#yandere goro akechi x reader

[cinnamonest]

Ataraxis

"Failed Escape Attempt" prompt - Akechi Goro (Persona 5)

Finally completed this amidst my myriad of hospital visits this month. Prolonged viral anaphylaxis works hard but the spirit of degeneracy works harder 🙏

warnings/notes: dark content, noncon, fem reader, implied significant age gap, captivity, electronic monitoring/shock collar, asphyxiation, abuse, vague suicide references, bro has THE mommy issues of all time, mild stockholm, somewhat detailed backstory for reader (in which reader is a bit of an enabler)

----

Ataraxis - a state of tranquility, calmness, or peace of mind, free from mental stress or anxiety.

You hesitated. Your pulse was running fast, trepidation freezing your hand in place, just before you could touch the door.

No. You shook your head rapidly for a moment, trying to drive away the panicked thoughts. You couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about what-ifs, fueling your hesitancy. You’d done everything that you were supposed to in order for this to work. Gotten the doors unlocked, the wires cut, everything — you had to go through with it.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, pounding as you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and reached for the door handle, turning it slowly.

You wished it was an apartment that opened directly to the outdoors — that you'd feel the sun, breathe in fresh air, the moment you opened the door — but you were met with a hallway, and the number of the neighbor directly across plastered on the door. Light still poured in from the hall, into the otherwise dark apartment only dimly lit by a TV running off to the side of the room.

Regardless, undeterred, after a mere moment of hesitation, you took a step forward.

And then, your body seized up.

Your knees hit the ground, but you didn't even feel the pain of impact, every nerve overtaken by a sudden overpowering sensation, overwhelming your senses.

Gasping for air, your feet flailed, kicking outward as your hands and elbows desperately dug into the ground, all in a frantic movement to scramble away from the door. As you stumbled back, you practically threw the door itself forward, and it slammed shut.

After moving a short distance, just enough for the blast of overwhelmingly discomforting sensation to come to a sudden stop, your body turned onto your back as you collapsed onto the floor, shivering, each breath ragged and heaving.

For a moment, all you could do was lay there and tremble, grasping at your throat, the focus point of the shock, metallic prongs pressed into your skin beneath the layer of leather that clung around your throat. Your vision spun, and no coherent thought could even be formed in your head, the panic and discomfort consuming your capacity for thought.

Even as the sensation faded, there was still a twitching throughout your body, muscles in your arms and legs and extremities tensing over and over against your conscious volition. You weakly reached up, wiping away the trail of saliva that had spilled down the side of your face.

Your chest still rose and fell heavily, back arching against the ground it laid on with each inhale. Your eyes stared wide open at the ceiling — discolored, where some fixture had been ripped out and caulked over, you'd noticed before — vision fuzzy from tears, dizziness, and the trembling that overcame your body, mind spinning on the brink of consciousness.

And with that, even through the disorientation and disequilibrium that kept your consciousness spinning, you could still make out one particular thought, a realization that came as a harsh blow — failure.

A near tangible emotion that you could physically feel as its weight settled onto your chest.

And then disbelief — that can't be right that can't be right — you'd done everything you were supposed to, everything had gone perfectly as you'd planned.

Countless weeks down the drain. All that time spent in preparation for this very moment, not only nullified, but now undoubtedly turned against you for your own detriment.

And if the feeling hadn't brought you enough despair, if the frustration and dismay alone hadn't been enough to bring you to tears that began to well in your eyes, your body stiffened again as an acute sensation of discomfort ran through body once more. You glanced upward.

And then, an intense cold sprouted in your gut, rapidly seeping through your blood, a chill that ran through your bones and flesh.

Pure, unadulterated dread.

The electronic eye, the circular lenses poised directly at you from the corner of the ceiling, burned into your flesh. You could feel the sense of observation through the proxy of the device, transmitted over distance and invisible waves no differently than the image the camera would project to the phone screen on the other end.

Your trembling hands slowly reached up to your neck, fingertips grazing the leathery material secured so tightly around your neck you could barely slide your fingers beneath it, just enough to feel the metallic prongs on the inner side that dug into the flesh.

That was the whole point of it all, the effort, the risks, the time and patience, accumulating every little thing you'd need for this one moment.

Everything had been so methodical, had to be executed with perfection and painstaking effort.

And yet, all for nothing.

Your legs were still trembling too intensely to stand. You weakly propped yourself up on one elbow, weary eyes scanning your surroundings in the small apartment, until you saw the shape of the small device where you’d left it sitting on the edge of the bed. You shuffled your way over to it, dragging yourself along the floor.

Slowly, summoning your strength, you pushed your elbows to the ground and forced yourself to sit upright, before lifting yourself up on shaky legs, just to practically fall down onto the mattress, reaching out to grasp the phone in your hand.

He was busy. He had things to do. He might not have checked any notifications that popped up. Maybe.

The flip phone was inconvenient on your end — a long since outdated piece of technology, incapable of accessing the internet, and easily restricted with built-in parental controls used decades ago, impossible to circumvent despite many attempts. It was capable of receiving and sending calls to a single number, as well as receiving texts from the same number.

The cold sheets began to warm under the heat of your body as you nestled into them. With the pillow close to your face, you could hear your own shuddering breaths in greater clarity, see your own fingers gripping the sheets with such force that the flesh around your finger joints went lighter.

You glanced at the tiny screen on the front of the closed phone.

‘11:52 a.m.’

Your heart skipped a beat — it was much closer to the daily call than you had hoped. You must have been lying on the floor longer than you realized. You only had a few minutes to prepare yourself.

Yes, he wouldn’t call you the very second he saw what you’d done. He would just stick to the usual schedule. He liked routines.

You sat fully upright, leaning back against the wall one side of the bed pressed against. You drew your knees up to your chest, hugging your arms around them, eyes glued to the small screen.

‘11:53 a.m.’

You could do nothing but sit there and wait.

The helplessness and futility quickly turned to despair. The full weight of your failure began to set in.

It had taken so long to execute the plan in full. You weren't even sure exactly why it failed — your own error, a backup battery of some kind, maybe.

Not that it mattered now.

Your mind raced over each little step taken, all to culminate in futility, but any structure to your thoughts simply fell apart into bitter defeat.

You were brought out of your thoughts by shifting of numbers on the screen, several minutes having passed.

‘11:58 a.m.’

You could feel each beat of your heart, the pressure of blood circulating through your head and your throat. Your stomach churned.

‘11:59 a.m.’

You sat still, staring with wide eyes, unable to do anything against the unstoppable force of the passage of time.

'12:00 p.m.'

No sooner had the numbers shifted, that the phone screen lit up brighter, and the device began to vibrate.

Your stomach tightened, a cold, stiff feeling seized your limbs and every muscle tensed as the phone rang. A name popped up on the little front screen.

‘Goro’

He'd been the one to put the number into the device, to assign that title to the contact. At first, you’d assumed he didn’t want to bother painstakingly typing out any more than necessary on the device’s old 12-digit typing system.

Or maybe keeping you physically separated from the world was not enough — if you couldn’t exist in the outside world, if you had to be separated from it, naturally, you couldn’t use the same name for him as everyone else, all those people on the television and the voices on the other end of the phone.

A confliction of instincts twisted in your gut — an impulse to answer it immediately, knowing not doing so could not go without repercussion, yet at the same time, you reflexively shrunk back, as if repelled by the sound, clutching your hands to your chest at the immediate revulsion to the mere thought of answering.

And it rang, twice, three times. Your mind ran blank, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

But between conflicting instincts, you knew what you had to do.

Thus, on the fourth ring, snapping out of your momentary stupor, shaking hands latching on and flipping the top upward, the word that came out in a wavering voice was—

“…Goro?”

Your voice came out rougher than you'd hoped, an obvious rasp from the strain.

If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead—

“Good afternoon.”

The voice that came through the other end was bright and cheerful. The same voice that he used on talk shows and public addresses. Composed, amiable, fairly upbeat, without any trace of negativity.

And then, he added,

“What have you been up to today?”

It was such a light-hearted tone, you thought for a moment, with some desperate hope, that he hadn't noticed. Maybe it hadn't triggered a notification. Maybe he just didn't see it.

Or maybe it was a test. Maybe he wanted you to be transparent. You didn’t know. There was no way to know.

The lingering exhaustion from all the strain left you somewhat dazed, and you hesitated as you slowly summoned an answer.

“Oh, I just… I watched some TV earlier…” You tilted your gaze over to said television as it continued to run silently off to the side of the room, a mere distraction kept on for some semblance of stimulus. “They… they were talking about the phantom thief people on the news again.”

He sighed. You tensed for a moment, worried that perhaps it was something that would only frustrate him, knowing the matter was a bit of a sore subject.

But instead, it seemed to be merely a part of the flow of conversation — he accepted your so-very-forced and awkward shift of subject without resistance.

“It’s all anyone ever talks about, recently.” You heard a shuffling sound, presumably shifting his posture. “The average person is only invested in the matter as a form of entertainment. It's distant enough from them personally that they can afford to treat it as such.”

“O-oh, right…” Struggling to think of something else, to further steer the topic away from yourself, you continued, “…Are you at school?”

“No, I'm at the station. The police called me in to help with something new, but…” he sighed again before continuing, “it turned out to be incredibly simple, and they’re already done with it. I don’t know why they thought they needed to take up my time with this…”

His voice got a little lower as he spoke, irritation breaking through the winsome charm that characterized that public-facing voice of his. Within a moment, though, it snapped right back to the correct gentleness as he continued—

“On the bright side, I only have a few things left to do, so I can come back to you a little sooner than usual.”

Your fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt, your shoulders going tense.

“Oh, good…”

Your mouth felt dry. Your mind scrambled to think of anything else to say, but a heavy fog drenched your thoughts away, leaving nothing but a blank slate, unable to generate anything coherent.

There was another moment of pause.

"You sound a bit out of it. You're not feeling faint from earlier, are you?"

You blinked, the very daze of brain-fog he referred to making you slower to take in the words.

"I... What?"

He didn't miss a beat, nor falter in his tone, as he clarified—

"From the shock, I mean."

Your body tensed, shrinking back as if the words had truly been the gut punch they felt like. Your jaw hung ajar, your mind scrambling for a response.

Quiet seconds ticked by. Your shoulders rose and fell with harsh, short breaths.

"I… I guess a little…” You fidgeted nervously, fingers further curling into the fabric of the shirt that covered your upper half.

The voice on the other end remained upbeat and gentle even still.

"Ah. Well, try not to walk around, okay? The lingering effects can make you uncoordinated for some time." After a pause, he added, "I wouldn't want you to fall over and hurt yourself."

Your mouth felt dry. You shifted around in place.

“Oh… okay…”

You swallowed. Your eyes darted around the apartment.

You turned your bottom lip inward, biting down on it to alleviate your nerves, only for the sharp pain to stop you as soon as the pressure touched the spot where the flesh of your lower lip was already busted. One of many sore, bruised spots that littered your body.

The discomfort at the following pause of silence was nearly tangible. Your natural instinct was to shift away from the matter as quickly as possible, shame and fear and uncertainty forming a hard knot in your stomach, but no words came to mind.

Sensing that you weren't going to continue, he spoke again.

“Well, in that case, I'll see you soon—’

“H-hey, wait…”

Your voice was undoubtedly audibly uneasy, but he still replied with the same soft tone.

“Mm? What is it?”

You opened and closed your mouth, once, twice, struggling to collect your panicked thoughts coherently. He waited, patiently, not saying a word.

“…About that.” The single phrase was all you could manage.

"Ah, right.”

At that point, his voice was too upbeat, so unfitting the turn of conversation, that the reality of it being forced was no longer deniable, a fact that made your stomach churn.

As the pause lingered, he added in an equally calm, matter-of-fact tone, “well, if there's anything you wanted to say, now would be the time to tell me. It’s only fair to give you a moment to do so.”

You would have preferred bitterness and vitriol in his tone, accusations, promises of consequence. Anything else. The unease and uncertainty of the pretense of normality, of nothing being wrong, felt crushing.

“It…” You swallowed. “That, that was an accident, I just, I got too close and…”

It felt as if your throat closed up, unable to say anything more.

There was silence on the other end of the line. Suffocating, so heavy it was tangible, physically weighing down on your chest.

As the moments of quiet passed, you could very faintly hear sounds on the other end, people walking, distant unintelligible chatter from other people passing in the near vicinity.

Finally, a voice came through — several decibels lower than moments prior, a flat and empty tone; quiet, but spoken more closely to the receiver, ensuring that the words were directly in your ear.

“…You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you?”

You remained frozen in place, eyes wide, hand now curled into fists so tightly your knuckles paled.

He waited. There was no need to ask if something was the matter or wonder about a poor connection, the way one might normally do when met with silence on the other end of the line. There was only tension, dread, a mutual knowing.

You swallowed again before you spoke, barely above a whisper.

“…No.”

There was a soft, lighthearted laugh on the other end, a transition back to the same gentle voice as before, as if he’d never deviated from it.

“Ah, that’s good. Truthfully, I'd feel a little insulted if you thought I was that gullible.” You heard some background noise, a shuffling sound, perhaps standing or shuffling positions. “Well, anyway, as I was saying, I’ll be back a bit early. I’m already allowed this day off from school, so there’d be no point in going back when I don’t have to.”

Your lower jaw hung ajar, tongue dry and stiff. The television off to your side changed subject matter on the screen, the new set of colors shifting the hue that the dim light cast onto the walls.

“Oh, great! I…”

You swallowed, barely able to feign a happy tone, struggling to form any further words over the feeling of your stomach turning in on itself.

You knew that your attempt at faux cheerfulness to your voice was not convincing either of you. He knew the true emotion you felt in your chest and your gut, you knew he knew, he knew you knew he knew. Whether you kept the act up regardless out of some fear or desire to appease, or simply a lifetime of conditioning to the politeness norms of human interaction, maybe both, you weren’t certain. It was just the norm you’d settled into, the act that kept things at a peaceful equilibrium — until those inevitable moments that it fell apart, and the great pretend-act came to however long of a halt it would.

Another set of seconds ticked by. Far too long of a pause to be socially acceptable, far out of the bounds of normalcy, yet he merely waited for you to finish once more, neither acknowledging nor expressing any confusion or concern to the duration of your pause, letting you compose yourself to finally reply.

“…I’ll be right here.”

It was the only thing you could think of to say, though you felt a sharp sting in your chest of self-directed frustration at the recognition of the wavering of your own voice.

His response, unlike yours, was immediate, and the bite of the words made every muscle in your body tense.

“Well, I would certainly hope so.”

In the mere moment your breath hitched, there was a chime tone indicating the end of connection.

Even with the call ended, you merely sat frozen still, staring at the shifting colors that bounced off the wall. Slowly, your hand descended from your face, arm lowering down to your lap as your shivering fingers finally forced the phone shut with a heavy snapping sound.

You set it down on the bedside table, and you found yourself sitting still, trembling, eyes wide open as you were left with nothing to do but wait.

He was a fairy predictable person. To a significant extent, you knew how he'd react to certain actions and words and gestures, based on moods, circumstances, good days and bad days.

The issue was not a matter of not knowing what to do — but knowing there was nothing you could do. There was no deescalating, no appeasing, no way to atone for a given transgression. The one thing you'd learned very quickly was that if he was upset, there was no way to soothe it on your own, you simply had to endure whatever came your way.

And that knowledge brought despair.

You found yourself slowly letting yourself fall to your side, curling up into yourself as you came to lay on the mattress.

There was a pinching discomfort against your side. The fabric of your shirt had bunched up, digging into your skin where you lay on top of it. You shifted, lifting your back enough to pull it down and straighten it out. It was deliberately oversized, designed for wearing around the home, so that and equally soft shorts were all you’d needed — perhaps not changing was another oversight in your plan, you realized with a twinge of bitterness.

You had to admit you were well-taken care of in many ways. He’d given you quite a lot of clothes to wear, so you picked that which was comfortable to wear when all you did was lay down all day.

Although, he’d never bought anything — rather, they all came from an aged-looking box pulled out of the closet, everything perhaps a decade or so outdated. He did insist on you wearing them, refusing to retrieve anything of yours even if you asked.

Just like he insisted you needed to have your hair a certain length, to wear the specific perfume he'd hunted down just to buy for you, to follow a handful of oddly specific regulations, all of which were met with defensiveness and dismissal if you inquired as to why.

You preferred to not think about the matter.

The TV colors shifted again, this time to a drastically increased brightness. Your eyes squinted at the slight sensation of burning, long since adjusted to darkness. The windows were covered up now, and the lamp in the corner had run out of battery, seeing as it was very specifically cordless.

You pulled the covers over your head, and let your face contort with the oncoming tears that welled in your eyes. You curled up into a ball, bunching up part of the sheets and tugging them close to your chest.

Your shoulders jerked with miserable sobs, and you bit your quivering lip, this time even disregarding the pain, as the despair took hold. You wiped at your eyes, flinching as the touch sent more ripples of pain from the swollen, sore right side of your cheekbone where a bruise had formed from the events of — when was it, the day before yesterday? The day before that? You weren’t even entirely certain, the days had long since all begun to bleed into each other, lacking any distinguishable beginning or end.

You had no recollection of falling asleep, but the next thing you were aware of was your body jolting at the sudden sound from the door that woke you.

There was a metallic rustling. Normally, at that point in the routine, you would hear each in the series of locks turned with a click, one by one — only now, after the first, he seemed to realize each had already been unlocked, yet another part of your earlier attempt that, you now realized with a twinge of dread, you’d forgotten to even try to cover up.

Thus, the door merely slowly swung open, the flat door handle — implemented to replace a traditional knob — shifting to the side.

Slow, heavy footsteps on the cold tile.

"I'm back."

It wasn't cheerful, but it wasn't angry. A flat tone that sounded more exhausted than anything.

It felt as if your stomach were going to lurch up out of your throat.

You pushed yourself upward on your arms, and forced a weak, wavering smile.

"Ah... Welcome home…”

You closed your eyes, rubbing at them with the heel of your hand to ward off residual sleepiness, hoping your eyes weren't visibly puffy. You sat upright and pulled your knees up to your chest, making room for another body on the small bed.

Setting the briefcase down on the floor, he then held up a convenience store plastic bag for a second, giving it a slight shake to draw attention before setting it down on the countertop.

“I got something for us both. Whenever you want it.”

“Thanks.”

As if it weren't the case each day — you'd offered more than once to cook something out of sheer boredom, but that meant giving you knives, and the idea was swiftly rejected, and he certainly couldn't do it himself, thus you both lived off of convenience store food.

You could hear the rustling sound as he took the layers of clothing off. The thumping of shoes as they were pulled off and placed on a rack. The suit jacket went on a hook near the door, but everything else was loosely set on top of a set of drawers, until he was down to briefs and an undershirt.

It was almost a bit odd, he looked out of place — someone normally so poised and formal, who so carefully crafted every detail of both his appearance and demeanor to appear intelligent and charming, qualities to endear himself to the masses, yet executed to such a degree of perfection that he seemed nearly untouchable — and here and now, taking on such a flawed, mundane form.

His posture went more lax, his eyelids seemed to fall, and the removal of the outer shirt had messed up his hair just a bit. As if in the act of taking off layers of clothing, he was stripping himself too of the public face.

Your eyes glanced over at the drawers — the clothes were merely strewn loosely on the top, accompanied by an empty water bottle, a plastic wrapper from something he'd brought home the day prior. Little flaws, the casual messiness expected of normal young man.

You'd found it almost amusing, the first time you'd set foot in here — for someone who was such a perfectionist in every other aspect of life, so obsessed with image and impressions and maintaining a flawless presentation, so determined to put up that aura of maturity so far above what was expected or even normal for his years — it was all shed off behind that door, like a snake to its skin.

You, too, were a part of it, one of the many testaments to the imperfection only allowed in this little haven away from the ever-watching eyes of the world.

And now, slowly making his way over to the bed with weary, dragging footsteps — hair disheveled by the undressing, the absence of the stiff material of the uniform that always made his shoulders look a bit more broad, up close and in person with no camera and screen and lighting to hide the textures of the flesh of one's face or the ever so slight darkness under his eyes, and with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes of a spirit worn down by a long, busy day — was a very normal, very human teenage boy, not so different from any other after all.

You looked up at him and forced a weak smile.

His eyes, however, were shifted downward from you, glancing at the sheets. Whether it was just tiredness or unwillingness to look you in the eye, you weren't certain.

You'd somewhat expected him to confront you the moment he opened the door, be it with direct aggression or passive coldness, or perhaps to continue the feigned act of pleasantness.

But instead, you received only quiet stillness, a neutral expression — and that was somehow far more frightening.

Instead, the mattress shifted and creaked as he climbed on, quietly pulling the blanket up to move beneath it. You wriggled backwards to make more room for him.

He moved to sit beside you. Not touching, but with the close proximity only people who were close to one another would be comfortable with.

And he'd stay that way, if you did nothing. Trial and error had proven that as well. If you did nothing, he would never move, would never get closer, waiting for you to do it with increasing irritation the longer you took.

You had to initiate these things. He never told you when you were supposed to give affection, never asked for touch or comfort, leaving you to try to decipher what was desired.

Of course, if you tried to provide those things at the wrong time or for the wrong reason, you'd also be in the wrong — then, you were being manipulative, hiding something, trying to distract. You were often deemed to have acted incorrectly regardless.

This was, thankfully, a repetitive, daily routine, so you were fairly certain you knew what was correct.

Fighting back a sense of dread, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his frame, making a soft sound as you gently pulled him back. He went with the motion easily, coming to lay down with you, facing each other.

You shuffled your body upwards and forward, reaching a shaky arm over his back, wrapping it around his frame and pulling him in so that his head rested against your chest. Only once you had done so was the gesture reciprocated, and you felt an arm reach around your waist.

You wondered if he could feel how hard and fast your heart pounded.

You tried to break the silence, finding some stimulation to be more bearable than pure silence.

“…How was your day?”

You felt his heavy breath against your chest. He exhaled, and with it, his body went lax, tension leaving his shoulders as he slumped further into the bed and against your body.

“Difficult.”

The word came out muttered, audibly laced with exhaustion and frustration.

“…Well, it’s over now, at least. You should rest.”

Your attempts at words of comfort were not the best, distracted by your nervousness and unease. You attempted a soothing gesture, running your hands through his hair, then down his back, repeating the motion over and over. You felt even more tension leave his body, practically melting into the touch.

It had taken him a long time to get used to that. A single graze of your fingers to his shoulder used to make him stiffen and recoil.

But over time, that defensive reaction faded, then he started leaning into the touch, and then he started to lean forward when your hand pulled away as if trying to bring it back, and soon he would sit closer, lean in further, fix his gaze at your hands — all but begging, yet never actually asking nor initiating, always waiting for you to be the one to close that gap.

But even though he seemed content, you didn't get a response to your words. That only made your nervousness increase.

Was he waiting for you to acknowledge it? You weren't certain. That sort of seemed like what he'd do. You just didn't know, couldn't be certain, and it ate further away at your nerves with each passing second.

As your eyes flickered over to the television again, you raised your eyebrows with recognition when the face on the screen registered. You attempted to stir some extent of conversation again.

"Hey... you're on TV."

"Mm." He didn't bother to open his eyes, much less turn back around to see.

Deciding from that response that it was better to not push further, you closed your eyes. The changing visuals of the television took form as shifting colors behind your eyelids.

Pressed up against each other, the back and forth movements of your bodies with each breath in and out was soothingly rhythmic, lulling you into momentary tranquility and ease. The atmosphere was so quiet, so gentle, you thought for a moment that perhaps the matter could simply be forgotten, that your mutual desire for peacefulness and rest outweighed any residual negative emotion.

Then you felt his fingers start to curl.

Slowly, they arched upward, the tips of his fingers pressing into your back, fingernails digging into the flesh through the fabric.

Your eyes shot open, and your heart began to speed up once more.

“…Goro?”

He didn't answer. His arms fully locked into place against your back, pulling himself ever closer to you, your collarbones digging into his forehead. He held you so tightly, with such strain, you felt his arms begin to tremble.

You squirmed in place, dread now returned in full force. You scrambled to find words in an attempt to deescalate.

“Hey, hey— listen, I'm sorry, I just—”

“Don't say that.”

His voice was a low, but firm murmur, barely audible and muffled by your shirt. You went stiff, toes curling, every muscle taut. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“Don't…” His chest rose and fell against yours as he took a heavy breath, “say you're sorry.”

You could do nothing but lay still, tense and frozen, wide-eyed as you felt his hand move, circling back to your front side.

You could hear his breaths become ragged, heavy. He slowly raised himself up, propped up on one elbow, coming to loom over your wide-eyed, trembling form.

“You have… no right…”

His hand latched onto your jaw, a painful, crushing grip, voice taking a sudden turn to a sharp, fierce hiss.

“…to say that shit to me.”

Your heart pounded. You inhaled a sharp gasp and squirmed, a natural reflex to the spike of panic surging through your veins. You grasped at his hand and pulled, to no avail.

“A-ah, no, I really—”

“Shut up.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth, a quiet, hissing voice. His hand squeezed your jaw tighter, pain rippling up through your face. “You want to placate me. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No,” you shook your head rapidly, eyes squeezing shut as fearful tears began to accumulate. “I don’t… I don’t know what else I can—”

“I have done,” his words of interruption were interspersed a heavy breath, “everything I could possibly do, to help you adjust to this.”

You could feel his nails dig into your flesh. Every part of you wanted to flail, to kick and struggle out of pure defensive instinct, to ramble on with apologies, but what little rationality and willpower remained kept you still, knowing from past experience that that would only make things worse. Instead, you lay still and tense, trying to control your own rapid breaths.

“I got you things you like to do,” he continued. “I got you things you asked for.”

Your toes curled, your hand gripped at his own locked onto your jaw. Your body felt cold.

“G-Goro—”

“But that's not good enough, is it?”

You managed to swallow, feeling the upper part of your throat shift under the pressure where the heel of his hand made contact.

“No, no, it's—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up. I told you to stop trying to placate me.”

His grip was crushing.

You couldn’t even finish a single sentence.

It was a futile effort. You knew full well that once he was upset, there was nothing you could do about it, no compromising, no appeasing.

Any attempts at such were helpless, pointless. The only way forward was to accept and take whatever would come.

Yet, it was only natural instinct to still try, to rush to attempt to fix what was wrong was only the logical, immediate impulse; you didn’t know what else you could do, and that only made the futility of it that much more crushing.

Thus, all you could do was tremble, whimper, lip quivering as you waited in trepidation.

“Then what… what do you want me to…?”

His eyes were dark, hair casting a shadow over them from the rapidly shifting colors of light that projected from the screen onto the rest of his face. A huff of offense at the question caused a segment of his hair to shift. His grip relented.

He sat upright, one hand up to grip at the side of his face in a gesture of frustration, eye glaring at you from the gap between his fingers.

“What do I want?” His voice was at least lower, a touch calmer from the momentary outburst, even if still frustrated. “I want you to follow the simplest of instructions, and you continuously prove incapable of that.”

“I…” You swallowed, pushing yourself upward with your forearms presses to the mattress. “I really just—”

“All you have to do,” he continued, fingers held to his face rigidly curling, “is stay in here, and do whatever I tell you to do — which is not much, mind you.”

“I, I know, I know!”

He scoffed.

“You certainly aren’t acting like it.”

You kept quiet, wanting to respond, wanting to placate him to any extent you could, but unable to think of anything to say coherently, overwhelmed and panicked. At your silence, he gave a heavy sigh and fixed his gaze to the wall, turned away from you despite his words being directed at you.

“You don't have to worry about anything. You don’t have to do anything.” He huffed again, eyes closing and grasping at the bridge of his nose in a gesture of irritation. “I have done nothing but make life easier for you, and you refuse to even attempt to understand that. Is it truly so hard to simply stay put?”

“N-no, no, I just—”

At your denial, his head snapped back to face you, voice turning to a nasty snarl.

“Then why the—”

And he cut off as he turned his gaze back to you.

Your huddled form was shrunken back away from him, curling in further on yourself, as you always did in reflex to such harshness. Eyes wide in fear and, as you could tell from your blurring vision, tears were visibly welling up in your eyes.

His momentary narrow-eyed, wrinkled-nose expression of disdain fell as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back away from you, hanging down to face the floor.

Everything went quiet. For a few moments, only silence hung in the air.

And then, he sank back down onto the side of the bed, slowly, softly, shifting so that he sat with his feet over the side to rest on the floor. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. He tilted his head to rest his forehead on his hands, clasped together.

You sat fully upright as well, weakly reaching up to rub at your jaw, now throbbing in the absence of constriction.

You waited in the quiet, curling up into yourself, knees brought up to your chest, a reflexive defensive position. The uncertainty of the consequences of anything you might do kept you still. The awareness that trying to move away was a bad idea kept you firmly in place.

Likewise, there were no words that came to mind that you were certain would not earn a negative reaction, and thus, you waited in stillness and silence, mind drifting as you glanced over at the screen once again. Taking in the face displayed in the light, mouth moving silently, smiling and gentle and calm, barely recognizable, as if that of a stranger — but it was not.

Nor was it as if the one on screen was entirely a mask or a mere act, but a part of him just as much as the “other” part was. You often imagined such what-ifs in your head — if the adoring public could see this, see you, to know what things were like behind the door.

You wondered if anyone else knew the person beside you now. You now saw that side more often than the other one — a dependency that formed over time, you assumed, like an addiction, you were only viable thing to expel stress and frustration into, and thereby the only source of catharsis available.

And while there were still good days, days that almost felt like nothing had happened at all, like you just so happened to be here and everything was still normal — there were so many bad days. One unpleasant possibility had long since begun to seep into your mind, one that you found yourself mulling over with increasing frequency and dread.

And something about the moment of vulnerability brought that matter out of you, defeat and despair pulling the words out of your mouth.

“Do you still like me?”

The question felt so childish to ask, it made your face feel warm.

Quiet seconds passed.

His face turned to a mild scowl, you could see the corners of his mouth pull taut, though he didn't pull his head out from his hands.

“…Why would you even ask that?” His voice was still defensive, but far quieter than the outburst moments prior. “Why do you think you're here?”

You winced, sheepishly wringing your hands in nervousness, but managed to swallow and continue nonetheless.

“I thought maybe, you'd decided you didn't now, but just… didn't know what to do with me.”

He scoffed.

“Don’t be absurd.”

Despite the words technically being positive, his tone was laced with frustration, irritation, rather than any actual reassurance towards you.

There was a discontentment in his voice and what you could see of his face — perhaps to some degree, he wanted to say something else, but for whatever reason remained silent.

You were afraid, so very afraid, and yet the words came out anyway. Your spirit was worn down, your exhaustion even seeping past your fear.

“You don’t… act like it much.”

His hands shifted, clasping tighter, muscles tensing.

His voice was increasingly calmer, but still laden with a blatant tone of pretentious irritation.

“Maybe if you stopped being difficult, things could be different.”

More silence. You fidgeted in place.

“…Is that… what you want?”

“Clearly it isn’t what you want,” he muttered, “even though this was your fault to begin with.”

You closed your eyes at the harsh words, knowing all too well exactly what he meant. Knowing it was inevitable that this would lead down the same trail of dialogue that it always did, a conversation that had been had at every opportunity. That even if you said nothing, it would go that way anyway. Every time the matter came up even tangentially, he had to be sure to remind you. You waited a few seconds in silence, and sure enough—

“Don't forget that, either. You chose this.”

His voice was quiet. Cold and somber, placing so much weight on so few words.

A familiar line. In the beginning, he'd said it constantly. A reminder drilled into your head, over and over, so much that you often found yourself close to believing it.

“You just had to go out of your way and do everything you did,” he continued, in spite of a lack of response from you. Even with his face partially obscured by his hands and hair, you could see his nose wrinkle with an expression of disdain, his voice laden with bitter anger, as if describing some immense transgression.

Had you not been in this position, desperate to calm him and dispel any negative emotion within him, you might have argued against such a notion. But instead, you merely swallowed, before forcing out a reply.

“…I’m sorry… I wanted to help…”

“I was perfectly fine.” His fingers arched as he tightened his grip where they interlaced. “I didn't need help.” He gave a frustrated huff, hair shifting with the exhale. “You deliberately went out of your way to be—”

He cut off, mouth slightly ajar, struggling to verbalize the feeling itself, and thus, after a moment, he finished in a low mutter, perhaps self-aware of what a weak choice of words he had nothing better than to settle on, or even of how ridiculous it sounded that he was framing it as a wrongdoing.

“…to be nice.”

Such a simple, plain word, it sounded nearly unfitting from a individual normally so very articulate. The softer mumble of the words themselves was almost as if spoken in defeat, reluctant.

He leaned his head further down against his hands, spreading the palms apart so that they came to cover his eyes completely as his forehead rested against them.

You couldn’t formulate a response — in part from the intensity of emotion and exhaustion, but in even larger part due to the sheer absurdity of the matter, the way your kindness was framed as a wrongdoing, as something from which the outcome you now found yourself in should have been expected.

You sat still and slack-jawed, eyes scanning the sheets as you tried to process your thoughts, think of anything to say, try to appease him, but he spoke again before you could.

“You talked to me first,” he added, as if that fact proved some sort of important point.

Yes, if only you had known, in that moment, the chain of events you would set off, the consequences of a single act of considerateness.

Being a desk worker at the police station, it was inherently a responsibility to greet and help anyone who came walking by, but you found it particularly endearing when you saw some poor high schooler wandering around, now what felt like ages ago, brows furrowed in confusion and eyes scanning each of the directories and room numbers, blatantly lost.

Are you looking for somewhere in particular? I can help you.

You’d watched him stiffen and fidget, even if he managed to maintain that smooth, confident aura to his voice, smiling sheepishly, but accepting your offer for directions.

You'd thought it was cute.

“And you went out of your way to talk to me every single day,” he muttered. “You chose to do that.”

Yes, you’d begun a regular routine, one you thought little of. You greeted him when he came in, wished him a good day when he left.

Truthfully, that was something you did for every regular face that came through the building each day. In hindsight, you often wondered if he had believed it was uniquely reserved for him.

That had turned into conversations, when he started to linger — though you doubt you could get him to admit he had done so, even if he was self-aware that he had. Conversations that were first brief, but gradually grew longer.

A mature and capable sort of character, almost unbefitting of someone his age, yet there was a distinct sort of neediness that seeped through the cracks, whether or not he was aware that it was increasingly evident. The distinct desperation for positive attention so characteristic of a teen, that no amount of effort could conceal completely.

Only exacerbated by his life situation, you assumed — though, you'd only learned about that as a jarring startle, dumped onto you one afternoon as casually as if talking about the weather, and already having moved on to another matter before you could sputter out some kind of sympathetic response, and you'd never had the gall to mention it thereafter.

Regardless, you were certain that, be it conscious or subconscious, that information had played a role in your efforts to show him kindness.

Now, the same boy sat just an arm’s length away, scowling as he recalled those moments like some transgression against him.

He lowered his head into his hands, palms covering his eyes and most of his face, elbows pressed to his thighs.

“You didn’t just stop at that either,” he continued, a passive-aggressive note to his voice. Not as blatantly vicious as it had been a few minutes ago, but the malevolence was clear nonetheless.

That much struck you with uncertainty, confusion. He’d told you plenty of times how this was your fault, but normally left it at some notion that you’d essentially forced his hand by showing any semblance of kindness, not going into much more detail. You looked up at him, weakly forcing out an inquiry.

“…What… what do you mean?”

He huffed in frustration, as if your ignorance to your own wrongdoing was so glaring it was offensive.

“You just had to keep doing things for me,” he replied. “You bought me lunch when I forgot mine.”

You felt like you were doing something good, at the time. He was ever so grateful, and kept apologizing for the inconvenience.

You blinked, dumbfounded, processing the words, the treatment of the act as a wrongdoing, left in a stupor as he continued even still.

“You let me eat with you. Every day.”

He had asked once. There was no reason for you to say no. He was the one that then began showing up each day.

“You bought things for me, do you not remember that?”

You’d noticed it was well into the winter, and he kept walking in with nothing but a uniform. How you'd fretted and fussed — ah, I don't ever really buy clothes for myself, he'd said — and thus you soon ended up getting him a nice coat and a scarf for the cold. He lacked the figure in his life that would normally do so for a boy his age, after all, so you'd told yourself.

That incident itself was the first time you'd ever felt something strange about him. The way he'd stared with some unreadable, but unpleasant expression as you handed the intended gifts over. Something like confusion and pain. It had only lasted for a split second, before he smiled and thanked you, but you noticed it all the same.

One of his hands reached up to his head, pulling at his hair in frustration.

“You went out of your way to ask me how I was doing. Every day.”

His tone gradually rose in audible bitterness as he continued, fingers curling further into his hair.

“You kept asking me about my life. You kept saying all those things.”

You told him you'd seen him on the talk shows. Tried to complement it, said he was such a good speaker, told him how smart he was.

At the time, your words seemed to make his eyes lighten — just ever so slightly, any hint of reaction carefully restrained by conscious effort to maintain composure, but visible even still. You’d found he would subtly slip small mentions of achievements into conversation, like a quiet plead for praise, one more noticeable than you believed he realized.

Now, his head finally rose and turned towards you, eyes narrowing as he finished, practically in a snarl—

“I never asked for any of that.”

You winced at the harshness, shuffling your legs closer to your chest, leaning away from him.

The words themselves might have hurt in isolation from the context they were inherent to, were it simply a matter of your kindness being met with such negative reaction.

But the anger hurled your way did not erase your memories of how it all went over at the time.

You remembered the way he’d started to look in your direction as soon as he entered the building. You remembered the time you found him standing around your desk at the end of the day, when you’d left to print something off, apparently not wanting to leave without seeing you — though he must not have realized you were able to see him waiting there the whole time, since he passed it off as a coincidence you’d run into each other at the right time when you came back.

You remembered the time you told him—

I saw you on TV last night! You did a really good job out there!

The slight widening of his eyes and soft smile and so very humble reply, visibly happy nonetheless.

When he mentioned exam scores, successful cases, any sort of accomplishment — always in an off-handed, casual way, a clause wrapped within a larger sentence, as if to disguise the words themselves as inconsequential — you were more than happy to play along.

Aw, good for you, I'm proud of you.

You really are so bright.

That’s quite impressive.

One by one, every little word of praise and encouragement, every time you bit the hook of sentences that seemed to be prodding you to inquire further, the ever-so-slight effect it seemed to have — you’d thought it all so endearing.

Once again, you'd told yourself, if he didn't have the usual figure most boys his age had to tell them things like that, there was no harm in you doing what you could to substitute that, however slightly you could.

Thus, even now, whatever mess of emotions made him react so negatively, the words didn’t sting like they might have otherwise.

But the vitriol and harshness still stung. Your head hung downward. You stumbled over your words.

“I… I was just… trying to be nice, because—”

“Because you felt bad for me. Don't think I don't know that.” His gaze jerked back downwards, angled at the floor. “I didn't ask for your pity.”

You shook your head.

“I wanted you to be happy.” Your voice nearly cracked with the desperation that poured out of your chest. “I wanted to make you happy.”

Those themselves were words that would make most people pleased, you imagined — but he bristled, eyes darting downward to the ground, giving a tsk of irritation before he replied, a hissing voice filled with bitterness.

“I never asked you to do that either.”

With another huff of frustration, he propped his elbow onto his thigh again, this time resting his chin on his hand, keeping his gaze to the television. Not really watching or absorbing it, of course, but it was something to look at that wasn’t you, something that kept him from having to meet your eyes. You watched the colors bounce off his skin, illuminating his scowl.

“…But you just had to go and do it anyway, didn't you.”

As if that kindness were a crime, a transgression. Some wrongdoing you'd committed, for which penance was due.

His head tilted forward further, his fingers curled against his face, nails digging into the flesh.

“Then one day you just casually say you’re switching jobs and moving away like you’re talking about the goddamn weather.”

His expression contorted with vitriol. He spoke through clenched teeth, a voice so quiet you could hear the breath within it more than the words themselves.

“What makes you think you can just walk away after all of that?"

And then, his eyes closed. He let out a quiet, heavy sigh — this time not a short one of frustration, but a slow exhale, his body shuddering with the release of whatever tension it relieved.

"...I'm sorry..."

They were the only words you could summon. There were no other words that could properly address the blame being cast upon you, and anything else would be futile anyway.

Thankfully, that time your apology wasn't met with snapping anger, instead a callous sigh.

“...I suppose it was unreasonable to expect you to consider anyone but yourself.” There was an unmistakable passive-aggression to his tone. “Even now, you had every intention to get me locked away for the rest of my life, when I've done everything in my power to improve your quality of life here."

“No, no, I wasn't.” You shook your head, panic resurging at such an accusation, however accurate it may be.

“Obviously you—”

“I wasn’t going to do that.”

You forced the words out, forcing as firm of a tone as you could manage, fighting against your nerves.

It wasn’t often that you interrupted him. Which clearly came as a shock to him as well — you saw him slowly lift his head, eyebrows raised as his gaze turned towards you, so taken off-guard that he didn’t even respond with immediate offense as you might have expected.

Your gaze met his. The still-running glow of the silent television screen cast an overlay of shifting color onto the whites of his eyes.

The foreboding look that formed over his face made you look down, unable to keep eye contact, but you squeezed your eyes shut as you forced the words out regardless. You had already dug whatever grave you were going to lie in, there was no point in backing down.

But it was merely a passing second — by the time the colors reflected on the sides of his eyes had shifted with the change of screen, his eyes darkened, his expression grew solemn.

“I just wanted fresh air,” you continued, “to walk around.”

You hoped it wasn’t as obvious of a lie as it felt.

“I— I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” you continued. “I wasn’t going to. It’s, it’s just…”

You shook your head, eyes watering. Your hands curled up into fists against your thighs.

“People weren’t made to live like this.”

A long silence followed. Seconds ticked by. You stared down at the sheets, vision blurred by tears. There was a lump in your throat, you swallowed and fought the urge to break down. That would accomplish nothing.

At least a minute had passed before he finally responded.

“You think I don't know that?”

The words were cold and blunt. As if you’d said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. There was some degree of sadness within how quietly they were spoken, perhaps even remorse, but it was clear and unyielding.

And within that response was an unspoken statement in and of itself — that no amount of appealing to any inhumanity of your situation was going to change it.

Your jaw clenched. You swallowed before you continued.

“Then… then you have to realize this can’t last forever.”

“…”

The silence made your gut twist on itself, but desperation pushed you further.

“It, it doesn’t have to be by myself, o-or for forever, I mean, you can come with me, we can go walk outside…”

“I thought I told you to stop asking.”

You winced, but the words only made fury race through your heart. Against your better judgement, pure emotion overcame you, and your voice began to raise.

“I-I know! But you just said—”

“It doesn't matter.”

He spoke that time through clenched teeth. A warning tone.

“At some point you have to—”

“Shut up.”

Something in you broke. Your trepidation of your words, the fear of upsetting him — none of it mattered. You had nothing to lose.

“At some point you have to let me GO!”

No sooner had the word left your throat, than his hand slammed down on it.

Your vision blurred with rapid motion as his body lunged for yours, as your back hit the mattress. You instinctively put your forearms to the surface in an attempt to push yourself up, but within a mere moment, he was on top of you, weight slamming you back down.

There was a sharp sting of soreness — his hands fit perfectly against the ring of bruise you perpetually sported around your neck, a testament to the frequency of these very moments, the nature of the way things were within the small space cut off from the outside.

“I said shut up.”

His hand squeezed down hard. Reflexively, your body jerked forward, but he easily shoved you back down again, far superior strength making any struggle futile.

The grip on your throat and the fear pounding in your chest made your eyes blur with tears. Reflexively, perhaps against better judgement, your hands shot up to grab onto his, fingernails digging into his flesh.

His face loomed over you, shadows cast all around. You could still see his narrowed eyes, illuminated by the screen’s light, staring down at you, cold and angered.

His breaths were ragged, labored. He spoke through clenched teeth.

“And you know what?”

His shoulders heaved with the depth of his breaths as he paused.

“I know you knew.”

His nose scrunched with the expression of disdain.

“You’re not stupid. You knew what you were doing to me.”

The words made a knot form in your stomach.

You heard him swallow, felt his hand tremble against you, be it in fury or pain, you weren't certain.

“You made me act like an idiot every time I saw you. You couldn’t have not known.”

That much was true.

It was never as obvious at it would have been with any other boy his age — most were not as guarded as him, would not have put in the effort to always seems so nonchalant as he did, would not have held themselves back from their own enthusiasm and eagerness in the way you sensed he did.

But it was obvious nonetheless, over time. The double-texts, the lingering by your desk, the split-seconds facial expressions of joy and disappointment he’d make before correcting them to the pleasant neutrality of the perpetual mask forced on him by the public eye — but every now and then, it slipped nonetheless.

But that was normal. A common thing in a young man that age.

It was fleeting, you'd thought. It was innocent. It was harmless. It wasn't anything to take seriously. You weren't encouraging it, just being kind. It wasn't as if you didn't appreciate him.

Nothing bad could come of it.

The tightening grip pulled you out of your reflection on your actions. His breaths came out heavy, labored.

“And you didn’t stop me from coming to you. You could have told me not to.”

His eyes bore into yours, a sharp and intense stare, locked together. To look into his eyes and all the fury and contempt they contained made your chest feel tight, made your skin feel cold, sent a chill running through your blood and you wanted so so so badly to look away, yet found your own eyes fixed on his, unable to look away even if you tried, as if his eyes held onto yours in the way his hand held onto your neck.

The corner of his mouth twitched. His grip grew tighter, cutting off your airways entirely. You stiffened, and began to struggle. Your eyes squeezed nearly shut. You squirmed against his hold, but his hands did not relent.

His words were cold, bitter.

“You never said ‘stop.’”

His grip grew tighter.

“You never said ‘no.’”

It felt like it would crush your throat.

“You could have. I would have listened.”

His voice turned low and dark.

“But you didn't.”

Your heart pounded against your chest as your panic turned to desperation, as you realized his grip wouldn’t relent.

“You made it worse. You made me keep coming back.”

His shoulders shifted forward with the force of his grip.

“You chose this—”

His eye twitched.

“—every goddamn step of the way.”

The fear that ran through your blood pushed aside your concern that a reaction would just make it worse, instinct taking over the forefront of your processing.

“Goro—”

Your voice came out as a choked gargle. You clawed at his hand. He huffed in frustration.

“Stop moving, you—”

He cut off as his eyes settled over your form. Your spine turned with your squirming attempts to free yourself. Tears leaked out of your eyes and streamed down your face. Your struggles pulled your thin clothing tight against your form, your body writhing, back arching.

His expression shifted, his mouth pulled taut.

You saw his chest rise and fall with heaving breaths. His head tilted downward towards his body.

“…”

His hand released your throat. You gasped in cold air, body heaving with deep breaths and sputtering coughs, slumping down as relief washed over your body, reaching up to rest your fingers on your throat, wincing at the sting of each breath.

You could hear his heavy, panting breaths.

And then, he leaned forward again, hands grasping at your waist, pulling you closer.

It wasn't difficult to remove what was left between you — only a single layer of clothing each. You didn't have anything beneath the outer layers of clothing — it made things easier, you supposed, that way.

Nonetheless, you felt his fingers hook under the waistband around your hips, jerking downward. In one swift motion, your shirt was pulled upward too, breasts spilling out from underneath.

You laid still, tensing, shifting, but not outright fighting, largely because such resistance would only make things far worse.

And in part because — even now, in spite of everything — the thought of hurting him brought an ache of guilt to your chest.

Still, out of reflex, you found yourself shuffling backwards, elbows pressing to the mattress to pull you back, overwhelmed by the sudden shift of atmosphere and rapid pace of action.

“Ah, wait—”

Without even the slightest semblance of gentleness, his hand shoved you back down, flat onto your back.

“Hold still.” His voice was blunt, but not as strongly laced with emotion as it had been moments prior, too distracted by his current task.

The rumpled mound of blankets and sheets cast more shadow over the lower half of his body, but you could make out his other hand moving, hear the faint sound of fabric shifting against skin. You heard a string of repetitive curses come out of his mouth, faint whispers hissed out in a tone of irritation, as if angered by the urges themselves.

With another harsh jerk to pull you closer, he leaned his body downward, burying his face against the crook of your neck. That, too, was routine, expected, something he always did. He never let you see his face, could never look you in the eye throughout. Maybe it was a craving for physical closeness, maybe it was a loathing of vulnerability that the connection of your gazes would bring, maybe both.

You closed your eyes.

It burned. You were too tense, it was too sudden. The friction on such sensitive skin made you inhale a sharp gasp.

You felt him shudder against you, heard it in the way he exhaled, breath hot on your skin.

His hands grasped at your waist, pulling your body forward and, consequently, further impaling you on himself.

The positioning of his head brought his mouth close to your ear, letting you hear each ragged, labored breath, a brief soft muttering so slurred you couldn’t make it out, despite the proximity.

Your hand reached up, resting on the back of his neck. Even now, in spite of everything, the bruises scattered across your skin and the sore sting on your throat and the greyness of the walls that tormented you day in and day out as you struggled to recall how many days had passed since you’d been anywhere else —

— you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything but gentle.

He, on the other hand, was anything but.

Rather than a rolling motion, his hips merely slammed into your body back and forth, the movement intense, quick and harsh, driven by emotion and frustration.

Still, with each movement, he rubbed against your insides in such a way that made pleasure jolt through your body.

And it grew faster, faster, more forceful. The creaking of the bed grew harsher, an aggressive motion that lurched your body back with each movement, only for his hands to jerk your body back close to his, fingernails digging into your flesh.

You could melt into it — at this point, it was a mastered skill, letting go of any fear or despair and succumbing only to the feeling within you flesh, primal and simple, a sensation that existed outside of circumstance and emotion.

A warm pressure that built and built higher and higher, made you clench down on him, made you arch your back, made noises spill from your mouth that in turn made him move even harsher still.

You found your arms wrapping themselves around his back, clinging to him tightly. The only thing you had left, the only person that existed in a world that was otherwise dull and dark and filled with nothingness.

You supposed that was the point, what he wanted to be. The only thing of substance allowed to exist in your world, everything else pushed back and out behind that door, locked away just beyond your reach.

He brought his head up just enough to speak more directly to your face, but his hair still obscured any sight of his face you might have otherwise had, a harsh whisper through labored breaths.

“You thought you could just get away with it all?”

He jerked his hips forward again, so harshly you gasped, your back arched.

You gasped at the sensation, sputtering out whatever words came to your mind in the haze of sensation and intensity.

“No, I didn't — I, I never meant to— I wasn't trying to—”

“Shut up.” He snapped back at you through clenched teeth. “You knew from the beginning you'd leave eventually. You didn't care how it affected me.”

His fingernails sank into your waist.

“It never meant anything to you.”

Your bottom lip trembled, a sore lump in your throat threatening to break you apart even as fluttering sensation shot through your nerves, the physical sensation and emotion each heightening each other.

“I didn't think— I didn't think you'd—”

You didn’t think it meant that much. You only talked to him for a few minutes every day. To you, he was just one of many people you interacted with, and held a matching degree of significance. Something you had never explicitly told him, but you knew he’d come to understand all the same.

Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes.

“I… I'm sorry… I never wanted to— ah!”

You gasped, your back arched as your bodies moved in such a perfect way as to make your mind go blank.

His voice became erratic, frantic, spoken between gasping breaths — just as his hips began to move faster, harsher.

“You were going to just disappear and leave.”

In the moment of pause, his ragged breaths were hot against your ear, before he finished in a snarl, snapping his hips forward so brutally the bedframe slammed into the wall—

“You don't get to do that to me.”

You tensed at the intense motion, insides spasming at the sensation, clamping down, and crying out — a filthy, wanton noise that made the heat of shame rush to your face just processing it.

In turn, no sooner had he spoken than you felt him shudder again, muttering out a quiet string of curses before lowering himself down again, body pressed tightly to yours, abandoning any efforts he might have intended to put into further words or maintaining some semblance of composure, instead giving in to the sensation and urges in full.

His hips moved against you in erratic frenzy, mercilessly harsh. His fingernails stabbed into the flesh around your hips, holding you firmly in place so that the sheer force of the movements didn't push your body off of his.

You, too, let go of any restraint — what was even the point of holding onto some semblance of dignity? — and let your mind lose itself in the sensation. Letting your mind run blank was far preferable to letting yourself be tormented by emotion any further. A freeing feeling from the cage of worry — always aware of how many days it had been, the burden of keeping track, the weight of endless wrestling with what-ifs and fantasies of possibility in both retroactive and prospective senses alike.

You let the noises pour out of your mouth, let yourself tense and spasm and wrap your legs around his waist, let yourself claw at his back. It felt as if your mind was melting.

Yes, giving in was easier. Separating yourself from the context of where you were and why and for how so very long, indulging in the relief cast by the shadow of defeat and acceptance. Regardless of the circumstances that led you here, and throwing aside the soul-crushing question of your hopes of a future that haunted your every waking moment, this moment was here and now and real, something you could feel and savor.

You let the sensation turn to pleasure and pain that blurred together, eyes closed, listening to the sync of the sound of the mattress shifting with the sparks of sensation running up your spine. You let that feeling bring you up, up, higher and higher, peaking as you pulled him as close to you as you could manage, sounds from your throat coming out high-pitched and needy.

Only mere moments later, before you could even come down from the dissociative feeling of fog over your mind, you vaguely felt him come to a halt, heard him suck in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.

There was a heavy silence that hung over the air, broken only by each other’s heavy, panting breaths.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lowered himself down, moving to your side, hair still veiling his face from your view, before eventually letting his weight fall the rest of the way in a sudden collapse, causing the mattress to shift. Without any conscious thought to do so, you found yourself turning onto your side to accommodate it, so that you faced each other.

And once again, you lay in quiet, broken by your labored breaths, each exhale tangible on the other’s skin.

Your sweat made the sheets cling to your body.

He was so close, but even still, waited, hesitant, depending on your initiation.

Thus, instinctively, you wrapped your arm around him, slowly, cautiously. Your arm wrapped around his back, pulling his body forward into place against yours.

Slowly, you felt his hand reach up to your arm, just below your shoulder, fingers wrapping around it with only the faintest of touches.

His head came to rest at your chest once again, forehead settling on the spot between your breasts. His hand’s grip on your arm grew tight.

And you felt him shiver against you. A continuous, soft shaking, like someone freezing in the cold. There was something about the feeling that spread into you, something that poured from his body into yours.

He felt so much bigger and stronger when he was on top of you, those times where he held your wrists above your head, the times he’d grabbed you and drug you around like a ragdoll across the little apartment — and now, he felt almost small, in your arms. Fragile, as if he would shatter apart like glass, should you hold him too tightly.

Some time passed. Your eyes closed at some point, but you could still see the shifting colors behind your eyelids, light shining through. Your body slowly relaxed from all the tension.

You could feel his heart beating against your hand resting on his back, perfectly in sync with your own, which you felt in the form of the throbbing around your neck.

And in that stillness, you felt some sense of peace. As if everything were inconsequential, all your anguish melting. As if you were merely normal lovers in a state of post-coital exhaustion after a long day.

Part of you wanted to lean into it, to let yourself slip into that illusion. It was comforting and warm, and the burden of awareness of the reality of your situation was so, so heavy. You were tired of its weight.

But something else weighed on your mind, holding you back from the brink of exhaustion. And without conscious intent, that something slipped out from your lips.

“Do you wish I hadn't?”

Your throat stung to speak, the words came out in a scratchy voice, but nonetheless so quiet that he would not have even heard you had he not been pressed against you.

There was a long pause. He turned his head upward, slowly, exhaustion visible in such a small movement. Not even enough to look you in the eye, just enough to acknowledge your words.

“…What?”

You swallowed.

“Do you wish… I had never talked to you? That I hadn’t… done all of those things?”

The quiet that followed felt like a weight pressed to your chest. You felt the vulnerable softness of comfort leave his body, replaced by a tenseness that wasn’t there moments prior.

His head lowered back to its former position, and the room fell to silence again, seconds ticking by. When he finally replied, it was a cold, blunt tone, as if you’d asked a simple, obvious question.

“I never said that.”

You didn't have the energy to feel frustrated. You had long since accepted that there was no way to win. The absurdity of his response in light of it all barely fazed you. If anything, it felt like the response you'd anticipate, perfectly in line with how you knew him to be.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter.

Your bodies pressed together, tender and intimate and comforting, and in spite of everything, you let yourself savor the goodness of the feeling of it. You felt the tension slowly leave his body as well, it felt as if he melted against your touch.

You began to drift off, mind lulled by the colors behind your eyelids. Some time passed.

And then he moved.

Your eyes opened, groggily returning to awareness and clarity — and some degree of concern, never certain what he would do at any given moment — and you watched as he pulled himself out of your grasp, quickly pivoting to the side of the bed to stand.

You slowly sat upright, shirt falling back down to at least cover your upper half, tilting your head in curiosity as you waited to see what he'd gotten up for.

Without a word, he moved back towards the counter at the front of the small apartment, reaching out for the plastic bag he'd set down when he came in. His footsteps were heavy, lazily dragging against the floor as he brought it back, one plastic container in each hand. He extended one out to you.

“It’s past our normal eating time.”

His voice had returned to a perfectly normal tone, not tired nor bitter nor angry, the tone he used when everything was fine, a tone that set you at ease. As off-putting and surprising as it was, you didn't question the pleasant change, merely taking it from his hands, opening the box and little paper-wrapped utensils, only pausing to sheepishly, hurriedly put your clothes back on.

Your hand still shivered as you forced food into your mouth.

You'd had this before plenty of times. You assumed it was conveniently on his route home. He always got one particular order for you. You didn't hate it, but it wasn't your preference, not that you ever stated so, wanting to avoid any risk of negativity.

It wasn't the same thing he got for himself, either. That, too, had become part of your routine. He made very specific assumptions of what you wanted when it came to flavors, colors, and so on.

You became acutely aware of the sensation of the shirt that still clung to your body, how your hair brushed against your skin where it fell at the exact length he’d insisted on keeping it.

Much like those things, you preferred not thinking about where the assumptions came from.

You brought a few bites to your mouth, each of you eating in silence. In the absence of other stimulus, your eyes trailed back over to the screen.

Enough time had passed that he was no longer one of the figures on the television screen — but the subject matter appeared to still be the same as it always was, for the past few months. Yet another accident, the same circumstances as usual.

You saw him lift his head up, following your line of vision, then scowling at the screen — but as the only source of light, he didn't turn it off.

“You should be careful.”

Your words turned his head back towards you, eyebrows raising in an expression prompting you to continue. You looked down.

“All those people they show lately... going crazy and getting tons of people hurt. You're known to the public, so… just be sure to be cautious, you know.”

You couldn't articulate the look on his features. He paused, blinking a few times at you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed, before turning his gaze back down.

“I'll be fine.”

You turned your gaze back to your food as well — but not before your eyes briefly drifted over to the door once more. You felt a chill run down your spine as the far-too-recent memory of electrocution flashed through your mind, and with it, the humiliation of it all settled heavy on your chest.

You closed your eyes and swallowed, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat as the urge to break down threatened to take over you again, and dulled your mind, letting it fall to blank nothingness but the task of finishing your food.

You turned your head and looked at the soft-featured young man. His face — the mask of the public persona still off, now in a different way than mere anger, but a sort of quiet, barely-noticeable sheepishness that followed such outbursts, distinguishable by a faint frown, ever-so-slightly furrowed brows, an avoidance of looking upward — felt so innocent, almost endearing.

You didn't realize you were staring until he finally looked up, having sensed the feeling of your gaze. He blinked.

“Is something wrong?”

Asked in such a gentle, pleasant tone. Nonchalant, ignoring the bruises on your body, ignoring the band still latched around your neck. It was so easy to believe nothing had happened.

Your eyes shifted away from him, briefly trailing around the room — to the cordless lamps and flat door handles and locks on all the drawers and the spot on the ceiling where the fan had been gouged out and caulked over.

And likewise, you shook your head and resumed picking at your food, deciding for your own sake that that none of it was of any consequence. That was a far less painful way to think about it all anyway.

“No, nothing.”

[flokali]

♤ Mystery | Akechi Goro

Warnings: Yandere Akechi, stalking, harassment, manipulation, gaslighting, breaking and entering, belittling of MC, delusions of grandeur from Akechi, etc. Ask to tag!

Includes: GN! Reader, college aged Akechi and MC, hints at the data-mined ending for P5R so technically not canon complacent, MC is paranoid and is gaslighted like crazy <3

A/N: Commissioned by a lovely anon for "Fics for Gaza"! Thank you for being so patient with me (TT); link to the og post and their blog @ficsforgaza in case you want to check it out! Mister Goro “Mansplain, Manipulate, Manslaughter” Akechi strikes again…

After years of working as a detective, Akechi knew how to avoid being caught.

– ���Dear detective,” the letters he’d pen always began the same way.

With a pristine pair of gloves and a printed-out note, no trace of his handwriting or fingerprints would be detected no matter how hard you tried to find them. He made sure to use common stationery, the type that could be found in any store purely to make it harder for you to trace back to him. He hopes you appreciate the effort he’s put into this little game he was playing with you.

The clues he did give you, which he did because there was no fun to be had if you weren’t at least suspicious that he was the anonymous sender, were calculated as if to taunt you just enough to confirm his identity to you but vague enough that you couldn’t reasonably go to anyone else to accuse him without losing respectability and keeping your reputation of a sensible investigator.

– “[…] but, if you want me to give you a clue you can just ask. I’d much rather you be on the right track, I’d truly be offended if you confused me with some idiot on the street.” 

It was a balancing act that would have been tiring to most, but to him, it was nothing short of intoxicating. After a lifetime of being forced to put on an act, it felt nice to have an outlet where he could let out all his pent-up emotions, especially when it came to you.

He knew you well enough, the last few years of his time as a celebrity had been spent working exclusively alongside you. It was hard for him to find someone suitable enough to share the spotlight with. He enjoyed your presence enough that he didn’t want to go through the process of checking if there was anyone better, though he sincerely doubted that was true; he knew you better than you knew yourself and he had long since decided you were staying by his side as his assistant. That’s how he knew that he was driving you crazy and that, soon enough, you’d reach your breaking point; he was looking forward to it.

– “Have you considered quitting? It looks like you’re not doing too well these days, maybe the stress is catching up to you.”

What he was doing was undoubtedly cruel, but Akechi thought he was more than justified in his actions; you would probably hold it against him at first but, in the long run, you’d realize he was right. He was certain his therapist would scold him and tell him he was undoing all of his work, but the man knew you better than anyone; he was doing you a favor by helping you resign.

You were not made for this line of work; if he couldn’t handle it, why should you? 

You two had been working together for years before he quit the limelight, he was annoyed to no end to have to stand next to you, there was no doubt in his mind he was better than you, and he was right, but soon enough he grew to tolerate your presence and even enjoy it.

You were honest and barely held your tongue when it came to him, from the beginning you had stood out as someone who truly enjoyed their position. He can’t understate how deeply he resented you at first, he found your attitude annoying and pretentious but soon learned that you genuinely did mean it when you said you were doing this for yourself – he hated that, and for a while, his feeling only doubled down onto the negatives but soon enough he grew to appreciate your honesty and a friendship began to blossom. You grew to become one of the only people Akechi thought highly of, even if he didn’t truly enjoy his work as a celebrity being by your side made it tolerable. It was something he realized after working with his doctor; he cared for you, even if he’d denied it at first, you were someone he treasured deeply and he didn’t want to see you get hurt the way he had been. Why couldn’t you see that?

– “I don’t enjoy seeing you so miserable, detective, your fans probably don’t like it much either…”

You were talented, no doubt about it, but you had always been second best to himself, and that’s how it would forever be. Everything you did was compared and eventually overshadowed by his accomplishments, you could solve a case in a day and he’d come and do it in half. Everything you could do, he could do better; way better, in fact, so much better people often forgot you’d done it first or at all.

You weren’t bad or stupid, far from it, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be on stage with just anybody, but if he was Sherlock, solving the big cases and taking the spotlight, you were Watson, destined to sit back and assist him - only ever getting the spotlight when he wasn’t around (though that has proven to not always be the case as even now it is as if you lived in his shadow).

– “I truly don’t get why you insist on being a detective when you’re so mediocre at it, seriously, when was the last time you solved a case by yourself? You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

It was that very nature of your relationship that had led him to believe that, when he eventually left the role of detective for something that he would actually enjoy, you would follow him. After all, all of your teenage years had been spent together, working in tandem, why would he expect you to turn your back on him and the life you two had known for superficial stardom? You always spoke of helping others and he had found a way to do it in a truly significant way that allowed you two to be free and live honestly, away from the media.

Akechi’s time working on the Phantom Thieves’ case had given him new insight into the life he had led up until that point, as much as he wished he didn’t have to credit them with much - the months after they had disbanded had left him rethinking his choices. To you, and by proxy anyone outside of himself, his therapist, and Ren, his decision would have seemed sudden and maybe even brash; but he thought that, once you heard him out, you would join him.

Sure, the relationship between you two was friendly, years of knowing each other and working together had left you two with a great friendship, but it was nowhere near close enough to make you pack up and leave everything you had worked for behind because he had a sudden realization. At least, you would think that’d be clear to him but alas it wasn’t. He had constructed an image of you, but for all of his smarts, it was too incomplete to truly understand you.

– “When will you go to the authorities about me? […] Is it a lack of clues? If you leave it to the professionals I am certain they’ll do a better job trying to track me; even I’m getting tired of this.” 

He had been blindsided by his ego and forgotten that you were just as complex as he was, that simply because he had realized this life was not for him it didn’t mean it wasn’t for you. Akechi's understanding of your relationship was tested when you finally broke the news that you and he were fundamentally different people with equally different goals.

He had invited you over for lunch when he’d broken the news, the brunette made sure you were one of the first to know so you could come out together and announce your retirement at the same time. He had been so sure you would agree with him it was almost offensive how predictable he thought you were.

It was a high-end restaurant, you two had come here before during your breaks from work, but it had still shocked you to receive the invitation since it had been some time since you two hung out as friends and not coworkers. The last few months had been filled with work and much self-reflection on his part and soon enough you two had graduated from high school without actually talking to each other outside of work hours or the occasional friendly text. For a long time, Akechi had made it clear you weren’t friends and it took you years of knowing each other for him to finally acknowledge how close you two had gotten, but even then you were the one initiating most hangouts; maybe his odd behavior should have been your first clue something was up.

He had sat you down and let you order, making sure to get you comfortable before unloading the news onto you. He was aware you would be surprised at first, but he was certain of today’s outcome.

“I think it’s time I quit,” he had said after the waiter had brought over your drinks, he took a long sip of his water before continuing, “This is a waste of time and I see no reason to continue, after… everything that’s happened, I realized I’m sick of this.”

At the time, you were unsure how he wanted you to react; you weren’t angry, a bit surprised and confused, yes, maybe even sad, but you were in no way about to praise his choice and follow in his footsteps.

“I am surprised,” you managed to say, dabbing at your lips with a napkin, the news had shocked you enough you had choked on your drink but you were quick to reassure him before he could make any snide remarks, “But, if it’s what you want to do, then I’m happy for you…”

An awkward silence followed your words as if he were waiting for you to say something else. He was not expecting you to agree immediately, you needed to hear him out but he didn’t want to look too desperate.

“Um,” you look away, his burgundy eyes were a little too intense, “what made you realize you wanted to quit?”

“There is nothing at the end of this road,” he answered as if he had been expecting you to ask, it felt practiced, “it’s all the same and can we truly say we’re doing something important? All we do is run around, solve people’s problems, and get congratulated, but are we really solving their problems? We temporarily give them peace of mind but it’s always a trivial issue that would have been solved with or without us. I don’t want to continue wasting my time doing what others want or need me to do for them, I’m tired of being used… I want to do something only I can.”

“I didn’t think you saw it like that,” you muttered, you seemed deep in thought at his words, “it’s a new perspective, even for you.”

“I guess so,” Akechi agrees with you, “but I stand by it, I can’t lie to myself and say that what we’re doing is real work or that I enjoy it.”

“I can’t say I necessarily agree,” you conclude, you take a sip of your drink and go on to continue your thoughts, “even if what we’re doing isn’t solving their whole lives, it’s something. At the end of the day, if you can lighten their load and inspire them to keep going and working hard, even if it’s over small things that won’t matter in the grand scheme, isn’t that better than nothing? If they find strength in seeing celebrities succeed, then that’s better than being hopeless.”

“So you’d rather do the bare minimum, hoping you inspire someone rather than being an active participant in change?”

“You make it sound like I’m stupid, Akechi,” you eye him wearily, “sure, I’m not going out there and solving wars, but if my work can inspire people to keep going, letting them know there’s always a n answer, isn’t that encouraging them to work towards the future? If I can inspire someone to help another, that’s enough for me – change doesn’t have to come from direct actions, sometimes it’s a chain reaction.”

“And you think you can set it off?” He scoffs, he’s aware he sounds rude but you’re preaching nonsense as far as he can tell and he’s never been fond of unrealistic optimism.

“Are you implying I can’t?” 

“I just don’t think you have what it takes, I don’t think anyone has what it takes, to hope someone sees you and is inspired into action is too reckless – you may as well print a poster and call it a day,” he glares at you, seemingly annoyed at your naïveté, “if you want to make a real change, you can’t be tied down to fantasies.”

“So what am I supposed to do, quit?” You ask flabbergasted and feeling insulted, you’re well aware that your work isn’t the pinnacle of hard labor but you’ve given your all to get to a place where you can at least show people that there’s a future where justice can exist.

“I think so,” you are shocked, “I think you’d do much better elsewhere rather than wasting your time, become a real detective or even a damn lawyer; we can’t play pretend forever.”

To you, the rest of the conversation was a blur; you only remember leaving early and feeling as if he’d spent the last hour discrediting everything you had done while trying to convince you to quit and do God knows what he’d try to rope you into.

The only thing you can say with confidence that he said to you had left you feeling small and disappointed, as if he had confirmed your biggest fear; that you would always be second best:

“If I couldn’t do it, what makes you think you can?”

He genuinely did mean it too, you could tell from the way he seemed honestly surprised you thought you could outlive his career. You think he tried to assure you he didn’t think you were stupid, something about how he’d poured all of himself into the role and couldn’t accomplish his goal and how he was hoping you’d realize that it was impossible before you were burnt out too, but all you can remember is the way he looked at you as if you were a stupid child having your ABC’s explained to them.

Akechi realizes now, months later and after a lot of self-reflection, that his approach was inadequate and that, in the long term, it had done more damage than good. Alas, time cannot be turned back; if he wasn’t able to talk you out of it, then he’d have to show you that you were wasting your time.

Between you two, he had always been the better one; so why would you be the one it works out for? If he couldn’t do it, then you certainly can’t either.

That’s why his first note was an apology, his first clue to you. 

– “I am simply an admirer of your work, even if there are many flaws in it…”

The idea of anonymous letters had come to him when reminiscing back on his time following Amemiya and his gang, the warning notes they’d give out to their targets that would taunt them and leave them skittish, wondering if it was a joke or not and worrying about the absurd possibility there was merit to their threats. In his case, he needed to play things out differently; he didn’t want to make you suffer, he truly wanted to make you see the situation the way he did – the correct way if you will.

And so, for the last year, you have been receiving his notes. 

You had told no one about them, too embarrassed to admit you were being affected by them and too proud to ask for help. After all, what would you say? People would probably tell you to figure it out yourself,

you were supposed to be a detective after all; how come you couldn’t find the identity of your stalker?

– “[…] Do you actually think you’ve caught me? You just fired a makeup artist for no reason, if you keep acting irrationally you’ll get a reputation; I suggest thinking more about who you accuse next time. People will get suspicious if you start acting so… erratically.”

Though you’re almost certain you do know who it is,  it’s been near impossible to find any tangible proof that you could take to the authorities. You were struggling and Akechi knew. It was only a matter of time before you were forced to come to terms that you simply didn’t have what it took to succeed, Akechi tried telling you in a nicer way but you just didn’t listen. If you can’t even catch him, a man you’ve known for years, what makes you think you’ll catch a real criminal? You had known him for years and hadn’t caught onto his most dangerous actions, a bunch of letters wasn’t going to be any easier for you.

It’s surprising to both of you how long you put off calling him. You were almost completely sure he was the one behind the letters, he’d been so nice – as he would say, even if you don’t agree – to leave clues, but stalling the inevitable was more of an ego thing on your part. From mentioning things you had told him in private, recalling moments that should have been between the two of you alone, it almost feels like he had documented everything; and yet he didn’t leave DNA or even a single fingerprint, everything he used was so carefully picked out you had no way of tracing it back to him.

You didn’t know what he’d say, maybe he’d laugh at you and scold you for taking almost a year to realize or maybe he’d try to deny it and make you feel stupid for even suspecting him. Akechi always had a way with words, especially the closer you two got, that made you feel smaller in comparison to him. But at this point you didn’t care, he’d been taunting you for months and you were at your limit.

– “You haven’t been sleeping well, I see you frequenting that cafe more often; it’s not healthy.” 

You would find his handiwork everywhere you went; outside of your house, near spots you’d often frequent, and sometimes you’d find them in places you had been to only hours before as if he were watching you and waiting to strike.

They were always so long too, Akechi had no qualms in explaining in great detail every single misstep you’d made, for their almost daily frequency you had to admit he was dedicated to an over six hundred word count. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so creepy.

To be honest, you probably would have lived through it for a while longer if he hadn’t crossed the line even further; you’d found one of his notes inside your house.

As of the last few weeks you had been going above and beyond trying to catch him, he had been right; your work had been suffering greatly due to the stress of finding his stupid notes all around you. You had seen the headlines, wondering what had happened – some discrediting your life’s work, others lamenting your decline in quality, others simply attributing your achievements to him of all people. He was proving his point and it annoyed you to no end.

You barely got any sleep as you desperately combed over the letters, everything that pointed to him was circumstantial and would not serve to prove anything to anyone, much less the authorities. You both knew that it was only a matter of time before it became too much.

You had to take a break, eventually going into hiding and hyper-focusing on trying to find any concrete evidence. At this point, those letters were all you thought about from the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep. And he still had the audacity to taunt you, leaving his handiwork outside your doorstep every day to remind you of why you were isolated at home at all times.

– “Does this not feel a little pathetic, detective?”

You had been toying around with the idea of confronting him, giving in and forgoing your pride and just begging him to stop. You hadn’t seen him in a year and after your last conversation you had no real intention of trying to mend any bridges but you needed to know if it was him as you so desperately believed or if you really were going crazy.

For a moment you thought you were dreaming when you woke up to one of his scarlet envelopes sitting on top of your nightstand; you immediately recognized it. You almost don’t believe it even as you peel the seal away and unravel the note, but it’s one of them – it couldn’t be from anybody else. No one knew of them other than you and the sender.

You basically jump out of your bed and scramble to get your phone, too emotional to even spare it a once over, your hands are shaking with frustration - you feel flustered and annoyed, and you swear to whatever is listening to you that if the brunette didn’t answer your call you would drive over and make the most embarrassing scene you could muster. Akechi was currently attending university and you were more than willing to go to his campus or even his place, in public surrounded by strangers or not, and demand he give you answers. If it wasn’t him, then you had no idea who it could be and you didn’t know what scared you more.

The way he wrote, the way he teased you, the way he seemed to always be a step ahead of you, it all screamed Akechi. His condescending tone from that dinner echoed in his words even if only written; why did you get to live out your childhood dream if he could not? What had you done that he hadn’t? What did you have that he didn’t that make you better than him? He didn’t want to be a celebrity detective, but he was better at it, so why would you - someone worse than him - get to continue?

From every possible angle, Akechi Goro was better than you, and yet, for some reason, you were the one advancing in their career, you were the one the public began to favor over himself; seeing you live the life he had given up better than he had pissed him off. He thought you were friends, maybe even closer than that, you were partners – the only other person in the world who knew the isolation and expectations that came with stardom —  and yet you abandoned him for the very thing he despised.

He’s still pleasantly surprised to see your caller ID flashing on his phone, though Akechi knew you to be stubborn and a part of him was hoping you’d be able to withstand his teasing a little more – especially now that he knew how to sneak into your home –, he had been expecting a call from you. He almost felt bad when he picked up and heard your clearly panicked voice.

Almost; this whole ordeal was too fun for him to feel too badly about his actions.

“Akechi,” you try not to show how disturbed you are in case your hunch was right, “we need to talk, now.”

“Hello to you too,” he ignores the sense of urgency in your words, “aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been? It’s been a while since we last talked.”

“And you know why that is,” you scoff, “I didn’t need you to continue telling me I suck at my job and that I should quit because you were illuminated by the heavens.”

“It was one conversation,” you can’t see it from over the phone but his reddish eyes seem to gleam in delight, he lets out an airy laugh, “and you cut me off before we could see eye to eye, you make me sound like some sort of evil lunatic.”

“Yeah right,” you roll your eyes, unconsciously clutching at the red envelope in your hands - his degrading demeanor only serves to further antagonize him in your eyes, “let’s cut to the chase, what have you been doing lately.”

“And what is it to you?” He laughs, sitting down on his couch as he answers your question, “If you need to know, I’ve been taking a break.”

“Got a lot of free time on your hands now?” But was it enough that he could be pulling this off? Even without work, he’d been studious and hard working, his schedule always packed; would it be possible that a workaholic like him could honestly take a break?

“Not really,” of course not – your heart feels like it had stopped, maybe you’d been wrong –, “I’ve been in therapy and working on getting into some real work, between that and keeping up with new hobbies there’s not much spare time.”

“Hobbies?”

“Yes, like writing,” you wouldn’t have pinned him as a writer, “I thought I could do something with all that mystery experience and write a novel, might as well put that work to use.”

“I guess so…” There’s an awkward silence; he’d been incredibly nonchalant during the conversation, answering all of your questions with ease. 

Maybe you had been wrong about him, but if it’s not him then who

“And what have you been up to? I saw you were taking a break.”

“Oh, uh… yeah,” you didn’t think he’d keep up with your public appearances, “I have been dealing with some personal stuff…”

You both don’t speak after that for a few painfully awkward seconds.

“So you’ve been in therapy?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… good.” Akechi has to muffle a chuckle at your inadequate response.

“No offense, I do enjoy conversing with you but I doubt this is what you meant when you said we needed to talk,” the young man halts your train of thought, “so, why did you call me?”

“Because,” you think about your words, you need to at least ask him about it, you don’t want to sound crazy but there is no way you can breach the topic without sounding slightly off, “you… it’s you, isn't it?”

“Me? You’re not making much sense, I am what?” 

“You’re the one sending me these… letters,” you look at the one in your hand, “it’s got ‘Akechi’ written all over… You know all these personal details and how to get under my skin and who else would be able to sneak in undetected into my room and keep this up for so long? You –”

“Someone snuck into your house?” He feigns surprise, cutting you off mid-rant; he can tell it took you off guard.

“Y-yes,” you mumble, unsure if he was trying to fool you; you had no evidence other than a gut feeling and knowing the guy for years, “and it… it has to be you, there’s no way it isn’t… You’re the only person who could pull this –”

“These are quite serious allegations you’re posing now,” his voice slowly loses its playful tone, “breaking and entering, sending letters too… Do you even have any evidence?”

“Maybe I do…” You stutter out.

“A good detective shouldn’t lie,” he smirks over the phone, your fingers are trembling as he continues talking, “You can’t just call me out of the blue and accuse me of such things, we haven’t talked to each other in months and this is the first thing you say to me?”

“The letters mention things only you would know and it’s all so well done,” why can’t you be more coherent – you want to tell him to shut up so you can finish your train of thought; because if it’s not him then who else, “and you’ve been trying to convince me –”

“I haven’t even talked to you in months, how am I trying to convince you of anything?”

“During that lunch, you said –”

“Come on, it was one conversation and I admit I crossed the line,” he doesn’t let you finish talking before rebutting every single thing you said and it’s starting to rile you up, “but that’s not proof.”

There’s an awkward silence that follows, he can tell you’re getting worked up. You’re panicking, you had spent the last few weeks trying to find any possible clue about Akeshi’s involvement in this mess and yet you had come up with nothing of substance.

“This has really been messing you up, hasn’t it?” His voice is deceptively soft as if he cared about the torment you’d been facing.

“I…” You’re unsure of what to say; you had so many things thought of what to say to him, but it had all been under the pretense that he was the one responsible for what was going on but you had nothing on him other than a hunch and bitter feelings from your last conversation. 

“I have been keeping up with your work,” he takes your silence as an invitation to continue talking, “You’re not doing too hot, huh? Is it because of this?”

“...” He can hear you shuffling.

“If you’re struggling, we can meet up,” he suggests, “I could help you, you know?”

“To quit?” You laugh but there is no humor in it; maybe he had been right, you dully think, after he’d left you’d naturally garnered the support he had once had but it had felt undeserved, your work had been stagnating due to the letters and general feelings of inadequacy as you were made to replace the role Akechi once had.

“To help you with the letters,” he sounds legitimately annoyed and you flinch internally, “Clearly you can’t do it yourself, how long has it been going on for?”

“A couple of months…” You trail off, you feel like a child being scolded by their mother; left to desperately scramble for any excuse for your poor behavior. 

“Months, are you actually being serious right now?” He doesn’t give you the time to respond, you can hear him shuffling, “And you haven’t found anything?”

“Not really,” you gulp, “which is why… I thought it could be you.”

“I’m quite hurt you’d think me capable of that,” you can’t make out what he was feeling based on his tone but his words seem to indicate he was truly shocked at your accusations; guilt begins to form in your gut, “sure, our last conversation was… rough, but I would never dare hurt you, I only want to help.”

His words further cement your feelings of guilt, maybe you’d seriously misjudged him. No, you definitely had; in your years of knowing him he’d been condescending and irritable, but he’d never hurt you. You were the one who’d been overreacting, you had stormed off on him, you had cut him off, you had accused him without evidence and even now, as he offered to help you, you couldn’t help but doubt his words.

“But you,” scrambling to find the right words you desperately try to communicate your concerns but the more you finally voice them to someone the less sure you are about them, “if it’s not you, then who? You… you’re the only one who I wouldn’t catch, right? Because…”

Maybe he had been right, you think, ever since he quit you’d been left trying to live up to the legacy he left behind but you had failed. You’d let yourself become overwhelmed, chasing after a dream you simply didn’t have the chops to live out, and even went as far as to accuse one of your friends of hurting you over a conversation that he seemed to have forgotten.

“I have not received a single assignment that has required me to harass my ex-colleague,” he’s probably referencing his therapy treatment, you think, “I have come far enough to realize I have been childish in my past, which is why I would never do something like sending you cleary distressing notes.”

He continues.

“I am genuinely concerned for you,” he sighs, “which is why I am offering to help you.”

“I…” You’re unsure of what to say, you had been hoping he’d admit to being the man behind the letters, “I just want this to end.”

“I’ll go over, okay?” You vaguely hear him moving around, “Have everything ready, we’ll work this out and, once we’re done, we can talk about your future.”

You hum in agreement, too worn out and exhausted to argue.

“I’ll see you soon,” he’s putting on his gloves as he speaks and slowly opening the bag he’d been carrying, “goodbye.”

“Bye…”

Once the call is ended you throw your phone into the bed and collapse on top of your mattress. You close your eyes tightly, clutching at the papers in your hand. You had shoved the letter back in before reading it, you opened your eyes slowly and glanced at it. You sit up, the springs in the mattress mask the sound of a creaking door and reopen the envelope.

The letter was like all the ones before it, teasing remarks, poorly covered insults, and the spare compliment sprinkled in there. Your brain doesn’t even register what it says, too used to its content to care. You’re about to put it back in when you notice a strange discoloration on the back, you frown. Gently you move the paper against the yellow light from your bedside lamp. The letters are smaller, significantly more rushed, and harder to decipher; you fidget with it as you begin to make out what it says; at least, you try until you hear footsteps echoing through your hallway. You freeze, seemingly losing all mobility as they begin to draw closer and closer until they’re practically at your bedroom’s door. 

There is someone in your house, you realize.

Gloved hands grasp at the doorknob and all you can do is watch in horror as a tuft of light brown hair comes into view.

– “I’m still inside.”

[frickingnerd]

yandere akechi with a foreign darling

pairing: goro akechi x gn!reader

tags: kidnapping, obsessed yandere, language barrier (reader's language is unspecified), (implied) stockholm syndrome

akechi was obsessed with you from the moment he first laid eyes on you!

he hadn't even heard you speak yet, but he knew that he needed you in his life!

for a bit, akechi simply admired you from afar, fantasizing about how he'd approach you and how you'd react to the detective prince paying attention to you

but when he actually tried to talk to you, it didn't go as planned at all!

you simply stared at him dumbfound, before opening your mouth and saying something in a language he didn't know!

at first, akechi apologizes, even though he's unsure if you understand it. but he's already thinking of his next step right then and there…

just a few days later, he makes his move to kidnap you!

you're frightened at first, when you wake up in his apartment, chained to the heater. but akechi has learned a few words of your language to talk to you

he doesn't mind learning your language, but ultimately he wants you to learn japanese! he even tells you that he'll set you free once you learned it

of course, that's just a lie. as if he'd ever let you go again, now that he had you right where he wanted you!

akechi expects you to fall in love with him while you're his hostage. he'll treat you well and by the end of it all, you'll beg him to stay here! he's sure of it…

[discotenny]

Someone you cant have

HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLO :D god its been so long for me to check ur blog and i have been meaning to send rq form last year but sadly i was to shy for that :,) im so happy ur still uploading and doing well 😭 but may i request a reverse part for "Someone you cant have" now with akechi ?

~anon

Goro Akechi x Reader ~ falling for their rivals significant other <Jealousy, mild reference of yandere!Akechi, mentions of murder, etc>

KABDKDBDK thank you for sending in a request!! Sorry to keep you waiting for part two after all this time lolol. Hope it was worth the wait <3 As always I tend to write using they/them pronouns for the reader insert unless requester specifies. Mentions of names will be y/n.

———

Something about you had captivated him from the first meeting.

A stranger who sat next to him on the train when there were tens of open seats. Who looked at him with eyes that begged for help from a creep following you around. Who whispered a promise of a warm meal once the whole debacle concluded. Who he willingly went into the streets of Shibuya with, against all his mind and stomach's better judgement.

"Thank you," you said to him with the most sincerity he's ever heard from a person. "I couldn't make it up to you enough. Where do you want to go? I’ll pay for everything.”

Sincerity... that's what it was.

You were so open and true to yourself it was almost frustrating. He chalked up your kindness at your first meeting as a one off instance brought about by unsavory circumstance. But even after, at your unexpected dinner for two- you were just so, so honest.

Honest in the way you expressed the troubles in your family life. The difficulty handling the troubles in your school. The troubles of romance you've found yourself in. You were charming. Funny. Interesting.

Which is why he didn’t mind exchanging phone numbers. It’s why he didn’t mind more dinners and more train rides. It’s why he didn’t push away the kindness you’d show him and the gifts you’d give him. It’s why he started reciprocating the acts.

And it’s why a funny feeling started to grow in the hole in his chest- fighting against the urge to put all of his attention into his mission. Interest- is what he called it.

Love, is what it really was.

When you mentioned a boyfriend he was disappointed. He of course saw it coming, after you’ve spent nights complaining over growing feelings and him giving you advice in turn. But Akechi was fine with the disappointment, and he was fine admiring you from nowhere closer than across a table. Akechi would be fine just admiring from a distance.

Coming soon, he’d complete his mission and he would never see you again. Akechi chooses to ignore the bitterness that comes along with that last idea.

The more the dinners and gifts and kindness occurred, the harder his fall was to ignore. His gifts started to get more and more romantic when viewed from a certain lens, his stares started to get more and more longing. But as noticeable as it was, Akechi couldn’t help himself. You, in all of your kindness, funniness, and all of your interest, were a brevity of light in his hell of a life.

-

One night, you show up to dinner and say you’ve got a surprise for him.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” A butterfly flies around in his chest and he can’t help himself but smile. Sincerely, he smiles.

“I wanted to thank you, for all the advice and help you’ve given me these past few months,” you look into his eyes and it makes his heart flutter. “Let me go get him really quick.” You stand up so quickly and he doesn’t have any time to register what you just said. Akechi sighs as he watches you leave the restaurant.

You come back and Akechi has to physically hold himself back from lunging at Ren.

Ren, who you hold hands with. Ren, who’s smiling after you. Ren, who looks at him with surprise. Ren, you boyfriend.

“Akechi?” He says, eyes widening.

“Ren.” He replies, gripping the table underneath him.

Of course.

Of course

Of fucking course.

“Oh! I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” you clap your hands with a smile, seemingly not noticing the glares emanating from Akechi.

Ren’s arm finds itself on your waist and Akechi wants to scream. “Yeah, we’re friends,” Ren’s tone is casual as he smiles at you.

“Mmhm, you could say that,” Akechi forces out a smile so insincere you can’t help but question it.

“I didn’t know Akechi was the one buying you all those gifts, treasure,” Ren says.

“And I didn’t know Ren was this boyfriend of yours, y/n,” Akechi sneers.

“Ah, sorry I never mentioned names to you guys,” you chuckle, honest to a fault. Unaware of the smugness growing within your partner. Unaware of the heartbreak that falls upon your friend.

Ren goes onto explain that you wanted to introduce your ‘two favorite boys’ to each other after months of talking about one to the other. That this dinner, which was supposed to just be you and Akechi, was going to be intruded on by Ren. He says it all with a smile that makes Akechi want to throttle him.

What a lovely surprise, Akechi thinks.

He tries to keep his cool despite the anger clawing at his chest. Betrayal from you for not telling him that this piece of garbage was your boyfriend. Envy towards Ren for having yet another thing Akechi longed to have.

Dinner concludes quicker than you pictured as Ren has a curfew to abide by. He leaves the restaurant to wait outside, you wanting to talk to your friend.

“You seemed uncomfortable with tonight, I’m sorry if I pushed this on you Akechi…” one glance at you shows all the truth in your statement and Akechi hates it.

He hates that he’s let himself trust in your honesty, in your gifts, in your dinners, in your kindness- he hates your truth and he hates this clawing in his chest.

But what kind of friend would he be if he left you feeling so guilty? After all, you’d just run into his arms afterwards.

“I was just surprised, is all. I’m sorry that I made you upset,” Akechi smiles, insincere once again.

“Are you sure?” You look at him with the most curious eyes, “I’m sorry if I made things weird by introducing him, really.”

“Please, don’t worry about it,” Akechi attempts to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m just happy you’re happy. After all this time of complaining, haha.”

Your hand meets his and squeezes it slightly. “Thanks Akechi, it really means a lot.”

He takes one more look at you, holding his hand and smiling so, so genuinely at him.

“Anytime, y/n,” He says.

You leave the restaurant with Ren and he sees him pull you tight as you walk away. He sees the way you stare at him, lovingly, in a way that you’ve never looked at him. He sees you go to intertwine your hands. He sees Ren hold your chin and bring your face closer. Akechi looks away.

Admiring a distance is bullshit if he’s just watching you be stolen away by him. Admiring from a distance would be fine if it was anyone other than him.

It’s just gonna be one more reason as to why he needs to plant a bullet in your boyfriend’s skull.

———

Ren's part, it kinda sucks because it was before my writers glow up ehehehhehehe

Hope you enjoyed it! I got so excited writing for my pookie Akechi that I ended up finishing this in an afternoon lolol. Also I ended up placing an order for persona merch because of this JFDSJJKFADSFJ. I just love my baby he's my forever boy &lt;3

Let me know how you guys think I characterized him!! I love my babby rsfwaeajfjrewo

[azxremoon]

RECIPES

all orders are customized to fit the customer's wishes! please be sure to understand what the hostess is willing to make and serve before placing an order in the askbox!!

─────── general

these rules are in regards towards requests exclusively. i may write something for my own enjoyment that contradicts the following.

the askbox will remain open indefinitely. however, please do not spam it with orders.

as mentioned in "cafe etiquette," writing is not considered a priority! it is done for my own enjoyment and at my own pace.

oneshots takes me longer to produce, but they are accepted. for more information, please refer to the ingredients list.

if you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to come by and ask! i'd be happy to clear up any confusion.

if you wish to support me and my work, and see more from me in the future, please me sure to reblog! it really means a lot!

─────── ingredients

i only accept drabbles !

i only write character x reader / character x reader x character. character x character or character x oc is not accepted.

the reader is always gender neutral or female with ambiguous anatomy, unless stated otherwise.

i can write platonic, familial, and romantic relationships. please be sure to specify which if it isn't already clear.

i primarily write fluffy romance, but angst, comfort fluff, hurt / comfort, hurt / no comfort are also accepted.

i can definitely write dark content if that is something you are interested in, such as major character death, yandere aus, etc.

the reader can be inspired by characters of other media or take the role of a canon character, but i must know and be familiar with them. for example: star guardian!reader, idol!reader, special grade!reader, sees leader!reader, black mask!reader.

additionally, the reader can be assigned a specific characteristic. such as shy!reader, tall / short!reader, student council president!reader, etc.

to avoid misrepresentation, i do not write readers of a specific race, culture, disabilities, or illnesses.

i do not write anything related to pregnancy, harm towards oneself, cheating (by or on reader), drug use, explicit (n)sfw, fetishes, or k!nks. i can write suggestive themes.

─────── recipes

*all names in italics are elluka's favorites !

BREATH OF THE WILD . . . COFFEE AND TEA

link, zelda, mipha, revali, sidon, urbosa, ganondorf, sonia, rauru.

CODE GEASS . . . CINNAMON ROLLS

lelouch vi britannia, c.c., suzaku kururugi.

FINAL FANTASY . . . CREPES

noctis lucis caelum, prompto argentum, gladiolus amicitia, ignis scientia, lunafreya nox fleuret, ardyn izunia, nyx ulric.

FIRE EMBLEM . . . MACARONS

chrom, frederick, robin, lon’qu, gaius, tharja, henry, grima, lucina, owain, morgan (platonic), corrin, jakob, ryoma, takumi, xander, leo, camilla, azura, odin, niles, silas, kaze, byleth, blue lions, rodrigue, golden deer, rhea, seteth, jeralt, shez, sothis, arval, alear, lumera, alfred, veyle, pandreo, diamant, alcryst, sombron, nell.

GENSHIN IMPACT . . . ICE CREAMS

arataki itto, kaveh, alhaitham, neuvillette, wriothesley, furina, dainsleif, capitano, mualani, kinich.

JUJUTSU KAISEN . . . SANDWICHES

satoru gojo, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, maki zenin, aoi todo, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna, kenjaku, mahito.

NIER . . . FRUIT TARTS

younger + older brother!nier, kaine + tyrann, 2b, 9s, a2, adam, eve.

PERSONA . . . CAKES

makoto yuki, kotone shiomi, akihiko sanada, junpei iori, aigis, shinjiro aragaki, ryoji mochizuki, jin, takaya, chidori, theodore, ren amamiya, yusuke kitagawa, goro akechi, takuto maruki.

[akirawrites24]

Hello may I be fad with Yandere Akechi HC ?

YES

Yandere!Goro Akechi x Reader

Fandom: Persona 5

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior

_______

Will stalk you.

Where you are he is there too.

If you are a Phantom Thief, he is already watching you since Madarame's Palace.

You are in Mementos? He is thinking of using a sleep vial on you as Black Mask (before he joined the team)

If the plan failed on November 20th, prepare to be locked up by him forever.

He won't hurt or abuse you, he doesn't wanna become like his foster families.

Sae is wondering why he looks so happy when Joker 'killed' himself.

Loves to touch your hair.

He will manipulate you into thinking he is the only one there for you.

Choice is yours.

Are you gonna keep fighting and keep your will of rebellion?

Or are you gonna comply to find a way out later, but fall for him anyway and lose your rebellion?

[narrators-journal]

Persona Masterlist: Eternal punishment

Kinktober was too powerful, but at least I'm having fun naming these!

previous masterlist: Here

Next masterlist: Here

Created: 10/3/23

Updated: 6/30/24

Fanfiction: x

Headcanons: //

Scenario: \\\

NSFW: *

Ask: ^

OC included: _

Persona 2

🔧 Tatsuya Suou 🔧

Regular content

Caught off gaurd \\\^*

💐 Tatsujun 💐

Regular content

Keeping the spark alive \\\^*

Yandere content

Sweet dreams \\\^*

👮 Katsuya suou 👮

Regular content

Home videos \\\^*

Wire tap that \\\^*

On the job \\\^*

🕶️ Baofu 🕶️

Regular content

Home videos \\\^*

A secret valentine \\\^

Wire tap that \\\^*

🎤 Eikichi Mishina 🎤

Regular content

A steamy Siren's call \\\^*_

The scorpions sting can be oh so sweet \\\*

The lethality of the persona bites //

sing little song bird \\\*

🏵 Miyabi Hanakouji 🏵

Regular content

Sing little song bird \\\*

Gal pals \\\^*

💕 Lisa Silverman 💕

Regular content

Sing little song bird \\\*

💬 Chikarin Ueda 💬

Regular content

Sing little song bird \\\*

Gal pals \\\^*

Persona 3

💀 ryomina 💀

Regular content

New moon \\\^*

Full moon \\\^*

Strawberry scented \\\

Mine \\\^

Consequences \\\^

Silence is golden \\\^

Silence is golden v.2.0 \\\

Yandere/dark content

Anniversary lilies \\\^*

Winter is a lovely season for romance and funerals TOC x*

Don't you dare (make me fall in love with you) \\\^

Yandere!Ryomina x reader //

Photogenic \\\

Ring, ring \\\

Just a dream \\\

🥀 ryoji mochizuki 🥀

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

Yandere/dark content

My bloody valentine \\\^_

The lethality of the persona bites //

🌼 Elizabeth 🌼

Regular content

Breed the Easter bunny \\\^*

The honeymoon phase \\\^*

Knock before you enter! \\\^*

🍾 Mitsuru Kirijo 🍾

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

Exam day \\\^*

🌸 yukari takeba 🌸

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^

🌙 minato arisato/Makoto yuuki 🌙

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

Today's the day \\\^

A creative use for personas \\\^*

🥊akihiko sanada 🥊

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

🤖 aigis 🤖

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

⚾️ Junpei iori ⚾️

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

📕 fuuka yamagishi 📕

Regular content

Crime and punishment \\\^*

Regular content

Crime and punishment

Persona 4

🌼 Margaret 🌼

Regular content

Compliments \\\^*

Wish you were here \\\^*

The honeymoon phase \\\^*

Welcome back, dear \\\^*

The birds teach the bees \\\^

👓 Yu Narukami 👓

Regular content

Dessert before dinner \\\^*

Compliments \\\^*

Breed the Easter bunny \\\^*

The birds and the bees, the squeakquel \\\^

Wish you were here \\\^*

The honeymoon phase \\\^*

The birds finally meet the bees \\\^

Welcome back, dear \\\^*

🧡 souyo 🧡

Regular content

It's only gay if you kiss \\\^*

Dom/sub dynamic ideas //^*

🎎 Kanji Tatsumi 🎎

regular content

Take ten \\\^*

Loosen up \\\^*

Double trouble \\\^*

🌟 rise kujikawa 🌟

Regular content

Double trouble \\\^*

Persona 5/royal

🏴‍☠️ Ryuji sakamoto 🏴‍☠️

Regular content

Just relax and enjoy yourself \\\^*_

Just a normal lunch date \\\^*_

Draw me like one your french girls \\\^

Paint me like one of your anatomy studies \\\^

A midnight visitor \\\^*

🐈 akira kurusu/Ren amamiya 🐈

Regular content

Bow to your emperess \\\^*

The lethality of the persona bites //

☕️ Haru okumura ☕️

Regular content

Bow to your emperess \\\^*

How to get a promotion 101 \\\^*

🦞 Yusuke Kitagawa 🦞

Regular content

Just a normal lunch date \\\^*_

Draw me like one of your french girls \\\^

Paint me like one of your anatomy studies \\\^

A midnight visitor \\\^*

🔫 akeshu 🔫

Regular content

Smile for the camera \\\^*

A wolf in sheep's clothing \\\^*

Calling collect \\\^*

Yandere/dark content

My crown jewel \\\^*

🔪 Goro akechi 🔪

Regular content

Human nature \\\^*

The lethality of the persona bites //

Dark/yandere content

Blackmail \\\^*

👩‍⚖️ Sae Nijima 👩‍⚖️

Regular content

The perfect method of stress relief \\\^*

Wish you were here \\\^*

Loosen up \\\^*

Welcome back, dear \\\^*

🐼 Makoto Nijima 🐼

Regular content

Peep show \\\^*

🐆 Ann Takamaki 🐆

Regular content

Who needs implants with shadows like these? \\\^*

Take Ten \\\^*

Double trouble \\\^*

👩‍⚕️ Tae Takemi 👩‍⚕️

Regular content

Check up \\\^*

Loosen up \\\^*

Sneak peeks

Crude jokes are my specialty!

[leblancc]

DESPERATE MEASURES

after weeks of helplessly watching as he loses you to the leader of the phantom thieves, he can no longer sit back and do nothing. an innocuous message later and he lures you to this month’s palace to settle things once and for all. as they say, desperate means come to desperate measures. ft. goro akechi

— THEMES: yandere au, gender neutral reader, major spoilers, the palace is left ambiguous, goro has his hand around the reader’s neck at the end, fear, dark themes, implied romantic relationship with joker.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI | 18+

Your throat burns with every inhale you take. Your legs ache with each lunge and every step across the floor beneath. Your entire being desperately seeks a respite that you won’t allow yourself to have. No. Not won’t, but can’t, because if you stop, you’re screwed.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been running for and such a thing is beyond irrelevant in the current moment, but you hope that whatever time frame it has been since you’ve stepped foot in the cognitive realm ignites a spark of concern in someone to help you get out of this mess. What you do know is that no matter where you go, you’re met with the terrifying realization that you’re nowhere close to the exit than you were when you first started. The walls and decorations strewn about blurred together into splatters of color than any coherent hint that could have given you a general idea of your current location on the static mental image of the Palace map your teammates collected. It felt more like running in an endless loop than through a complex labyrinth that you thought you knew well enough to confidently traverse, but your increasing panic was doing numbers on you. From your composure, to your recollection of what you thought you knew by heart, and ending at the dwindling stamina by tearing it to shreds as you would with a wrapped present. The metaphor was rather savage, but so was he and you were sure he’d do just that to you.

He was there before you could move to turn the corner and he was there when you looked back. He was everywhere, and it made you start to wonder if it was really him or a haunting fragment of your imagination being used against you. It was as though he was shifting the cognition to his every whim to frighten you enough that you ended up pleading for mercy, or to simply wait until you tired yourself out of health and magic. Or maybe he just liked to see you defeated at his feet. Or rather, to make sure you couldn’t wander too far from his bloodied grasp without him allowing you to do so first. All of those theories seemed rational enough, but you’d never know with him. What did you know? Apparently nothing because he read you like an open book from front to back and took elaborate notes that made you question how much you knew about yourself. He knew what to do to bend you to his very will to allow yourself to willingly step into his trap, what to say to the newest member of the Thieves without eliciting suspicion because you knew no better. How predictable were you to someone like him? The maniac laughter that echoed through the halls and your ears became a cruel answer that you would have rather done without.

Any and all items that Joker had given to you throughout your journey as Phantom Thieves had been used up early on in this wicked game of cat-and-mouse you had no say in joining. They left you with pockets lined with wrappers and bottles that you didn’t dare toss behind you in fear he’d use that as a trail, but a small voice whispered in your ear that he knew regardless. The recently awakened wildfire of willpower that allowed you to summon your Persona was but a meager flame that became impossible to reignite when any and all of the matches in your palms slipped between your fingers like grains of sand. You could feel the spirit of rebellion deep within you and the fact that you were still in your getup and had your mask was a relieving sign that it was still there, but no matter how many times you tried to call out for it or extend your hand outward for that resolute power it felt so far away like a distant memory. You were sure your lack of experience had something to do with that, but it didn’t help that you had used some of it up before the chase and during it to get through the Shadows blocking your escape.

The ammunition to your firearm had replenished itself countless times after successful chains of counterattacks against Shadows you were unfortunate enough to be caught by. You liked to think that it was out of your own budding talent that you managed to escape in one piece, but also a miracle that you were able to get away before something far more sinister started to nip at your heels. You could always start chucking the empty bottles of what were once healing items at him if you grew desperate enough in hopes that it would slow him down. Your time was limited, but the longer you were caught by a create naive to your turmoil, the sooner he would draw near. It’s thanks to the team leader that your weapon has several upgrades—an unprompted yet generous decision—that you were sure that you could take down any opponent who stood in your way. Any that didn’t resist or block them, in any case, but knocking them down at the very least long enough for you to flee the least you asked for.

Shadows were one thing and something you had grown accustomed to battling knowing that it was being of distortion, but using your weaponry against another person? This was a matter of life and death—if not yours, then that of someone you treasured dearly—but could you pull the trigger on him? Someone who had a life outside of the Metaverse and actual flesh? Someone you knew and cared about? How could you care about someone who was doing this to you? You wondered, but that didn’t stop the memories you cherished from appearing at the forefront of your mind, almost chipping away your caution. Once cherished. Not anymore. Your finger rested on the trigger, but struggled to find the resolve to squeeze when his charming smile and memories of the fun hangouts materialized. Trying to use your blade on him was no easier, but the phantom feeling of plunging it deep into his chest left you borderline nauseous. You hated it, and you hated him. You hated yourself most of all for falling into the same trap thousands of other people have before you and it wasn’t until now that you actually started to care.

Thinking of his calculated but easy smile, every feature that you found to be quite attractive and flattering not too long ago, rekindled the memory of the catalyst of the game you were tossed into. His slaughter of Shadows left and right fueled what was meant to be a passionate confession that became warped and vile in seconds until he refused to hear what you were saying at all. You had never seen the Detective Prince lose his composure before, so his sudden fit of anger-induced hysterics was terrifying. The princely garb of red, white, and gold was consumed by a dark miasma until it was replaced by black and blue with shredded ends and a dark helmet. The sight of it and the wicked smile fit the descriptor you had only heard mentions of from your teammates. You didn’t believe it at first, this couldn’t be happening, but it wasn’t until he mercilessly slaughtered the appearing Shadows with twisted taunts and screams. It only got worse when one tried to attack you, where his anger seemed to become significantly worse despite your attempts of calming him and yourself down.

You expected him to summon Robin Hood in all of his glory, and yet it didn’t appear. Instead, he called a different name entirely. One you recognized from folklore alone, but as a Thief who believed they knew their ally, it was totally foreign. There was something undoubtedly regal and heroic about it in appearance, and the massive insignia on its chest amplified that. The way its cape flapped behind it was majestic and you’d never forget how it protected you without Crow’s command, as well as the way it looked at you before it disappeared: with nothing but human affection. What stood in Robin Hood’s place was a massive and lanky entity that sat perched on a red blade pierced into the ground, hunched over with a hand against its cheek. With two long horns that curled behind it, it was covered in asymmetrical black and white stripes with golden hooves and incredibly long braids tainted with red at the ends. It had no facial features, but its stare bore into you and the red smile that looked like it was scribbled on in marker unsettled you.

Loki.

Unable to continue any longer, your legs gave out from under you with a buckle and a surprised yelp. Nothing about what happened next registered in your head until there was a chill against your cheek that felt freaking amazing against your sweat-soaked skin and you were pressed against smooth tiles. Your vision was hazy at best, but what you could make out was the weakened distortion sitting right in front of you. You knew you couldn’t stay in there for any longer than a minute, but you didn’t know how much longer you could keep pushing yourself on fear and determination to escape alone. Your arms and legs trembled as you tried to pick yourself back up and refused to allow you on your aching feet, so you crawled with whatever energy you could muster up. One arm and leg at a time, you dragged yourself forward as fast as you could but it felt more like crawling through quicksand, growing slower and slower until you were collapsed against the floor again. The best you could do was twitch your fingers and listen to the erratic and booming heartbeat in your ears, but you could go no further.

Get up. Your body remained still, unable to obey your command. Get. Up! He’ll-

A squeal of metal silenced everything around you and you froze as though your stillness would render you invisible, but you knew there wasn’t anything else you could do. If you believed hard enough, maybe you would and that this could be a cruel dream. Your eyes drew upwards as far as they could go where they caught onto the door sliding open. A flash of hope overcame you, that Joker and his miraculous powers were here to keep you safe as he had promised. You tried his name on your tongue, but your voice barely cracked out a syllable. A chuckle sounded, one you knew wasn’t your leader’s, and your blood ran cold. Dark shoes framed by blue and black wisps of cloth wandered closer until they were right in front of you, soon kneeling. He easily tossed you over onto your back, causing a wheeze to leave your lips and you should have socked him in the face for chuckling. Your anger must have been palpable because it only spurned him on a bit more as he lingered at your side, as if he wasn’t just chasing you.

You didn’t know what hurt more: Everywhere on your body, his betrayal, or the smile that brought on tainted memories you’d regretfully always cherish. It was as if nothing was going on at all, as if this was just another hangout between the two of you. The way his eyes closed as his lips turned upwards and poked into the bottom of his eyes, one you noticed that only occurred around you when it hardly reached his cheeks with others. A hint you blindly overlooked. Your fingers twitched again, and it was only then that you realized you were without your gun. You must have dropped it because it refused to materialize like your melee weapon, but even that proved difficult. You weren’t sure if he noticed your attempts, but if he did then he was certainly not giving you much of a reaction. He moved to be on top of you until he was straddling your hips and leaning over you where his breath fanned across your face. His hand curled around your throat but had yet to squeeze despite the twitching as the other rested on your cheek, gloved fingers brushing against the skin beneath your mask.

“I found you.”

[angxlyxn]

satisfaction - goro akechi x reader

summary: akechi does not take kindly to misbehavior. 

warnings: obsessive behavior, a leetle yandere-ish, verbal/physical abuse, rough sex, hair pulling, degradation, nsfw.

a/n: I LOVE GORO AKECHIF

word count: ~1.2k

"So dumb, so pathetic to bend at my every whim, and yet so perfect for it." Goro stood over you, wistful eyes not able to conceal the expression of scorn on his face.  He gazed down, tracing his eyes from your bruised knees, which were pressing oh so alluringly into the hardwood floor all the way up to your eyes, gleaming with cresting tears.  He folded his hands over his lap, feeling a slight hard-on coming on.

He really should humiliate you for what you did.  Of everything that he expected from you, he never had considered that you would throw yourself at someone as... as repulsive as Akira.  He remembered how you had pleaded with him after, begging and griping at his feet, trying to convince him that it was just a friendly conversation, that you would never be so inclined towards the phantom thief.  To doubt him was a comparable sin to the actual offense.  After all, he knew what was best for you.  You weren't allowed to decide for yourself- or rather, you weren't informed enough. So naive and stupid were you, he really did have to do everything for you.  

He deserved a reward. He wanted to push his control over you, make you afraid and yet so aroused and completely at his disposal.   

"Down," he spoke simply. You knew the command. You had been through this same process of punishment many times before, any possible defiance leaving your body as you pressed your head to the floor, bowing down to him and leaving your ass up.  He let his hands fall, revealing the tent in his pants that was ever hardening at your submission.  To turn him on like this would be unforgivable- if you were anyone else than his favorite angel, his little doll.  He shant succumb to the pressure of cheap arousement, but the things you did to him made him feel so weak, so inferior.  Even so, he was truly better than you in every way.  He knew it, he knew he was. He was superior, better than you could ever be, better than anyone...

He lifted his foot and, before he could think about what he was doing, placed it upon the crook of your neck, pushing you down further.  Your eyes squinted in pain as your forehead rubbed against the rough hardwood.  The position, however, was far more humiliating than it was painful.  Bowing there, you were reduced to nothing more than a slave, a toy for the prince to pander with.  And that he did.

And still, Goro hated you.  Hated the memories of how he molded you into the perfect partner for him, hated that he always had to hurt you in the way he did. And yet, he so hated how he would search for reasons to reprimand you.  He hated how much of an angel you were, how utterly saintly you were, only for him. 

He emerged from his cacophony of thoughts, peering at you through long lashes.  He felt as his pants grew unbearably tight, chafing against his erect cock.  How arousing you were, with your arched back, ass on display like a cheap whore.  The things you did to him were ungodly, but the things he wished he could do to you were much more devious, many of them qualifying as morally unethical. Although, how could he help these sick fantasies of his when you looked like this? When you acted like this!

You quivered, involuntarily putting on a show for him. His boot was still against your head, although the strength of his press had slightly let up as he wandered through his thoughts.

He considered a bit before removing his foot from you, visible relief passing through your body as you shuddered from the lack of contact.  Your little victory was short-lived, however, as the prince spoke once more, voice thick with poorly concealed lust.

"Come.." he started. "I need... " he grunted through his words, shaky breathing nearly in time with yours. "Come atone for what you did." 

You raised your head, finally bringing yourself up to meet his crimson eyes, which were veiled behind his fluttering eyelids.  

You looked up at him, testing your luck as you braced yourself against the floor, preparing to walk over to him and save yourself the embarrassment of crawling like a puppy to his feet. 

However, a hum came from his mouth.  A drawling, condescending sound, wordlessly telling you to stay on your knees, where you belong.  You clenched your hands against the floor, assuming all fours as you sheepishly crawled towards the male, face flushing as you felt his red gaze burn itself into your back.

He cleared his throat, signifying for you to stop at his feet, which you did.  Sitting back onto your knees, you raised a pair of shaking hands toward his crotch, carefully unbuckling his belt before fumbling with his pants button, erection brushing against your hands and eliciting a cringe from you, even though you had done this many a time before.  You braced yourself, eyelids squeezing together as you pulled on the zipper of his pants.

You were so adorable.  Goro felt his cock spring free, nearly moaning as you handled it, ever so carefully maneuvering the substantial length from his pants. 

Your chest shoved itself against his knees, a few kitten licks being pressed to the tip of his length.  Goro groaned at the contact, but impatiently grabbed your hair, forcing you around him and causing you to gag, a pathetic sound.  The friction of your helpless noises only spurred him on, long digits finding your hair and digging into your skull.  You were whimpering now, tears wetting your cheeks just as he grew slicker with each moment. He thrusted into you, his angel’s mouth reduced to a fleshlight as he did so.  But you deserved it.  You deserved everything he decided to give you, every slap, every meaningless fuck, every week without food.  He loved you so much, and he knew that you returned it.  You were made to service him, and you were well aware of your place.

Goro felt himself approaching his climax, deep growls falling from his lips.  His mouth spilled venom, mutterings of worthlessness raining down on you.  He finally stilled, and you gasped for breath around him, hungry for air as a drowned man would be.  He soon released, seed spurting against your throat and coating your aching mouth.  His head was thrown back in ecstasy, eyes crossing and watering with pleasure.  

“Swallow,” he demanded, a deathly command seeping out from his breathy voice.  You obeyed, cringing as you did so.  

The prince was satisfied now.

[cryo-regalia]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a headcanon of yandere Goro Akechi with the reader being friends with Ren?

headcanons of the reader being best friends with the leader of the phantom thieves, much to a certain detective prince’s irritation ft. goro akechi

— THEMES: yandere au, gender neutral reader, death mentions, violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms, extreme possession, major character spoilers.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

Despite his massive popularity as a the Detective Prince and all of the achievements that brought his name great fame, Goro Akechi is incredibly lonely. Frankly speaking, you’re the only person he can safely call a friend or a partner if you’ve gotten to that point with him, both titles requiring an extensive amount of trust to truly earn. Outwardly he may be warm to the idea of you being sociable to other people your age, such as your classmates and those you may be in a club with, but internally he cannot stand the thought of that. Your eyes should be on him alone, your words should be in response to his own or to start a conversation with him only. Your time should be spent on him, not some nobody with nothing to their name or accomplishments that meant nothing in the end. Worry not, he’d be sure to do the same in return, it would be unfair otherwise. But he knows that, despite his urges and wants to rip you away from the vile eyes of the corrupt society, he couldn’t. Suspicion would fall on him quickly and though it would be easy to direct it to someone else, the fact that he was focused on at all would be concerning should he be careless about being so controlling in public.

Akechi has fantastic control of his emotions and feelings in front of people, that is unquestionable. Whether it be in front of someone he doesn’t have the tolerance for or a camera is faced in his direction, he keeps his cool and his charisma shines. Sometimes he may be firm when standing up for his thoughts and beliefs, no matter how ridiculed he may become because of them, but he never wavers. He’s outwardly friendly and gentlemanly, upholding a sense of justice against the Phantom Thieves that the people of Japan vehemently believed in until they sided against them. It was ironic, how they turned their backs on the heroes so quickly and praised him endlessly. It filled him with a sense of pride knowing that no matter what would happen, he would eventually be able to get the ignorant masses to see things the way he did. It did have to involve a little behind the scenes action, but nothing he wasn’t used to getting his hands dirty for. 

His manipulation, however, was never used on you. The thought of such almost made him laugh, like he was just told a joke found amusing for once unlike the ridiculous squabble of television newscasters. You, the very person who could sometimes see through the facade and care for him regardless how much of a vile monster he knew he truly was. A regular man wouldn’t feel so numb taking the life of another, and sometimes he didn’t see himself as human because of the nonchalance of ridding the world of those in his way. He’s sure to never tell you of what he actually does, even if you have a Persona of your own and can freely travel to the Metaverse, unsure of how you’d react to it. He sometimes offhandedly alludes to it, but stresses his anger to cover for it before you could connect any pieces. You’re smart, he knows that very well, so he’s careful not to be too relaxed about his pent up self. You assure him that he doesn’t need to act so fake around you and while he is appreciative of such a kindness (something genuine he has never felt in so long), he knows his true self as Goro Akechi may scare you away and that’s not something he could ever live with.

But when he sees you spending your time with him and finds out that the two of you are friends, Goro is unbelievably pissed and has never felt such vehement anger in so long towards anyone but his scumbag father. Don’t worry, it’s not directed towards you. You don’t know any better, he convinces himself. Not yet anyways, and even if the sight of you alone brings him some comfort, it doesn’t last long with that attic-living nobody taking up your precious time and being undeserving of witnessing your smile. The way he wishes that they were in the Metaverse to settle things then and there, to get his greatest rival out of the way once and for all. He silently applauds himself for keeping his composure (a feat he still is proud of considering how close he was to acting out) but doesn’t know how long that will stay given how often he has no other option but to speak with him: Ren Amamiya. But he cannot go without his questions, his suspicions of this relationship you have.

How long has this lasted for? As unlikely as it was, were you two pen pals or had some kind of knowledge of one another before he was transferred to Shujin from wherever he came from? It was an item of information he found irrelevant (an excuse to blow over the steam of being unable to find out where exactly) so he didn’t think much of it when everything took place in Shibuya. Or did you unfortunately hit it off not long after his arrival, similarly to his relation to Ryuji Sakamato and Ann Takamaki, as he learned from the Kamoshida case and school girls who played right into his hand. “I’m just making sure my partner isn’t getting themselves into any trouble, that’s all,” he would smoothly retort when asked about his prying. It wasn’t a complete lie, but not entirely truthful. He needed information on Ren as it was, to plan for his ultimate downfall and Goro’s grand success, but finding this out was the icing on the cake.

Goro has heard of friendships in which each party consents to affectionate that could be done within a romantic relationship and yet kept things platonic and just hopes that it’s not something you’re part of. Oh, he doesn’t have a negative view of it! He holds no opinion as long as it’s behind closed doors like all other affection, unless it came to you in which he would happily let you hang off of him if you so desired. It was a bit hypocritical, but who wasn’t at least once in their life? But if he saw you being so doting on anyone but him, Ren especially, he’d flip his lid so fast. He’d keep his cool, but there’s an obvious edge of passive-aggressiveness, if not almost completely the latter, that makes itself known. Many of his fans have fawn over this, calling him the perfect boyfriend for being so protective over his partner, and he’s come to accept that. At first, he labeled it as hardcore possession, but now he sees it as him protecting what’s his and keeping you far, far away from that nobody before he stole you away from him, too.

Even if you are against it, fully committed to him and him alone, he’s still going to fight. It’s what he’s done all of his life and in his mind, Ren is a threat to him and his happiness with you. He’s seen how the bespectacled boy has raised his charm, easily swaying the ladies he’s surrounded himself with, and didn’t want you to fall prey to it. He trusts you immensely—it’s largely how you even got him to open up to you: trust—but bears his teeth in challenge towards his rival. Though he may not be much of a romantic and openly flirty, he will happily send gifts your way. Clothes, gaming consoles, books, magazines, imported ingredients, whatever you want. He may have blood relations to a certain politician, but he’s more than he would ever be and won’t use dirty money for his darling. Instead, he uses his own. He has plenty saved up in a bank account thanks to his popularity and isn’t afraid to spend some on you if you ask for something or your eye lingers on something for a few seconds longer than usual, something he easily catches onto.

As said before, he keeps his cool composure to the best of his ability. He won’t let anyone unravel him so easily and refuses to ever let that happen, no matter the situation. He was used to keeping his reputation stable in front of the public eye, but all he cared about was making sure your trust and belief in him remained unwavering. But away from the public eye and deep within the Metaverse, he could let loose and release the pent up fury on whatever got in his way. Shadow after Shadow would be slain, and if he encountered a Palace ruler, he’d take his anger out on them as he did with Okumura, who deserved more than what he got if he asked him. He would never be able to do something like this in the real world, even if he wanted to. Their eyes, they were always watching him, listening to every word he said. His reputation was like glass all thanks to those damn Phantom Thieves of Hearts: quick to shatter and crumble should he make one wrong move. But he had you, and that’s all he would ever need. He had you, after all. What else could he ever need? The thought of you, his perfect darling, by his side brought him a sense of comfort, but thinking back to those who tried to steal you away from him just fueled the fire.

“They’re mine, you hear me?! They’re mine! They’re mine! They’re mine! You won’t take them away from me!”

It may take him a couple of days, sometimes more and other times less, until he’s feeling a bit better and it’s obvious by the lack of tension in his shoulders and the way he carries himself. Of course, you’d only have to have a keen eye to observe something like that, but he’d never admit to it to anyone but you if you prodded him enough. He still clings onto his anger like a helpless child, but he’s blown off enough steam to be able to keep himself calm in the public eye if someone happens to get on his nerves. But that doesn’t stop him from following you, forcing himself into your business with or without your knowledge, whether you like it or not. If he heard that you made plans with Ren, then he’d be all up in that and drop most of his plans because he “wasn’t feeling well”. Feel like someone’s watching and that you have someone staring into your head? Feel like someone’s listening? Yep, it’s Goro Akechi. Of course, he stays out of sight and remains as inconspicuous as possible from you, Ren, and his fanbase. But he is there, and he is watching for as long as you’re out with him.

He’d try to be as calm and collected about it as possible if he ends up getting caught in his stalking or other behaviors, even going as far as to pretend to be concerned. A small part of him does worry about you getting caught up in his mess, something he tries to avoid at all costs. If there’s anything he and Ren agree on, it’s not getting you involved in anything you don’t need to be. If you’re a member of the Phantom Thieves, they know you can defend yourself, but they’ve encountered Shadows and Palace rulers who (at least, initially) overpowered them and put their lives in critical danger. He normally wouldn’t care if someone got involved, he’d take care of them as needed, but this was you. His darling. He can’t lose you, and he would lose a piece of himself should anything happen to you. He didn’t want to think about having your blood on his hands and genuinely didn’t know how he would react should something happen to you that meant you left him in a way he couldn’t get you back.

“You know,” he’d start, his words drawn out for a few seconds longer than usual. His eyes remained forward, but he could feel them. The stares, the ears of the nosy crowd around them. God, he hated it. Just look away, stop listening, leave him alone! His throat became tight as he tried to contain all of his frustration and bottle it up as he always had, an unhealthy habit he had yet to break. He fixed his stance and glanced to you, a wave of calmness coming over him that was visible in his expression. His fingers, still as his hands dangled at his side and free of his briefcase, brushed against your skin, just barely curling around yours to be as subtle as possible. “He’s a criminal. Do you really want to be friends with someone who can hurt you? Don’t misinterpret my words, I’m only looking out for you and your safety. I’ll always be here to protect you. Put your life in my hands, I’ll keep you safe from harm no matter what it takes.”

© cryo-regalia, all rights reserved. do not edit, translate, or edit my work.

[belphiesreverie]

Heya my good dear Caitie waity! May I humbly request headcanons for yandere akechi and how he would try to get close to his darling? They are kind of oblivious to any red flags and how he tries to reel them in? Thank youuu 🥺💕

Hello my good dear Lena, you most certainly can. Thank you for letting me indulge in my yandere Akechi brainrot 🥺💕💕💕

Akechi is very good with his words, that much is obvious. He’s able to sweet talk his darling with no issues, knowing exactly what they want to hear. He’s so used to acting for the cameras, a little more acting to get his darling to trust him is hardly anything difficult for him

He understands the boundaries that he cannot cross at the beginning to ensure his darlings comfort. He’ll try to keep his possessiveness and his jealousy under control so as to not scare them off immediately. If he does happen to accidentally say something that makes his darling uncomfortable, he’s quick to cover it up as a joke and make them forget about it

The more time he spends with them, the more he’ll analyse their tolerance to... unique ways of showing his friendship. Slowly but surely, he’ll amp up the possessiveness, making it seem normal. Akechi is a good guy, you can trust him right? He’s just bad at relationships, he isn’t doing this on purpose

Will definitely guilt trip his darling into feeling bad for him and wanting to stop associating with him. They are all he has, they can’t just leave him because he’s a little bit too possessive over their time or his grip is a little bit too strong. If they leave him, he’ll have nobody by his side

Any friends who try and convince his darling they are spending too much time with him are the ones he convinces them to cut off first. Of course, they’re all going to be gone eventually, but getting rid of the ones who are directly opposing him to begin with is the easiest to convince his darling of. Simply telling his darling that they’re being toxic and controlling by dictating who they should be spending their time with despite the fact that’s what he’s doing and getting his darling to block them is far too easy

The hard part is trying to convince his darling to cut off the others. He has to be more discreet about this, since they aren’t doing anything outwardly that he can oppose to. Perhaps spreading some rumours about them, fabricating some accusations, telling his darling that he’s scared of them as they admitted to being a crazy fan, he’ll stoop as low as he needs to in order to secure his position as their only trusted friend. And when he gets to that point, he’ll move onto a romantic pursuit, knowing fully well how he can manipulate them. He has them in the palm of his hand after all

[wandering-hearts-and-a-crow]

Could I please have a scenario where Akechi and Akira fighting over a fem reader and just deciding to work together instead of fighting pls I love your writing!!

aaa!!! of course, little gem! i’ve actually had a similar idea and tbh you have given me an excuse to actually write it. though, to be fair, i will take any excuse to write for akechi, considering i’m more fond of him than i should be. thank you so much!

title: coexistence

pairing: yandere!akechi goro x fem!reader x yandere!akira kurusu

fandom: persona 5/persona 5 royal

tw: yandere, toxic/unhealthy behaviors, toxic/unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, emotional manipulation, akechi is emotionally dependent on the reader

Life with Akechi wasn’t terrible, more recently. It wasn’t good, but it was better than when he’d first... ‘brought you home.’ 

You really did feel bad for him. He was a lonely boy, and one that was being taken advantage of by adults around him. You hardly doubted he received any affection with substance, unlike the attention he got from his fans. So, when you decided to actually try to become his friend, it ended up like this. 

He ended up emotionally relying on you, and you had little other choice to accept it, being his anger, loneliness, or anything else. Who was going to believe some random girl when she said that the “detective prince” Akechi had been keeping her captive, after all? Very few would believe you. Many would brush it off as just you slandering him. 

You really were numb to the situation, for the most part. The one thing that kept you going was hope that you’d see Akira again. So you smiled, grinned, and bared through all Akechi had been putting you through. Right now, he was curled against you, asleep. 

He almost looked cute, like a peaceful little kid. But you knew sooner or later, you’d see his cyanide-laced smile, and you would be in for hell once more. You ran your fingers through his hair once in a while, and tried not to remember your attempt at escaping him one of the other times he did this. You nearly shuddered at the thought. 

Sighing softly, you adjusted your position slightly and closed your eyes with a small frown. You almost didn’t hear the door open as you drifted off, yourself.

-

When you woke, you saw something... unexpected. You blinked the blurriness from your eyes and stared for a few minutes, at Akira. It was a little bit of a shock to see him there. But the main reason you woke up wasn’t because of the hostility in both his and Akechi’s tones as they spoke, or the rising volume. It was because Akechi held you against him so tightly, it hurt.  “G-goro... pl-please loosen up a bit,” you murmured tiredly. “It hurts.”

“I don’t think I can let go of my most precious person when a filthy thief has come to steal her away from me. Especially since he’s had delusions about dating you since before I brought you home.” 

You looked at Akira in confusion, but his face, as always, was a mystery to you. 

“I don’t want to fight, Akechi. Just give her back, please.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Not even for my dear rival.”

It was hard to piece together the chain of events that occurred next. First, it got loud. Then, you were tossed onto the bed, behind Akechi. And, after a few moments of grappling between the two, you were now sandwiched between the two. It all happened so fast, and you couldn’t make out what they’d been saying while things had gotten physical between them, but it seemed that they came to an agreement.

It was hard enough to think about getting home with just Akechi to worry about. And now that they’d decided to coexist, Akechi and Akira weren’t going to let you go. 

[frickingnerd]

i'll keep you safe forever

pairing: goro akechi x gn!reader

summary: akechi wants to keep you away from everyone, locking you away in his appartment. but can he truly keep you to himself?

tags: yandere!akechi, akechi isolating reader, lonely!reader

“i don't wanna be here anymore…”

akechi had kept you in this lovely home, your own golden cage, where he drowned you in affection, presents and the best food tokyo had to offer. but despite all his efforts to keep you happy, you still longed to leave the apartment and see the world outside again.

“what are you saying, darling?” akechi's voice was tense, yet he tried to sound sweet. your words wounded him and he tried not to let it show. “you're safe here. i keep you safe, i give you everything you want, so what more could you want?”

“i… i love you, but–” akechi knew nothing good could come from you sugarcoating your answer with an ‘i love you’ first. “but i miss my friends…”

there was a long moment of silence. akechi wanted you to be happy, he truly did! but he knew letting you leave to see your friends, who were such an active threat to his relationship with you, wasn't possible.

“and if they got to visit you here? wouldn't it be lovely if all of us got to spend some time together?”

your friends never liked akechi much. at first, they admired the detective prince. but when they began to notice how he isolated you, they began to despise the boy for it.

“i-i'd like that very much!” you smiled softly. “it's been sooo long since i saw them…”

[shadow-scenarios]

i have a cute request!! what about a reader who was childhood friends w akechi and she wanted to grow up and be an idol to make him smile with happy songs!! n when they meet again when theyre older, she became an idol, but admits to him how she got there wasnt good n tells him about all her bad corrupt manager whos a creep :(

This is indeed a cute request, Anon!!

Hope you like what I wrote. :)

I don’t know if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic so I tried to leave it open-ended.

- Nexus.

Crow { Goro Akechi }

✧ As he was passed around from foster home to foster home, Akechi commonly found himself alone. What was the point of making friends if he was only going to be tossed away by the institutions that were claiming to take care of him?

✧ Even at such a young age, he was intelligent enough to know not to get attached. No one cared after he moved. Then he met her.

✧ She was... Interesting. Despite his stormy disposition to most of the other kids, she would always meander over during lunch. Even if he refused to speak, she would either sit in silence next to him or talk about something that interested her.

✧ Then something strange happened. He began to talk back, slowly opening up. Although it would inevitably only be a few months until he was shipped away, Akechi opened up to someone. Conversation with her was difficult because he was slightly more mature than most his age but they eventually managed.

✧ Time passed & for a moment it almost seemed as if he was going to stay at this school longer then other places. Alas, it was soon announced that he was to move someone else. As soon as he told her, he thought that she would simply just leave, ending the friendship.

✧ Instead, she proclaimed that she was going to become an idol & make him smile again with her songs... He almost cried. Holding back tears, he took her hand & promised to hold her to it.

✧ Years later, Akechi remembered her name as though it were his own. Though he never found her on any magazines, so he began to lose hope that she had forgotten their promise together.

✧ Usually, he never paid attention to transfer students at Kosei High. The rumours were ridiculous enough as it was, some famous idol who had been gaining popularity lately. Perhaps it would take some of the attention off himself so he could focus on taking down the Phantom Thieves? At least he found it to be convenient timing until this mysterious figure introduced themselves to the class.

✧ Even though she had matured, there was no mistaking it. People were excitedly asking questions about wether she was actually the idol everyone had been seeing on TV & she merely smiled, telling them that yes, she was. Akechi almost fell out of his chair as she properly introduced herself. Still the same name he had kept close to his chest.

✧ After class, many were still interested. Mostly male fans who found her attractive but she was still kind & polite to all. When she peered over at him, he almost did a double-take. Eventually, satiated with their answers, the crowd dismissed into the congregation of the school corridors, leaving the room empty.

✧ Quickly, they became fast friends again. Rumours spread about the two dating but nothing ever came of it. It was simply the press going through the motions as an attempt to make themselves relevant. Such was the life of two celebrities.

✧ When she confides in him & talks about the manager who is a creep towards her, Akechi almost snaps there & then. He asks for their name, reassuring them that he will investigate as a detective. Although he focuses mainly on the Phantom Thieves, he would never turn away from her when she needed help the most.

✧ In actuality, he heads into the Metaverse to cause a mental shutdown. He spares no mercy & ensures that they suffer, eventually meeting a bitter end as he tears the Shadow apart using Loki.

✧ There are rumours that spread when it occurs, that she murdered him to get away or other wild theories but though it all he is there, telling them that it was what they deserved for even daring to be perverted towards them. Little does she know.

Word Count: 630

Publish Date: 10.10.20

[akirawrites24]

Oooh how about some jealous Yan!Goro x reader 👀

I did this already hehe

https://www.tumblr.com/akirawrites24/723838240932626432/hello-may-i-be-fad-with-yandere-akechi-hc?source=share

[sleepyxdarling]

Yandere Couples x reader!

These were supposed to be small..but I got excited.

Triggers:abuse, Obsessed behavior, suggestive words..I dunno

-------

"sho! They won't stop hiding under the covers! I wanna kiss their cute face!"

"just force them to move it zashi.."

You tried to tune the two heroes out as you pretended to be asleep but you knew you weren't fooling them. You felt hizashi rip the covers off you which made you hiss from the cold before feeling the warmth of his body on yours. If this was any other man you would be a flustered mess but since this was hizashi you tried to kick and scream your way out of this issue. This didn't stop the hero from giving you sweet kisses on your neck though he felt your nails digging into his neck and face.

"damn it [name]! Why can't you let me love you!? I just wanna hold you and kiss you!"

You said nothing as hizashi held his face and stormed out the room angrily to get first aid. You were about to curl back asleep but you felt a cold glare on you which made you shudder before sitting up. Aizawa was glaring pretty hard and when he walked over towards the bed the first place his hands were was in your hair.

"that's not nice kitten...you hurt zashi now come and apologize" he hissed out in a low tone as he stares into your eyes. You say nothing which made aizawa growl before he sat on the bed with you over his lap

"guess this Feisty kitten needs a punishment"

Let's just say after that you gave hizashi an apology which he of course accepted.

"how many times must we go over this my dear..I am are the master and you are the doll"

The sound of akechi's teasing sadistic tone rang through your ears as you sat on your knees between his legs eyeing up at him with a look of hatred. He was a good actor you had to give him that..out there he was the Charming prince detective but behind closed doors he was sadistic and cruel. You felt his gloved hands caress your face which was a little bruised up from him punishing your constant disobedience towards him.

"hey..tell me you love me" he whispers lowly as he rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip while having this prince like smile on his face as if that would sway your answer. You hated his guts and made that very clear.

"I rather die.." you spat out and grunted out when akechi slapped you hard enough to knock you down. He stood up and grabbed you by the hair and forced you to look at him. Akechi had a feral Expression on his face as he was clearly not in the mood for your disrespect.

"say it!"

"never!"

This earned you a knee to the stomach and he dropped you to the floor before kneeling down infront of you. He grabbed you by your face and locked eyes with you and your bleeding face.

"say...you love me..[name] or I will do a lot worse"

"now now..that's enough. Goro you are always so rough"

The sound of a smooth and calm voice caused you to look over at Akira who was still in his school uniform. He walked over to you and reached out to wipe the blood off your face with his thumb and he licked the red liquid off his finger. "Hi sweetie..was goro being mean again?" He spoke teasingly before he leaned over and gave akechi a kiss on the cheek.

"you both must have had a hard day..lets all take a bath then I will make us coffee" Akira was always the one who save you from akechi but to assume he was any less obsessed was a foolish mistake. Akira looked you over and he slowly slid his glasses off before setting them aside. The sight of you all bruised up and fragile just did something to him "actually...how about I kiss your wounds better before our bath" he whispers out in a seductive tone.

Akechi gave a smile as he lifted you up and tossed you on the bed "I'll make you say you love me..we will make you scream..won't we Akira?" Akechi questions as he turned towards his boyfriend before he helped him out off his shirt while kissing along his neck..you were in for a loooong night.

"yuri! Our angel still isn't eating!"

Victor's whined to yuri who was cleaning the kitchen. Victor eyed you from across the table and gave a worried look as you simply stated at your plate without touching a single thing. You haven't been eating,sleeping, or talking to the boys for two days straight and it was driving Victor insane.

"should I cook something else? What would you like sweetie?" Yuri asked as he wiped his hands on his apron before walking over and brushing some hair from your face. Your refusal to speak made Victor whine and impatiently tap his fingers in the table. Yuri sighs and glanced at Victor "vitya..can you feed her while I finish? She needs to eat" Yuri said softly before resuming what he was doing

Victor gave a smile as he moved his seat right next to you before picking up the chopsticks and tried to feed you some food but your jaw was locked no matter how hard Victor pressed the food against your lips. Victor lets out a small sigh "I don't wanna hurt you..but you have to eat" Victor said softly before he reached and tried squeezing your face til your mouth was forced open.

Victor shoved the food inside and gave a happy smile. When he noticed you weren't chewing he simply pulled you into his lap and held your nose closed with one hand while his free arm wrapped around your waist to lock you in place. You had to swallow if you needed air. After hearing you give a harsh gulp Victor unplugged your nose before nuzzling his face against your neck "good job!" He cheers out before peppering your neck with kisses. When you gave no response Victor bit down on your neck which made you gasp.

Yuri was finished and he walked over to you both before sitting infront of you. "[Name], you have to talk to us..this game isn't very fair" he said softly and you merely looked away. Yuri let out a tired sigh before he moved from his seat to his knees on the floor "guess we have to make you sing..right vitya?" Yuri asked as he was already removing your pants while Victor was kissing your neck "as much as I would love to hear them speak..hearing them moan is just as good."