. You were his best friend, after all. That’s all this was. Or so he told himself.

────────────

Ever since that rainy day, something between the two of you shifted. The walls you had so carefully constructed around yourself didn’t crumble all at once, but they softened—just enough to let Light slip through. You stopped deflecting his care with dismissive remarks, stopped brushing off his attempts to get close. Your reactions around him felt different now: genuine, unguarded, like you no longer saw the need to pretend.

It didn’t happen overnight, but over the years, Light noticed the subtle changes. The way you let yourself laugh freely when he teased you instead of smirking half-heartedly. The way you didn’t hesitate to lean into his shoulder when you were tired, trusting that he’d hold you steady. The way you’d meet his gaze, no longer distracted or distant, and actually see him.

It was as if the two of you had carved out your own private little world, a space where no one else existed. It was always just you and him, whether you were crammed into the corner of the library whispering about your latest inside joke or walking home side by side, sharing a single umbrella that never quite fit the both of you.

And honestly? He loved it.

He loved the way you’d wrinkle your nose at his over-planned schedules but still follow along without complaint. He loved how you’d surprise him with random facts you thought he’d find interesting, your voice tinged with excitement just for him. He loved the way you always looked for him first in a crowded room, your eyes lighting up the moment they met his.

He told himself it was just the comfort of familiarity, the bond of having a best friend who understood him better than anyone else. But deep down, there was another part of him that relished it for an entirely different reason.

Because in this little bubble you’d created, there was no one else. No competition, no distractions, no one vying for your attention. It was just him.

You were all his, whether you realized it or not.

Light never said it out loud, of course. He always played the part of the doting best friend, careful not to overstep, not to scare you off. But he couldn’t help the satisfaction that bloomed in his chest every time he caught someone staring at you, only for you to brush it off without a second thought.

You didn’t need anyone else.

You had him, and that was enough.

And as selfish as it was, he hoped it would stay that way forever.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn The World. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “World Ablaze”: @berry-berry-beam , @magica-ren , @hyakki-yosai , @esthelily , @zombeepuppy , @mololoteco , @whyamaris , @iciel , @songbirdgardensworld

[chuulyssa]

drunk and driven. (light yagami)

↷ A/N ─ happy belated birthday to light and me !! i hope you enjoy this :) again, this is NOT rape/non-con. the reader is as sober as light here. written by a zombie-me at 4am. also im sorry if the camera topic is overused, i just couldnt help myself fantasizing about this

★ COUNT ─ 2.5k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader, dom!light, drinking, smut, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, nicknames (good girl, pretty girl, etc.), edging, begging kink, voyeurism

★ PROLOGUE ─ your boyfriend punishes you for almost letting slip his real identity

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

The dim glow of the television cast shadows around the room. You had been at your high school's farewell party, and had too many drinks there to stumble back home in one piece. It was almost midnight, so there was also no way your boyfriend, Light Yagami, would have let you out of his sight, especially with how tipsy you were. He was quite protective of you, but he was right. You let out a drunk sigh and looked away, silently accepting the fact that you'd have to meet his parents in the morning and share a few awkward exchanges.

Light had had more drinks than you at the party, but he looked far from as drunk as you currently were. He was quietly watching a movie on the TV, stroking your hair lightly. Your gaze went up from Light to the flickering screen. A sudden surge of courage rushed through you.

"Light," you whispered, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice.

"No, you're not going home tonight," Light replied without looking at you.

"No, it's not that," you said frustratedly.

Light raised his eyebrows, hearing you slur your words due to the effects of the alcohol. Still, he did not look at you.

"How much did you drink?"

"Less than what you drank," your throat burned, your eyes drooping slightly.

He ignored you, seemingly engrossed in the movie, but you knew it was all just an act for the cameras L had set up.

You continued, "And it doesn't matter how much I drank, because either way, you refuse to give me attention."

Ryuk snickered in the corner.

Light frowned, finally turning his attention towards you as his eyes trailed down your body. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the redness of your cheeks, and the slight swaying of your body.

He looked at you for a few more seconds with a calculating look before sighing and setting the remote on his table. He stood up, "You should really get some sleep."

"No," you repeated.

"I-" Light was starting to get annoyed. "Are you crazy? Don't you want to go home tomorrow?"

"I just- I-" You sighed again, leaning back against your chair and almost falling off.

"Idiot," Light muttered, catching you before you fell. He carried you to his bed and lay you down gently before covering you with his blanket. "Are you comfortable? Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

"No, no, I need cuddles," you smiled drunkenly, completely forgetting what you were going to say back when you had gotten some "courage".

"Of course, you do," Light said proudly. "You need my cuddles to sleep."

You hummed in response. As he snottily took his shirt off before lying down next to you, you closed your eyes slightly. They were burning, as if trying to stop you from both closing them and keeping them open.

His hands made their way to your back, gently pushing your neck to his bare chest. You finally shut your heavy eyelids and snuggled closer to him. This was what you always wanted. Just you and Light. Alone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still tightly shut, your face pressed against him. Alone? It was laughable that you thought even for a moment that you two were alone right now. Well, for one, there was a God of Death in the same room as you, trying not to pass out from the lack of apples in his digestive system. Second, a great detective was watching the two of you, possibly along with your boyfriend's own father.

Light pulled you even closer to him, inhaling your scent deeply. Soon, the two of you drifted off to dreamland, and L was left questioning whether the seventeen-year-old star student really was a murderer.

You woke up, limbs tangled with Light's. You checked your wristwatch. About four hours had passed, and as you tried to sit up, your head felt heavy from an early hangover. Light's eyes jerked open. He had always been a light sleeper.

"Hm?" he mumbled in his sleep, no longer feeling the presence of your head in the crook of his neck. "What's the matter, honey?"

"I... had a dream," you said slowly.

"Nightmare?"

"Kinda."

Light sat up slowly and reached out for a glass of water to hand to you.

You peeked into the glass, rubbing your left eye until you saw stars.

"Vodka?" you said hopefully.

"Water," he replied calmly.

You pouted pleadingly; more alcohol was what you needed right now, but you eventually had to resign to your boyfriend. You drank the water, and instantly felt much more sober than you were before. Your sleepy eyes fell on Ryuk, his legs and hands in a rather uncomfortable position, perhaps due to not having apples for such a long time.

For a moment, you, for the second time that night, completely forgot about the existence of the cameras.

You turned to Light. "How long is he going to go without apples?"

"Who, honey?" Light's eyes flashed warningly, but you were far too sleepy to notice.

"Ryuk, your Shini-"

Your words were cut off by a sharp kiss. Light had completely thrown himself at you, and you fell back down on the bed due to the sheer force of his abrupt kiss. The empty glass landed on the floor with a loud clink, but he ignored it. His hands reached under your shirt, his nails digging into the skin of your hips as if daring you to talk further.

You attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows, to gain some kind of control over what was happening. But Light pushed you back down, pulling you by your hips and roughly throwing your head down on the pillow.

He pulled away eventually, the pupils of his eyes completely red, and you cursed yourself mentally. This was not your Light. This was Kira.

He leaned away from you, got up to pick up the thrown glass and filled it with water again, but as he offered it to you, you rejected it. "I'm sober enough for this, Light."

"Very well then," Light whispered and leaned in closer to your ear. "I hope you remember you're being watched. Make sure you put on a show."

You nodded slowly, letting his hands roam around and make their way to the hem of your skirt, twirling the fabric around his fingers. He brought another hand to your top and slid it under the cloth, feeling the material of your satin bra.

"The one I gifted to you?" he raised his eyebrows, a little smirk on his face.

"Yes," you whispered, pulling his bare chest against your clothed one. "Strip me, Light."

"What's the magic word?" he teased, hand slipping under your bra and cupping your breast.

"Please," you whimpered when he pinched your nipple.

Ryuk snapped his eyes open and tumbled out of the room clumsily, perhaps to give you some privacy.

"Good girl," he didn't hide his smirk this time as he pulled your top off completely, throwing it to the side where it landed on his chair next to his own shirt. He ran his hands down your back, grabbing the zipper of your skirt and slowly pulling it down. Light slid the skirt down your legs, leaving you in a matching set of satin underwear and bra.

"Pretty," he murmured, his hand grasping his growing bulge tightly.

"Let me help you with that," you sat up on all fours and leaned in closer, a hand stretched out to touch his crotch.

You rubbed him lightly, slowly increasing your pace before unbuckling his belt and slipping your hand under his boxers. Your constant touching of his tip made him groan, hand reaching out to yank you by your hair and push you back down to the bed. You grabbed his hands and brought them to your breasts, pressing them against your chest.

"Take my bra off."

"I'm not a man to be told what to do," he said, bringing his lips down to your neck. "But I will allow it this time."

Light freed his hands from your grip and brought them to your back, unclasping the hook of your bra and letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your breasts in his hands, lowering himself so that his mouth sucked on one nipple while his hand squeezed the other.

"Fuck," you moaned, pushing his head against your chest.

He grabbed your hand and brought it once more to his crotch, letting you feel the bulge in his pants again.

"You're not the only one who's needy right now."

"You're so- god, I can't wait to feel you inside me," you said, rubbing his dick through the fabric.

"Patient girls are rewarded," he said, dragging his lips from your neck to your collarbone, his free hand ripping your panties off.

"Hey!" you whisper-screamed.

"I'll buy you another set," he said calmly, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them up and hitting your g-spot.

"Yes," you moaned, pushing his hand against your pussy. "Faster."

He brought his other hand from your nipple to your clit and started rubbing it in circles, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers.

"Fuck, I'm going to come," you whimpered after a few minutes, feeling your orgasm build.

"Mhm, do it, what a good girl," he said, rubbing your clit faster, aiding your release. You came hard on his fingers, arching your back, bucking against his hand and moaning loudly. Your legs shook, while he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought them to your mouth. "Clean them."

You nodded, sucking on his fingers, your teeth digging into his skin. Light smirked.

"Don't you think you should be punished?"

"Huh-? For what, Li-?"

Your words were cut off once again when he pulled you onto his lap so that your ass faced him and you lay on your stomach, pussy pressed against his crotch.

_ _ _ _

"L, I don't think we should be watching this," Soichiro Yagami kept his eyes away from the screen, where his son, his perfect little son, was busy fingering his girlfriend. He hadn't even known he had a girlfriend, let alone the fact that they were so... intimate with each other.

"There has to be some meaning in what the girl said," L racked his brains, eyes scanning the scene, now showing you in Light's lap and his hand rubbing your ass. "Apples?"

"For god's sake, it may be some sort of safeword for when they- for when they do- this," Soichiro yelled, his eyes on the floor.

"It's not a mere coincidence, Mr Yagami," L said thoughtfully. "Apples? Kira told me 'Shinigamis' loved apples earlier. This is not a coincidence, Mr Yagami."

_ _ _ _

"You're going to be punished for fucking everything up," he whispered in your ear before smacking your ass hard. "Count."

"One!" you yelped, feeling the sting of his hand on your ass. "Two!" "Three!" "Four!" "Five!"

He kept spanking you, alternating between your ass cheeks. You could feel his dick hard against your stomach, and ignoring the pain in your ass, you started to grind against it.

"Six!" "Seven!" "Eight!"

He spanked you harder, and you could feel your ass getting red. You were breathing heavily, and your pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto his lap.

"Nine! Ten!"

_ _ _ _

"Can we stop watching this now?" Soichiro groaned.

"There has to be some hint," L traced the screen with his fingers which showed you getting spanked hard by Light now.

Soichiro let out an uncomfortable sigh.

"Mr Yagami, you can close your ears and eyes," L said without looking away from the screen.

_ _ _ _

"Good girl," Light said, rubbing your ass. "Now, a reward."

He slid his pants and boxers down to his legs and wiggled out of them. He brought his dick to your pussy, rubbing its head against your clit and earning a moan from your pursed lips. He flipped you over, pinning you under him on the bed again as he continued to tease you.

"Please, Light," you begged, trying to reach out for his dick so you could push it in.

"Please what?" he said sweetly and you groaned in annoyance.

"Please fuck me."

He smiled and pushed his dick inside you slowly, savouring every inch of your tight pussy.

"Oh!" you wailed, feeling his cock stretch your pussy.

He started bucking his hips in and out, fucking you harder as his balls slapped against your clit, doubling the pleasure. He was careful not to make a sound, but he didn't stop you from letting your strangled moans out. This would be your punishment, facing his mother in the morning after getting fucked so hard by him at night.

You tried very hard to suppress your lustful sounds, eyes welling up at the thought of facing his family in a few hours, but you couldn't. He was too good. He knew just how to get under your skin. Slowly, you felt your second orgasm approaching.

"Ah, ah! I want to come," you clasped your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. He was going so hard on you, of course, his mother and his sister would wake up if he continued.

"No, you're not. Hold it in," Light commanded. "You're going to come when I say so."

He kept fucking you harder, and you could feel your orgasm building. This was torture. There was no way you could hold yourself in when he was going so hard on you.

"Please, Light," you begged, feeling your pussy clench around his dick. "I can't hold it in anymore."

"Hold it in, I said," he said, flipping you over again and spanking your ass hard. He increased his speed, and you buried your head in a pillow to muffle your screams. "I'm going to come inside you now. Understood?"

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, and you knew he wasn't lying about his orgasm. You nodded slowly, voice still distant because of the pillow.

He let out a long, satisfied groan as he released his juices inside you, pushing his dick deep inside you. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, and it sent you over the edge.

"Now, come for me, pretty girl," Light said in a hoarse voice.

"Yes!" you screamed, feeling your orgasm wash over you. His cum was dripping out of your pussy, and you could feel his cock softening inside you.

"Good," he said, pulling his cock out of you. It was scary how calm and composed he was when a minute ago, he had spanked you so hard. He grabbed a towel and wiped your pussy clean.

_ _ _ _

Soichiro blinked at the abrupt ending of the sounds. Still refusing to look up at the screen, he asked, "Is it over now?"

"They're both still naked," L said, analyzing the place, feeling his own dick harden at your bare figure, panting and sweating as Light got off you and laid next to you, throwing the towel somewhere insignificant.

"Well then?" Soichiro said.

"Well what?"

"You made me watch my son... doing- doing stuff with his girlfriend," Soichiro said in a shaky voice, his hands behind his back to avoid pulling his hair out in frustration. "What have you understood from this?"

"What I've understood?" L said thoughtfully, his gaze unconsciously reaching his growing bulge. "Your son is quite romantic, I suppose."

© chuulyssa, 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Prologue

Part 1

Your mother was a beautiful kind and dangerous woman. In short. She was a Falcone. And for young Bruce, being with her was a thrill. Being Batman gave him a thrill, but your mother was a different kind of thrill.

Till she got pregnant. And the thrill was gone.

Your mother kept you of course. Counting the days till she gets to hold you in her arms. And when she finally got to hold you, to feel you close and hear your sweet little voice. The rest of the Falcone men decided that your mother wasn't ready to take care of you. So, they forced you out of her arms and sent you to Bruce.

Bruce held you once. And immediately passed you to Alfred. He was too young to become a father. (Never mind the fact he was already acting as a father to two boys)

He didn't have time to play daddy. Deep down Bruce did come to care for you over the years and attempted to try and hold you. But then Jason died, Dick distanced himself. Holding you, an innocent little thing, felt wrong.

When you were eight. You had tantrums. Night terrors. terribly scared of the dark. Thunderstorms especially. Gotham famous for its long dark nights and loud thunderstorms. Bruce, too busy with his new sidekick, Tim. Didn't have time to comfort you. No matter how heartbreaking your scrams for him were. Crying for him, so he can save you from whatever nightmare you have woken from.

But only Alfred occasionally Dick, would come and save you.

Bruce would give you toys, new dresses as a form of apology. He wouldn't give it to you directly. But have Alfred give it to you or leave it in your room when asleep. But no matter how many new toys he gives you. Those nightmares just never stopped.

Due to the neglect. Your mother was able to meet with you secretly. As years passed, she was able to steal you away when Alfred wasn't hovering around you. Take you to shop and give you whatever you wanted. Holding you in her arms and not wanting to let go.

Slowly, your mother was gaining the favor of some of the Falcones. To let her have you back. To welcome you back into the Falcone family. Once she gets the whole family to agree. She can make a case of child neglect against Bruce Wayne and take her sweet Babygirl back.

But when you were ten. Your powers began to kick in. You told Bruce, hoping your father would help you. Help you understand. Bruce, told you to keep it a secret. And to tell no one else.

Having a kid who was a meta was the last thing he needed at the moment. Trying to re-connect with Jason who still had deep hate for him instead focusing on his first-born child who was struggling to understand.

You felt like a freak.

And it wasn't long till you lost control of your powers. To keep it short. You accidently killed a few other kids with your powers. It was an accident. You swore. You see you would have just been left off. Your a kid. It was an accident. But most of all your a Wayne. But one of the kids you killed was a Falcone.

And Bruce couldn't risk you getting killed. He cared about you. Just not as much as he should. So, to avoid the wrath of the Falcone's. Bruce had to claim you were mentally ill. Sending you to Arkham. Only for a few months. That's what he said to you. That's what he promised.

You did your six months in Arkham. Six months turned to eight. Eight months turned to ten. Ten months turned to two years. Then finally, you were taken out from your cell. Lead by two prison guards. They said you had a visitor. You assumed it was another reporter. But was proven wrong when you see Bruce on the other side of the thick glass. You were shocked but happy to see your father.

"Daddy." You spoke softly as you slowly smile, putting your hand on the glass. Bruce hesitates to put his hand on the glass, once he does, he focused back to you. Your eyes stared at him with so much love and hope.

". . . Your case. . . the court decided you're, too unstable to attend court, so. . ." Bruce didn't look at you as he spoke. So, he couldn't see the smile on your face fade. Confusion taking over.

"But. . . I did my six months. . . I-I've been here for a year! Daddy, please I didn't do it on purpose!" You were on the edge of crying.

"I promise. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can." Bruce wanted to try and console you. But that was harder due to the glass between you two. He reaches out his hand to the glass once more. But the loud buzz that queued it was time for you to get back to your cell.

"Please Daddy don't let them take me!" You cried, putting both hands on the glass. You were in full despair. Bruce didn't know what to do. He can take the risk from the Falcones and get you out with a snap of his fingers. Or he can make it easy for everyone but you and wait till you serve your time.

". . . I'm sorry" Bruce can see you falling deeper and deeper into dispare.

Guards burst from the doors and had to forcefully take you away.

"No- No! Daddy please! DADDY!" Your screamed louder as the guards took you away, reaching out to Bruce who just stood there. And did nothing. As always.

Seven years later.

No one ever visited you again. Well, no one from the Waynes. But your mother visited you every week. Her visits where the only reason you kept saine.

Arkham isn't all fun and games. Obviously. You were immitted into Arkham's fucked version of rehabilitation. You started hearing things after your first month in Arkham.

. . .

You sent letters almost every day to the Wayne manor. But never got any back. None from Bruce. None from Dick. You and Tim weren't close. So, you didn't expect anything from him. Alfred prefers to call you. Wanting to hear your voice to make sure you were not lying to him when he asks of your wellbeing.

You stopped sending letters to Bruce a few months ago. Not like he'll respond anyway. You don't need Bruce. You have your mother. And she's all you'll need. She's your world now, your reason to keep living this pointless life. And once you're out, Mama promised to give you a big hug. Which you so desperately needed.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢. . . 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎?"

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ʏᴀɢᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Yan light who met you in highschool, the last year

Yan light who becomes your study partner, helping u and ur dumb lil brain

Yan light who starts realizing how cute you were, but never had a crush on u (he did he just never wanted to admit it)

Yan light who now has a crush on you after him trying to convince himself that you're not his type,

Yan light who now helps you with more than studying, whenever you don't have a pencil, he'll give it to you eagerly, whenever you want something from Amazon but your too broke, he'll buy it for you, whenever your too lazy to work on assignments, you call him and he'll let you copy

Yan light who is now your friend rather than study buddie

Yan light who sits with you during lunch, not bothering to hang out with his other popular friends, telling you that he prefers you

Yan light who stares at you during class, thinking of all the things you could do to him before shaking his head, and covering his blushing face

Yan light who convinces his sister that you're his gf, and that's why you keep coming over to his house.

Yan light who now is by your side 24/7, walking you to classes, holding your backpack for you as you ramble about the girl u don't fw, walking you home, and more

Yan light whose house you go to for a study session, but you knew it was just gonna turn out to you rambling about drama as he watched you with heart eyes, hand on your thigh

Yan light who convinces you to stay over, saying "N/n, it's too dark out, just stay here yeah?"

Yan light who you ask "Light, where am I gonna sleep?"

Yan light who smiles, and says "In my bed, where else, sweetheart?" As if it was the most obvious thing in the world

Yan light who cuddles you throughout the night, arms around your waist as he whines when you try to pull away from him

Yan light who now tells you to go to the college he's going to, giving you puppy dog eyes as you refuse

"Sweetheart, come into the college I'm going to, you don't wanna be separated do you?"

"Honey, what do you mean your too dumb? Just copy off me, my love."

Yan light who makes you go to his college, smiling at you when you finally tell him "Fine, I'll go to your college."

Yan light who now barely lets you go to your own house, "Am I not good enough for you, love?" He asks with tears in his eyes like bro I just asked u if I could go home

Yan light who cooks and cleans for you, "Honey, do you want me to make you some pasta for tonight?" He saids all giggly, his sister just gags in disgust bc why is her rat brother acting like a middle school girl in love

Yan light who is literally 3 seconds away from smashing the TV in his room because your busy playing GTA rather than him, he's literally half naked, wanting you to touch him and your playing GTA tryna run from the cops?! How dare you, just watch, he'll get rid of that fucking ga-

"hey wife, can ya bring me my water?" You ask, you gave him a glance making him perk up, knowing that if u called him wife, he'll do anything for u

"Okay! ♡" What was he thinking about again?

Yan light who finally got the death note, and told you "If you fucking even look at someone else other than me, I'll kill them."

"wife, you barely even let me see my own family"

Yan light who Misa finally meets up with

"Light! I'm your classmate, and you dropped this book!" Misa said, showing the book as light makes her follow her to his room. You were inside the room, playing rock paper scissors with ryuk the homie

Oh yeah that lil bitch light showed you the death note and practically said he'll rip anyone's skull if they even bother to look in your direction, genuinely u weren't even shocked bc ur wife was just like that fr fr but anyway now ur homies with ryuk

They both walked into the room, and Misa was quick to glare at you. 'Light is my love, and I am his so why is this homewrecker all up in his bed like that!' was her train of thought, ready to launch at you before seeing Lights dark glare on here

"Don't even fucking think about it, now why are you here?"

They talked and Misa told him if he dated anyone but her, she'll kill them.

"thats...too bad, I'm already y/ns wife"

Yan light who is your wife that kills anyone who gets between you both <333

GUYS LOWKEY IMMA MAKE A YAN DEATH NOTE AND YAN JOJO BIZAREE ADVENTURE STORY ON MY WATTPAD LOLOLO

YAN TOWN, YAN MC DONALDS WORKER, YAN CELEBRITY, AND MORE COMING OUT SOONOJFBYUSDYUHjn

HOPE YALL LIKED THIS ONE I LITERALLY WAS HALF ASLEEP

[love-me-satoru]

Not the thought of yandere!Boyfriend that would tie up some random guy that was flirting with you and then fuck you in front of them.Them squirming against the ropes watching your tear filled eyes. Loud moans and your boyfriends fat fucking cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. Their cock straining against their jeans. “Look baby he’s hard.” You couldn’t process your boyfriends words until his hand wrapped around your throat Pulling you flushed against his front. “I said look slut.” your eyes glancing back at the man tied to the chair. “Good girl.. Now cum for me baby. Show him what he’ll never get.”

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.