#yandere jjk

[fangdokja]

"The first time I touched death, I vowed it wouldn’t be the last."

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where death feels more intimate than life, a young criminal profiler hides a dangerous secret: an insatiable obsession with killers, driven by the thrill of catching them—and the forbidden desire to get closer than anyone ever should.

♡ Book. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF) : Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Serial Killer/s (?) x Fem. Detective! Reader

♡ Novella. Hybristophilia - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 9,380

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, suggestive themes, fear play, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of gore, implied abuse, unhealthy family dynamics

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. I was stuck in the plot introduction 70% since Dec. 22, 2024 with this work. I just couldn't get the vibes done right. Until I realized that this was 9k words and can be posted already, ahhhhhh. I literally could've posted this earlier hjadskadjdslad. This is technically really, really, REALLY old work, tbh dsfjjdfkdsl. Like same age as Paternal Privilege. Also, I was so formal before in this blog, now I'm just weird tbh. Crack energy. ngahhhh. low-key my writing vs. my personality wahhaah. Also that synopsis is just sheeeshhh. I'm so excited to write the Forbidden Fruits stories. Legit. Extremely challenging to write, but satisfying. I have an upcoming Yandere! Family, Yandere! Fans, and this one, Yandere! Serial Killers. Finally found what to do. Yes, ALL of it is smutty reverse harem stories. This Part 1 mostly focuses on Reader lore.

The rain poured like a ceaseless baptism, a torrent that washed the blood from the cracked pavement and whispered the sins of the dead into the gutter. The city was a wretched beast—a labyrinth of neon lights and suffocating shadows, where humanity festered and decay thrived. It was here, in this urban purgatory, that you carved your name into the annals of justice. Rookie detective, they called you, but you were more than that. A prodigy. A virtuoso of the macabre symphony that was murder.

You stood at the edge of the crime scene, your breath curling in the air like ghostly smoke. The corpse lay sprawled across the asphalt, limbs twisted in a grotesque parody of life. Blood had pooled beneath the body, glistening black in the dim, flickering light of the streetlamp. The victim’s face—what was left of it—was frozen in a rictus of terror, eyes wide, mouth agape in a scream that would never be heard. A masterpiece of brutality.

The others hesitated, their hands trembling as they cataloged the scene, but not you. You stepped closer, the leather of your gloves creaking softly as you crouched down to examine the remains. The scent of copper and decay clung to the air, an invisible specter wrapping itself around your senses. Your gaze traced the jagged lines carved into the flesh, the deep incisions that spoke of rage, of obsession. You didn’t flinch. This wasn’t chaos to you. It was a puzzle, and every grotesque detail was a piece waiting to be placed.

“Detective,” a voice called from behind, hesitant. “We… we’ve got a partial print. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

You straightened, the weight of your coat shifting as you turned to face the forensics tech. The young man’s face was pale, his eyes darting nervously between you and the corpse. He held out a tablet, the illuminated screen displaying a magnified fingerprint. You nodded, taking the device and scanning the data with a clinical detachment that belied the storm brewing within you.

“It’s a start,” you said, your voice as cold and sharp as the night air. “Run it against every known database. Focus on violent offenders, repeat killers. He’s not new to this.”

The tech swallowed hard, nodding before scurrying off. You turned back to the body, your mind already piecing together the profile. Male, mid-thirties to forties. High intelligence, methodical. The precise incisions suggested medical knowledge or at least anatomical familiarity.

This wasn’t a crime of passion; it was art. A performance meant to shock and awe. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be understood.

“He’s watching us right now,” you murmured, your breath ghosting over the victim’s lifeless eyes. It wasn’t paranoia. It was intuition—a sixth sense honed through years of studying the darkest recesses of the human mind. You scanned the surrounding buildings, the windows like darkened eyes peering down at you. Somewhere out there, he was hiding, basking in the chaos he had created.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You answered without looking at the screen, your voice a curt acknowledgment. “Detective speaking.”

“You’re quite something, aren’t you?” the voice on the other end drawled, rich with mockery and amusement. Male, smooth, confident. “Standing there in the rain, piecing me together like a puzzle. You’re just as brilliant as they say, maybe even more.”

Your heart quickened, but your expression remained impassive. “Who is this?”

A low chuckle, dark and velvety. “Let’s not pretend, Detective. You know exactly who I am. You’re holding my work in your hands, aren’t you? How does it feel to touch my masterpiece?”

Your grip tightened on the phone, the rain sliding off your glove like quicksilver. “Why don’t you come show me yourself? Or are you too much of a coward to face me?”

“Oh, feisty,” he purred. “I like that. But no, this is much more thrilling, don’t you think? The chase. The anticipation. You and me, dancing in the dark.”

“You won’t get away with this,” you said, your voice a blade honed to perfection. “I will find you.”

“Oh, I hope you do,” he replied, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “I’ve been waiting for someone like you, Detective. Someone who understands. Someone who can truly see me.”

The line went dead, leaving you standing in the rain with the echo of his voice lingering in your mind. A shiver coursed through you, not from the cold, but from the thrill. The hunt had begun, and you were already neck-deep in the abyss.

As the city’s lights flickered and the shadows deepened, you turned back to the crime scene. The others glanced at you, their faces a mix of awe and fear.

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. This wasn’t just a job for you.

It was an obsession, a dance with darkness where every step brought you closer to the edge. And you couldn’t wait to see how far you could fall.

────────────

The mansion you called home was a monument to perfection—gleaming marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystals, and walls adorned with paintings worth more than most people earned in a lifetime. It was the kind of place where silence reigned, not out of peace, but from suffocating control. A mausoleum masquerading as a home. The air always smelled of polished wood and cold steel, sterile and lifeless.

Your family was the kind people envied. Your father was a titan of business, a man whose name alone could inspire fear or awe depending on who spoke it. Your mother was the perfect socialite, a porcelain doll of grace and poise who never let her painted smile falter. And then there was you—the heir, the eldest child, the one meant to inherit it all.

Except no one envied you. Not if they looked closely enough.

“You’re a disappointment,” your father had said, his voice as sharp and cold as the winter air that seeped through the cracks in the mansion’s walls. He loomed over you, his tailored suit immaculate, his cufflinks gleaming like little knives. His eyes burned into you, assessing, judging, and finding you wanting. “Do you even want this life? Or are you content to sit there like a damn ghost?”

You had stared back at him, your face a mask of apathy, your eyes dull and distant. “I didn’t ask for this life,” you said, your voice flat, emotionless.

His slap came fast, sharp, and deliberate. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. “You don’t get to choose. You’re my child, and you will uphold this family’s legacy.”

Your mother had watched from the corner of the room, her wine glass clutched tightly in manicured fingers. She didn’t intervene. She never did.

You were a disappointment to her, too. You didn’t have your father’s drive or her charm. You were quiet, withdrawn, always lurking in the corners of rooms during parties, your shoulders slumped and your expression unreadable. People whispered about you. The heir to an empire, and yet you carried yourself like a ghost.

Your younger siblings—perfect in their roles—thrived under the weight of your parents’ expectations. They were ambitious, charismatic, eager to please. Everything you weren’t. You avoided them as much as you could, retreating to the library or your room where no one would bother you.

Books were your only refuge, but even they failed to hold your attention for long. You flipped through pages without absorbing the words, your mind drifting to an endless void of nothingness. School was no better. Teachers despised your lack of effort, your unwillingness to engage. You could solve equations and recite facts with ease, but you didn’t care enough to try.

“You could be top of your class,” one teacher had told you once, her voice tinged with frustration. “Why won’t you put in the effort?”

You had shrugged. “What’s the point?”

She had stared at you like you’d just confessed to a murder.

The truth was, everything felt pointless. The world was gray, flat, lifeless. Food tasted bland, music sounded hollow, conversations felt like static. The people around you moved like automatons, their voices blending into a dull hum that barely registered.

You dragged yourself through each day, waiting for something—anything—to spark life within you. But nothing ever did. You were a shell, empty and hollow, drifting through life like a leaf caught in a current.

At home, the pressure mounted. Your father’s glares grew colder, your mother’s smiles more strained. “Why can’t you be like them?” she had hissed once, gesturing toward your siblings as they basked in the glow of parental approval. “Why can’t you care about something?”

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t care about anything.

Until that day.

———

It was a Wednesday—cold, gray, and unremarkable. You had come home from school, dragging your feet up the driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges. The front door was ajar, but you didn’t think much of it. You stepped inside, the sound of your shoes against the marble echoing through the empty house.

And then you smelled it.

Iron. Sharp and metallic, it filled your nostrils, cutting through the usual sterile scent of the house.

You paused, your heart giving the faintest flutter of something you couldn’t name.

“Mom?” you called out, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

No answer.

You moved further in, the silence pressing down on you like a weight. The air grew colder as you approached the living room, the scent of blood growing stronger. Your pulse quickened—not from fear, but from something else. Something that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch.

The door was slightly open, light spilling out onto the polished floor. You pushed it open, and the world changed.

Your parents were dead.

Your mother lay on the cold tile floor like a broken marionette, her body contorted into angles no living thing could endure.

Her neck had been slit from ear to ear, the severed carotid arteries gaping open like grotesque mouths. The blood spray, arterial and bright, had painted the walls in erratic arcs, a grotesque mural of violence. Her head tilted unnaturally backward, the deep incision almost severing the spinal column.

The skin of her neck had been parted with surgical precision, revealing the glistening white cartilage of her trachea and the dark, meaty coils of severed muscle beneath. Her eyes—wide, glassy, and unmoving—stared into eternity, their sclera stained pink by ruptured capillaries.

Your father was slumped against the far wall, his body a macabre tableau of suffering.

His chest cavity had been torn open, the rib cage shattered and spread like grotesque wings to reveal the glistening viscera within. His sternum had been cracked apart, jagged shards of bone jutting outward, some piercing the flesh around them like cruel splinters. The cavity was hollow now, organs displaced or missing entirely—perhaps taken as trophies or discarded in the frenzy.

The lungs and heart remained, barely recognizable, its walls torn and sagging like deflated balloons. Blood seeped sluggishly from its ruined chambers, mixing with the viscous, bile-stained fluid pooling around his torso. His intestines, severed and spilling, snaked out across the floor in tangled loops that glistened under the harsh overhead light.

But for the first time in your life.

...

You felt alive.

The apathy that had gripped you for years shattered in an instant. Your heart raced, your breath caught, your fingers trembled. You should have been horrified. You should have screamed, cried, run for help.

But you didn’t.

────────────

You stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, as if approaching a sacred altar. The blood seeped into your sneakers, warm and sticky, but you didn’t care. You crouched beside your mother’s body, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch her lifeless face. Her skin was cold, waxy, but your pulse raced. Your fingers brushed against her blood, smearing it across your skin like a ritualistic paint.

The door creaked behind you, and you turned sharply, your heart leaping—not in fear, but in anticipation. Standing there was the man responsible, his silhouette stark against the dim light filtering in from the hallway. He was tall, his face obscured by the hood of his jacket, but you could see his eyes—cold, calculating, devoid of remorse.

He looked at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, a slow, crooked smile spread across his face.

“You’re not scared,” he said, his voice low, almost amused. “Interesting.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes locked on his. You felt something stir within you, a connection, a pull. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t want to run or scream. Instead, you wanted to understand him. To unravel the mystery of the man who had brought such beauty into your sterile, empty world.

“You’re different,” he murmured, stepping closer. His boots squelched in the blood, the sound sharp and wet. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re like me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill that you couldn’t explain. You didn’t move as he crouched before you, his gloved hand reaching out to cup your face. His touch was cold, but it didn’t bother you.

“You’ll remember this day,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “And one day, you’ll thank me.”

He stood, pulling the hood tighter around his face, and turned to leave. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t cry out or beg for help. You just sat there, staring at the blood-soaked floor, your mind racing, your heart pounding.

In that moment, something inside you shifted.

You weren’t afraid of death.

You were fascinated by it, drawn to its cold embrace like a moth to flame.

You didn’t tell anyone about the man or his words. He was your secret, a shadow etched into your soul.

With the memory of his smile lingered in your mind, he would be a ghost that would haunt you for years to come.

────────────

You didn’t know how much time passed. Minutes, hours—it was meaningless. You were kneeling in the middle of the carnage, your school uniform soaked in blood that wasn’t yours. The hem of your skirt clung to the sticky floor, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the next room filled the void of silence. The bodies of your parents lay sprawled before you like grotesque marionettes, strings cut and discarded.

You tilted your head, staring, unblinking. You traced the patterns of blood with your eyes—the way it spidered out in thin, spindly veins, pooling in the cracks of the marble. It was beautiful in its brutality, the symmetry and chaos mingling in a way that stirred something inside you.

A distant noise pulled you from your trance. The sound of footsteps. Heavy boots against the floor, muffled voices carrying through the still air. The door creaked open further, and the cold wash of blue and red lights from the police cruisers outside spilled into the room.

“Jesus Christ,” someone whispered, the words trembling on their lips.

You didn’t turn to look. You stayed where you were, your gaze locked on the corpses. The air seemed to grow heavier, oppressive with the weight of death.

“Kid?” a soft voice called out, tentative, careful. A man stepped into view, his face pale beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. He was a detective, judging by the coat slung over his shoulders. His badge glinted faintly at his hip. “Are you… Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly, tilting your head as you finally tore your gaze away from the bodies to look at him. His eyes widened slightly, and he took a step back, as though your stare had unnerved him.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion.

He crouched down, careful not to step into the blood. His face softened, his voice lowering into a soothing tone, the kind reserved for skittish animals or traumatized children. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m Detective Shiu Kong. Can you tell me your name?”

You told him, your tone as flat as ever. He glanced at the carnage behind you, his jaw tightening. “Did you see anything? Hear anything?”

You shook your head. “No. I just… found them like this.”

His eyes searched your face, looking for signs of tears, fear, something—anything. But you gave him nothing.

Another officer stepped into the room, his hand flying to his mouth as he gagged. “Oh, God… This is… It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

Detective Shiu shot him a look. “Pull it together, Itadori. Go secure the perimeter. Make sure no one contaminates the scene.”

Itadori nodded quickly and left, his footsteps retreating down the hall. Shiu turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening again. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out, I promise. But I need you to come with me, alright? Let’s get you out of here.”

He extended a hand, but you didn’t take it. Instead, you stood on your own, your legs stiff from kneeling so long. Blood clung to your shoes, leaving faint red imprints as you stepped back.

Another officer approached, this one a woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. “We’ll need to ask her some questions,” she said softly, her gaze flickering to you. “But let’s give her some time.”

You allowed them to guide you into another room, away from the bodies, though the image was burned into your mind. The house felt colder now, emptier.

Behind you, the investigators began their work. You could hear their voices, low murmurs tinged with horror and disbelief.

“The killer had to have known them. This wasn’t random.”

“Look at the precision of the wounds. This wasn’t just rage—this was deliberate.”

“There’s no sign of forced entry. They let him in.”

The words filtered through the haze in your mind, but you didn’t react. You sat on the edge of a pristine white couch, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your bloodstained fingers leaving faint smears on your skin.

Shiu knelt in front of you, his face lined with concern. “I know this is hard,” he said gently. “But we’re going to catch the person who did this. I promise.”

You met his gaze, your expression blank. Inside, though, something stirred. Catch him? You didn’t want them to catch him. You wanted to understand him.

And for the first time, you spoke a question that sounded innocent, but carried a deeper, darker hunger. “What kind of person would do something like this?”

Shiu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Someone broken. Someone dangerous. But don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

Safe. You didn’t care about being safe. You cared about him. About the mind that had created that tableau of death. About the hands that had painted your parents’ blood across the floor.

As the investigation swirled around you, as officers snapped photos and collected evidence, you sat in silence, a strange, budding fascination growing in your chest.

The world wasn’t gray anymore.

For the first time, it was alive with color.

────────────

The interrogation room was a sterile box—a windowless void bathed in the cold fluorescence of a single overhead light. It smelled faintly of bleach and despair, the walls closing in with an oppressive, airless silence. You sat in the center of it, small and motionless, like a porcelain doll abandoned on a shelf. Your hands rested on the table, palms upturned, the faint streaks of your parents’ blood still etched into the creases of your fingers.

On the other side of the glass, the detectives gathered, watching you in a hushed conference of disbelief and unease.

“She hasn’t cried,” one of them murmured, his voice tight. “Not once.”

Detective Shiu, the man who had been first on the scene, leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His brow was furrowed, his expression grim. “She’s in shock,” he said quietly. “Or maybe she’s too scared to process what happened. It’s not unusual in kids this young.”

“She’s twelve, Shiu,” another detective said, his voice wavering. “Twelve. I’ve seen kids lose it over their goldfish dying, and she’s sitting there like… like she’s made of stone.”

A younger officer, fresh out of the academy, spoke up hesitantly. “Her siblings… They’re in the next room. Crying their eyes out, clinging to the social workers like lifelines. But her? She hasn’t even asked about them.”

Shiu glanced through the glass, his gaze hardening as he studied you. “Kids process trauma differently. Just because she’s not falling apart doesn’t mean she’s not affected. Hell, it might hit her later—when she’s alone. When there’s no one left to be strong for.”

“Strong?” The younger officer scoffed. “She’s twelve. She shouldn’t have to be strong. She should be screaming for her parents.”

Shiu turned sharply to face him, his voice a low growl. “And what exactly do you expect her to do? She came home and found her parents butchered. Her entire world’s been shattered. Maybe this is her way of surviving it.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of them. Beyond the glass, you sat unmoving, your eyes fixed on the corner of the table.

“She’s been sitting like that for over an hour,” the first detective muttered, his gaze flicking nervously toward the one-way mirror. “Not a single word unless we ask her something directly. No tears, no outbursts. Nothing.”

Shiu rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into his features. “What do you want me to say? That it’s normal? It’s not. But we don’t know her. We don’t know what’s going on in her head.”

The younger officer swallowed hard, his voice dropping. “The scene was… It was bad, Shiu. Worse than anything I’ve seen in years. The bodies were staged, for Christ’s sake. Staged like it was some kind of art project. And she sat in the middle of it like she didn’t even see the blood.”

Shiu’s jaw tightened. “I saw it too, rookie. And I’m telling you, that girl isn’t our priority right now. The killer is. Focus on the evidence.”

But the rookie couldn’t let it go. “Did you notice her hands? The way she was staring at them when we brought her in? Like she was memorizing the blood. Like it was… I don’t know, fascinating to her.”

“That’s enough,” Shiu snapped, his voice a blade that cut through the room.

But the words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

The group fell into an uneasy silence as they turned their attention back to you. Inside the room, you shifted slightly, your fingers curling against the table. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as though you were cataloging each sensation—the cool surface of the metal, the faint stickiness of dried blood.

“You said she’s the eldest,” another detective said quietly, breaking the silence. “She’s probably been under pressure her whole life. Heir to the family fortune, right? Big shoes to fill, parents pushing her to be perfect. Maybe she was just… conditioned for this kind of detachment.”

“Maybe,” Shiu muttered, though the doubt in his voice was palpable. “But that doesn’t explain why she’s so damn calm. I’ve seen soldiers with less composure after a firefight.”

Another officer entered the observation room, holding a folder thick with case files and photographs. She set it down on the table with a heavy thud. “Preliminary findings from the scene,” she said. “And it’s… a mess. No forced entry, so the killer either had a key or they were let in. The wounds are precise—surgical, almost. We’re looking at someone with medical training, maybe an ex-surgeon.”

Shiu opened the folder, his eyes scanning the grisly photographs. “Anything else?”

The officer hesitated, then lowered her voice. “The way the bodies were positioned… It wasn’t random. It was deliberate. Like he wanted to send a message. And the kids’ rooms? Untouched. He had the chance to hurt them but didn’t. This was about the parents.”

“Deliberate,” Shiu echoed, his voice a low growl. He glanced at you through the glass, his gaze darkening.

“She’s a victim, Shiu,” the officer said firmly, sensing his hesitation. “Don’t let your gut get in the way of the facts.”

He nodded slowly, though his eyes remained on you. “Get a full psych eval on her as soon as possible. And keep an eye on her siblings. They’ve been through hell.”

As the others filed out, Shiu lingered, his gaze locked on your tiny figure in the interrogation room. Your face was a blank slate, devoid of emotion, your eyes distant, like you were staring into another world entirely.

“Kid,” he murmured under his breath, his voice heavy with pity and unease. “What the hell’s going on in that head of yours?”

Inside the room, you shifted your gaze to the one-way mirror, your expression unreadable. Somewhere deep inside you, beneath the calm, beneath the emptiness, a quiet, gnawing hunger began to stir.

────────────

The funeral was a cold, desolate affair. Rain fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the black umbrellas that formed a sea of mourners. The sky, a bruised expanse of gray, seemed to weep for the tragedy that had hollowed out an entire family. The scent of wet earth and wilting flowers hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sterile tang of grief and formaldehyde.

Six children stood in a line, each a mirror of their parents’ legacy. Their faces bore the delicate symmetry of their bloodline, but grief had marred their perfection. Red-rimmed eyes, trembling hands, and heaving sobs betrayed their anguish. They clung to the adults around them—grandparents, aunts, uncles—like lifelines in an unrelenting storm. All except you.

You stood apart from the others, a silent silhouette against the backdrop of the open grave. Your posture was unnervingly composed, your expression a mask of indifference. The black dress you wore hung loosely on your slight frame, rain streaking the fabric like tears you refused to shed. While your siblings cried openly, you remained still, your gaze fixed not on the caskets being lowered into the ground, but somewhere beyond—into the void.

Detective Shiu watched you from a respectful distance, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The rain plastered his raven hair to his forehead, and his trench coat was soaked through, but he didn’t move. There was something about you that gnawed at him, something that refused to be dismissed as mere shock or stoicism.

When the priest finished his sermon, the mourners began to disperse, their sobs fading into the sound of rain. Shiu approached you cautiously, his boots sinking slightly into the mud with each step. You didn’t acknowledge his presence at first, not until he stopped beside you, his voice low and measured.

“You’re a strong kid,” he said, his tone laden with the kind of empathy that came from years of witnessing human suffering. “Stronger than most adults I’ve met.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes still locked on the horizon.

He followed your gaze, finding nothing but the skeletal outline of trees in the distance. “Your siblings,” he continued, “they’ve got people to lean on. Family. Support. But you…” He hesitated, studying you carefully. “You’ve been handling this on your own, haven’t you?”

Still, you said nothing.

Shiu sighed, his breath misting in the cold air. “I know it feels like the world’s ended. Like nothing makes sense anymore. But it’s okay to let it out, you know. To feel something.”

Finally, you turned to look at him, your expression as blank as the tombstones dotting the cemetery.

Shiu’s jaw tightened, his instincts flaring. He’d spent decades reading people, peeling back the layers they tried to hide. And you… You were like a locked vault, impenetrable and cold.

But then he saw it—a flicker, brief but unmistakable. A spark of something behind your eyes when he shifted the subject.

“The case,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “We’re working hard to catch whoever did this. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll get them. I promise you that.”

Your posture changed, barely perceptible. Your shoulders stiffened slightly, and your gaze, previously distant, sharpened just enough for him to notice.

“What do you know so far?” you asked.

The question was casual, but to Shiu, it was like a flare in the dark. Most kids in your position wouldn’t want to hear the details, wouldn’t want to relive the horror. But you… You were curious.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Not much yet. We’re looking into suspects. Someone close to the family, maybe. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. It wasn’t random.”

Your head tilted slightly, your expression unreadable. “Knew what they were doing?”

“Yeah,” Shiu said, his voice lowering. “The wounds were precise. Almost surgical. This wasn’t someone acting out of rage or desperation. It was planned. Methodical.”

For the briefest moment, your lips curved into something resembling a smile, though it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Shiu’s stomach churned.

“You’re interested in the case,” he said, more of an observation than a question.

You shrugged, your gaze drifting back to the open grave. “I just want to know why.”

“Why?”

“Why they did it,” you said simply. “Why my parents. Why like that.”

Shiu studied you for a long moment, his mind racing. He could see it now, the faint glimmer of fascination in your otherwise dead eyes. It wasn’t grief that drove you—it was curiosity. And that disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

“I’ll let you know when we find something,” he said finally, his voice tight.

You nodded, turning away from him and back to the grave as the caskets disappeared into the earth.

As Shiu walked away, a cold dread settled in his chest. He didn’t have proof, not yet. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t just a victim of this tragedy. You were something else entirely. Something he couldn’t name.

And deep down, he wondered if the killer hadn’t just taken your parents. He wondered if, in some twisted way, they’d awakened something in you.

Something that would never go back to sleep.

────────────

Detective Shiu Kong leaned back in his chair, the muted hum of the interrogation room’s fluorescent lights buzzing in his ears. Across the table, you sat motionless, hands folded neatly in your lap, posture unnaturally straight for someone your age. The muted gray walls and steel table seemed to swallow you whole, a tiny figure in an oppressive void. Your face was calm, eerily so—no tears, no tremors, no reddened eyes like your siblings. Just that neutral, detached expression, as if you were waiting out a dull lecture at school.

The detective studied you, his brow furrowed. His years as a profiler had trained him to see what others couldn’t, to read the nuances of behavior that betrayed inner turmoil. But with you? It was a blank slate. No tells, no cracks in the armor. If anything, your stillness felt intentional, like the quiet before the eye of a storm.

“It takes a village to make a killer,” Shiu said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the clinical environment around you. “Someone doesn’t just wake up one day and decide to do what they did to your parents. It’s… fragile, the way a person breaks.”

You said nothing, but your gaze flicked to him for the briefest of moments before returning to the cold metal surface of the table. It wasn’t much, but he saw it—a faint glimmer of something. Interest? Annoyance? He wasn’t sure.

Shiu exhaled, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I know you don’t like to talk much,” he continued. “And I’m not here to force you. But… I’m curious. You’ve been through something no one should ever have to experience. I’d like to hear your thoughts. About the case.”

You finally moved, tilting your head slightly, your eyes narrowing as you studied him. For a moment, he thought you wouldn’t respond. Then, softly, you spoke. Your voice was quiet but carried a certain weight, an eerie calmness that unsettled even him.

“They weren’t sloppy,” you said, almost to yourself. “Not at all.”

Shiu leaned forward, elbows on the table, nodding for you to continue.

“The cuts,” you said, your tone clinical, detached. “Precise. Efficient. The carotid artery was severed on my mother. Do you know how hard it is to make that cut on the first attempt? There’s a lot of tissue in the way—muscle, skin. It’s easy to miss. But they didn’t. They knew exactly what they were doing.”

Shiu’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you unravel your thoughts.

“And my father,” you continued, your voice taking on a rhythm now, faster, like a scientist presenting a theory. “They cracked his sternum. That requires force—an immense amount of it. Whoever did this either used a tool, or they’re physically very strong. Maybe both.”

You leaned back slightly, a faint crease forming between your brows. “But it wasn’t random. They didn’t damage the lungs. Or the heart. That’s unusual for a chest cavity opening, isn’t it?”

Shiu’s lips parted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in surprise. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It is unusual. We assumed they were interrupted before finishing.”

You shook your head, the first real emotion flickering across your face—a faint, almost imperceptible trace of impatience. “No. That wasn’t the point. It wasn’t an unfinished job. It was… intentional. A display. Like they wanted us to see inside him.”

Shiu stared at you, his mind working overtime to process your words. “A display,” he repeated. “You think it was symbolic?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice tinged with a strange, almost morbid fascination. “Or maybe it’s a message. They took care to leave certain things intact. Why? If it was just rage, they’d have destroyed everything. But they didn’t. It’s methodical. Almost surgical.”

The room felt colder now, the air thick with tension. Shiu leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours. “And what do you think they’re trying to say?”

For the first time, you hesitated, your gaze dropping to the table. Then you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “That they’re better than us. Smarter. More… evolved.”

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to drop. Shiu studied you, his chest tight with unease. There was something about the way you spoke—not just the content, but the tone. Detached, yet brimming with an almost manic curiosity. It reminded him of someone dissecting a rare specimen under a microscope.

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” he said carefully.

You shrugged, your shoulders barely moving. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Everything else is just… noise.”

Shiu’s brow furrowed, his gut instinct screaming at him. “You’re not like your siblings,” he said finally. “They cry. They grieve. You… don’t.”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp and unyielding. “Is that what you want? Tears?” There was no malice in your tone, only a quiet challenge. “Would that make it easier for you to understand?”

Shiu didn’t flinch, but he felt the weight of your words settle heavily on his shoulders. “No,” he said softly. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping back to the table. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Shiu sat back, exhaling slowly.

“You’re smart,” he said finally. “Smarter than you let on.”

You said nothing, but the faintest flicker of an annoyed smile ghosted across your lips—a blink-and-you-miss-it moment that sent a chill down Shiu’s spine.

He knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you weren’t just a victim in this story. You were something else entirely. Something he couldn’t quite put into words, but that set every instinct on edge.

And as he walked out of the room that day, he made a silent promise to himself: he’d watch you. Not out of pity or duty, but because deep down, he knew that whatever path you were heading down, it was one he couldn’t ignore.

────────────

Detective Shiu Kong had seen too many young lives derailed by tragedy, twisted by trauma, but you—there was something about you that unsettled him deeply. It wasn’t just the apathy, the emptiness that radiated off you like a thick, suffocating fog. It was the moments where that apathy cracked, and something far more dangerous seeped through—an unnatural hunger, a sharpness to your gaze that reminded him of a predator observing prey.

Your family, as it turned out, hadn’t cared for you in the way families were supposed to. It was in the brittle silences of the house you were now trapped in, the way the distant relatives who took over arrangements barely addressed you, their perfunctory actions revealing more about duty than love. Your siblings clung to one another, huddling for warmth against the cold, but you stayed apart.

Always apart.

Watching.

Thinking.

Silent.

———

Shiu didn’t know what compelled him to watch over you.

He was a man who worked alone, who didn’t believe in getting attached to anyone, least of all children with gaping wounds that no amount of therapy could stitch closed.

But every instinct in his body screamed that you were a ticking bomb, and he couldn’t ignore it.

He noticed the small, alarming habits first. The way you would skip meals for days on end, your thin frame growing even thinner. The way you could sit for hours, unmoving, staring at the same spot on the wall like you were seeing something no one else could. The way you seemed to breathe only out of necessity.

Yet when the topic of death, of cases, came up, you transformed. Your eyes would sharpen, your monotone voice would take on a rhythm, a tremor of something almost joyous.

“You know, not eating won’t make the pain disappear,” he told you one day, sitting across from you in the dim light of the room you had claimed as your own. The windows were closed, the air stale.

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. But then, in the stillness, you said, “What was the autopsy report for the victim in the Wyler case?”

Shiu blinked, caught off guard. “You’re not eating, and that’s what you’re interested in?”

“Yes,” you replied simply, turning your head just slightly to meet his gaze. Your eyes weren’t those of a child’s. They were ancient and cold, dissecting him. “The way they were dismembered. There were inconsistencies in the photos. It didn’t seem... human.”

For a moment, Shiu wondered if he should leave, report you to someone better equipped to handle whatever this was.

But then he sighed, his professional curiosity outweighing his unease. “The dismemberment wasn’t human, not entirely,” he admitted. “The killer used a custom blade, likely self-made. Something serrated, designed to maximize tissue damage while minimizing effort. Efficient but cruel.”

You sat up, for the first time showing a glimmer of true interest. “Efficient but cruel,” you murmured, as if tasting the words. “Like they wanted to see how far they could go before the body failed. A test, maybe.”

Shiu raised a brow. “That’s a very specific theory.”

You shrugged. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Make theories?”

Shiu leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “You realize this isn’t normal for someone your age, right?”

“Normal is boring,” you replied, your voice flat but tinged with something darker. “And you keep talking to me. So, maybe I’m useful to you.”

Shiu didn’t have an answer to that. He didn’t want to admit you were right.

———

Over the weeks, he started bringing you details of cases—not the classified, sensitive material, but enough to give you a taste of what he was dealing with. It was against protocol, sure, but Shiu wasn’t stupid. He saw how your apathy shifted when you had something to analyze.

It wasn’t about healing you; it was about keeping you from descending into something far worse.

“What do you see here?” he asked one evening, spreading out crime scene photos on the desk between you. The images were brutal—blood splatter patterns streaked across concrete walls, a body slumped in the corner, its throat carved open with surgical precision.

You leaned in, your fingers tracing the edges of one photo. “The blood arc here,” you said, pointing to a particularly vivid spray. “It’s too high for someone who’s left-handed.”

Shiu frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“Because if they were left-handed, the angle would’ve been sharper, closer to this direction.” You gestured with your hand, mimicking the trajectory. “They used their right hand to strike, but... they weren’t dominant with it. See how the arc stutters here? Like they hesitated.”

Shiu stared at the photo, then at you. “That’s... not bad,” he said cautiously. “But why would they use their non-dominant hand?”

“To confuse you,” you replied, your tone matter-of-fact. “Throw off the profile. They’re probably ambidextrous, but they want you to think they’re clumsy. A false lead.”

Shiu shook his head, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got a knack for this.”

You looked at him, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something almost resembling emotion.

“I want to do what you do,” you said. “Study them. Understand them. I think... I could be good at it.”

Shiu’s chest tightened. He wanted to tell you no, to tell you to choose something else, something lighter, but he knew it would be a lie.

You weren’t meant for light.

You thrived in the shadows, where the unspeakable lived.

“All right,” he said after a long pause. “But if you’re serious about this, you need to take it seriously. No more skipping meals. No more locking yourself away. You put in the effort, or you don’t do it at all.”

You tilted your head, as if considering his words, and then nodded. “Deal.”

Shiu watched you carefully as you returned your attention to the photos, the faintest hint of life returning to your features. He didn’t know if he was helping you or enabling something far worse, but one thing was certain: you weren’t a victim anymore.

You were something else entirely.

────────────

The years between 12 and 18 passed like a blur of clinical precision and relentless hunger. You became the youngest graduate in criminal profiling, earning honors, accolades, and the kind of begrudging respect that even the most senior officers had to acknowledge.

But for all the brilliance you displayed on paper, your presence unnerved people. Outside of work, you remained distant, a spectral figure with dead eyes and an air of quiet detachment. In social settings, you were polite but devoid of warmth, a mannequin in human form.

In the field, however, you were a force of nature. Cases brought you to life in a way nothing else could. It wasn’t just work to you—it was an obsession, an itch buried deep in your psyche that only bloodied crime scenes and twisted puzzles could scratch.

To most, your drive was admirable, a testament to youthful ambition. To those who worked with you, it was terrifying.

———

It had been a week since the “Red Veil Butcher” case had been closed. A particularly brutal spree killer who targeted victims with surgical precision, leaving behind bodies that were less human than anatomical exhibits.

The debrief was supposed to be routine, a moment of closure for the department. The victim’s family was present, a grieving mother clutching her child’s scarf like it was the last tether to her sanity. Officers murmured words of comfort, offering coffee and awkward pats on her shoulder. You sat in the corner, silent, observing the proceedings like they were an annoying obstacle.

When one of the senior officers asked you for your thoughts, you didn’t hesitate.

“The mother missed key signs,” you said bluntly. “The killer stalked her daughter for months, even sent warning letters. She should’ve contacted the police earlier.”

The room went silent, save for the soft, choked sobs of the grieving mother. Every pair of eyes turned to you, wide with disbelief.

“Jesus Christ, have some empathy!” one of the officers hissed. “That’s her child.”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s the truth. She ignored the signs, and the result was fatal. If anything, she should—”

“Enough!” The commanding officer’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Leave. Now.”

You left without another word, though the rage simmering behind you was palpable.

———

Shiu Kong didn’t call you immediately. He waited, as he always did, giving you time to simmer in your own thoughts.

When he finally summoned you to his office, the look on his face was enough to tell you this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it.

You shrugged. “I said what needed to be said. She was negligent—”

“Stop,” Shiu snapped. “Do you think that helps anyone? Do you think saying that to a grieving mother is going to bring her daughter back? Or make her feel anything other than guilt?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It’s not about feelings. It’s about preventing the next victim. If people understood the consequences of their negligence—”

“This isn’t just about logic!” Shiu slammed his hand on the desk, making you flinch ever so slightly.

“Do you know why you’re still here, why you haven’t been pulled from this line of work entirely? Because you’re good. Damned good. But if you can’t figure out how to make people listen to you without alienating them, you’re useless. Do you understand that?”

You looked away, lips pressed into a thin line.

Shiu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I know you don’t care about people. I know empathy doesn’t come naturally to you, and I’m not asking you to fake something you’re not. But you need to learn how to communicate in a way that gets results. That means learning how to mask your apathy, at least enough that people aren’t too angry or upset to work with you.”

“That’s... illogical,” you muttered. “Why should I—”

“Because obstruction is your worst enemy,” Shiu interrupted, his tone softening slightly. “And you hate inefficiency, don’t you?”

You froze, his words striking a chord deep within you.

“You don’t do this for glory or fame,” Shiu continued.

“You do it because solving cases is what makes you tick. So think of this as another skill to master—another tool in your arsenal. Learn how to handle people, or you’ll be left behind. And I won’t be able to protect you.”

You hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine.”

———

You weren’t perfect, but you adapted. You learned how to soften your edges, how to mimic the empathy that people expected. You nodded at grieving families, offered hollow condolences, and kept your cutting observations to yourself until you were behind closed doors.

It was exhausting, like wearing a second skin that didn’t quite fit, but it worked. People stopped glaring at you. They started listening.

But in private, in the confines of your work, you were the same. Clinical. Relentless. Brilliant.

———

Shiu handed you a file one evening, his expression unreadable. “This one’s tricky,” he said. “The killer calls themselves ‘Red Rose.’ They leave roses at every crime scene, but no fingerprints, no DNA. Just the flowers.”

You opened the file, scanning the photos. The victims were posed in strange, almost reverent positions, their bodies adorned with thorny vines.

“They’re making a statement,” you said after a moment. “The roses aren’t just a calling card. They’re part of the ritual.”

Shiu nodded. “That’s what we think too. But what’s the message?”

You studied the photos in silence, then pointed to a small detail in one of the images. “Look at the way the vines are arranged. They’re covering the victim’s mouth and eyes, but not their ears. It’s symbolic. They’re saying... ‘Listen.’”

Shiu raised a brow. “To what?”

“To them,” you replied. “The killer thinks they’re silencing liars, people who ‘speak falsehoods’ or ‘see evil.’ They want their truth to be heard.”

Shiu leaned back, impressed despite himself. “You’ve got a knack for getting into their heads.”

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile. “It’s what I do.”

By 18, you had built a reputation as one of the youngest, most promising criminal profilers in the field.

But Shiu knew the truth—you weren’t doing this out of a sense of justice or duty. You were chasing something deeper, darker.

And he watched, always wary, always waiting, knowing that one day, he might have to make a choice: save you from yourself, or let you burn.

────────────

It began as a whisper, a quiet, insidious thought that crawled into the back of your mind during the early years of your work. It wasn’t the murders themselves that fascinated you—though you would sometimes lie awake at night replaying the crime scenes in your head, each bloody tableau etched with clinical precision.

No, it was the murderers. The way their minds worked, their audacity to play God.

It was intoxicating.

You told yourself it was professional interest.

Shiu Kong often praised your ability to get into a killer’s head, to see the world through their eyes. It was why you were the best.

But you knew better. There was something else, something primal and shameful, that pulled you toward them like gravity. You could feel it in your chest, a tight, hot coil of hunger every time you interrogated one.

———

The first time it happened, you told yourself it was a mistake.

A lapse in judgment.

He was a sadist, a monster who had strangled six women in their own beds. You were supposed to be observing him, studying him.

Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, your breath hitching when his hand brushed yours. He smiled—a predator’s smile, sharp and knowing. He saw right through you, into the dark, hollow place you kept hidden from everyone, even yourself.

“You love danger, don’t you?” he had whispered, his voice like velvet laced with barbed wire.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes.

Later that night, you visited him in his cell. The guards had left for their rounds, and the shadows swallowed the room whole.

It was dangerous. Reckless.

But when he pinned you against the cold, unforgiving bars, you had never felt more alive. His hands were rough, his grip bruising, and you let him do whatever he wanted.

You didn’t care about the consequences, only the searing heat in your veins and the dizzying high of being so close to death.

———

After that, it became a pattern.

You were careful—always careful. You never left evidence, never allowed your encounters to interfere with your cases. To the world, you were still the brilliant, detached profiler who closed cases with surgical precision.

But in the shadows, you lived for the moments when a killer’s hands wrapped around your throat, when you could feel their breath on your skin and the sharp edge of a blade against your flesh.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust, not in the conventional sense.

You didn’t care about them as people, and you certainly didn’t want a relationship. It was the power, the thrill of standing at the edge of the abyss and staring into the void. You were the perfect submissive, but not because you wanted to be controlled. You wanted to be consumed.

And then, when the moment came, you turned the tables.

They thought they had you, that you were theirs to break and discard. But you were always one step ahead. You let them believe they had won, let them take their pleasure and their power. And then you crushed them. Every time, without fail, you closed the case.

They ended up behind bars, or dead, and you walked away unscathed. It was a game, a twisted chess match where you always had the final move.

———

But there was one killer you hadn’t found yet. The one who had started it all.

Your parents’ murderer.

He was the first, the one who had opened your eyes to the beauty of chaos and the fragility of life.

You didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. In a way, you were grateful to him. He had given you purpose, a reason to exist.

And yet, you wanted him more than anyone else.

Not to love him. Not even to kill him. You wanted to stand before him, to feel his hands on your skin, to let him carve his mark into you like he had carved it into your family. You wanted him to take you apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

And then you would destroy him.

Each case you worked on felt like a step closer to him, even though you knew it wasn’t. You chased every lead, interrogated every suspect with the same cold, detached intensity.

But when they weren’t him, you felt a pang of disappointment, a hollow ache that no amount of blood or violence could fill.

Every killer you encountered was a pale imitation, a placeholder to fill the void until you found him. You imagined what it would be like to face him, to feel his hands on your throat, to hear his voice whispering in your ear. The thought made your heart race, your breath quicken.

And, you never stopped. You couldn’t. He was out there somewhere, watching, waiting. And you would find him.

He was the endgame, the final piece of the puzzle.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @belovedoftheanemoarchon , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud , @songbirdgardensworld , @monamuskay

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[heliosunny]

How about you could make head canons of yandere bouquet please:'(

I'd be better if you're more specific about this request since I'm not familiar with these theme, however, I'll do this instead and then you can answer in another request okay?👌 Obvi we're gonna start with our man Gojo. Fyi this is based on a recent event when I and my friend went out to buy some flowers :))))

Gojo Satoru arrived back from his mission late in the afternoon, the sunlight catching the specks of white on his uniform. You were leaning against the veranda of your small house at the edge of Jujutsu High, arms crossed, watching as he strolled up the path. Despite his usual confident stride, there was a rare softness to him, a calm that didn’t quite suit the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey!” he greeted casually, dusting himself off. A few delicate white petals fluttered to the ground as he moved.

You tilted your head, pointing at his shoulder. “You’ve got flowers on you.”

He paused, plucking one of the tiny blossoms from his sleeve and holding it up between his fingers. It was small and pure white, with a faint fragrance that was nearly imperceptible. “This? Didn’t even notice.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s Spiraea thunbergii. People call it the bridal wreath sometimes. It’s delicate, but resilient. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Bridal wreath?” He raised an eyebrow, twirling the petal between his fingers. “Sounds dramatic. What’s it mean?”

“Devotion. Sometimes purity” you explained. “It’s supposed to symbolize something precious, but it also has a bit of a double meaning. Some people think it’s a little… too devoted.”

Gojo hummed, letting the petal fall to the ground. “Interesting.” He didn’t say anything else about it, but his expression lingered in your mind long after he walked away.

You hadn’t thought much of the conversation, but two days later, Gojo showed up unannounced at your door, a pot of Spiraea thunbergii in his hands.

“Satoru?” you asked, blinking in surprise as he thrust the potted plant toward you.

“You said you liked it.” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t mean I needed a whole plant.” you replied, though you still took it from him. The blossoms were pristine, their petals shining under the afternoon light.

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You’ve got a small place. Figured it could use something pretty.”

You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes. “You mean you figured I could use something pretty.”

He smirked, not denying it. “Maybe.”

Gojo’s visits became more frequent after that.

As childhood friends, you’d always been close despite the vast difference in your social standing. He was Gojo Satoru, the untouchable heir of the Gojo clan, the strongest sorcerer alive. You were nothing more than a minor branch family member, looked down upon by the elders and treated as a tool rather than a person.

You’d always appreciated that Satoru treated you differently—like a friend instead of someone beneath him. But lately, his attention felt… heavier.

He’d show up uninvited, always with an excuse. Sometimes it was a new snack he thought you’d like; other times, he’d act like he just happened to be in the area.

The pot of Spiraea had taken a permanent spot on your windowsill, its blossoms thriving under your care. Every time he saw it, Gojo would grin, almost like he was proud of it.

“Still alive, huh?” he teased one day, sitting cross-legged on your couch as you watered the plant.

“Plants are easier to take care of than people,” you replied, glancing at him pointedly.

He chuckled, but there was something in his gaze that made your stomach twist. “Good thing I’m not easy to get rid of, then.”

The turning point came when you overheard the elders speaking about you one night.

“She’s a liability.” one of them said coldly. “Nothing but a burden. The only reason she’s still here is because of Gojo.”

The words cut deep, but they weren’t surprising. You’d known your place in the hierarchy since you were a child. Still, it hurt to hear it so plainly.

You were sitting outside your house that evening, staring at the Spiraea blossoms, when Gojo appeared. He didn’t announce his presence, but you felt the shift in the air, the subtle hum of his Infinity wrapping around the space.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” he asked softly, his voice unusually serious.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m used to it.”

He knelt beside you, his tall frame casting a shadow over the flowers. “You shouldn’t be.”

“It’s not like I can change their minds...” you said bitterly.

Gojo’s hand brushed against your cheek, turning your face toward him. His blindfold was gone, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t have to. They don’t matter.”

“Satoru…”

“They don’t matter” he repeated, his tone sharper this time. “You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

The next morning, you found another pot of Spiraea on your doorstep. This one was larger, its blossoms spilling over the edges like a waterfall.

Gojo’s note was simple:

“I’ll always take care of you, no matter what they say.”

The sight of the flowers, so beautiful yet suffocating, made your chest tighten. Gojo’s devotion was like the Spiraea—delicate, persistent, and impossible to escape.

[shizuturnspages]

Yandere Geto Suguru with a Non-Sorcerer Darling Who Opposes His Goals

Conflicted Obsession:

❥ Geto is torn between his disdain for non-sorcerers and his overwhelming affection for you. You’re the exception to his philosophy, the one non-sorcerer he sees as worthy. It drives him mad, knowing that his ideals should make him hate you, but instead, he can’t stop craving your presence.

❥ “You’re different,” he insists, his tone soft but firm. “Not like the rest of them. You belong with me.”

Twisted Protection:

❥ Geto believes that by keeping you close, he’s shielding you from the world he plans to reshape. He convinces himself that isolating you from other non-sorcerers is for your own good—they’re “beneath” you, after all.

❥ If you argue that you don’t agree with his goals, he brushes it off with a chilling smile. “You’ll understand one day,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m doing this for us.”

Manipulative Tactics:

❥ Geto is a master manipulator, subtly twisting your words and emotions to make you question your stance. If you voice opposition, he’ll turn it back on you, making it seem like your disagreement stems from ignorance rather than genuine belief.

❥ He might say things like, “You’ve seen how cruel the world is to people like me. How could you side with those who’ve hurt us?” His words are designed to plant doubt and guilt, ensuring you feel tethered to him even if your values clash.

Subtle Isolation:

❥ While Geto doesn’t openly imprison you, he ensures you’re cut off from anyone who might challenge his influence. Friends who disagree with him conveniently “disappear” from your life, and he replaces them with people loyal to his cause—or just himself.

❥ If you try to leave or seek help, you’ll find that his network is vast, and there’s nowhere to hide. He’s relentless, ensuring that you’re constantly reminded that his reach is inescapable.

Obsession Disguised as Devotion:

❥ To Geto, his love for you is pure and unwavering, even if it manifests in terrifying ways. He views his actions as necessary sacrifices for a greater cause—keeping you by his side, even if it means breaking you down emotionally, is a small price to pay.

❥ “You’re all I have left that’s good in this world. Don’t take that away from me,” he says, his voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and menace.

The Dichotomy of Love and Hatred:

❥ There are moments when Geto’s disdain for non-sorcerers clashes with his love for you, creating a volatile mix of emotions. He’ll lash out verbally or grow cold, only to apologize profusely later, claiming he’s under stress and you’re his only solace.

❥ Deep down, he fears that his feelings for you make him weak, and this fear fuels his more controlling tendencies.

Scenario: The One Thing That Doesn’t Fit

The room was dim, the only light spilling from a single flickering bulb hanging overhead. You stood near the door, your posture tense, your fists clenched at your sides. Across the room, Geto sat on the edge of a wooden table, his usual calm demeanour betrayed by the subtle tap of his fingers against the surface.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you snapped, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with anger. “What you’re doing is wrong, Suguru. You can’t just wipe out people because they don’t have sorcery.”

Geto tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Wrong?” he echoed, his tone almost amused. “Darling, wrong is letting weaklings like them exist in a world they can’t possibly understand. I’m creating balance. Order.”

You shook your head, stepping closer despite the unease that crept up your spine. “You’re not a god. You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”

The smile slipped from his face, replaced by a look that sent a chill down your spine. He rose to his full height, crossing the room in a few deliberate steps until he was standing inches from you.

“I may not be a god,” he said, his voice low, his eyes boring into yours. “But I’m the closest thing this broken world has. And I can’t stand by and watch you side with them—those who would hurt you, exploit you, destroy you if they had the chance.”

“They haven’t hurt me,” you shot back, refusing to back down. “And they wouldn’t. Not everyone is like that, Suguru. You’re lumping everyone into one category just because they’re different.”

His hand shot out, gripping your chin—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make you look at him. “You don’t see it,” he said, his tone almost mournful. “You don’t see the danger they pose. But that’s okay.” He softened his grip, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “That’s why I’m here—to protect you, even from your own naivety.”

“Protect me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “You’re not protecting me, Suguru. You’re controlling me. And I won’t let you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then he chuckled—a low, bitter sound that made your chest tighten.

“You think you have a choice?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement and something darker. “You think you can just walk away from me? From this?”

He reached out again, this time taking your hand in his. His grip was gentle, almost tender, but the look in his eyes betrayed the steel beneath the surface.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Mine to protect, mine to love. And if that means keeping you away from those who don’t deserve you, then so be it.”

You yanked your hand free, your frustration boiling over. “I’m not yours, Suguru! I’m my own person, and I’ll decide who deserves my time—who deserves my love.”

His expression darkened, the room seeming to grow colder as his smile returned—this time, sharper, more dangerous.

“You’re right,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “You are your own person. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone else have you.”

As the weight of his words settled over you, you realized just how deep his obsession ran. To him, you weren’t just a person. You were a symbol—a shining example of what he believed the world could be if it were purged of its impurities. And he would stop at nothing to keep you by his side, even if it meant tearing the world apart in the process.

[yanderenightmare]

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

♡ FEM reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s hungry.

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

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

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

What the fuck’s going on with you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

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

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡ INSPO

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

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

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[valleydoli]

𐙚 Ao3 Fics I’ve read and love 𐙚

𐙚 infidelity by @tawus (completed)

gojo x fem reader

Your marriage to Gojo Satoru lost its initial excitement, since your husband spent all his time either at Jujutsu Tech or on exorcism missions across the world. To ease your loneliness, you picked up your favorite pastime from your student years — clubbing — behind his back. Too bad that on Satoru’s most recent mission he spots his wife dancing in a nightclub with a bunch of guys in the skimpiest dress he has ever seen on her…

𐙚 desert rose by @sadistic-kiss (on going)

all jjk men x fem reader 😭

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𐙚 mascara by @/softstellars (on going)

geto x fem reader

You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself. For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her. It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger. And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.

𐙚 a pearl by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

The Fushiguros needed a nanny, and the pay was too good to not apply, especially since your family needed financial help. You were the perfect nanny for the kids, they loved you as if you were their own mother. Slowly, you built up the perfect relationship with the family. Especially with Mr. Fushiguro. A man who would constantly visit you after dark. A man who you thought had sincere intentions but at the end of the day didn't care about you. A selfish man who just saw you as a tool to make his wife mad. A man who didn't care about you but didn't want you with anyone else. A man that took away your ability to know what a healthy relationship was. You couldn't speak up about it since all the fault would fall at your feet and would be deemed as the "homewrecker".

𐙚 you, my angel and my saint by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

sequel to a pearl!

After having an affair with your boss, you're left to deal with the consequences, those being: two exhausting new jobs and a child. A child that he never got to know the existence of. Now all you had to do was keep her hidden, which should be an easy task, right?

𐙚 rings by @/bungeemum (on going)

toji x fem reader

you divorced the man in front of you for a reason. so why was he standing on your doorstep, guilt plastered on his face, and eyes glinting with hope?

𐙚 a dangerous game by @/anaoyuo (completed)

gojo x fem reader

geto x fem reader

Both men agreed to a game about who fucks you first, but they didn't play their cards right. Gojo and Geto changed the course of the game when they decided to keep you around for way longer than intended, making you fall for their sweet way to deprave you, and now you have to face the consequences in a gamble that they call their life.

𐙚 fate’s gamble by @/anaoyuo (on going)

gojo x fem reader

geto x fem reader

sequel to a dangerous game

缘分— a story about predestined affinity, set in a world where the intoxicating thrills of wealth intertwine with amorality.

𐙚 him & i by @pharixden (on going)

gojo x fem reader

toji x fem reader

sukuna x fem reader

A cheating husband, a widowed bodyguard and a malevolent fling of the past who owes a favour isn’t a combination for the faint of heart, but not every girl is a damsel in distress.

𐙚 changes by @lemonlover1110 (on going also on tumblr!)

gojo x fem reader

From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation. Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same. Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.

𐙚 the man in apartment 381 by @lemonlover1110 (completed also on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

Looking for a new beginning after the death of your husband, you move away from town. That's when you meet him, Toji Fushiguro, a widower with a three-year-old son. You two understand each other, which draws you close. Except you two don't realize that feelings would eventually develop, and neither of you want that. Feelings are the last thing you two want after finding out the great damage that they can cause. When you two discover this, it's too late.

𐙚 4th avenue viewing by @/softstellars (completed)

nanami x fem reader

Nanami Kento is intelligent, serious, reserved and can easily catch someone in a lie. It's his job to do just that, he's renowned for it. So when he comes to your university to offer up an internship, it's quite the opportunity. Anyone would jump at the chance, except for you. But no, you just had to be the one caught in a lie.

𐙚 forgotten souls by @/killerpoultry & @/bebobopobo (completed)

sukuna x fem reader

You and Sukuna have been married for years. Even though he is brash, mean, and sadistic, you love him more than anything. While he may not show it much, he truly loves you too. One day you get into a terrible car accident and lose all your memories. You learn to live once more while Sukuna must now get you to fall in love with him all over again.

𐙚 love kills by @/sourome (on going)

i actually don’t know 😭 i think toji x fem reader

The wealthy and successful Zenin family, well respected and seemingly perfect. But all that glitters is not gold. Toji Zenin, CEO and face of the Zenin Group acts like a gentleman but is a vile creature that has ruined many lives, such as yours. That married man dared to play with your mother’s heart many years ago, destroying her sanity and her life and ultimately killing her. Now years later and being all grown up you decide to seek revenge, he deserves to suffer that same destiny and die of love. With the help of a few friends you plan to become a part of his life and his every thought but you didn't take into account his son, that man had the potential to turn your plans upside down.

𐙚 the black swan by @uselesslydamaged (completed)

sukuna x fem reader

Loving someone is easy, but experiencing it is harder.

𐙚 bodyguard by @/succybuss (on going)

toji x fem reader

Your Grandfather, a man involved in unsavory businesses that has taken you under his wing, has informed you that you will be under the care of a full-time Bodyguard. Unhappy with your grandfather's decision, you decide to go out for a night of drinking for your last night of freedom. There, you encounter a man you planned on taking home, but life had other plans in store for you...

𐙚 violet lights by @septembersummer (completed)

gojo x fem reader

In which you're at a party that you should've skipped when you capture the attention of a boy who looks like an angel and grins like the devil. He looks beautiful in the neon lights, and maybe you just want to make your ex-boyfriend jealous, but trouble with a tongue ring does sound like fun, just for tonight. What's the worst that could happen, you know?

𐙚 starboy by @septembersummer (completed)

gojo x fem reader

sequel to violet lights

After your ex-boyfriend gets arrested on national television, you find yourself realizing that you really didn’t know much at all about Gojo Satoru. Well, he’s better known in the Yakuza as The Six Eyes, not that he ever told you that.

𐙚 sweet little lies by @/mooglepaws (on going)

toji x fem reader

Megumi Fushiguro is the perfect Fiancé. Caring, loyal, successful, devastatingly handsome and crazy in love with you. So how and why do you end up fucking his Dad? As your wedding looms and the consequences of your affair unfold, you have to make a choice between the Fushiguro men.

This is a Toji x Reader x Megumi but the smut is almost exclusively Toji x Reader focusing on their affair.

𐙚 the twist of a knife by @darkcat23 (on going)

gojo x fem reader

This world is dull, colourless in your eyes. You are just trying to keep going with your life, not bothering anyone, trying to support your mother and yourself. So what happens when you agree to help your ex one night? And what if you catch the attention of a certain white haired assassin? And he shows you just how colourful this world truly is. or, a story of a girl with a violent mind and a boy with violent tendencies, finding each other, intertwining, and feeding off one another. perhaps it is fate that has brought them together. or perhaps it's something more sinister, something more cold.

𐙚 untameable waves by @/circedemedici

(unknown i guess hopefully i can let you know)

has been taken down i dont know if it’ll come back but if it does i’ll link it! but i’m leaving it here because it was most definitely my favourite :(

please let me know any other fics you’ve read because i love reading fics with a LOT of plot and also let me know if you end up reading any and you enjoy them as much as i did! :3

i think i used every tag known to man LOL 𐙚

[kekewrites]

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

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

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

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

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

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

***

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

It's adorable really.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

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

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

"Sweetie?"

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

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

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

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

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

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

So why?

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

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

It was gross. He never did that to you.

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

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

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

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

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

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, you don't care anymore.

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

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

"H-Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breed?

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

Wait...!

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

Too much!

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

So full...

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

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

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

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

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

[yandere-daydreams]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[aajjks]

tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

[the-grimm-writer]

Thinking about obsessive boyfriends <33

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

[heliosunny]

Hi, I have a request for sashisu again.

You could have Sashisu kidnap the reader out of jealousy and try to make the reader develop Stockholm syndrome but the reader is too scared and whiny for anyone to come close to trying to manipulate them.

So Sashisu would try to force him to do things through drugs (medications administered by Shoko) oh and if the reader tried to escape they would possibly perform surgery on them without consent

(Well, if you don't understand, I want the reader to suffer in any way possible With yandere sashisu) (ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ)

Content Warning: This story contains themes of non-consensual medical procedures, physical incapacitation, psychological manipulation, and captivity.

The night your life changed started like any other. After a long day of work, you took your usual shortcut home, through the abandoned hospital that loomed on the edge of the city. It wasn’t the safest route, but it saved time, and despite its reputation for being haunted, you’d never been one to buy into ghost stories. Tonight, though, something felt different.

The air inside was thick, as if it carried weight. Each step echoed too loudly, and every shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally. You told yourself it was just your imagination, but your heart began to race all the same.

You were halfway through the building when the first sound came—a low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate in their chest.

“Hello?” Your voice trembled as you turned in circles, but the hallway was empty.

A sudden crash made you jump as part of the ceiling caved in just ahead. Dust and debris rained down, and through the haze, you saw him.

“Get out of the way!” the man shouted, his voice sharp but playful. He was tall, with stark white hair and a blindfold covering his eyes. He moved impossibly fast, dodging falling rubble as though it were nothing.

Before you could react, two others appeared: a dark-haired man with piercing eyes and an air of quiet authority, and a woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips, her expression unreadable.

“Satoru, stop showing off!” the dark-haired man said, his tone calm but commanding.

“You’re such a buzzkill, Suguru,” the man in white—Gojo Satoru—replied with a grin, before turning to you. “And who’s this? You lost, kid?”

“I-I was just—”

“Doesn’t matter” the woman cut in, her voice flat. “You’re in the way.”

The next few minutes were a blur of chaos. The trio fought something you couldn’t see—an invisible force that roared and lashed out, sending shockwaves through the walls. You could feel the sheer intensity of whatever it was, like a living storm pressing down.

When it was over, the three regrouped. Gojo leaned against a wall, his grin as cocky as ever.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, glancing at you. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Satoru” Suguru said, his tone laced with warning.

“Fine, fine. Hey, kid, you might wanna head home. This isn’t a place for normies.”

You nodded shakily and stumbled out of the building, leaving the trio behind. But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“You see that?” Gojo asked, glancing at his two friends.

“Pfft, obviously” Shoko replied, exhaling a puff of smoke. “They sure attract curses around them. Might as well help you get some powerful curses.” She flicked her cigarette and looked pointedly at Suguru.

Suguru gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. “It’s possible. There’s something... unique about them.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “I like unique.”

-----

The next time you saw them, it was in an entirely different setting. You were at your usual café, sipping on a hot drink and trying to forget the events of that night.

“Fancy seeing you here~” a familiar voice chirped.

You looked up to see Satoru or whatever people call him..., well it's literally impossible to forget people as weird as him, his signature grin plastered across his face. He sat down uninvited, plucking a sugar packet from the table and tearing it open.

“What are you drinking? Let me guess… something sweet, right?”

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice defensive as you leaned back.

He shrugged. “Can’t a guy enjoy a good coffee? Or maybe I just wanted to check on you. You looked pretty shaken up the other night.”

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over the table. Suguru stood there, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Satoru, you’re being annoying.”

“Aw, come on, I’m making friends!” Gojo replied, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You tensed at the sudden contact and tried to shrug him off. “I don’t even know you!”

“We’ll fix that!” Gojo said with a wink, ignoring your protests.

Over the next few weeks, the trio seemed to insert themselves into your life.

Gojo was the most persistent, always showing up unannounced with his endless stream of jokes and playful jabs. Despite his arrogance, you couldn’t deny that he had a certain charm. He’d bring you little gifts—your favorite snacks, a scarf when the weather turned cold, always with the excuse that he’d just “happened to see it” and thought of you.

Suguru, on the other hand, was quieter but no less present. He had an air of authority that made it hard to argue when he insisted on walking you home or helping with errands. There was something almost comforting about his presence, even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Shoko was the most enigmatic. She’d show up unexpectedly, offering to check on your health or patch up minor scrapes and bruises you didn’t even remember getting. Her dry humor and no-nonsense attitude made her seem distant, but there was a warmth to her actions that you couldn’t ignore. ---- You were with a friend, walking through the bustling streets, when the ground beneath your feet trembled. A massive explosion echoed in the distance, and you could feel a pressure in the air, an almost tangible wrongness.

“Go home!” you told your friend firmly. “I’ll catch up later.”

Without waiting for a response, you sprinted toward the source of the disturbance. What you saw stopped you in your tracks: Suguru, Shoko, and Gojo locked in battle against a monstrous, swirling mass of cursed energy.

Shoko fell first, shielding Suguru from a direct hit. You didn’t think—you ran to her side, dragging her to safety and doing your best to patch her up with trembling hands.

“Please don’t die...” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I hate seeing people die in front of me.”

When the battle ended, Suguru and Gojo found Shoko safe and breathing, but you were gone.

For them, gratitude turned into obsession. ------ From that day on, their presence in your life became suffocating. They seemed to be everywhere—watching, intervening, inserting themselves into your routine under the guise of protection.

You tried to escape, even considered moving to another city, but they were always one step ahead.

“Out there, you’re vulnerable.” Suguru said one evening, his tone calm but unyielding. “Here, you’re safe.”

“You don’t get it” Gojo added, his usual playful grin absent. “You’re not just another bystander. You’re special.”

Shoko, meanwhile, insisted on monitoring your health. The treatments she gave you left you feeling foggy and weak, but you couldn’t fight back.

When you finally tried to run, their carefully crafted masks of control shattered. ----- They took you to a secluded mansion, a sprawling estate surrounded by dense forest. They told you it was for your safety, that the world outside was too dangerous for someone like you.

Gojo staged fake curse attacks whenever you talked about leaving, using his powers to create convincing illusions of danger.

“See that?��� he’d say, pointing at nothing. “That’s what’s waiting for you out there. You really wanna face that alone?”

Suguru was subtler, planting seeds of doubt about the outside world. “Non-sorcerers like you are always at risk. Out there, you’re a target. Here, you’re safe.”

Shoko insisted on giving you 'protective treatments' though the medications made you feel foggy and weak.

Despite their efforts, you resisted. You questioned their motives, pointed out inconsistencies, and refused to comply quietly.

Their frustrations boiled over, leading to heated arguments.

“You’re too reckless, Satoru” Suguru snapped during one confrontation. “You’re scaring them.”

“And you’re too soft!” Gojo shot back. “We wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me handle it.”

Caught in the middle, Shoko grew increasingly guilt-ridden. But when Gojo pressured her to perform a minor surgery—implanting a tracker under your skin to prevent further escape attempts—she complied, though her hands shook the entire time.

When you woke, the pain was unbearable. You cried and begged for answers, but none of them would meet your gaze. ----- The once serene mansion had become a battlefield of words. For weeks, you had noticed cracks forming in the trio's relationship—disagreements, tension, and quiet resentment simmering beneath the surface. Tonight, however, it finally erupted into chaos.

It started with Suguru’s voice, low and measured but laced with frustration.

“You’re reckless, Satoru. Always have been. You act like this is some game, but it’s not. This is their life we’re dealing with.”

“Oh, come on!” Gojo shot back, his voice rising. “You’re the one complicating things! If you’d just listen to me for once, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“You’re delusional” Suguru hissed, his composure slipping. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? The fake curse attacks, the lies—do you honestly think this is sustainable? You’re only making it worse.”

Gojo stepped forward, his blindfold barely hiding the sharp gleam of his eyes. “And what would you do, huh? Let them leave? Let them walk right into danger? You’re the one who’s soft, Suguru. You think the world out there is safe for someone like them? It’s not.”

“They’re not your plaything, Satoru!” Suguru’s voice thundered through the halls, startling even Shoko, who had been silently watching from the corner.

“They’re not yours either!” Gojo shot back, his tone dangerously low. “But at least I’m doing something to keep them safe. You’re just sitting there, pretending to be the voice of reason while doing nothing.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re a coward.”

The tension in the room was suffocating. Shoko finally stepped forward, her cigarette balanced between her fingers, her expression unreadable.

“Both of you need to shut up.” she said flatly, her voice cutting through their argument. “You’re scaring them.”

She glanced toward you, and for a moment, the two men followed her gaze. You were standing in the doorway, trying to look as small and inconspicuous as possible, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

For a brief second, Gojo and Suguru’s anger faltered.

“Great” Gojo muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Now you’ve made them think we’re the bad guys.”

“You’re doing a fine job of that yourself.” Suguru replied coldly.

“Guys...” Shoko’s voice had an edge of warning. “Not now.”

But Gojo wasn’t done. He turned back to Suguru, his grin returning, but it was strained, almost forced.

“You know what? Maybe you’re jealous.”

Suguru blinked, his expression darkening. “What?”

“Yeah,” Gojo continued, his tone mocking. “You’re jealous because they trust me more than you. Admit it.”

“That’s ridiculous” Suguru snapped, his composure finally breaking. “This isn’t about trust. This is about you being a selfish, egotistical—”

“Stop!” Shoko’s voice rose, sharper than you’d ever heard. But the two ignored her.

Their voices rose, overlapping each other, accusations flying like daggers. The air between them felt charged, as if a fight were about to break out.

And that’s when you made your move.

You had been planning this moment for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Their escalating argument was the distraction you needed. While their voices echoed through the halls, you slipped out of the room and into the shadows, your footsteps as silent as possible.

The plan wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. You just needed to get far enough away before they noticed.

As you crept down the hallway, their voices grew fainter, though you could still hear snippets of their fight.

“Do you even care about them?” Suguru was shouting.

“Of course I do!” Gojo snapped back. “More than you ever could!”

“You’re going to get them killed, Satoru!”

“And you’re going to let them die!”

Their words blurred together, a cacophony of anger and frustration that spurred you forward. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached the front door, the cool night air just within reach.

But freedom wasn’t guaranteed. You knew they would notice your absence soon, and when they did, they would come for you.

Just as your hand touched the door handle, you heard a crash from behind you. The sound made you freeze, your breath caught in your throat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gojo’s voice was calm, too calm, and when you turned, you saw him standing at the end of the hallway. His grin was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating expression that sent a shiver down your spine.

Suguru and Shoko appeared moments later, their faces a mix of anger and disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have run” Suguru said, his tone eerily quiet.

Shoko didn’t say a word, but the syringe in her hand told you everything you needed to know.

“Please...” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “Just let me go!”

Gojo’s expression softened, but it wasn’t comforting. It was almost pitying.

“Shh” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’re safe now. We’ll take care of you.”

------ One other time. “You should’ve trusted us” he said softly, his tone almost gentle, as if speaking to a child who had wandered too far from home. “We told you this world was dangerous, didn’t we? And look what happened—you tried to run and almost got yourself hurt.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for you!” you snapped, your voice trembling.

The words barely left your lips before Suguru stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowing. There was no anger in his expression—just cold, unrelenting authority. He grabbed your wrist with a grip that was firm enough to make you wince.

“Don’t speak to Satoru like that” Suguru said, his voice dangerously low. “He’s the only reason you’re still alive. You don’t even realize how much we’ve sacrificed for you.”

His grip tightened, and you yelped in pain, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should be grateful.”

Shoko was the last to approach, standing just behind the two men. Her usual detached demeanor was gone, replaced by something colder, more clinical. She held up the syringe, the liquid inside glinting ominously in the dim light.

“We can’t keep doing this” she said, her tone emotionless. “They need to understand. Otherwise, they’ll just keep trying to run.”

Your heart sank as you realized what she meant.

“No” you whispered, shaking your head. “Please, no. I’ll stay. I promise. Just—just don’t do this.”

“Too late for that” Gojo said with a smirk. “You already broke the rules. Now we have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Before you could react, Suguru yanked you forward, pinning your arms behind your back. You thrashed and kicked, but his strength was overwhelming, like trying to fight against an iron wall.

“Hold still” he muttered, his tone devoid of any warmth.

Shoko approached, her movements slow and deliberate. She knelt beside you, the syringe gleaming in her hand. You could feel the cold sweat on your skin, the adrenaline surging through your veins as you begged them to stop.

“Please” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t—don’t do this.”

Shoko hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place—remorse? Guilt? Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“This is for your own good” she said quietly, plunging the needle into your arm.

The pain was immediate, a searing burn that spread through your veins like fire. Your vision blurred as your body betrayed you, your muscles growing weak and unresponsive. You collapsed into Suguru’s arms, your strength drained.

“There” Shoko said, standing up and stepping back. “That should keep them calm for a while.”

“Good” Suguru said, his grip on you loosening just enough to shift you into Gojo’s arms.

Gojo cradled you like a child, his grin softening into something disturbingly tender. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You wanted to scream, to fight, but your body wouldn’t respond. Your head lolled against his chest as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

They carried you deeper into the mansion, past locked doors and darkened hallways. You tried to memorize the twists and turns, but the drug clouded your mind, leaving you disoriented and helpless.

Finally, they reached a room you hadn’t seen before. It was small and windowless, with only a single bed and a table in the corner. The walls were bare, the air stifling.

“This will be your new room.” Suguru said, setting down a tray of food on the table. “You’ll have everything you need here.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.” Gojo added, his voice unnervingly cheerful. “We’ll take care of you.”

They placed you on the bed, tucking you in as if you were fragile porcelain. Your limbs felt like lead, your head pounding as you tried to fight the haze.

“I don’t want this” you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible.

“You don’t know what you want” Suguru said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But we do. And we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Shoko leaned against the door frame, lighting a cigarette. “They’ll adjust” she said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Eventually.”

Gojo chuckled, his grin widening. “Yeah, they’ll see. This is for the best.”

As they left the room, the door clicked shut behind them, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing in the silence.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your tears soaking into the pillow. The weight of your situation pressed down on you like a vice, suffocating and inescapable.

Days turned into weeks. They kept you under constant watch, monitoring your every move. The medication Shoko gave you left you groggy and weak, unable to muster the strength to resist.

Gojo visited you the most, his cheerful demeanor masking the darkness in his eyes. He would bring you books, snacks, and trinkets, insisting that this was your new life now.

Suguru was colder, his interactions brief but firm. He made it clear that any attempt to escape would be met with severe consequences.

Shoko, though less frequent in her visits, always brought her medical tools, ensuring you stayed physically healthy but mentally subdued.

Every day, you pleaded with them, begged for your freedom, but your words fell on deaf ears. ----- The days passed in a suffocating blur of confinement and despair. Every attempt to fight back, every plea for freedom was met with indifference or worse, a chilling kindness that made you feel even more helpless.

But the worst came one fateful night. The air in the mansion felt heavier than usual, a palpable tension lingering in the halls. You had begun to regain some of your strength, your mind slowly clearing from the drugs Shoko had been giving you. You thought maybe—just maybe—you could escape again.

That hope was short-lived.

Gojo entered your room without warning, his usual grin absent. He carried you easily despite your protests, despite the weak thrashing of your limbs.

“Enough games” he said, his tone low and serious. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t leave us. We won’t let you. So, we’re going to make sure you stay.”

The words sent a chill down your spine.

Suguru and Shoko were waiting in another room, one you hadn’t seen before. It was cold and sterile, its metal surfaces reflecting the dim light of a single overhead bulb. A surgical table sat in the center, surrounded by trays of instruments that gleamed ominously.

“No” you gasped, your voice trembling as they set you down on the table. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll stay—I swear I’ll stay! Just don’t—”

“Shhhh” Shoko interrupted, her voice calm but detached as she prepared a syringe. “This is for your own good.”

“You tried to leave us” Suguru said, his voice carrying a quiet menace. “You forced our hand. This is your fault.”

Gojo leaned over you, his face so close that you could see the faint glow of his bright blue eyes behind the blindfold. “It won’t hurt for long. You’ll thank us later.”

You screamed, begged, and struggled, but it was no use. Shoko injected you with something, and the world began to tilt. You couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the drug, but soon, your limbs felt heavy, your movements sluggish.

They restrained you as Shoko took out a scalpel, her expression unnervingly calm. She began muttering medical jargon, explaining something to Suguru about tendons and nerves.

“Why are you doing this?” you cried, your voice barely audible through your sobs.

“You keep running” Gojo said, his tone almost playful again, though it carried a sharp edge. “So we’re just… fixing that. Now you won’t have to worry about going anywhere.”

The next hour was a haze of pain and terror. Shoko worked with precise efficiency, cutting into your legs with steady hands. You could feel everything—the searing pain as she severed the tendons in your knees, the horrifying sensation of your body being permanently altered.

Gojo and Suguru held you down when you thrashed, their grips unyielding.

“You’re going to thank us” Suguru murmured as he wiped the sweat from your forehead. “You’ll see. This is for the best.”

When it was over, you lay there trembling, your body drenched in sweat and blood. Shoko cleaned her tools with clinical detachment, while Gojo wrapped your legs in bandages as if he hadn’t just watched them be mutilated.

“You’re going to need us now” Gojo said with a soft smile, his tone almost affectionate. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To be safe? To be cared for?”

You couldn’t respond, your throat raw from screaming.

The days that followed were a nightmare. When the drugs wore off, the full extent of what they had done became clear. Your legs were useless, dead weight that refused to move no matter how hard you tried. The pain was unbearable, a constant reminder of your helplessness.

They took turns caring for you—feeding you, bathing you, carrying you wherever you needed to go.

Gojo made a game of it, lifting you effortlessly and twirling you around like a child. “See? Isn’t this fun? You don’t have to do anything anymore. Just leave it to us.”

Suguru was quieter, his touch gentle but firm as he carried you to and from your room. He would sit beside your bed, reading aloud from books he thought you’d enjoy, as if this were normal.

Shoko’s visits were the hardest to bear. She would check your bandages, her expression unreadable as she examined her handiwork.

“It’s healing nicely” she would say, her voice devoid of emotion. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t try anything stupid.”

You wanted to scream at her, to ask her how she could do this to you, but the words stuck in your throat.

Weeks turned into months. They kept you trapped in the mansion, your every need met by their hands. You were completely dependent on them now, unable to take a single step without their help.

The worst part was the way they looked at you—not with pity, but with triumph, as if they had won some twisted game.

“You’re ours now” Gojo said one night as he tucked you into bed, his grin softer than usual. “No more running, no more danger. Just us. Forever.”

And as you lay there in the suffocating silence, you realized the truth: they had broken you. There was no escape, no hope of freedom.

--- I'm not sure about jealousy or Stockholm syndrome but you sure suffer from this :))))) Also this marks the first time I've ever put warnings in my post.

[theinnerunderrain]

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

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, kidnapped hostage reader, prior punishment

♡ GN reader

Thinking about really nonchalant darlings…

Your name is yelled from the bedroom upstairs, shrill and panicked, and yet you stay put—groggy-eyed while pouring yourself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking it’s way too early to be screaming.

The loud steps come second—thundering down the stairs in an angry rush.

Meanwhile, you lean against the kitchen counter and take a slow sip of your mug, awaiting the storm.

He rounds the corner like a livid search dog, nearly slipping at the harsh turn—out of breath, face warped, crazy eyes needing to do a double take before landing on you—stopping dead in his tracks like it was the last place he expected to find you. 

“Mornin'. You look tense…” you drawl, staring back at him over the top of your cup while taking another sip. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed again?”

Bedhead, in his boxers, he looks at you like you’re the crazy one.

“What? D’you think I ran away again?” You sneer, chuckling dryly as he calms his strained breaths. “Jeez, have some faith. I’m not exactly itchin’ to relive what you did last time.”

He sighs, and his whole muscle-swole upper body sinks with relief, nearly glittering in the ceiling light, glossed in a thin sheen of cold sweat. It’s a real shame he’s a crazy kidnapper, or you’d be all over that willingly.

“You’re not supposed to leave the bed,” he mutters, dragging his hands through his hair in an effort to ground himself again—having been a hairpin trigger away from blowing a fuse.

“You’ gonna punish me for makin’ you coffee?” You scoff, handing him a matching coffee cup.

He doesn’t take it, even though you’d poured it for him and everything. Still looking frazzled, joined by puzzlement at your strange behavior, eyeing the offering with furrowed brows that quickly become suspicious of its contents.

“Oh, come on.” You take a sip from it yourself, proving you hadn’t done anything funny to it while rolling your eyes at him. “I’m just tryin’ to play along.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi, Zeke ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

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

[madamechrissy]

Yandere Bestie Choso

pairing- Yan Choso x fem reader

warnings- Mdni- Stalking, yandere behavior, videoing without consent, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, stealing panties, somnophilia, baby trapping, possessive behavior, jealousy, semi public sex, don't read if you don't like darker/yan content

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy!

Yandere Bestie Choso who was so shy but befriended you at work one day, when you talked to him and really heard him. The next day he's bringing you coffee -your favorite! You're not sure how he knew.

Yandere Bestie Choso watches you avidly with violet puppy dog eyes, god he watches everything you do, as you slip up your glasses on the bridge of your pretty nose. He loves when you tap your pen, shifting your hips while you sit at your desk, up to and including the color of your panties every day when he puts a camera under your desk.

Yandere Bestie Choso has to stroke his cock in the bathroom when he watches you uncrossing your legs, revealing a clear damp spot on your panties, he thinks it's so cute they have Hello Kitties on them! Oh, and when you are shooting him a pretty smile, you're just too pretty, and he can't take it. When he bumps into you leaving the bathroom, he still has cum sticking to his boxers.

Yandere Bestie Choso panics when you ask if everything is okay, you can't know, right? But you're oblivious, thankfully, and you shock him then, when you ask him to come over and watch a movie at your house!? He agrees, trying to be calm outwardly, blushing furiously at you. He is jerking off so much that night his pretty cock is sore, picturing all the ways he'll have you soon.

Yandere Bestie Choso comes over to your house that night, and you think he's just so cute you're nervous too. He seems so sweet you don't know if he'll make a move, as you both sit next to each other on the couch, your shoulders pressing together as you lean a little close. A scary part of the movie comes and you cling to him, his big hands gripping your waist.

Yandere Bestie Choso gets a kiss from you that night, a heated one where you ended up in his lap, and fuck he couldn't take it, your heat against his cock over his jeans, tongues messy and desperate, but you're so pretty, you're too pretty, he needs you too much. For a moment he gets rough with you, shocking you and making you wetter, before he pulls back with a 'Need a moment, I'm s-so sorry...' you pull off him, taking a breath 'It's intense, be right back?'

Yandere Bestie Choso quickly gets up as you go to the bathroom, slipping out the little cameras and sneaking to your room. He puts one up and then opens your top drawer, nearly cumming in his pants as he sees your vibrator, your panties, your bras. He'd take a pair but they're too clean, you know, so instead he grabs one from your hamper, stuffing it in his pocket before you get out, and he's making an excuse to leave, he's just not sure he deserves you yet, he needs to know so much more about you!

Yandere Bestie Choso jerks off his cock while he licks your cunt off your pretty purple panties, tasting how sweet you are. He is blushing when he cums so much, white and sticky, jerking nervously when you call him. He cleans up, picking up the phone then. 'H-hey, pretty' 'Cho, was I too forward?' You ask nervously, he watches you on his other phone now, pacing back and forth half naked in your room. 'No, no! I'm sorry I got nervous... please let's hang out again?' You sit and then lay back on the bed, giving him a view of your legs. 'Sounds good!'

Yandere Bestie Choso is furious when he sees your other coworker Nanami flirting with you the next day, you're blushing as he does, as Nanami’s hand brushes back your hair. Choso grips the bag of breakfast he bought you, so angry to see anyone touch his perfect princess. You smile sweetly then, running up to him. 'Cho, good morning!' He just glares now, and you watch him walk away curiously. Choso comes up to Nanami then, 'what were you talking about?' he asks quietly, jaw clenched. Nanami smiles curiously. 'I asked her out, she's single still right?' Choso’s full lips set in a line. 'No, she's not'

Yandere Bestie Choso has you pressed against the closed door of the break room then, your breath catches as he leans close, a hand on the side of your head, the other cupping your face. 'Do you like him?' Choso asks. 'Who?' You whisper, looking up at him, breasts rising and falling under your blouse, as the guy you've crushed on forever finally seems to notice you. Choso is so serious then, not silly or sweet, towering over you with his muscular frame, your fingers itch to touch him. 'Nanami. Do. You. Like. Him.' You giggle a bit, breathless 'you jealous?'

Yandere Bestie Choso shocks you when his fingers find you under your skirt, your cunt drooling all over his thick digits when he presses the cotton against you, you're whining out, head falling back against the door. He grips your chin, making you look up at him. 'Do you like him?' He whispers again, and you shake your head nervously, hips arching for more of his touch. 'Use your words' you're shocked, sweet little Choso is ordering you around!? But it just makes you wetter, desire pooling in your tummy. 'N-no, I like you Cho' he exhales, kissing you then, desperate and messy, nothing like the shy kiss last night, slipping his fingers under your panties, finding your twitching little clit.

Yandere Bestie Choso watches your beautiful face screw up in pleasure as he rolls his fingers on your clit, bringing you closer and closer, you're clinging to him, until he pulls back, sucking you off his fingers and exhaling. 'Tell him you don't want that date, then I'll finish this' he then leaves you- and you blink in confusion, trying to get a breath. Choso smiles when you turn Nanami down right by the water cooler, and he rewards you that night, by devouring your pussy while he's in your bed, drinking all your juices up as you yank on his dark, loose hair. His tongue fucks inside your slick hole, drinking you, urging you on with a 'that's it, let go f'me, I got you'

Yandere Bestie Choso smiles against your cunt as you scream out his name, oh he can't wait to watch this back on the video over and over, he thinks, as he's grinding his cock against your mattress, his black painted blunt nails leaving marks in the plush of your thighs. 'Choso s'good I-ah!' You're cumming so hard you're blinded, as he laps you up eagerly, tongue ring hitting your spot. He's groaning against you, he can't stop himself from shattering as he eats your pussy, as he watches your fucked out face. You beg for his cock over and over, until you pass out from overstimulation. Choso will give it to you soon, first he watches you as you sleep with a pussy drunk grin, kissing down your pretty face, your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples as your breasts rise and fall in your slumber.

Yandere Bestie Choso takes your phone as you are lightly snoring, using your finger to unlock it, and deletes every man's number but his. He also puts a tracker on there, for your safety of course! When you wake up all dressed in pajamas, pussy cleaned, you go to check the phone and panic, seeing the only number left is your girl friends, parents and him. You are so furious the next day, ignoring the memory of his tongue ring on your clit, you heartedly whisper how mad you are in the break room. Choso smiles all sweetly, as you shove at him, only for him to have you bent over the table, shoving his cock in your eager pussy so deep you have to bite back the scream of shock and pleasure.

Yandere Bestie Choso hears no more complaints after he fucks you so hard you're cumming all over his dick, arousal making his cock slide easier and easier, thrilled knowing any mome t someone could see him claiming you, claiming what's his. You're whimpering against his big palm, as his reddened tip slams your cervix, and he's moaning in your ear. Your eyes roll back, body convulsing as he pumps harder and harder. 'Never gonna leave me, are you pretty?' You can't manage to remember you're scared anymore, not when you're cumming all over Choso's thick, veiny cock. And you forget to get mad again later when he's got panties shoved in your mouth as he fucks you in his apartment. You also forget to ask where he got them.

Yandere Bestie Choso loves watching you sleep after struggling to just give up, he thinks it's precious and cute how stubborn you are! He caresses your face, admiring you even as he's back playing with your pussy, you're so sweet and pliant sleeping, whining out as he slips back inside you, so happy that he got rid of your birth control. He can't wait to keep you with him forever, busting his load so deep in you, while you weakly stir from your sleep, crying out as you feel him pulsing in your gummy walls. 'Cho!?' 'Shh, gonna make you a mommy, hmm-ah f-fuck...' you let him fill you all night, delirious off him and his cock, and Choso smiles as he holds you tight, knowing you're going nowhere 🥺

If you want this to be a full oneshot or something let me knowww

Disclaimer none of this is okay omg it's all terrible but 😭🤣 I saw a post wanting Yan Choso from @naammiii, and had to try making him Yan hehe

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy

[envy-of-the-apple]

Idk how this is even gonna work but I just love the idea of a non-sorcerer who’s really down on their luck and is open to do any job. ANYTHING. Even the job listing about kidnapping the strongest sorcerer around.

You have no idea what sorcerers are, but you’re desperate and you take it without a second thought. By some miracle you manage to break into Gojo’s penthouse (weird how there’s no security system, right?) and clumsily declare how resistance is futile and he needs to come with you.

And satoru just….goes with it.

For a kidnapper you’re really nice. You constantly ask if the rope needs to be looser. His hands are kinda preoccupied so you have to hand feed him the delicious food you made for him. The fact that you can cook do is also a plus. you practically wait on him hand and foot.

And let’s be honest, Gojo has no vacation days so he’s taking every chance he can get.

He gets so used to being pampered that he straight up just refuses to go back.

Naturally the Gojo clan is furious that their weapon—uh asset—uh tool— really really important member of the family has been taken. they have a couple powerful sorcerers of their own so it should be a piece of cake to break in to wherever you’re keeping him and killing you. Except they can’t even get miles within your place, it’s as though Gojo is intentionally putting up a veil to protect his kidnapper.

Oh wait, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

It gets so bad that Gojo stops pretending he’s your helpless captive and teleports back to his family home to demand that they pay the ransom. 2 million? That’s way too fucking low. 20 million-no 200 million.

eventually he needs to get back to his life someday so he stops making a ruckus for everyone. When the ransom is paid, he naturally kills the people who talked you into doing this so you get all the money. Its a happy ending for exactly two people

All of this is naturally a huge blow for the gojo clan. To make matters even worse, satoru somehow convinces you to marry him after that fiasco. And nobody within the gojo clan ever breathes a word that the wife of the gojo head is actually a criminal who kidnapped him that one time. It just turns into yet another skeleton in the closet.