Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen - Blog Posts

Swinging.

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JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader, light Suguru Geto x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, sexual themes, smut, handjob, masturbation, voyeurism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex; fem receiving, overstimulation, forced squirting.

Summary: Gojo's incessant begging to his best friend about swinging partners finally pays off.

W/C: 4.6k+

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Geto for the fifth time in the morning. “I already told you, if you don’t want to do this-” “It’s not that.” You interrupt his assurance. “It’s just… weird.” You repeat, glancing to the other end of the hallway that leads to the entrance of the students’ dorms, anxious for Gojo’s arrival. “We’ve already talked about this, it’s only going to be one week, but you can call it off whenever you want.” Geto places his hand on the side of your face, directing you to look at him and caressing your cheek lovingly.

“I know.” You sigh. “And don’t worry about me, have some fun yourself.” He smiles. You hear a door being kicked open and jump into Geto’s chest who instinctively wraps his arms around you, being startled at the sudden sound and seeing that understandably; Gojo’s the one to blame for the dramatic entrance, his own girlfriend following behind. Gojo’s mouth starts moving in what you assume is a greeting but all you can focus on is the girl clinging to his arm; the one you’ll be switching places with.

You take a look at her while she stares at your boyfriend, eyeing her bigger chest, slimmer waist and shorter stature, starting to feel a bit self-conscious and wondering if Geto will even miss you. You think back to the start of the situation and remind yourself that Gojo’s the one who wanted to swing partners, not Geto, and that the only reason why you and Geto said yes was to stop Gojo’s weeks of pestering to swap partners, whining about how he’s ‘always wanted to try it’.

You look back up to your boyfriend with a soft smile, feeling reassured and taking in his words. “Remember, just one week.” He says. “I know, I know.” Gojo rushes out, trying to get on with the situation. “I’m serious Satoru, I don’t want you to then turn around and say two weeks.” Geto starts speaking in a stern voice, further assuring you. “Okay, I get it, are we doing this or not?” Gojo responds in an annoyed tone while looking away nonchalantly.

Geto looks down at you lovingly and gives you a soft smile, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek tenderly, before gently pressing his lips against yours in a long soft kiss, unaware of how Gojo rolls his eyes behind his glasses while sticking his tongue out at the display of affection. After pulling away, Geto leans in your ear and whispers loud enough for only you to hear while holding you close to his chest.

“Remember, Gojo will most likely try to bed you in the first night- if he waits that long.” He pulls away. “You can come back whenever you want.” He repeats out loud. “After a week.” Gojo adds to which Geto gives him a dirty look. You finally pull yourself away from him and take the few steps between you and Gojo, ignoring how his own girlfriend walks to Geto a little too eagerly for your liking.

As soon as you're in within arms reach of Gojo, he restrains himself from yanking you to him into a kiss and instead wraps his arm around your lower back while leading you to his dorm, visibly pulling you as close to him as possible while giving Geto a smug smirk to which he gives a glare in return. You nervously look to your moving feet at the sound of Geto’s temporary girlfriend telling him all the things she wants to do with him before night while Gojo guides you through the opened door of his room.

The door closes after walking in and you hear the ominous noise of the lock clicking while you look back at him, suddenly feeling small under his piercing gaze despite his pitch-black round glasses. “You mind taking a shower?” He suggests, the lack of a smirk on his face having you thinking he doesn’t mean it in a sexual manner. “… I just showered.” You meekly respond. “Well, then shower again.” He insists in a stern tone, making you feel uneasy at the absence of his loud personality.

“… Okay.” You quietly agree, walking to his bathroom. “Make sure to brush your teeth.” Gojo adds, making you glance back to catch a glimpse of his bright eyes staring at you through the side of his glasses before stepping in the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You’d always notice he’s a clean and pretty well-groomed young man, but you had never actually thought he could be that picky about germs.

After going through his cabinets, you find a spare toothbrush and make sure to brush your teeth thoroughly and scrub your tongue, washing the leftover paste from the brush and setting it next to Gojo’s brush afterwards. You absentmindedly unclothe yourself and step in the shower, pulling the glass door shut and starting to wash yourself, feeling your thoughts wander to Geto and what he must be doing by now with Gojo’s girlfriend.

Before you know it, you’re scrubbing your body for the last time, having zoned out and been staring at the wall ahead of you until you were left staring at the floor with an emotionless expression, your hands settling on either side of your neck in deep thought. “Why’d you stop?” You hear a low cocky voice ask. Startled, you let out a small noise of surprise with your head snapping to your side to see Gojo leaning against the wall by the door, facing you with his arms crossed and glasses hanging low to let you see his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You rush out of your mouth, an arm over your breasts and a hand over your lower region in attempt to cover yourself. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks in the same low tone. “I’m enjoying the view…” He responds in a seductive tone while you continue to stare at him, the water suddenly feeling awfully cold. “Go on, don’t mind me.” He coaxes you to further your actions, making your cheeks start to burn.

You return your gaze to the floor with wide eyes, slowly starting to remove your hands from your body to rub more soap on it. You start with your shoulders, slowly rubbing with your hands past to your arms and leaving your body completely bare for him to stare at, dreading what comes next. Your hands reach up for your breasts with hesitation, holding the mounds only to hear a soft somewhat relieved moan from the door.

You fail to keep your eyes to yourself and take a small peek to your side at Gojo, seeing how his hand slowly slips into the front of his pants to a painfully prominent erection, slowly rubbing himself. You quickly avert your gaze while your hands subconsciously rub at your peaked nipples, continuing with the rest of your breast and dipping in the underside. One of your hands work over the rest of your torso as the other one reaches behind your shoulder, spreading the soap along your back.

Soon, both hands are drawing slow circles on your lower back, exposing your front again and having your back forming a small arch that pushes your tits further out, an audible sigh making its way to your ears to which you force yourself to keep your eyes on the floor. Your hands keep moving lower until they reach your ass, rubbing softly at the cheeks and pressing on the underside to Gojo’s delight before moving to the back of your thighs.

With your body starting to bend over as your hands stroke at the rest of your legs, Gojo finds himself unable to decide whether to keep his eyes on the curve of your ass or on your tits and the way they start to hang obscenely from the new angle. He bites down on his lip after his tongue briefly lolls out past his lips while jerking his painfully hard member against the wet patch of precum on the front of his boxer briefs.

You finally finish at your ankles and move to stand straight again with your hand reaching to the knob to turn the water off. “Ah ah ah.” He protests, interrupting you before you can touch the knob. “Aren’t you forgetting a spot?” He points out, pausing his movements. Your breath hitches in your throat with your hands lightly trembling, a shiver running up your back with a small whimper getting stuck in your throat.

You bring your hands back to your body and slowly run them down over your stomach to your lower area, stopping briefly in hesitance before feeling a finger brush against your clit to which your body responds by clenching your thighs together despite your opposing orders. “Good girl…” Gojo praises in a small moan as he starts to jerk his length again, this time successfully eliciting an audible whine from you that in turn makes him groan.

Skimming your hand lower, your fingers run through your folds, rubbing the last of the remainder of the soap on them while your other fingers tend to the outer lips. The pad of your finger reaches your entrance while soft pants start making their way to your ears through the running water, your body continuing to respond to Gojo’s actions judging by the way it releases a wave of wetness onto your fingertip.

Before you can notice, you’re slipping a finger through the plush walls of your insides as deep as you can, trying to reach your g spot to no avail. A grunt coming from your right interrupts your movements and draws your attention to the sound, seeing him with his eyes clenched shut and head thrown back against the wall, hand still in his pants yet unaware of how tightly he grips the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming, refusing to empty himself anywhere but inside you.

His eyes crack open to the sound of a familiar creak with the water being shut off, seeing you step out of the shower onto your pile of clothes and wrapping his towel around yourself as he catches onto his breath, pulling his hand out of his underwear. “You’re acting like you didn’t just finger yourself to me fapping to you.” He comments after letting out an airy laugh regarding the towel. “Well? Come on.” He waves his hand over with a grin, waiting for you to approach him.

He places a hand behind your shoulder to lead you to his bed and manages to sneak a small squeeze to your covered ass cheek, getting a feel of it before going further. You crawl over his bed with him slightly bending over to get a peek of your pussy that his towel fails to cover before you turn around to sit on the center of his bed with your knees to your chest.

Gojo removes his glasses and sets them aside with a confident expression, shows off his eyes for a small moment and then proceeds to follow you onto his mattress. Crawling on top of you, he forces you to lay back onto his pillows and soak the covers with the water left on your skin before he sits back on his calves, slowly running his hands between your ankles over your bottom and the back of your thighs, spreading them open in a quick motion that has you letting out a noise of surprise.

He sighs in relief at the sight of your cunt that followed with your legs and spread open slightly, taking in the way your clit is barely covered by the lips and the way your folds leave your opening exposed. You feel his hands grip at your waist and pull you harshly into his crotch in a fake fucking motion that makes you moan in surprise, keeping you pressed to his hardened cock. “A little help doll?” He asks while grinding down on you hard.

After some hesitation, your hands move forward to slip your fingertips in the waistband of his underwear, getting him to stop humping you as you press him further into you, pulling him closer to reach better his button and zipper. Slowly pulling open his pants, you eye with a nervous expression the more prominently visible bulge hidden by the dark thin fabric of the underwear, subconsciously hooking your ankles behind his thighs to keep him close.

Gojo watches carefully how you pull down the waist agonizingly slow, uncovering his lower abdomen and staring at his v-line that trails your sight lower to a soft patch of white hair starting to peek over the underwear. You stare at the tufts of hair with your mouth suddenly going dry, continuing the slow pace of uncovering him and despite his desperation, he stays composed and lets you give yourself a show at unveiling him.

With his cock still sitting on the mound of your cunt, you finally manage to see the base, revealing the thickness and pulling the cloth lower to further expose the length of his erection until the neglected cock eventually springs out of its confines standing proud against his lower stomach with a string of precum dripping onto your own sex from the almost red tip of the swollen head. “Enjoying the view?” He asks in a low tone, grinning widely at you.

You swallow thickly at his words with burning cheeks just before his arms reach behind him to grab at the back of the shirt of his uniform and pull it off over his head, showing off his toned arms and torso with a smug expression. After a small pause, he pushes his pants along with underwear down to his knees and manages to kick them the rest of the way off, leaving himself completely naked to your eyes.

Taking a hold of his pulsing cock to lay it flat over your pubic bone, his heavy balls press tightly against your swollen clit, showing you how deep he’ll reach once inside you, making you let out a shaky breath at the sight. His free hand slowly trails over your stomach under your towel and slowly spreads it, reaching for your covered tit with a pleased moan and groping it harshly, his nails digging into the soft skin.

You spread open the towel the rest of the way to his surprise and press your tits together for him, urging him to play with them to which he responds to by pressing down on your nipple. Suddenly, he starts breathing heavily and yanks your legs to him to press your knees on either side of you and barely even grinds his dry length on your soaked folds before shoving himself inside you with a grunt that has you moaning loudly.

You continuously moan despite him not moving in response to desperately trying to accommodate his size in your unprepared cunt with him panting above you and keeping you locked in a mating press, slowly pressing his weight on top of you feeling your arms wrap around his back with your shaky hands needing to hold onto something as he presses the front of your legs painfully flat against the bed.

In the guise of letting you adjust to him, he bites harshly on his lower lip while trying to get used to the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him, keeping his chest pressed to yours with his lips muffling grunts next to your ear and upper arms on either side of your head as he grips tightly onto the bed sheets under the pillow where your head rests. As you get accustomed to the feeling of him inside you, you start letting out light pants against his ear, catching his attention for him to look over at you.

Turning his gaze to the side, he stares with his eyes half closed at your parted lips, soft wet tongue resting just past them and making him realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. The whole reason as to why he wanted you to brush your teeth, the whole reason as to why he wanted you to rid yourself of your boyfriend’s essence and he hasn’t even kissed you yet. Gojo takes your jaw in a hand, pulls your face over to him and finally; takes your lips in his own in a kiss.

A noise of surprise is muffled in his mouth along with your eyes shooting wide open in shock while he wastes no time in shoving his tongue past your lips and continuing in a rather soft pace, kissing you tenderly as opposed to his previous actions. Your eyes flutter shut again at his tongue pressing with yours, sliding along each other and taking your own drool in his mouth, he finally takes in the taste of you with the light flavor of mint still noticeable.

Loud noises of your lips smacking together and pants for breaths fill the room with him starting to grind deeply into you, the tip of his member rubbing your cervix making you moan into the kiss. He humps into you for a while longer, seemingly trying to press himself deeper in only to have his heavy balls pressed harshly to the lower part of your cunt, almost as if he were trying to shove them in as well with the pristine white hair adorning the base of his shaft brushing your clit with a pleasant amount of stimulation.

Not long after, he goes to slowly move his hips back while maintaining the rest of his body glued to yours only to feel your tight insides sucking him back in, forcing a deep groan that breaks your kiss to emit from his throat. “You’re, ah- sucking me back in.” He moans with a small smile as he slowly moves in and out of you bit by bit, gazing into your eyes lovingly before noticing you staring between your chests instead.

He follows your line of sight to your compressed chests and finds out with ease of your desire to see where your bodies meet, keeping the encounter purely sexual in his opinion to which he grips your cheeks after letting out a frustrated huff to pull your face back to his and keep your eyes on his. He smiles again at your eye contact, but it easily gets broken again with your eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth left agape at the first pull of his member nearly all the way out and push back in.

If you wanted him to give you a reason to have a hard time maintaining eye contact, fine, he’ll give it to you. Deeply narrowing his eyes at your unsuspecting form, he finally breaks and starts slamming his hips into yours without letting you further adjust, making you instantly start to let out loud moans and screams. He didn’t want it to be like this, he didn’t want it to be just sex, he wanted to take it slow with you, to be intimate with you but his patience can only go so far.

It’s all your fault. It’s also your fault that he immediately went straight to the point and skipped over all foreplay. It was all you and your voluptuous body that tempted him and kept him from laying his head between your legs and pleasuring you rather than yourself, not to say he can’t do both at the same time, but he wanted to show you how much of a selfless partner he can be. He’d just waited for so many weeks that when he finally saw you, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Gojo continues to hammer into you mercilessly with gritted teeth and furrowed brows in an angered expression, dumping out his frustrations on you and feeling how your juices soak his balls along with the inside of your thighs while you cry loudly at the overstimulation. With your arms crossed over his back, your nails find their place at the base of his shoulders, digging into the skin while the sound of your squelching fills the room and the skin slapping on his reaching all the way to the halls.

With your nails slowly dragging lower and lower down the expanse of his back and leaving a harsh burning that has him hissing in return, your hands reach the tensed mounds of his ass and grip tightly at it. He feels you taking handfuls of him and pulling him toward you as if trying to shove him deeper as if he wasn’t poking deeper than you could handle judging by the tears trailing down your cheeks that he couldn’t stop eyeing.

A particularly louder cry leaves your mouth with your thighs tensing harder in Gojo’s hands at a familiar coil starting to quickly form in your lower stomach, your insides tightening even more around him making him grunt in return and thrust harder through the newfound resistance. “Damn!” He grunts in frustration, curses starting to fall from his lips while he tries to deny the blush on his cheeks as well as the fact that he’s feeling himself embarrassingly close to his own release.

He blames you once again for bringing him so close to his orgasm so easily while digging his nails into your skin because it’s not like he wasn’t already used to this whole feeling, he just wasn’t used to you, and still isn’t. It’s all you, always you. A shaky breath escapes past his lips with his eyes staring down at your trembling form, relishing in the signs that soon he’ll be able to let himself loose, refusing to reach his high before you do.

Suddenly, the feeling of him slamming into your cervix and the soft patch of hair continuously rubbing your sensitive clit becomes too much and you finally release yourself on him with a loud cry, drenching him even further with the way your hands unintentionally spread his ass cheeks apart to pull him in closer setting him off as well. Burying himself as deep as he can with his eyes clenching shut, he cums with a loud grunt, flooding your insides and hearing you whine in return.

After emptying himself inside you, a relieved sigh leaves his mouth with his eyes fluttering open, smiling tiredly to himself and basking in the fact that other than finally bedding you, he managed to cum inside you without a condom. His eyes look down at you and take in the sight of you in your post-orgasmic haze, feeling your hands losing their grip on his ass to which he chuckles, watching you pant lightly in an effort to catch up with your breath.

He slowly pulls out with a pleased moan, watching how as soon as he leaves you, his cum starts leaking from you. A shaky moan filling his ears makes him look over at you, seeing the flustered look on your face and looking back to your cunt to see a stream of his white liquid rolling out of you, realizing that you’re pushing it out. His ring and middle finger instantly go to it and trail it back up, shoving it back inside you with his hand twisting to have the pads of his fingers pressing uncomfortably towards your ass.

Before you can protest, he’s twisting his wrist again and pressing into your g spot, curving his fingers and rubbing harsh lines with your noises starting to fill the room again. Your legs start to falter and move to lay flat on the bed only for Gojo to immediately press them back on either side of you with his forearm, taking the flesh in his free hand and gripping and releasing it as he moves lower on the bed to be faced with your sensitive opening, after all, he still has to show you he’s not a selfish lover.

He wastes no time in taking your clit in his mouth and sucking, kissing and licking while pressing hard on it with his tongue in effort to bring you to another orgasm before you can properly come down from your previous one. His tongue trails down to your folds, taking them in his mouth as well while thrusting his fingers relentlessly into you, keeping them curved to rub at your spongy spot with his leftover cum leaking between them as his mouth continues its descent to your loose opening.

You feel his tongue press softly at the edge wrapped around his fingers, feeling him prodding while you whimper uncontrollably until his tongue wedges in between his fingers and your pulsing walls, drawing a small gasp from you before more of your wanton moans fill his ears. The hand on the back of your thigh leaves you to reach your swollen clit and rubs harsh circles on the nub with your leg instantly falling to his shoulder and pressing to the side of his face, your other leg remaining restrained by his forearm.

You cum with a loud scream onto his tongue and fingers and expecting his movements to stop only for his fingers to continue moving inside you incessantly, tongue still licking at your insides and the motion of his thumb on your clit unfaltering. Your back arches off the bed with your hands fisting and pulling the sheets with your throat quickly growing sore at your screams and cries at his merciless movements prolonging your orgasm.

A burning feeling quickly starts to form in your lower area with your hands going to grab at his arm and shoulder instead to push him away to no avail, unaware of the slight frustration filling him at wanting to see you squirt, hoping that you can do so otherwise he’ll just continue abusing your poor hole. Your wails muffle an irritated grunt coming from him but you undoubtedly feel the vibrations reaching your convulsing sex and let out a louder scream through your burning throat while gushing on him.

The liquid squirting on his face takes him by surprise to which he jerks away with wide eyes, hands removed from you and face drenched in your essence with his mouth slightly agape. He blinks your liquids out of the corner of his eyes and wipes some of it off with the back of his wet hand, the sound of your short quick breaths interrupting him before he can even revel in the fact of being covered in your juices and having him looking at your trembling frame.

He takes in your tear-stained face and quivering body, slowly crawling over you and gently taking your lips in his own briefly before staring at you, seeing your eyes still rolled to the back of your head, tears still leaving your eyes, mouth agape with your tongue peeking out and chest quickly rising up and down with your short breaths. He brushes the hair off of your face and smiles smugly at himself at being convinced that it was your first time squirting and moves to lay next to you, carefully turning you over to your side.

His arm pulls you close to him to embrace you until you finally come down from your high while he continues to smile triumphantly to himself, knowing that no doubt he’s given you your best fucking yet unaware that despite it being the best sex you’ve had, you still missed and desperately needed the level of intimacy that only you’re boyfriend can give you and that by the end of the week, you’ll still run back to Geto and he’ll only be a memory left behind.

Donor 1.5.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Part 1

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, creepy themes, pregnancy, vomit, talks of infant death.

Summary: The events of the pregnancy set along the middle of the first part.

W/C: 2.4k+

2.5 Weeks.

Gojo slowly stirs awake, his eyes instinctively opening to be met with the blindfold placed over them, having him pushing the side off of one of his eyes to make sure of his whereabouts. He’s at his apartment, on the couch of the living room of his penthouse with the large glass wall before him informing him of the early hours of the morning given the barely visible spew of sunlight over the horizon.

He remembers having gotten back home late, sitting with you on the couch and insisting that he ‘wasn’t that tired’ before ending up asleep on the couch. He groggily starts to wonder why he was woken up and quickly receives an answer to his question upon the sounds of retching coming from behind him to his left; the direction of your room. Gojo quickly stands up and rushes in, barging through your room and taking his blindfold off in the process before slamming open the door to your bathroom.

“Get out!” You try your best to shout, embarrassed at being seen spilling your guts out in the toilet. “Leave!” You shout once again, throwing a random object at the door to close it right before you continue expelling your dinner while Gojo keeps staring through the door in astonishment. You’re throwing up. You’re pregnant. You have to be, what other explanation is there? He did it. He impregnated you. Him.

It hurts him that you’re in pain, so much, but he’s never been so happy about your misfortune, or happy at all. You’re actually pregnant, and he can’t do anything but smile maniacally as he continues to watch you throwing up down to the last bit of food and stomach acid you had. You finally step out of the bathroom after having brushed your teeth and rush into Gojo’s arms to which his eyes widen open even further, lips parted in surprise as he slowly processes what’s happening.

His arms slowly move to wrap around you and hold you tightly, wanting to never let you go. He can’t believe you’re actually hugging him. It’s been so long since you actually hugged him. The last time you hugged him was before his incessant flirting grew too much for you, before you’d had enough of him continuously asking you out, hugging you, touching, it was before you finally put a stop to his displays of affection.

This has to be it, you have to be pregnant, and pregnancy is getting you hormonal and screwing with your emotions. If he had known that getting you pregnant would finally make you pliant, he would’ve knocked you up ages ago. “What’s wrong?” He innocently asks, pulling back enough to look at your watery eyes. “I want to be pregnant.” You sob. “You’re not?” He asks with confusion, not understanding what’s going on.

“I don’t know! I don’t want to take the test and see it say I’m not, I want to be pregnant.” You cry, your words only assuring him that you are pregnant, why else would you make a big fuss about something so simple? “Don’t worry, how about I run to the store to get you a few test? How does that sound?” He asks in a reassuring tone. “No! I’m supposed to wait until my period’s late.” You complain, tears starting to leave your eyes.

“Don’t worry,” He repeats himself. “Come on, just wait for me here, I’ll be back soon.” He directs you to the spot where he previously was at the living room before rushing to the nearest store for pregnancy tests.

2 Months.

Your eyelids finally start giving out on you and start closing, ready to succumb to the overwhelming exhaustion your body’s been put through only to be jolted awake once again and being forced to sit back up and plant your feet on the floor, coughing harshly into the empty trash can while retching only for nothing to come out, instead feeling the clenching pain of the muscles in your back desperately trying to squeeze something out.

There’s immediately a pair of hands on you, one making sure your hair’s out of the way and the other trying to rub soothing circles at the side of your upper back, where your back muscles ache the most. Your body finally gives up and you slump back in the pile of pillows against the wall, the back of your head hurting from constantly resting it on the once soft pillows which now feel as hard as stone.

With your hands resting on your sensitive stomach, you close your eyes in frustration with tears starting to leave trails down your cheeks for Gojo to quickly wipe them off. You sniffle and weakly open your eyes, struggling to lift one of your frail arms to hold his hand in yours to show your appreciation. “It hurts.” You quietly cry. “I know.” He sadly stares at you, looking down to your stomach and hoping your pain ends soon.

Ever since upon entering your third week into pregnancy, you’ve been vomiting almost every day. It wasn’t too serious then, you still managed to keep some food and water down for part of the day but now, you’ve been sick for almost half a week, unable to keep even liquids down and with the doctor constantly coming to your shared apartment to test out different medicines, none of which seemed to suit you yet. “… I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.” Your weak hand rubs your belly.

“…” Gojo stays quiet, not knowing how to console you while keeping his head down, finding it hard to watch how your body slowly deteriorates, dehydration really sinking in and taking it’s toll on your body. You haven’t gone to the bathroom in a whole day, your body never letting anything past your intestines, and every time Gojo tries to get you to walk to uncramp your body, you often get light headed and dizzy to the point that he always has to keep his hands on you.

“Wait here.” He gives you a soft sad smile, letting go of your hand and leaving the room, his room. Soon after the incessant throwing up, he insisted that you move into his room so he could ‘take care’ of you, and in your sensitive state, you agreed. Not long after, he finally comes back with his hands behind his back, shutting the door with his foot and careful to not let you see behind him. He sits in front of you once again and reveals a small present box beautifully decorated.

“What’s this?” You ask. “I was waiting to celebrate the start of your next trimester, but… here.” He hands you the box, waiting patiently for you to slowly pull it open. “It’s a doppler. For the baby’s heart rate.” He explains, having you instantly growing more emotional. You take your time taking out the tube of gel in the box and gently applying some on the end of the probe before turning on the device and starting to rub it along your lower stomach.

You turn the volume higher with a sniffle and hear some type of static as you move the probe around, trying to find your unborn baby. Once you reach a certain spot of your belly, the screen picks something up and displays the heart rate with the speaker playing the sound of the heartbeat. You immediately let out a cry with your free hand cupping your mouth, crying into it at the quick-paced sound of your baby’s heart.

8 Months.

You pull at the zipper and unzip the small luggage case and start putting in clothes, toiletries and other stuff you’ll need when you finally go into labor. You’d just come back from baby and pregnancy stores with Gojo and while you started packing, he was taking an awfully long time to ready the baby car seat. While you had already gotten some clothes to fit your pregnant belly along your pregnancy, and most of the stuff that you would need, he thought otherwise.

Gojo insisted that you’d get everything new, as if the baby clothes gifted to you were used, and managed to convince you by talking about his copious amounts of money and how they’re just sitting there. You pull out of the next bag a small swaddling blanket and look at it longingly, observing the white gender-neutral color with fluffy round bear ears at the top with a pink center in them.

You thought it’d be more exciting if you didn’t know the gender until the birth, but Gojo being a drama queen said that he couldn’t handle the suspense and still to this day insists on knowing the gender. You neatly fold the blanket and place it in the also brand new luggage case and next pull out a regular baby blanket with ducks on, continuing to pack until Gojo walks in your still shared room.

“Baby seat’s ready.” He notifies. “Are you sure?” You teasingly ask without looking over at him, continuing to pack the last of your items. “I think you’d be surprised by how well I placed it.” He smiles triumphantly while walking over to stand next to you. “Sure.” You lightly roll your eyes, zipping closed the case and having decided to double-check the seat before placing your baby in. As soon as you go to stand, he’s quick to help you up, offering both of his hands and gently pulling you to your feet given the extra weight.

“Thank you.” You thank him in a soft voice, smiling to your stomach as you take a seat on the edge of the bed with him sitting as well next to you. “… What’s going on in that head of yours?” He brushes your hair out of your face, something that you don’t think too much of due to being entrances in your unborn baby. “In just another month… I’m gonna be a mom.” You rub your belly.

10 Months.

You cry against Gojo’s chest with your hands gripping his shirt tightly, his arms wrapped around you in hopes that the warmth of his embrace can ease you if even just a bit. Your enormous stomach standing in the way of him being able to properly hug you only serves as a reminder of your worries, making you cry even harder. 10 months pregnant and nothing. Your baby just isn’t ready to come out yet and you’ve already tried everything, or everything you could.

You’ve exercised proper workouts for pregnant women, tried acupuncture, spicy foods, tried stimulating your own breasts which were far too sensitive to get anything but pain out of them, and still nothing. You know that stressing about it won’t help, but what else can you do? You can only handle so much, how else are you supposed to feel when so many complications can start arising; lack of oxygen, an infection, what else can you do?

“They’re doing it first thing in the morning.” Gojo brings up your scheduled cesarean in attempt to console you. You sniffle against his shirt and hold onto him tightly, trying to calm yourself with a few harsh coughs making it difficult. “Let me make you some tea.” He pulls away from the hug with a light frown, taking your hand and leading your waddling form from your bedroom to the kitchen.

Gojo, same as you, has been upset ever since your pregnancy started lasting longer, being just as worried for both of you. It’s been hard on him too, watching you try to somehow stay calm while knowing your baby could have stillbirth, a medical term that could never ease the blow of your baby’s possible death. You stand quietly as Gojo makes your tea, an unbearable silence surrounding you both with neither of you being able to look at each other.

“… Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.” He makes a poor attempt to console you with a hand brushing your hair away, being as upset as you are. “I’ve tried everything, everything I can, and nothing.” You sob with your eyes glued to the floor, your vision blurring from tears. He brings you in once again for a hug and holds you tightly, not wanting to let go as you continue to soak his shirt even further with your tears, feeling inconsolable.

You both stand together for a few minutes, the tea long forgotten and only starting to pull back when your arms feel tired, your arms lowering but still keeping your bodies pressed against each other. You feel him press his lips softly on your forehead and then lean his head into yours, holding you and hoping to make you feel better. “I’m sorry.” He quietly says, feeling himself starting to shed tears as well.

Opening your eyes to look at him, you see him already looking at you and take notice of his tears and slightly shaky figure, the sight making your heart ache even more. You reach up to his face and hold it in your trembling hands, wiping away the tears and looking at him with sorrow. He tries to narrow the space left between your faces with his nose gently bumping into yours to which your instinctively flinch yourself back, his hands on your body preventing you from putting space between you.

With your arms still on him, body pressed on his, and with the way you don’t push him away, he waits a few seconds to take in your unsure form, giving you time to move away if you wanted to, but when you don’t, he moves in closer. He notices how you slowly lean away from him but stop at a certain point to which he more than takes as an invitation, rather than noticing you can’t lean away any further.

You flinch when his lips touch yours, not yet kissing, but instead brushing together as if to test the waters, and when you don’t say anything to stop him, he moves to close the last gap between you… only for you to pull away with a harsh gasp. Gojo feels something inside him start to crack, his blood boiling and feeling like slapping you, but his thoughts are immediately shut down when he hears the sound of water splashing on the floor.

He freezes in place stiffly and does a slow scan of you, your hand clasped over your mouth, eyes wide staring between your feet, the dark damp spot on the cloth covering your lower region, and finally, the small puddle soaking your feet.

Imposter.

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Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, sexual themes, smut, semi non-con touching, male masturbation; hand job.

Summary: Request:

Are you accepting requests? If you do, can I request a Yandere! Satoru Gojo (or Yandere! Nanami Kento, you choose) pretending to be a gynecologist just to be able touch intimately his darling? I'm sorry for my English, it isn't my fist language. Have a nice day :)

W/C: 2.8k+

A/N: If Gojo seems a bit OOC (Out Of Character) in the way he talks, he purposefully decided to talk a little more 'professional' for the given situation.

You continue to wait at your seat in the waiting hall, hoping that your name finally gets called, a plead that gets answered quickly by the sound of your name filling your ears. “Yes?” You ask as you stand. “You may wait in Dr. Nanami’s office now.” The person who called your name indicates, leading you to the office and opening the door. “What do you mean ‘wait’? Is Dr. Nanami-” “He’ll be here soon.” The door is shut behind you, having you wondering why most of the staff was always quite rude.

You move to sit in the chair in front of the familiar desk where surely enough, Nanami isn’t sitting, having you wondering of his whereabouts, and as the minutes pass, well after your scheduled appointment, you question what’s going on. Nanami’s never been late with an appointment, and now you were passed to his office while he’s gone, something else that has never happened, he’s always had you wait until the exact time.

The door behind you nearly bursts open, making you jump and look behind you to see an unfamiliar man in a white coat with matching white hair and oddly enough with sunglasses resting on his nose. “Good evening miss L/N, I’m very sorry but it seems like Kento won’t be able to make it.” The man closes the door behind him. “Who are you?” You ask as he walks over to the other side of Nanami’s desk.

“Dr. Satoru Gojo, though you can just call me Satoru,” He removes his sunglasses, showing his pristine white lashes and his alluring neon blue sapphire eyes, having your eyes widening at the sight and cheeks nearly burning. “You see, I like to feel comfortable with my patients. Miss L/N, are you alright?” He asks with an almost playful smirk at how you stare at him. “Yes, sorry.” You apologize after letting out a small cough against your closed hand, attempting to break the awkward moment.

“Kento had some personal problems and had to leave but didn’t want to cancel your appointment, so he sent me instead, sorry for the wait.” He apologizes with an almost giddy smile. “I was informed that you’re here for a breast ultrasound and pap smear for a check up, right?” He pulls out a neatly folded hospital gown from a bin behind him. “Yes.” You respond. “Here, you can go to the bathroom.” He hands you the gown, briefly pointing to the bathroom to your right.

“Oh, and miss L/N?” He calls before you walk in the bathroom, looking back to him. “Make sure you take off your underwear…” He reminds in a nearly seductive manner. You make a small grimace at the uncomfortable situation before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you, your body betraying you and lightly clenching your thighs, and while you undress yourself, multiple questions run through your head.

Why hadn’t Nanami informed you that someone would be replacing him? You thought he was more professional than this. What happened that had led to him having to call in someone else? Once you finish changing to the gown, you set your clothes and other belongings on the small counter by the sink before exiting the bathroom. “Are you ready?” He waits for you next to the examination table to which you quietly respond in affirmation.

You take a seat on the crinkly paper with the help of the small step up stool, your feet dangling while he pushes off your shoulders the crossed front of the top of the gown, exposing your breasts to him. As you raise your arms to place your hands behind your head, being familiar with the procedure, you miss the way your alleged doctor stares at your breasts, unaware of how quickly his pants tighten and how close he is to wetting them, your legs blocking the view.

As soon as his bare hands come into contact with your breast, you notice something off in his start. “Aren’t you supposed to start at the underarm?” You look at him. “Hmm?” He hums, seeming to have been snapped out of some sort of daze. “Right here.” You point at the junction where your underarm and chest meet. “… Oh! I’m sorry, you see; I didn’t get much of a good night’s rest.” He apologizes, excusing himself while you lift your arm again.

You calmly stare at the wall ahead while feeling the fingers gently running from your underarm to the start of your breast as your nipples harden from the cold air in the room, the sight having him swallowing thickly. The pads of his fingertips continue to travel across the expanse of the soft skin, touching and feeling every inch and finally reaching your nipple.

His thumb slowly circles around the peak, grazing it with the side of his finger while tracing the areola, feeling his skin starting to prickle in sweat at having to restrain himself. Once he’s done, he finally brings himself to lightly press on top of the nipple, the action making him bite down painfully hard at his lip in attempt to continue to hold himself back, his jaw lightly quivering as he suppresses the moan that so desperately wants to escape his throat…

Wanting nothing more than to than to grope, pull and yank at the soft tissue, squeeze it in his large hands until the fat seeps between his fingers. “Is there something wrong?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, having him clearing his throat before answering. “No, I’ll just check the other one now.” He responds, reaching for your other breast and performing the same slow procedure until he’s done, turning away briefly.

“This might feel cold.” He warns, squeezing the thin bottle in his hand until the thick transparent liquid lands in the palm of his hand. “I know.” You reply and lay back on the reclined examination table before he applies the cold gel on your tit, seeing small goosebumps forming on the skin. After smearing the gel on your breast, he grabs the ultrasound transducer and presses it against the globe, making sure to spread it thoroughly this time.

While you look at the screen to your right, you once again miss the way he stares at your chest, spreading the substance that resembles his cum an awful lot. The sight makes it easy for him to get a detailed image of what your tits would look like painted in his cum, the thick semen trailing down your perked nipples and slipping between the valley. What would you have finished doing? Were you jerking him off with your smaller hands? Maybe one of them cupping his plump balls…

Or were you blowing him? Keeping him warm in your mouth with your nose reaching his lower stomach, nestling in the softly trimmed hair. Or were you letting him fuck your tight little throa- “What’s that?” You stare at the black screen with blurry white lines along it. “Nothing to worry about.” He assures after quickly composing himself after what feels like the hundredth time.

The rest of the ultrasound is spent with you missing your other doctor, the one who always explained every detail thoroughly and actually made you feel confident in your health, as opposed to the one standing before you who’s awfully quiet. “Well,” His voice pulls your attention to him. “Everything seems to be fine, I’ll just clean you up now.” He sets away the transducer.

Before you can interject, he’s already grabbing tissues and cleaning the smudged mess, wiping the gel with ease and in a manner that could almost seem… loving. After all, it was his chance at showing you how good he’d be with cleaning you up after your activities. While he finishes cleaning you, you awkwardly look away, not knowing what to say and instead choosing to stay quiet as you bashfully look away.

After a few tissues are thrown in the trash bin, he crouches down to reach the stirrups and readies them to a proper height as he feels himself growing more excited by the second, if possible, while the height of the table conveniently covers the way his pants are forced to tightly restrain his erection. “Now that we’re all set, let me help you.” He says in a low almost seductive tone, the situation alone making it hard for you to breathe.

He gently settles the heels of your feet on the stirrups one at a time, your gown barely covering your cunt while you wonder why you’re feeling so nervous. You never felt nervous with Nanami, he never once made you feel uncomfortable and always kept everything strictly professional, so despite having an attractive man looking at your lower region, it was easy to get used to the situation, but with Satoru…

You suddenly feel awfully nervous and a bit self conscious at having someone like him seeing your private parts, every last ounce of your calm and collected attitude having left when he insisted on cleaning your breasts. He slips a pair of gloves on with ease and swiftly moves over to reach for the speculum and is quick to work, dropping down his knees and deciding to briefly tease himself by slowly moving the bottom of your gown away, bunching it around your waist.

Warmth instantly spreads through your cheeks at being exposed to him with the angle of your body leaving you unable to see him. He stares at your bare cunt for a moment, taking in the sight with wide eyes and blushing cheeks, feeling the embarrassingly large amounts of precum leaking his swollen tip soaking his underwear. After a small moment of silence, you finally feel the smooth cool metal come in contact with your labia.

You let out a quiet nervous breath as you slightly fiddle with your hands that rest over your stomach, unaware of what your doctor’s really doing. As he slowly inserts the end of the speculum, his nose hovers mere inches away from your sex, inhaling and taking in the smell with cheeks burning red and tongue peeking out from his mouth. He pleads in his head, begs just to get a taste from you, he’s just a flick from his tongue away, just- please.

Nearly close to tears from frustration, his free hand shakily reaches for his pants and quietly unbuttons them followed by a muted pull from his zipper with your insides still slowly engulfing the metal object, careful not to hurt you. His hand slips in the opening of his pants and pulls out his heavy length, aching for any sort of stimulation with the dripping head thick and swollen the same way as his balls which he pulls out to rest over the zipper.

With a single tug of his hand from the start of his dick to the base, he reaches his orgasms and cums with his eyes instinctively widening in surprise and letting out a cough to cover up for his actions with his other hand leaving you to cover his mouth. “Are you okay?” You quickly ask, raising your head but still unable to see him. Another cough leaves him in attempt to block the loud groan that desperately wants to escape while endless streams of cum shoot from his tip with his eyes squeezed shut.

With the first spurt having landed on the table, he aims himself to the floor to spill his load on the white tiles, dick twitching in his tight grip and balls feeling unbelievably tight. You remain quiet until he regains himself from what you can only assume is a coughing fit and unknowingly let him finish releasing all over the floor, creating a rather large puddle. His hand leaves his mouth and goes to his balls to lightly fondle them and help bring him down from his high as his length softens, slowly falling to his balls.

“Dr. Gojo?” You ask after clearing your throat, slowly sitting up with a creak of the table to which he immediately shoots up to his knees to keep you from looking any further. “Yes?!” He quickly rushes out his mouth with wide eyes, looking similar to a toddler having been caught doing something bad. “… Are you… alright?” You repeat yourself with uncertainty. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, I just swallowed the wrong way.” He nervously excuses with burning cheeks and a flustered expression.

“I’m sorry about that, I’ll just continue now.” He ducks back down. You lay back on the table and feel the end of the speculum finally kissing your cervix with him enjoying the view for a small moment of the small stretch that it gives you, wondering if that’s how you’d look like with his fingers inside you. As his soft cock rests outside his pants, he focuses in moving the speculum to spread your walls open and receive a view of the inside of them.

He immediately associates the image with the way your insides would look upon being impaled by him, though the stretch would be far wider and unfortunately, if he stretches you wider, you’ll grow suspicious given that the size of the brush isn’t that big. He stops expanding your walls and carefully inserts the brush while your cheeks start burning at similar dirty thoughts running through your mind and soon enough; with your body betraying you.

Panic washes over you once you feel the familiar leakage in your lower region and you pray for it to be over soon, the sensation of the brush swabbing the deepest part inside you filling you with relief. After pulling the brush out, he stares at it and examines it in great detail with a piercing gaze, looking at your essence smeared on it, cock twitching in response. Without thinking, he softly parts his lips and peeks his tongue out as he brings the brush closer, ready to get his taste of you that he’s been craving for so long.

“Are you done?” Your quiet voice still makes it to his ears, desperate to clothe yourself again. “Yes, just a moment.” He replies, disappointed in your interruption and instead slathering your juices in a small container beside him, placing the lid after and closing it. The speculum returns to its original state and is pulled out of you with a thin coat of your liquids followed by him shoving his spent member in his pants and buttoning them.

He casually stands, sets everything aside on a small table and helps you bring your feet down before moving his hands to your arms. “Let me help you.” He insists with a smile, aiding you to stand on your feet and directing you to the bathroom to get dressed, all the while standing between you and the puddle of his cum. As soon as the door’s shut, he quickly scampers to clean his mess, just now noticing the size of the puddle…

Thinking to himself how he hadn’t cummed that much since the day he first got hands on a pair of your underwear. He throws the last dirtied tissue away and contemplates about continuing what was interrupted from him but is instead met with the noise of the bathroom door clicking, making him look over to your once again clothed body. “When will you have the results?” You question after an awkward cough.

“Kento has a pretty busy schedule, so I’ll just call you to let you know.” He explains and you thank him for… the most uncomfortable appointment you’ve had, though of course you don’t say that part. “No, thank you.” He ominously thanks, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you to the door while saying his goodbyes. He opens the door for you and once he does, a familiar figure is standing in the way.

“Dr. Nanami, you’re here.” You point out while he stands in front of you with a hand out as if he was about to open the door. “I- yes. What’s happening here?” He questions, staring at Gojo. “Dr. Gojo said you sent him because you had to leave.” You point at the white haired man. “I see.” Nanami’s fists clench, continuing to stare at the other man rather harshly. “Glad… to see you could make it.” You try to break the tension. “So, you’re finished here?” He asks without breaking his stare.

“Yes, Gojo did my pap smear and… my breast ultrasound.” Your voice quiets down at the dangerous tension you feel, for some reason feeling that you should run away. “Just like you said, right?” You add, wondering why your hands are trembling. “…” Nanami stays quiet with Gojo smiling as if he did nothing wrong. “Dr… Nanami?” You meekly asks, the scared tone in your voice finally getting him to look at you, the angry look on his face disappearing.

“Yes.” He finally responds, removing Gojo’s hand to replace it with his own. “Now please leave, I have to have a talk with Gojo about your routinely check up.” He lies with ease, leading your almost shaking frame away. You’d never seen him angry, and certainly not to that level. “Is… everything okay?” You turn to look at him again. “Yes, there’s no need to worry, you may leave now.” He assures you, seeing you rush away and facing Gojo again who simply looks at him with a smirk and a cocky expression.

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Creep.

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Yandere! Satoru Gojo x GN! Reader.

Warnings: Implied yandere themes at the end, implied non-con threat, light physical abuse.

Summary: After leaving work early in the morning with an empty stomach, you stop at a gas station for a quick meal but instead get more than you bargained for.

W/C: 1.3k+

You continue to walk through the dark empty streets of the night with a pain in your stomach, reminding you of how your lunch had gone bad, leaving you unable to eat. You could’ve walked to the nearest place where you could buy the closest thing to food, but it would’ve taken over half of your lunch break just to get to the food, not to mention having to wait for it, it would’ve been too late by then and unfortunately, your boss was in a bad mood already- well, they always were.

Putting your faith in the large meal you had before work to pull you through the rest of the day proved to be a wrong choice. You quicken your pace to reach sooner the gas station you’ve come across many times, already feeling relieved as soon as it comes into sight in the distance. After what feels like an eternity, you finally reach the doors, pushing one open for you to pass. “Good morning.” You nonchalantly greet the cashier who gawks at you as soon as your back is to them.

You easily find your way to the ‘quick meals’ section, pick something out and ready it for the microwave. While your food spins in the small space, you take your time to wander through the isles on the left, quickly regretting it due to your growing hunger urging you to buy everything that catches your eye. As you take your last turn, you realize you're alone with the cashier, nothing really coming to your mind until you walk back to the microwave, noticing the disgusting stare they give you.

You stand in a proper position to keep them in your peripherals while staring at the numbers, wishing they would go by faster. Your pleads fall on deaf ears, noticing that even worst, the cashier leaves their spot and approaches you. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Their voice asks. “Nothing.” Your tone gives a clear sign of being uninterested, hoping that they’ll get the hint and leave.

You manage to block out the noise of their voice, feeling worry clouding your mind when you notice how close they’re standing to you. You visibly take a step further from them, once again hoping that they’ll leave you, but they seem to have no problem carrying the one-sided conversation while following your migrating form. Their hand falls on your shoulder for you to push it off only for it to find its way to your lower back instead, now having to shove it away.

“Do not touch me.” You look up at the larger figure. “Oh come on, clearly, I’m-” Their threat gets interrupted with the door opening behind the two of you. You look at the taller man and take notice of his dark purple clothes, nearly black with pure white hair and even more noticeable, the black blindfold covering his eyes. Despite his eyes being covered, he seems to have no problem walking through the isles and grabbing a few things in his free hand, the other one holding a duffle bag.

“Listen,” The cashier continues the conversation in a hushed voice as soon as the other man is out of sight, squeezing your shoulder painfully. “I’m clearly the bigger one here, so play nice and stick around until this asshole leaves.” They release your shoulder as the microwave dings. You lower your head and glance behind you, seeing a peek of the white hair over the isles. You sprint as quick as you can to the other man with the cashier after you, slowing your rushed pace once you take a turn with the tall man in your sight.

“Oh my god! It’s been so long I wasn’t sure it was you! How have you been?” You try your best to sound convincing and pick up a conversation with the stranger who moves to stand straight to face you, his glance to the cashier behind you being blocked by his blindfold. “… Now I remember you!” He plasters a more than convincing smile on his face as opposed to the neutral expression he had.

“It’s been so long! No wonder you looked familiar!” He gushes with an upbeat attitude while you thank the stars for the man following the lead. “What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile. “Just a quick stop before I head home, I had a long work trip.” He responds while the cashier leaves with an angry expression. “You want me to walk you home?” He gives you a warm smile while you briefly eye his bag, wondering if he really was on a work trip.

“Yeah.” You answer, your facade falling for a split second, still not feeling comfortable with the man but he seemed like a better option, at least on the surface. “How have you been? What are you doing here so early in the morning?” He continues to the conversation, waving a hand over as he passes you, signaling you to follow behind him. “My lunch went bad at work, I didn’t think I’d make it home.” You explain, eyeing his odd form.

You acknowledge his height even more when he’s forced to crouch down to pick up something on the lower shelves. “Oh man, that must’ve sucked.” He tries to console while you eye the way he spreads his legs unnecessarily far apart, making you wonder if it’s a habit. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” You say, taking a few seconds to come up with something else to continue to conversation. “So, why were you on a work trip?” You ask as he stands.

“Oh, you know how the higher ups get on me, it seems I can’t catch a break.” He walks you to the microwave. “I’m just glad I’m seeing my kids again.” He adds after pointing at the microwave, reminding you of your food. “You have kids?” You ask as you take your food out. “I might as well, they’re my students.” He walks with you to the register. You continue to question his answers in your head, gathering that he’s some sort of teacher, now wondering what kind of a teacher goes to work trips?

Maybe he was actually finding it hard to keep up with a facade. “I’ve got three of them, they’ve really been improving.” He sets his items on the counter. “What about you? You got any kids?” He asks. “No, I’m too busy with work anyway.” You see him pay for his items. “When was the last time you took a break?” He comments while you pay for your food. “It’s been a while.” You admit, following him to the exit and giving him a small ‘thank you’ when he opens the door for you, exiting behind you.

“… So, do you mind me asking what you were doing out at two in the morning?” He continues, trying to comfort you with a smile. “… My food went bad at work.” You repeat. “You weren’t lying then, well, neither was I, I just got back from a work trip.” He says, giving you a feeling that he appreciates your honesty. “A work trip as a teacher?” You question after taking a large bite from your food.

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to come back, one of my students might as well be my actual kid, I wanted to see him again.” He explains, easing a little your worry. “Now, are you sure you want me to walk you home, or do you want to take it from here?” He asks. “It’s okay, I can take it from here, I don’t want to keep you from your kid. Thank you so much.” You thank. “Are you sure? My kid’s safe at home, but you’re quite exposed out here.” He insists.

“If it’s not too much of a bother,” “Not at all! I’d feel better knowing you’re at home and safe as well.” He assures. “Thank you so much.” You bow. “There’s no need for that.” He follows your lead in the direction you’re walking. “Just please consider changing your shift, I’d hate for you to deal with more people like them.” He suggests to which you agree with a smile, unknowingly creating another creep.

Donor 1.

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Part 1.5

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, somewhat non-con, implied panty-stealing, implied male masturbation.

Summary: Gojo decides to make a few last minute changes in your artificial insemination.

W/C: 1.4k+

“Okay, thank you, you too, bye bye.” You bid farewell over the phone while the apartment door opens in the background before you hang up, letting out a noise of excitement. “What was that? I didn’t know humans could make that noise.” Your roommate jokes as he enters the kitchen area. “Gojo! I just got off the phone with the facility, someone just cancelled and they gave me their spot! I’m going in tomorrow!” You enthusiastically explain, unaware of the way his smile falters, replaced by a frown.

Tomorrow? That’s too early for him. He’s been too busy to make his move, and despite still being busy; he has to make the time now. “I’m finally gonna be a mom!” You add with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “That’s amazing!” He quickly composes himself, burning with rage inside. “Though, to tell you the truth… you don’t need artificial insemination to have a kid of your own.” He comments.

“I know, but I don’t exactly have a volunteer, and knowing the dad of my kid sounds like a hassle.” You roll your eyes at the end. Of course it’d be a hassle, you hate relationships, it’s the whole reason why Gojo’s had to tone down his insistence on taking you out, at least he doesn’t have to worry about someone else stealing you away. “Well, if you need a volunteer, I’m right here.” He gives you a thumb up, pulling his blindfold up from the side to let you see him winking at you with a goofy smile.

“Come on now, that joke’s gotten old. You know I’d never do that.” Your voice turns serious, annoyed at him for repeating himself. He feels a sharp pain in his stomach with his rage boiling hotter, forced to maintain his front. “Relax, of course I know that. Anyway, I just dropped by for a quick shower before heading out again.” He moves towards the exit of the kitchen. “What’s it about this time?” You ask.

“Just the higher ups with the same problems, nothing to worry about.” He waves a hand dismissively as he heads to his room, locking the door behind him before unzipping his pants with a hand reaching into his drawer for a used pair of your underwear.

~.~

“Good evening, I’d like to speak to Dr. Tanaka.” Gojo stands at reception. “Do you have an appointment with him?” The receptionist asks. “No, but he’ll want to hear this.” Gojo assures. “I’m sorry but Dr. Tanaka is very strict in regards t- Hey! You can’t do that!” She shouts when Gojo snatches a paper that informs him of his whereabouts. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.” He tosses the paper behind him nonchalantly, walking through the halls of the facility you’re scheduled to go to the next day.

“Dr. Tanaka!” Gojo bursts through the door, seeing him sat at a desk with a patient, startling them. “It’s so good to see you again, I’m sorry to burst through but I have something very important to tell you.” He continues speaking. “What the hell are you talking about?! I don’t know you! Get out!” The doctor shouts at him, having stood up from his seat. “Don’t worry miss, this’ll only take a few minutes.” Gojo directs out the older patient.

“What are you doing?! Who the hell are you?!” The doctor continues to shout as he shuts the door. “Now that we’re alone,” He locks the door, dropping his smile. “Let’s get to the point.” He turns around. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but-!” The doctor marches up to him before being interrupted. “Listen,” Gojo sternly states, completely dropping his facade, the rage and anger he’s been feeling since you gave him the news finally surfacing.

“This is what’s going to happen, tomorrow, a woman is going to come in for an artificial insemination, I don’t care what donor you had in line, you’re going to give her this one instead.” He explains, holding up a closed container filled to the brim with his cum. The doctor stares in fear at the anger Gojo emanates but manages to compose himself enough. “A- And why would I do that?” He cautiously asks.

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Gojo picks him up by his collar, staring him down for long enough until he feels him give in. Gojo releases him from his hold and hands him the container, plastering another smile on his face. “Now then, I’m glad we were able to get to an agreement, I’ll see you tomorrow doctor.” He slaps a wad of cash onto his hand, turning around to open the door. “Oh, and while you’re at it doctor, get a woman to do it.” He stands at the doorway.

“Wait, how will I know who to give this to?” The doctor asks. “You will.” Gojo looks behind him before leaving.

~.~

“It’s alright, you’re going to be fine.” Gojo assures you while holding your hands in his, seeing you take deep breaths in the waiting room of the facility. “I know, I just feel nervous all of the sudden.” You smile nervously, quickly followed by the call of your name. “Here!” You shoot up. “This way please.” The soft voice directs you with Gojo following behind with a comforting hand resting on your shoulder.

“Here.” You reach your stop, having the door opened for you as you give a small ‘thank you’. You walk in with Gojo behind you, shutting the door while giving the doctor a certain smile, causing him to swallow thickly at the memory of his threat. “Please excuse me.” The doctor stands as you and Gojo take a seat, quickly exiting the room. “Well that’s rude, why did he call us in if he wasn’t ready?” You complain, anxious to get the procedure started.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” He smiles to himself. You wait for a couple of minutes in silence before somebody finally returns to the room with a knock. “Good morning, I’ll be attending you today.” The woman’s voice says, introducing herself with her name. “I thought Dr. Tanaka was-” “There’s no need to worry about that.” She assures, closing the door. “Now, let’s get started.” She states and in just a matter of minutes, you’re laying flat wearing scrubs for hospital patients.

“Will it hurt?” You ask the doctor. “Not at all, it’s completely painless.” She answers while Gojo squeezes your hand in a reassuring manner. In just a few more seconds, you’ll be filled with him, just the thought alone makes his pants tighten. “Now, I’ll insert the tube.” She warns. “Okay.” You agree, expecting at least a little pain considering that the tube is meant to go through your cervix, but it never comes, after all, it is a small tube.

You only feel something reach your cervix but not much afterwards, not until you feel the liquid go in. The way your eyes widen in surprise informs Gojo of what’s happening and he’s forced to contain a moan at the look on your face. You make a small cringe expression with your face at the odd feeling but soon enough, it’s over. “All done, please remain in your horizontal position for at least 15 minutes to let the sperm work. I’ll be back in half an hour.” She explains, standing from her position and leaving.

“That’s it?” You ask after the door closes. “Well, I guess it really was a simple procedure.” Gojo comments. “How do you feel?” He looks over at you, trying to contain a smile that would only scare you. “Weird, it’s hard to explain…” You focus on the still unfamiliar sensation. “Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” He asks. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wish I’d asked her if I can lower my legs.” You look at your raised legs. “You should leave them up just in case.” He suggests.

“Yeah… I can’t believe I’m gonna be a mom.”

~.~

You stare at the newborn in your weak arms with as much confusion as you can muster after the brutal hours of birth, still trying to catch your breath. As a pair of stronger arms find their way under your own shaky ones to offer aid, the newborn continues to stare at you with its bright blue eyes, pristine white lashes kissing its cheeks with every blink as it takes a gentle hold at the finger offered by its father, seeing him offering a bright smile.

MASTERLISTS

The following masterlists will only feature posts with notes above 1k. All characters are aged up!

♡ INSERT MASTERLIST

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN

♡ BLUE LOCK

♡ HAIKYU!!

Having nasty thoughts about Gojo. I feel like he’s the type to frustrate and bully you until you cry.

He’d defo also force you into little space all the time, telling you things like “you’re too little to understand” and cooing at you in a really condescending tone, every time you get mad or try to fight him he’d continue the bullying and the cycle would just repeat.

He’d show up at your work, tell everyone you know that you two are dating. If you ever tried to bring it up he’d play it off, acting smug and asking you if you had a crush on him before antagonising you some more.

He would blow hot and cold, telling you that you’re delusional and in the same week, show up out of the blue offering you a bouquet of flowers and begging you to move in with him (after your apartment blew up under “mysterious circumstances” ofc). How did he even know where you lived?

Eventually you’d be too exhausted to fight him and end up in little space all the time. Whining at him and asking him permission for the smallest things, the worse thing is, he’d break you down so slowly over a long period that you wouldn’t even realise its happening .

I feel like he wouldn’t want you to be too tame however, he’d let you act up, riling you up in public spaces and punishing you privately at home.

Don’t make him too jealous tho, he wouldn’t like that. He’s all smiles in front of his darling whilst contemplating where to dispose the body of the guy you were so brazenly flirting with. He’d keep his cool, playing up appearances until he gets home, and next thing you know you’re kept tied to his bed all weekend. 💜

Yandere Writing Blog

Please call me Peach, I’ll be posting Dark/ Yandere content for:

Hunter x Hunter

Castlevania

Jujitsu Kaisen

Hazbin Hotel

JoJo’s Bizarre adventure

Demon Slayer

Original Characters

Other Fandoms may be added if i find interest in them. Please beware this is an 18+ blog and if you find things such as dubcon/ noncon and kidnapping upsetting please do not proceed.

Parasite

Sum: Nothing bad ever happens from a fling, right?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Pregnancy/Implied Baby trapping, Non-con/Dub-con, Double Penetration, Power imbalance, mild gore (curses), Execution mentions, MDNI

WC: 3.5k

A/n: there will be another part eventually! Mwah!

You knew this was wrong - every part of it. You shouldn’t be here, ensnared between the two most dangerous sorcerers alive. You shouldn’t be gasping sweet moans into the mouth of the enemy, pressed between their feverish, toned bodies. And yet, here you were, lips crushed against Satoru’s, desperation tangible as he chased every breath you tried to take. Hungry. Starved. Intent on devouring you whole. His long, slender fingers found their way to the curve of your waist, dragging the blunt edge of his nails along the softness of your skin. His lips followed, trailing down the column of your neck, branding you with searing heat. Behind you, Suguru pressed closer, his warmth a slow, creeping heat licking up your spine, airy touches ghosting down your body. That voice - silken and intoxicating - curled into your ear, pulling a sigh from your lips before you could stop it.

“I missed you,” he murmured, those thick fingers of his flexing against your tender, pliant flesh. Then, with a teasing lilt, he added, “And you know… I don’t think I’ll let you leave this time.”

The same joke. The same dangerous hint of a smile in his words. He used to say it back when you’d slip into his dorm in the dead of night, when stolen kisses in dim hallways felt like secrets worth keeping. But that was then.

You felt Suguru’s hands glide up from your hips, pulling you from your thoughts, his soothing touch tracing idle patterns into your skin. There was an almost languid hunger in the way he moved - a need to claim, to memorize every curve, every tremor that rippled through you under his touch. Big, warm calloused palms, rough from training, grazed over your flesh, scorching everywhere they touched. Higher and higher, teasingly slow, until they reached their destination, cupping your breasts, kneading softly before his thumb flicked over your sensitive nub, coaxing a gasp from your lips.

His mouth was just as sinful, hot and insistent. Lips latched onto the nape of your neck, sucking a bruising mark into your skin - one you’d surely chastise him for later. 

Yet, in this moment, all you could focus on was the way you were sinking onto Satoru. The thick stretch of him stole your breath. God, you’d forgotten how full he made you feel - almost too much, the urge to say wait nearly slipping from your lips. But you couldn’t stop - not with Suguru pressing in behind you, trapping you between them, the weight of what was at stake pressing just as heavily against your skin.

How long had it been since the three of you planned this? A month? Two? If the higher-ups ever found out -

“You’re overthinking again,” Satoru whined, his voice breathy with need. He gazed up at you, those bright, lust-hazed eyes brimming with impatience. His grip on your hips tightened before he yanked you down, forcing his length deeper inside you. A sharp moan tore from your throat, body trembling as pleasure jolted through you.

“Can feel you dryin’ up,” Satoru murmured, his voice dipping into something teasing yet edged with need. “C’mon, pretty - focus on us.”

Suguru seemed to notice as well, one hand slipping away, trailing down to the small of your back. With a firm, gentle nudge as he guided you forward until your body melted against Satoru’s warm chest. Hazy and pliant, you let your lips find his in a slow, heated kiss, too lost in him to register the shift behind you.

At first, you barely noticed the second press of a velvety tip at your entrance, too caught up in the way Satoru’s fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you tethered to him, deepening the kiss. But when Suguru pushed forward, sinking in inch by inch, Satoru stilled, smiling against your lips as if savoring your reaction.

The stretch was dizzying, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat - one that Satoru eagerly swallowed, his tongue licking into your mouth to steal the sound. Behind you, Suguru let out a low, satisfied hum, his grip tightening as he cooed,

“It’s just a big stretch, Angel. You can handle it.”

The sinful reassurance dripped from Suguru’s lips that only made the overwhelming sensation all the more dizzying. Sounds you’d never made before were quickly swallowed by Satoru, his soft, glossy lips moving hungrily against yours as your mind slipped into a hazy, pleasure-drunk daze. It was too much - you felt too much.

You tried to speak, to push the word yellow against Satoru’s lips, but he was too lost in you to notice. Too absorbed in the way your body trembled between them, too caught up in his own pleasure to realize you were instinctively trying to move forward - to run - only for Suguru’s grip to turn cruel as he began pulling your hips back in place.

The first wave crashed through you, the lights from the room turning into blurring stars as you did your best to focus on anything but the overwhelming stretch, away from the pleasure being dragged out of you. As your maw went slack, drool spilling past your lips, your body greedily clenched around them both, walls closing in on their thick cocks that seemed to twitch as your cunt sang to their ears. Satoru sucked in a sharp breath beneath you, his grip on your waist faltering as he stilled.

“Fuck - ” a deep groan pushed outwards, his perfect face contorting into pleasure as his white brows furrowed, stuttering a few pleasure-laced breaths before heat flooded inside your body, swarming with your juices. White rings forming around their cocks as both your bodies tensed from the sensation, as your cunt wrung every last drop, sodden walls clenching down mercilessly. Satoru whined, high and breathy, shivering beneath you, but Suguru didn’t stop. Of course, he didn't, instead a soft moan left his lips as he pushed himself deeper, to witness the twitches in Satoru’s body from the overstimulation. 

Satoru had always been an early finisher. His hands however, remained bruising on your skin, fingers dragging down your back, leaving behind stinging scratches as his pale body twitched from the sensitivity as Suguru’s cock dragged against his. You yelped, the sharp sensation blending into the white-hot pleasure building inside you, your moans growing more desperate. You were close - so close.

Satoru pulled you tighter against his chest, cradling you as Suguru’s pace quickened, each thrust sending you spiraling higher, sending your mind spiraling higher as the words yellow to red formed on your lips, words that didn't have the chance to escape. As Satoru's mouth was already there, devouring, consuming, smothering every syllable before it could escape. His tongue swept into your mouth, swallowing every fractured breath and plea. The pleasure crested a blinding, suffocation sensation that sent your body shaking. a keen whine manages to break through your throat, ragged and breathless as tears prickle at your lashes. Hot and stinging. Slipping free in the spaces where neither of them was watching.

Satoru, ever the sweet talker, murmured soft breathless praises into your ear, his voice dripping with adoration. 

“That’s it, pretty,” he cooed, voice hazy as he felt Suguru’s cock twitch against his dragging a breathless, pitiful whine from his lips before continuing, “Just let go. We’ve got you.” 

You don’t remember much after that - after the gasp that tore from your lips, the slick warmth pooling between your thighs, after the small press of something making you feel impossibly fuller. Sleep had dragged you under far too quickly, faster than the aftercare, faster than the quiet murmurs and touches meant to tether you back to them.

When you awoke, the room was silent, save for the muffled hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Tokyo’s skyline bled into the dim hotel walls, casting soft, shifting reflections across the room. The heat of their bodies had long since vanished, leaving behind only the ghost of them - cologne, sweat, and the unmistakable, sinful scent of last night.

You groggily pushed yourself up, muscles aching, the soreness wrapping itself around your limbs like a cruel embrace - a stark reminder of why you needed to keep your distance. A month should be enough. A month to shake off their hold, to regain some semblance of control. You didn’t envy the poor soul who ended up with them permanently.

Blinking against the remnants of sleep, your gaze landed on the nightstand. A neatly folded note sat there, the ink bold and familiar, the elegant scrawl unmistakably Suguru’s.

Hotel is paid for. I’ll have my assistant schedule our next meeting. Order some food. Please. Satoru turned off your alarm - you looked exhausted.

And beneath it, a final line, one that made something in your chest twist.

I hope this time you’ll consider saying yes.

Of course.

There it was.

Your eyes drifted lower, and sure enough, a small velvet box sat beside the note.

This had to be the fifth - no, the sixth - ring they’d given you.

The first had been simple: a thin silver band pressed into your palm the night Suguru defected. His bloodied hand - blood that wasn’t his - had cupped your cheek as he begged you to come with him. As he whispered that he couldn’t leave without you.

Instead, you had backed away.

You had stayed while they left.

You had chosen the world that they had rejected. A world focused on protecting the weak. A world that the strongest had abandoned.

And somehow, despite everything, you had ended up in this arrangement -  was it lust? Was it the ache of loneliness? Or was it something far along the lines of the intoxicating thrill of being wanted by the strongest?

You weren’t sure. However, you did the same thing you always did.

You left the ring untouched. You never even opened the box to see what elaborate choice they had made this time. It didn’t matter. It never mattered.

This was a fling. Nothing more. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. A day later, the Google invite arrived - subtle, inconspicuous, something that wouldn’t raise suspicion among the higher-ups. Two private addresses - never the same location, never the same time. Just a casual meeting of sorts.

You knew better. You knew exactly what would happen if the higher ups caught you with the enemy. And those two knew too - constantly reminding you in soft murmurs and teasing threats that you would be executed.

You tried not to think about it.

So, out of pure spite, you pressed the response button to their invite:

Maybe.

Not like they could contact you, anyway.

But when the end of the month arrived and your period didn’t, the world seemed to fracture beneath you. You counted the days again. And again. You told yourself it was nothing - stress, exhaustion, the toll of constant missions. You tried to believe it.

Still, when the next invitation came, you declined. No explanation. No excuses. Just Declined.

You were busy. Too busy. Missions, training, anything to keep yourself from spiraling. Anything to push the thought - the creeping, gnawing what if - out of your mind.

Anything to push them out of your mind. You didn't need them. This is where you draw the line. Where you hope to never cross paths again.

But that didn’t stop Suguru. He always had his ways of reminding you. Reminding you of his love. The curses came first, creeping from the shadows like nightmarish specters - grotesque things with gnarled, sinewy limbs and rotting flesh that peeled in thick, oozing sheets. Their twisted bodies slithered toward you, spines snapping and limbs jerking with unnatural movements, but it was their mouths - oh, their mouths - that haunted you most.

Petals.

Blood-red roses, blooming in grotesque mockery, spilled from their jagged maws, dripping with saliva and something darker. The scent of decay mixed with the sickly sweet perfume of crushed petals as they gurgled and snarled, teeth flashing between the soft, delicate flowers. Their fingers - long, clawed things  - reached for your flesh, desperate to tear, to consume, to remind you.

Suguru always was a cruel bastard.

But he never sent anything you couldn’t handle. Never anything that could truly harm you - only the most horrifying of his discarded creatures, his unwanted experiments, cast-offs he no longer had use for. They were love letters written in nightmare fuel, messages of devotion carved into the flesh of his creations, each one a whisper of don’t forget me.

And then another month passed.

Another invite.

Another decline. You had things to do, a family-mart to visit. The open bag sat beside you, its contents spilling haphazardly across the sink - water bottles, half-torn hydration drink wrappers, and an obscene number of pregnancy tests. The dim bathroom light flickered above, casting sickly yellow hues over the mess around you. Shadows stretched and twisted against the walls, warping your reflection in the mirror, making it seem as distorted as the thoughts racing through your head.

Your hands trembled violently as you stared down at the scattered tests, their tiny plastic frames stark against the floor. Five. Five identical windows, five glaring verdicts. Five quiet executions of your denial.

Double lines.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Your breath hitched, ragged and uneven, the walls pressing in tighter with every second. Your fingers curled as you grabbed another test, fumbling with frantic, clumsy hands. The packaging crinkled, tearing easily under your shaking grip. Your pulse pounded so loud, so deafening, that you barely heard the sob clawing its way out of your throat.

They have to be defective.

They had to be. Each and every single one of them.

Your vision blurred, hot tears streaking down your face as you fought to steady your hands. The plastic test felt too light, too fragile in your grip - like it was toying with you, waiting to deliver the final blow, waiting to write your execution for something you should have prevented. You uncapped the pathetic thing. Was it because you bought the cheap ones? You should go back and buy the fancy digital ones. Your mind raced as your stomach began twisting, breath began stuttering. The air felt thick, suffocating, heavy with the scent of cheap drugstore plastic and the artificial sweetness of cherry flavoring clinging to the back of your throat. You forced yourself to sit down, legs weak, heart hammering. One more time. Just one more.

One negative is all you were asking for.

You set the test aside, gaze locking onto the result window as if sheer willpower could bend fate. Seconds stretched into an eternity.

Blank.

Blank.

One line.

Two lines.

A strangled, broken laugh escaped you, the sound barely human. Your fingers curled around a hydration bottle, knuckles white as you wrenched it open, nearly crushing the plastic in your grip. You tipped it back in desperate, greedy gulps, the icy liquid searing its way down your throat - sharp enough to make you gasp, sharp enough to ground you in the reality you wanted so desperately to escape.

The tests stared back at you. You weren’t sure how it happened. Well you know how it happens, but you took precautions. You took your pill every single day. Same time. Same routine. Same - your breath caught in your throat.

Satoru turned off your alarm.

A slow, creeping dread slithered through your veins, colder than anything Suguru had ever sent your way.

You missed a day?

No.

You would’ve noticed.

You should have noticed.

…Right?

But the truth lay there before you, undeniable, etched into every test scattered around you. The parasite growing inside you, feeding off your body - their child. A shudder racked your spine, ice pooling in your veins. Your breath hitched, coming in short, uneven gasps as the weight of reality pressed against your chest like a crushing vice. Trembling fingers drifted to your stomach, ghosting over the bare skin as if the simple touch could ground you, could somehow make this feel less real.

But there was no escaping it.

No rewinding time.

No undoing the impossible.

For the first time in years, you were utterly, hopelessly lost.

Your gaze flickered toward your phone, the dim glow of the screen barely cutting through the suffocating darkness of your apartment. The silence pressed in, thick and smothering, tightening with every shallow breath.

A name.

A person you could call.

Your trembling fingers hovered over Satoru’s contact, the letters blurring through the haze of unshed tears.

Satoru - the one who used to press featherlight kisses against your cheek before missions, grinning like the world couldn’t touch you both. The one who would cup your face between his hands, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered the plan to sneak sweets into the dorms, as if it were some grand conspiracy the two of you shared. Sneak them in before Suguru could roll his eyes and scold you both.

Satoru, who left with Suguru.

Satoru, who had clung to you in one last, desperate embrace, his fingers digging into your uniform, his entire body trembling as he silently, wordlessly begged you to come with them.

Begged you to be under their protection.

But you stayed.

You hesitated. Your fingers twitched away from his name. You knew how it would go - he would answer immediately, voice laced with curiosity, amusement, with the confidence that he could fix whatever was wrong. And he would come for you. No hesitation. No delay.

And then there was Suguru.

Your thumb hovered over his contact, breath shuddering out in uneven gasps.

Suguru, who would let the call ring twice - never once, never three times - just long enough to feign indifference, to uphold the meticulously crafted illusion that he wasn’t waiting for you to reach out. That he wasn’t hoping.

But you knew better. You could already hear the smug smirk in his voice, the lazy amusement when he’d finally answer, when he’d ask if you got his flowers.

Not a chance.

And then - Shoko.

Shoko, who had left with them.

Shoko, who had always been your rock, who made those two make sense.

Shoko is a doctor; she would understand what to do, who to talk to, options to - no you couldn't. You should find another way, you should-

Your stomach dropped. Your fingers jerked away from the screen as if burned, but it was too late. The screen flashed. Your pounding, thundering heart had stopped and sank to the pits of your stomach where your parasite now resides.

You were already calling her.

A sharp inhale rattled through your chest, uneven, choked. A fresh wave of panic crashed over you, drowning you in its suffocating weight. Tears burned at the edges of your vision, hot and relentless, blurring the damning sight of the pregnancy tests littered across the bathroom floor. A tremor wracked your entire body, bile clawing its way up your throat, acidic and revolting, as the cold, inescapable truth settled like lead in your stomach.

This wasn’t just your problem.

This wasn’t something you could pretend didn’t exist.

If you carried this child - their child - the higher-ups would execute you both. No hesitation. No trial. No chance to beg. No hope for leniency.

The dial tone barely rang once before a voice sliced through the suffocating quiet.

"Yo." Shoko’s voice rang light, unbothered. However, in the background, a quiet shuffle. A soft scuffle.

Then a familiar, whining voice. "Lemme listen in - " Satoru. A shiver rolled through you, dread sinking its jagged claws deeper into your chest. They were together.

You couldn’t tell them.

You couldn't tell anyone.

Because, your family - your colleagues, the very people you swore loyalty to - would brand you a disgrace. A traitor. A whore who spread her legs for the enemy.

Because, the higher-ups would carve your execution date into stone.

Because -

"I might not let you go this time." Suguru’s voice slithered through your mind, smooth as silk, suffocating as a noose. Your throat constricted, something raw and primal clawing at your chest, your heart pounding so violently it hurt. Your grip on the phone was white-knuckled, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.

And all you could say to Shoko was -

"Wrong number."

Before hanging up. Before glancing at the string of texts filtering through with Shoko's name attached to them. Texts you assumed weren't from Shoko. Your fingers pressed Block on the contact after seeing the last one. "I miss you" before tears spilled your eyes once more.

You weren’t sure what to do.

Who to speak to.

Who was safe.

Who wasn’t.

Your vision swam, the weight of it all crashing down like an tide, dragging you under.

Why did you stay?

Why did you return to their arms?

And why did a small part of you think it would be easier to just go to them.

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

NINE TO FIVE, FIVE TO NINE Yandere Married Boss x Office Siren Reader

AN: RAHHH. IT'S FINALLY HERE. This took me way longer then it should have but I'm really proud of it. I hope it lives up to the expectations of the 400ish people who liked the original post. This ones filled with shitty people all around. TW: 18+ ONLY, NON-CON, Older Male/Younger Female (mid 30s, mid 20s), Abuse of power (Boss/Employee), Infidelity, Face-Sitting, Cunnilingus, Switch Man, Switch Woman, PIV sex, Manipulation, Roofies, Kidnapping, Mentions of Divorce, Mentions of Pregnancy

Every quarter, your company’s HR department sends out an employee satisfaction survey, and every quarter when you reach the “What is your favorite part of working for our company?” question, your answer is the same.

You love the community. Your colleagues are respectful and hardworking; willing to go the extra mile to ensure deadlines are met. You feel as though your work contributes to something larger and that your efforts don’t go unnoticed by your employers. 

Very cute. Very professional. It would be the perfect answer if it wasn’t all bullshit. 

Your coworkers are fine, but not worth a twenty minute commute and shitty benefits. What actually keeps you slugging into work every morning is far less… admirable. It isn’t something you could write on a company survey without consequences, at least.

Your favorite part of your job is bouncing on your boss's cock.

Yes, you know, “shame on you” — but it’s not like you intended to be an office siren. When you applied for the job all you wanted was to make rent. This was your first “adult” job, so in adult fashion, you tried to keep things professional. 

Emphasis on tried.

It's just... how could you work to your fullest when you were spending all day fantasizing about those toned forearms pinning you down? How were you supposed to answer emails when you were busy wondering if he looked better in or out of his suit? Everyday he sat five feet away from you looking so pent-up and fuckable, could you really be blamed for getting distracted? The hit to your productivity was a detriment to the company. You were just being a responsible employee by fixing the issue.

Yes, he’s ten years your senior. Yes, there’s a blaring ethical issue with a boss fucking his secretary. But he’s a man of childrearing age and you’re a fertile young woman; it’s not your fault you have biological urges.

Besides, it’s not like he’s absolved from blame. You certainly don’t force him to lie down on the couch in his office and pull you onto his face. The desire for you to cum on his nose is entirely his own.

“Fuck, Y/N.” his groan vibrates up into your core, pulling the knot in your stomach tight. One rough hand lies at your waist, following your hips as they roll against his mouth. The other works at his perked up cock, lazily tugging up and down as he devours your cunt. “That’s it baby, ride my fuckin’ nose.”

He’s been at it for nearly half your lunch break now, lapping and sucking at your folds in lieu of his actual meal - not that you’re complaining. How could you, when his tongue is so adamant? It flicks through your folds greedily to earn more of your juice, savoring the salty-sweet taste he’s become so addicted to. Every slurp, lap and suck is catered specifically to your preferences.

You've done well with him. When you first took him under your wing he’d never even eaten pussy before, in fact, he’d only ever slept with two women. Not for lack of desire, he told you, he just never had the time or confidence to flirt in his twenties. Before he knew it, time got away from him and he was past the age where hookups are deemed socially acceptable. 

Your heart broke for him. A man as handsome as him shouldn't be having mediocre sex. So you, being the selfless woman you are, offered to help him make up for lost time. 

It only took one blowjob for him to overlook the ethics of the situation.

With a gentle hand, patience, and lots of encouragement, you’ve turned the businessman into a first rate manslut. He fucks and eats pussy like a veteran now and he’s always eager to get more practice, he drags you onto his face nearly every time he calls you into his office.

He’s come a long, long way, your little pet project.

Inadvertently, you thrust your hips forward, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose. His tongue burrows itself into your hole, and that’s enough to send you over the edge. Your belly goes taut, your thighs clamp around his ears and you bite your lip to stifle your scream as the contractions roll through your body. Each one sets off fireworks. Fizzing and popping like sparklers in your tummy. Mind-numbing, toe-curling, perfection.

He’s an absolute mess when you climb off of his face. Completely blissed out, face dripping with juices and saliva, glistening in the light pouring through the window. The collar of his pristine white dress shirt is drenched and wrinkled, most likely ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. No, his hungry eyes haven't left that cute little mound between your legs.

“Bend over the desk.” he growls, leaving a smack on your ass as you pull yourself up, and despite the sting you can’t help but smile at his confidence. He’s a far cry from the man he was before you got your hands on him.

You decide to reward him with a little show; swaying your hips teasingly as your stilettos click across the floor, obediently laying yourself over the smooth mahogany, keeping a light arch in your back so he has a nice view of your ass. 

You smile coyly at his reddened face, “You coming, Boss?”

His adam's apple bobs and he makes his way over, eyes dark and dilated, cock leaking beads he positions himself between your legs.

“We only have fifteen minutes before my lunch ends,” you purr, “You think that’s enough time to make us both cum?”

"That’s more than enough~" he growls, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking back so he can purr in your ear, "Do you want my cock in this tight little cunt, Y/N? Do you want me to fill you up?"

You frantically nod, accentuating the act with an exaggerated whimper and needy roll of your hips.

"Beg for it then." he hisses.

If you were in a sadistic mood you might test how long you could make him hold out, but you feel like indulging him today, so you look back at him all teary and doe-eyed. "Please, please, please, Sir. I need your thick cock in my tight little cunt! I can't - Ah! - I can't take it anymore!"

A loud groan tumbles past his lips as he lines himself up, tracing the fat head up and down your slit,  “Slutty thing. That’s alright baby, I’ll give you what you—”

The clink of something falling off his desk interrupts the thought. The object in question rolls a few feet across the wood floor before wobbling in circles and finally lying flat.

His wedding band glitters innocently in the afternoon sun, silently mocking its owner and his mistress.

Ah, the elephant in the room.

Yes, you know he’s married. If the ring wasn’t enough of a tell, the picture of the two of them on his desk is. He's about a decade younger in it, grinning wide as she presses a kiss to his cheek. They took it in France during their honeymoon, he told you. 

You’ve never met his wife, but you can tell from the picture that she’s the quintessential college sweetheart. The type of girl who’s never drank, smoked or had a cavity. The kind of girl you propose too at the park and settle down with in a white picket fence suburban neighborhood. The kind of girl who says “Not tonight, honey.” when you ask to have sex at the end of a stressful day.

In layman's terms, she's boring.

And clearly, she isn’t taking care of him correctly. He was so obviously pent up when you started flirting with him, just a glimpse of your cleavage was all it took to get him rock hard.

Of course it’s morally reprehensible, but you could argue that making him work his dull 9-5 everyday for nothing in return is wrong too. Somebody had to help the guy out. If she wasn’t going to do her job then you’d have to do it for her.

The guilt nearly killed him at first. The day after the first blowjob he dragged you into his office and furiously—or maybe desperately—started pacing up and down the room. Giving you the “We can’t do this. For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m married.” speech, whether he was lecturing you or himself, you aren’t entirely sure.

Still, you listened patiently as he rambled, and eventually you decided it was best to back off. It was a disappointment for sure but you'd get over it. You were too hot to be meddling in people's marriages anyway. 

At least directly meddling.

You didn’t make any more blatant advances, but you did start wearing dresses and skirts that fell a tad too short to be considered work appropriate. The necklines of your tops started plunging too, showing off as much cleavage as you could without HR getting up your ass. And you suddenly became very clumsy. “Accidentally” dropping things whenever he was around, or leaning over his desk just enough to give him a nice look down your shirt. 

Not even a week later he pulled you into his office, all but begging on his knees for you to fuck him. That was your green card. You aren’t to blame if he’s the one who instigated. So you rode him like a mechanical bull, chest filled with pride as you looked at that stupid picture of him and his wife.

You always get what you want in the end.

Dispite your victory however, his wife remains a thorn in your side. Your boss has gone completely soft staring at that dumb ring, thinking of his dumb wife who probably couldn’t suck a dick to save her life. No wonder he’s cheating, the bitch pisses you off and you’ve never even met her.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, you give his tie a gentle tug. You soften your face as he turns back, gently--teasingly tracing your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin to gently tilt it up. And though he obeys the silent command, the shame swimming in his eyes makes your smile waver.

It irks you, for some reason, how upset he is by this. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe you should have more sympathy, but you can’t push past the desire to keep him for yourself. You may have won, but did you really if his heart is still hers? 

That’s something to address another time. Getting him hard again takes precedence right now, you’re not going to let that bitch get between you and his dick.

You pull yourself off of his desk, grabbing his hand gently. He follows you to the couch—far more hesitantly then you’d like—but he doesn’t complain when you lie him down and climb on top. He never complains when you climb on top. You leave a sweet kiss between his eyebrows and the cute, attention-starved thing burns bright red. Adorable.

“You’re alright.” You caress his stubbled cheek, slowly coaxing him with honey-sweet kisses, like a siren luring a sailor to his doom. “It’s not your fault you have urges, remember? You’re a grown man, it’s not healthy for you to be so pent-up.” 

His throat clicks with a heavy swallow when your hand moves down, gently wrapping around his soft penis, stroking it lightly, teasingly, all while flashing your big, lust-blown eyes and quivering lip. The rod in your hand fills out shamelessly, and like a bad habit, his eyes flick back down to your pretty cunt. You can tell he’s itching to touch, his morality holding on by a thread, but he’ll always fold to you in the end. You, and your torturous little pocket of bliss.

“That’s it baby.” you purr, picking up his trembling hand and placing it over your clit, “Little circles, just like I taught you.” As soon as his hand starts moving he’s putty in your hands again; any remaining penitence completely snuffed out. He’s hypnotized. Pussy-whipped. Rubbing your little pearl with rough pads, working it like a joystick and groaning licentiously as you trace the head of his cock up and down your folds. You line yourself up, leaning forward so you’re hovering just a few centimeters away from his face, close enough to feel his hot breath on your lips.

“We both know she can’t give you what you need. But I can. I’ll make you feel so good~” you purr, letting one hand find it's way up his shirt to trace over his trembling torso. Little bumps erupt all over his skin when the tip of his cock catches in your little divot. You can't help your lips from curling up.

You lower yourself so your hole swallows just the tip, and his breath hitches beneath you. You clench in response, just a little squeeze to remind him who makes him feel good, who his cock really belongs too, and if the bubbling moan that passes his lips is anything to go by, he got the memo.

You ghost your lips over his neck, nibbling lightly at his sensitive pulse point, teasingly tracing a little heart over his pecs, “Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” 

He all but whimpers as you drop yourself down, white-knuckling the sofa, so overwhelmed you swear his eyes start tearing, and when you finally reach the base he groans like he’s seen heaven. You don’t think about his wife, or his ring, or morality while you bounce on his cock. Not a flicker of guilt passes through your mind when he bucks and fills you with his cum. Why should it? Your job is to ensure your boss's needs are met while he's in the office, and you’re doing just that. His life after five pm is none of your concern, really.

—

About two months later you find an unassuming sticky note on your desk, scrawled over in his chicken-scratch handwriting.

Come to my office at 5, we need to talk.

It strikes you as odd. Normally he’d just come talk to you about any arrangements, lay a gentle hand on your shoulder and bend down to whisper something filthy in your ear, but your boss is nowhere in sight. Not on the office floor checking up on his employees, not in the break room making idle chatter while he refills his coffee, your boss stays holed up in his office all day, and when you walk in to give him his schedule for the upcoming week he only grunts in acknowledgement, never looking up from his computer.

Something is clearly wrong. Normally, he can’t keep his hands off of you—you never leave his office without a slap on the ass and a promise to make you regret wearing whatever curve hugging skirt you put on that day—but he seems to want nothing to do with you, or rather, he seems to be avoiding the fact that he does. The blatant disregard pisses you off, frankly. You put effort into your makeup today.

But more than that, his sudden indifference is unsettling. You can’t put your finger on why; he’s never given you reason to believe that he’s resentful, and despite his dour, professional persona he’s about as intimidating as a newborn kitten. Still, the tension in his office is thick. Thicker than you realize. When you step out you're surprised to find your lungs are aching from holding the breath you walked in with.

You spend the better part of your day trying to convince yourself that you’re just feeling ill. You aren’t nervous. There’s no reason to be. The gut feeling telling you to walk out at five today is just the byproduct of spoiled eggs at breakfast. You’re in control. You always are.

Still, when five o’clock comes your heart is pounding. Alarm bells clang in your head, screaming that something bad is going to happen if you walk through that door. Briefly, an interview from a true crime documentary you once watched plays through your head—the victim was lamenting how she regretted not listening to that “gut feeling” before she got kidnapped—but that’s ridiculous. You know your boss and you’re certain he’s not a kidnapper. The notion itself is ridiculous. You’ll be fine. You’ve been fucking him for three months, him acting weird doesn’t mean today will be any different.

After a few deep breaths you open the door and as promised, he's waiting for you, but not how you expected him to be. Normally, he’d be rolling his hips into his fist by now, impatiently demanding you get on your knees in front of him, but today he’s fully clothed, penis nowhere in sight. Instead, his hands cup a white mug of steaming liquid—an identical one that you presume to be yours sits on the opposite side of his desk—and he seems… tired. Pale and weighted; certainly not aroused in any way.

“You can sit, you know. I’m not angry at you.” he calls vacantly from across the room, not looking up from his cup.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, realizing you’ve been staring. With a thick swallow, you make your way over to him, mustering up as pleasant a smile as you can. When you finally sit and get a good look at him, however, the grin drops. 

He looks… awful. Weary and bleak, with red, puffy circles around his eyes like he’s recently been crying, his hair is mussed and a five o’clock shadow is growing on his chin. It’s jarring, to say the least. He’s normally so put together, you can’t remember if you've ever seen him disheveled. He’s a hard man to shake typically, his job demands it, but he looks utterly distraught. For a brief moment, you feel kind of bad.

Gross.

A halfhearted chuckle leaves his mouth, “I’m sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh?” 

Immediately you straighten, rectifying your smile. You can’t show cracks. There are no cracks, “Not at all Sir. What can I help you with?” 

A meaty hand waves you off. “Don’t bother with professionalism, Y/N. We both know we aren’t here to talk about work.” he runs a hand through his already mussed up hair and shuts his eyes. He pauses a moment, taking a long breath, thinking deeply or maybe steeling himself, before slowly exhaling, pushing the second mug towards you “Here, take a drink. This might be a lot.”

“Oh no, I’m not thirsty–”

“Drink.” he interrupts, and you’re startled by how sharp the command is. It’s far cry from the playful orders you’re used to receiving when he growls at you to get on your knees or bend over his desk. Instinctively, you find yourself rushing to obey.

When you bring the mug to your lips, his face relaxes. The alarm balls start jingling in the back of your head again.

“I’m going to be blunt about this,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My wife found out about the affair and she wants a divorce.”

Oh. That is a lot.

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s saying, a few more for it to sink in, but when you’ve finally got a stable grasp on the information, the faucet of emotion is turned on. It doesn’t twist off until your body is on the verge of overflowing.

But not for the right reasons.

Your heart should be sinking, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. You should be on your knees, groveling in shame; apologizing with your whole chest for ruining this poor man's marriage—but you aren’t. Not a flicker of remorse fills your body.

You feel positively giddy.

Elated. Euphoric. You are on cloud fucking nine. Months, you’ve been waiting for this day; when you could finally take your medal and put it around your neck. It’s not really a matter of him being yours, moreso confirming that you’re hot enough to break up marriages. Fuck the morality of it all. You did it. She’s gone. You won. 

You aren’t tactless enough to start jumping for joy, however. You do your best to put on a genuine-seeming soberness and reply, “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, eyes down-turned, “I’m equally if not more to blame. What’s done is done.” 

He stands then, aimlessly walking to the window. It’s all rather dramatic, you feel, but you're not the one who’s marriage just got destroyed. Quietly he looks across the skyline, face clouding with regret as he speaks, “You should have seen her, Y/N.” You wish you had, “I-I could see her heart breaking in her chest when I admitted to it.”

Oh, the delight that runs through you when you hear that crack in his voice—it makes you dizzy.

“I managed to find an apartment somehow between then and now. I’m in the process of moving in. I thought it was only right to give her space. God, the poor girl…” His cheeks are wet when he turns back to you and another jolt of glee zips through your body. But this one is stronger than the first one. It makes you wobble a little in your chair; you have to clutch the armrests to keep yourself upright.

The bells have started clanging again—painfully loud—and your heart beats in time with each stroke.

“Seven years. We’d been together seven years.” he laments, walking back to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Despite the touch's innocence it’s searing hot, burning into your skin like an iron, only serving to make the bells louder. You try to jerk away but your body goes slack and when you try to pick yourself back up again, you can’t; no matter how hard you strain and lift, your muscles won’t move.

Your heart is pounding in your head now. His large hands hook under your armpits, hoisting your limp body back up onto the chair like a ragdoll. 

A sick, crawling feeling of dread fills your chest, like when you get to the very top of a rollercoaster. It creeps up your spine and wraps around your chest, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His face… he looks like a madman. Pale and wild; eyes manic and pupils dilated. He swallows heavily, breath shallow and frenzied as he desperately rasps, “I don’t think I could live without a wife again.”

The bells are deafening now and any ounce of joy you might have felt earlier has been drained to oblivion. You aren’t fine anymore. You need to run. You need to scream. Anything.

But you made the realization all too late. Your vision is going spotty and he’s already hoisted you up in his arms. Despite every muscle in your body fighting with all its might, you can’t make yourself move.

For the first time in your life, you’re completely powerless. 

The last thing you remember before being swallowed by the dark is his hot breath puffing against your ear:

“You promised you’d take care of me, didn’t you?” 

—

You wake up to the feeling of something warm and wet on your clit.

In your groggy, half-conscious state you don’t have the capacity or desire to figure out what it is, all that matters is that it feels good. It flicks lazy little shapes over the twitching bud, enveloping it and your folds in a warm, welcoming heat, and for a moment, you think you could die happy just like this. Your hips instinctively buck up towards the source and a low, wonton moan passes your lips. 

“Mmm, thats it darling. Good girl~”

Your eyes fly open.

Every ounce of blood drains from your face when you see his head bowed between your legs, cheeks messy and shiny with your slick, hips rutting needily against the mattress. Your kidnapper.

Your first instinct is to fight, but your limbs still won’t obey you—even if they would, a shift of weight reveals that your hands are bound tightly to the headboard of the bed.

The bed. There’s no bed in his office. Where the hell are you?

It’s all you can do to let out a low, displeased whine. Weakly shimmying your hips away from him only to have them immediately yanked back. He peaks up from your legs, “Shh honey, calm down.” he purrs, not breaking eye contact as he gives your clit a sweet peck, “Just relax and let your husband make you feel good.”

Husband.

Husband.

Your heart picks up in your chest, galloping like a racehorse as you try to process his words. “W-what?” you choke, even drugged your voice is sharp with terror.

He noses gently over your inner thigh, carefully pressing a chaste kiss to the soft plush before addressing you, “Your husband, dear. And you’re my wife~” he hums pleasantly, licking a long lazy stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, “I’m sure you can feel the ring, right?”

Your heart drops as you wiggle your fingers. On your left hand, a cold band of metal topped with some kind of stone wraps around your ring finger. A bout of vertigo flashes through your body. He must notice the horror on your face because he chuckles.

“It was kind of short notice so I had to use hers, but I’ll buy you a new one if you want…” he trails absentmindedly, too focused on laving at your cunt to give the thought his full attention. 

He’s doing it just like you taught him too. The irony could make you cry.

A knot the size of the watermelon grows in your stomach. Whether it’s from the panic or your equally distressing impending orgasm you’re not sure. Regardless, it’s there, and your head is spinning, and he’s starting to climb on top of you and take off his—oh god.

You cry and struggle as much as your leaden body will allow but he easily counters it all with one steady hand on your belly, the thumb of which he moves down to nurse your spit-soaked clit with easy circles. “I know it’s sudden,” he coos, paying no mind to your cries and pleas for mercy as he pulls out his rock hard cock, “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You’re the one who chased after me so desperately after all. I know you were just jealous of her.” 

Loud, wet sobs curl up your throat as he rubs his cock up and down your dripping folds, hypnotized by the lewd, clicking sound your juices make. “P-please.” you beg, trying your best to buck him off of you, “M’ sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—Please let me go.” 

A displeased hum then, “It’s too late for that, honey, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll take good care of you.” his frown flips to a soft smile. “You’ll take good care of me too, won't you? just like you promised.”

You feel like you might faint. The blunt head is pushing against your entrance now, threatening to sink into your heat, and though you’ve taken his cock hundreds of times, you’d rather stick your hand into an open flame then take it again. “P-please.” you blubber, “I’ll do anything, just please—Ah! S-stop!”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, only continues his rambling. “You’ll take good care of our children too, I'm sure.” those deranged, lovesick eyes bore into your skull, “Oh, baby. You’re going to look so beautiful when you’re pregnant, I can already tell. So, so pretty, all swollen and glowing~” he groans.

Your eyes blow wide and you start screaming. Half of it is incoherent, but what else are you supposed to do when you can’t fight? You nearly choke on your own sob as he leans over your body, starting to push in with a low, heady groan. “You can’t!” you cry, near hysterics, “Please, you can’t! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! I’ll-”

“Shhhh,” he cuts you off, clamping a rough hand over your mouth, then bottoms out inside of you with one languid push. You feel like you’re on fire, like a million ants are crawling up your skin and down your throat.

Beads of cold sweat trickle down your back as he rocks into you. Behind his mitt you plead for him to let you go, but he doesn’t notice, or more likely, he doesn’t care. “I think I want three." he muses, "Two girls and a boy. But we can have more if you’d like. What do you think, darling?”

He removes his hand then, you greedily suck in air. It proves to be a difficult task, however, with his dick poking it all back out again with each snap of his hips. Finally, you collect yourself enough to make one final attempt. You stare up into his eyes, hoping to somehow access whatever humanity might remain there. “Please. I don’t want kids. I want to go home.”

He pauses, ceases his thrusting, and stares back down at you. For just a moment, your chest swells with hope.

But then he laughs. A sick, evil chuckle that rings through your bones, punctures your lungs and splits your heart straight down the middle.

“Oh honey, you are home.” he croons, a snap of his hips punctuates the sentence. “And of course you want kids. All husbands and wives who love each other very much become Mommies and Daddies. Besides—”

His hips start driving into you with a brutal sort of ferocity, and he grins so wickedly you swear you can see the devil in his eyes.

“--Won’t it be cute to tell them how Daddy and Mommy fell in love at work?”

higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, satoru gojo, izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, kaminari denki, kotaro bokuto, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, erwin smith, armin arlert

Addiction- Yandere Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader

an: I do not condone this behaviour, this is purely fiction. Do not interact if you do not like it, or can’t stomach it.

tw: dark themes, yandere, mafia au, violence, possessive behaviour, toxic relationships, kidnapping, branding, captivity

Sukuna is a selfish man. He’s a self-absorbed, egotistical bastard. The devil himself, a wretch of a man who is ruthless in everything he does. His cruel touch has cursed the lives of many; killings and tortures all done in his name, by his order. Sukuna does as pleases, indulging in his greed. Yet he still yearns for more. He possesses a desire that will never be sated. There had been kindness within him, once. A different time; when the world had not exposed its evil to him. That warmth was extinguished with his mother’s dying breath, and there lay no hope of reviving it. Until he met you.

A puny thing really, compared to the low-levelled goon of his that was currently harassing you. Such a classless act being committed outside one his preferred establishments, it was irritating. He didn’t intend to save you; more so punish the lackey for his annoyance. You were a pathetic, pitiful, cornered creature, not worth any attention. Then, out of nowhere, you kicked him straight in the nuts. Sukuna was simultaneously surprised, impressed, and amused. Before the goon could actually harm you, Sukuna stepped in and knocked him out. You were shaking from shock and terror. However, when you looked up at him, there was no fear eyes, only gratitude. Perhaps that was the reason he played a gentle saviour. A reward, he decided, for the entertainment you provided. Escorting you to your car and watching you drive off in the old rusted thing should have been the end of the whole affair, but it wasn’t. You lingered in the back of Sukuna’s mind for days. You plagued his thoughts, haunting him. His interest evolved into a nagging curiosity, and regardless of how he tried to resist it, the urge to know more about you won out; and down the rabbit hole he fell.

It began with the discovery of your name. It was all Sukuna needed to know, the name of the person he’d saved, the name of the person who tormented his mind. Yet it was not enough. He had to know more. He uncovered every bit of your being, leaving nothing unknown; your address, your number, your favourite foods and activities, your deepest secrets, all known to Sukuna. The more he knew, the more the obsession grew. You were perfection incarnate. Something, someone, truly divine that had graced the world with their presence. He desired to possess that divinity, to possess you. You didn’t deserve him, not at all. Sukuna was a depraved being, unworthy of even being near you. Alas, fate was cruel, and Sukuna even crueler. He had to have you, and would do anything in pursuit of you. You lived in the seediest part of time, he reasoned, in a shabby apartment that you could barely afford. You needed him to keep you safe and protected, you needed to be saved. He had his most trusted men tail you while he prepared the most luxurious room for you; you deserved only the best after all. It took time, yet Sukuna pieced together a flawless plan. Soon you would be with him, where you belonged. And how he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

As time marched on slowly, Sukuna became increasingly impatient; the anticipation of your arrival into his arms was overwhelming. Once the day arrived he became more agitated than usual. He had yearned for this day, for you, and soon he would have you. Sukuna was halfway through a meeting when his phone buzzed. The moment he glanced down and the read the message he’d received, Sukuna swiftly exited the meet room, ignoring the shock of his underlings. You had been safely delivered to his estate, your new home. Sukuna sped home in his car, anticipation building up and threatening to boil over. When he finally arrived Sukuna rushed through the door, up the grand staircase, and navigated through the extensive maze of corridors to your designated room. Taking a baited breath, he carefully opened the door and set his eyes upon you.

There you lie, his darling, his beloved, the only thing that could ever invoke such weakness from him— and you were here, lying right in front of him. You were peacefully dozing off. Sukuna stayed by your side for who knows how long, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. Then, your eyes twitched, fluttering open. You awoke disgruntled, initial confusion turning into panic at the realization that you weren’t in your apartment. Sukuna watched you for a moment, before deciding to grab your attention.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?” He hummed, watching as you slowly turn towards him. Your expression was akin to a frightened doe. Slowly, the gears turned in your head and you gaped in recognition, “You! Did you do this to me?!”

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.” He replied neutrally.

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled. “Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.” “Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob. “Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.”

With that, Sukuna stalked out the room. He knew it would take time for you to adjust, after all anyone would react poorly to such sudden change. All Sukuna could do was wait, and he’d done so before. He wanted to own you not only in body, but in mind and soul as well. He yearned for a normal relationship with you— well, as normal as a relationship with him can be. So, he remained patient, albeit with much difficulty. Sukuna loves you so much and he knows, he knows, he must be understanding of your feelings, yet he cannot impede his desire for you, for your warmth and kindness, for everything and anything but the fear you display. He wants for you to not cower when you see him. He wants for you to tremble nervously. He wants you to not look at him with the terror and hatred that others do. Sukuna wants— no he needs you to love him as he loves you, to devote yourself to him as he’s done for you. And he will do anything to attain that, even it requires him to wait forever.

Then again, perhaps that patient leniency is what lead to this situation in the first place, Sukuna muses to himself. You kneel in front of tears pooling at your eyes, false apologies spilling out of your lips. His indulgence of you had lead to your attempt to leave him, to abandon him just as everyone else had. Perhaps you weren’t an angel then, rather you were a demon; a sultry temptress sent to corrupt him further, to ensnare him in your web of lies and devour him whole. Well, you’d succeeded. He’d gone soft for you, for his precious, sweet thing. But now you’d revealed your true nature. You did not need his protecting, no you needed him to correct you. He would purify you, lead you into the light, into his light. Yes, he was your saviour and this was all done for you, for your betterment. Sukuna feels a twisted pleasure blossoming in his heart, your “corrections” would begin now.

“Please Sukuna, please. I’m sorry, I really am so sorry,” you plead, sniffling and hiccuping slightly, “I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Sukuna looks down at you, smiling unnervingly. Gently, he kneels, reaching down to wipe the tears from your right eye, and coos down at you, “Don’t worry, my love. I won’t hurt you. How could I? I love you more than life itself. I cherish you more than anything in this world.” You nod tentatively, lulled by his low and kind tone and sweet words. “But, you’ve been thoroughly ungrateful. Behaving so poorly, and now this. I don’t blame you, of course. It’s my fault after all. I failed to teach you properly, so now I must rectify this mistake. This will merely be a small lesson my love, done for your sake, not mine.”

With that, Sukuna stood up. He towers above you, like a god, your god. You stopped crying, the tears sticking to your face, making your cheeks ans eyes red, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You look adorable like this, thought Sukuna, still smiling. His smile grew almost sadistic as he gestured towards his men. You furrowed your brows in confusion, most liking wondering what he meant by “lesson.” Your eyes dart around the room, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then, you spot it; a branding iron. You shriek, attempting to run but a few muscular guards hold you down. You thrash around wildly, begging and screaming. A scene truly oscar worthy in Sukuna’s opinion, though it didn’t invoke any pity from the guards. Finally, you turn to him.

“Sukuna don’t! Please, I beg of you! I’ll behave, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson I swear! I only need you, I only love you!” You screech, pleadingly. Sukuna hums, unaffected by your display. He rips off the section of your shirt covering your lower back. He traces some letters onto the bare skin. Reaching out his arm to receive the branding iron, he tuts, “Ah, but darling, how could you have learned a lesson that I am yet too teach? You must not lie, although we shall save that lesson for another time. Today’s lesson is on who you belong too: me.”

Carefully, Sukuna lined the branding iron up perfectly. And then he brought it down on you. You let out a blood-curdling scream, howling and writhing in pain as your skin sizzled delightfully. Sukuna held it place for a good few seconds before removing it. Grinning, he read and reread the “property of Sukuna” that had been burned into your skin. Proof of his ownership over you that was permanently imprinted into your skin. You continued to wriggle and sob from the searing pain. This, Sukuna thought in full confidence, was a lesson that neither of you would forget. Sighing contently, he rang a bell, summoning your personal servants, or babysitters.

“Allow the brand to fully set in. Do not cause additional pain, but do not relieve the current pain they’re feeling either. Disobey and you will be severely punished, understood?” He ordered, darkly. The maids nodded and carefully carried you out the room. Sukuna turned around, glaring sharply, “Well then, out! All of you!”

His men scrambled out of the room, unwilling to fave their boss’s wrath should they disobey. Alone, Sukuna poured himself a whiskey and relished in the pleasure he received from your “lesson.” He needed to own you, to have you. To be the only one who could love you, who could hurt you; it would be him and him alone. It was not love he felt, it was an addiction, to you. An addiction that he must feed, Sukuna mused as he thought about more “lesson” plans. After all, he had promised to teach you about the wrongs of lying.

Yandere Kyoto Tech First + Second Years Reacting To Reader Trying To Leave Them

tw: captivity, gaslighting(?), yandere themes

Yuji Itadori- Oh, he’d be so utterly heartbroken, poor sweet boy. He’s so distraught, wondering what he did wrong and how he can fix it. You know he loves you right? Why do you want to leave? Isn’t he enough? He understands that you want freedom, but he can’t let you go. Not with curses lurking at every corner, not after what happened to Junpei. All he wants is to keep you safe, why can’t you understand that? He tries to reason with you, he really does try. But when you move to leave, he tightly grips your wrist and pulls you deeper into the house in which he keeps you. No matter how hard you struggle, he’s just too strong for you. Guiltily, Yuji drags you into a room, which he then locks you in. You pound on the door, screeching and yelling. And as guilty as he feels, he can’t let you out. It’s all for your own good, you’ll understand eventually.

Megumi Fushiguro- He was expecting it, to be honest. Megumi isn’t a delusional yandere. He knows that you want freedom, to live your life as you choose. And how he desperately wants to give you that, to live a normal life with you. In the beginning, he did try. But the world you live in is filled with danger and you aren’t strong enough to protect yourself, so he’ll do it for you. You pitch a fit of course. So stubborn, a trait that Megumi loves but right now doesn’t have the patience for. He quickly knocks you out before you can register what is happening. When you wake up you’re in a locked room, with no windows or any way out. It pains Megumi to do this but he won’t let you put yourself in danger.

Nobara Kuigasaki- She definitely has a lot less patience than Megumi and Yuji. She immediately starts yelling at you, demanding if you know what you’re doing. You clearly don’t if you’re trying to leave. Do you not understand how dangerous it is out there? Do you not get that you’re too weak to protect yourself? Nobara and you argue for what seems like hours, leaving you both red-faced, with tears of frustration building up in the corners of your eyes. You’re exhausted, so is she. All she wants is for you to be safe, so please, let her do protect you. And despite having less patience than both Yuuji and Megumi, she’s the only yandere who can truly get through to her darling. So you both compromise, you’ll get your freedom so long that you allow her to train and accompany you, and you’ll allow her to do so, because you really do both love each other.

Toge Inumaki- He is probably the most infuriating yandere to have. I mean he just kind of stands in front of you, completely deadpan. It’s like arguing with a wall. You can scream and shout, and beg and plead all you like, he just stares at you with the most bored expression. You’re so frustrated at the end, but you’ve exhausted yourself to the point of tears. At this point, Toge simply says stay. Even though you don’t want too, you can’t resist his cursed speech.

Maki Zenin- Similarly to Toge and Megumi, she knew this was coming and doesn’t care that it’s happening. You aren’t leaving, it’s as simple as that. You’re weak, not an ounce of strength residing in you. And you expect to be able to survive in the world? She just sighs and ends up dragging you to a locked room that’s going to be your new home for the rest of your life. Maki doesn’t care how hard you protest or how much you cry and beg. She’s not going to let you be taken from her, never.

Yandere mafia sukuna au ( Jujutsu Kaisen ) maybe he falls for his favourite waitress who works at his favourite bar or cafe?

Yandere Mafia Boss! Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Mafia Themes, Crime, Attempted Assault (Not by Sukuna), Violence, Broke Reader, Obsession, Possessive Behaviour, Usage of Curse Words, Mentions of Killings, Child Neglect, Punishment, Starvation, Abuse, Branding, Themes of Captivity

a/n: Okay, so this turned out darker than I intended it to be but this reflects more on how I think Yandere! Sukuna acts so it is what it is. Also, I used a new style of writing here lmk what y’all think.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is a cruel man. The head of the infamous Ryomen crime family. An illegitimate child of his father, the former head, and a one of his many mistresses, Sukuna’s childhood was miserable. His father tossed him and his mother out on to the streets. He was forced to watch as his mother suffered in agony, too poor to afford the medicine she needed. The day of her funeral, his father came to take him in, not even sparing him a glance. From that day onwards, Sukuna swore to never allow himself to be weak again. And he kept that vow, clawing and killing his way to the top. Then when the time came, Sukuna rose up against his father and took control of the Ryomen Mafia, massacring anything and anyone who stood in his way.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns the entire city, having expanded exponentially since he took over. He has the media, the police, even the mayor in his pocket. Anyone who isn’t is too afraid to act against him. They’ve seen what happens to those who do. The city has an order, an order that is dictated by Sukuna. You’ve lived in this city all your life. And you’re desperate to get out of the cesspool of crime and corruption that takes place there. But you can’t do that, not yet at least. Hell, you can barely pay rent. So begrudgingly, you start to work at one of Sukuna’s many clubs. You hate it there, the uniform is too damn small; although you’re not really sure you call a pair of shorts that barely cover your ass, a top that squeezes your chest painfully, thigh-high leather boots, and fishnets a uniform, the leering gazes from perverts, and your shitty manager. But hey, the pay is decent and your dignity probably wasn’t worth that much anyways.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna boredly watches the club’s scenery. His men holler and hoot at the stripper who dances on the pole in front of them. Sukuna honestly couldn’t possibly care less. Same old dancers, same old expensive liquor, same old tarts trying to tempt him. Seriously, is there nothing exciting anymore? Has his city run dry of entertainment? Sighing irritably, Sukuna leaves, there’s nothing for him here anyways. Slinking through the backdoor of the V.I.P lounge and into an alway for a smoke. That’s when he sees you, dressed in your delicious little uniform. You’re cornered, by a low-level goon of his who just earned a promotion. Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. He rolls his eyes, intelligence was so hard to come by these days. This idiot was trying to assault some unfortunate server in the clubs employ instead of taking one of the more well-versed participants of the act he was forcefully soliciting.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna goes to step in, that is until to kick the guy in the balls. Sukuna stares in utter shock and amusement. Who knew you had that in you? The goon howls in pain and snarls at you, promising a world of pain. Suddenly, your angry demeanour is gone, replaced by one of terror. You back up and prepare to flee. Then, Sukuna swoops in, effectively knocking the goon out from behind. He asks if you’re alright and gives his arm to hold onto so you can calm yourself. You steady your breath and thank him profusely. Sukuna coolly offers to walk you back to your car, a beat-up rusted thing, much to your embarrassment. You thank him once more before climbing into your car and driving off, leaving Sukuna intrigued.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna who’s had his interest peaked. He’s intrigued by you, that fiesty and kind spirit of yours provided him with the greatest entertainment he’s seen in years! Sukuna has his most trusted associates stalk keep tabs on you. He learns everything there is to know about, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, your medical information, your favourite food, even what time you go to sleep. As he delves deeper into the rabbit hole of obsession, Sukuna begins to follow you himself. A master at the act, Sukuna watches you, anytime he can. He watches you interact with the world. The way you cheerfully greet the owner of the small convenience store you frequent. How your laugh sounds as though it is a symphony from the greatest composers when you’re with your friends. The teasing smile you offer to a particularly attractive coworker that stopped coming into to work for some unknown reason the next day. And by god, Sukuna swears, you’re perfection. And he deserves nothing less.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns this city, so by default he owns you too. And it’s time to bring his prized possession home. Carefully, Sukuna, organizes your disappearance return to him. Anyone who’ll miss you is either bought off or scared off. The police couldn’t care less, after all, what’s one missing server to the amount of cash that they’ll be earning. And so finally, it’s time. You’re walking back to your dingy apartment, you were let go on the orders of Sukuna. He couldn’t bare to let anyone else see you in that number which was your uniform. Strangely enough, the stingy landlord allowed you to remain there, sweating and shaking as he did so. You suspiciously began to look for other jobs, because you didn’t trust the guy, but nobody was hiring. And then suddenly, like a switch, your landlord flipped and demanded that you pay all the accumulated rent. You furiously began to look and apply for jobs but was rejected every time. You’d just been rejected once more, leaving you dejected and walking back home; you had to sell your beaten up car to try and pay back your landlord. Too engrossed in your misery, you didn’t notice the men trailing you. Swiftly, one came up behind you. He quickly grabbed you and placed a chloroform cloth up to your mouth and nose before you had a chance to react. You went out like a light and the men loaded you up in a van to be delivered to their boss.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is incredibly pleased to finally have you. You’re unconscious, tucked under the expensive sheets on the luxurious bed within the extravagant room Sukuna prepared for you. Sukuna hums as he gently holds your chin, tilting it up with four fingers, using his thumb to softly rub circles on your cheek, then tracing it down to your lips. You look so serene, steady, slow, breaths, your hair splayed across the pillows, and wearing the customized silk pyjamas he bought for you. You’re finally where you belong, with him. When you awake, you’re confused. Your bed has never felt this soft before. Then you look around the room, this isn’t your room. Panicking, you try to jump out of the bed, only to find that you’re bound to the bed with chains, the cuffs are padded softly though. You pull at the chains but your efforts remain fruitless.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?”

Freezing upon hearing that slightly familiar voice, you turn your gaze towards the directions of its owner. Your eyes widened and your throat dried, it was the man who saved you.

“You! Did you do this to me?!” You demanded as his eyes bored into yours.

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled.

“Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.”

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob.

“Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.” Your captor says gruffly before stalking out of the room, leaving you to wail and beg for release.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna stays true to his word. As long as you ‘behave’ or do as he says, you live better than you ever could’ve. You eat gourmet food and drink rich, costly alcohol; that you consume in copious amounts in an effort to forget where you are and how you got there. Your wardrobe, although chosen to be suited to Sukuna’s taste rather than yours, is filled with luxurious clothes and items you never would’ve been able to afford. Yet nobody can put a price on freedom, and to be free is all you want. Any escape attempt is futile, you cannot bribe the guards meticulously watching you. And even if you were to slip past the guards eyes, you’d be caught in a number of minutes. All that results in is the torture and murder of guards and in you being punished.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna takes a sadistic pleasure in punishing you. Of course, he likes when you’re docile but he adores your fiesty spirit. It’s really more of an ownership thing to be honest. Nobody else can touch you; Sukuna is the king of the world and you are his consort, his and his only. His to love and his to punish. Punishments can range from starvation to broken bones, all fit in accordance with his mood. But don’t worry, none of it is permanent. Well, most of it isn’t permanent, the brand labeled ‘Property of Sukuna’ looks absolutely gorgeous burned into your skin! Oh, how delicious your cries and pleas were. Otherwise, Sukuna is wonderful towards you, all your wishes, save your freedom, are granted. You live in comfort, it only being cast aside for Sukuna’s pleasure. Afterall, he’s your saviour, so shouldn’t you be a bit more considerate?

Can you do a Gojo satoru noncon smut where he’s like y/n toxic boyfriend that y/n tries leaving but he doesn’t let y/n so he rapes/noncons y/n and babytraps y/n as well

𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯/𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 (𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴), 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

The bitter laugh he gave set [name] off immediately, a pit dropping in her stomach.

“You?” The taunt was evident in a smirk stretching across his face, eyes dragging down her figure — Something akin to ‘sizing her up’. “Break up with me?”

She shivered.

Satoru Gojo was an awful person. She was not going to let his verbal taunts get to her. So, clenching her fists, canine tugging on her bottom lip, the girl steeled her resolve.

“Yeah. We’re over, Satoru.” Her eyes stayed set on the spot between her — now — ex-boyfriend’s sharp sapphire eyes, hidden beneath a blindfold. [name] thought she had made her facade absolutely unbreakable, but her twitching nose betrayed her. A simple tell, but a sure one.

However, at her words, something in the room shifted. Tension thick enough to slice, a pungent kind of odor resembling bloodlust suddenly sending her head reeling. The man’s smirk looked strained for a moment, quick to flicker back into more familiar ground.

Satoru took strides forward, grin only lengthening when she skittered backward. Her eyes had switched, wild and afraid, as if she’d only just considered the danger that came out of this situation.

The apartment got smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

[name] wondered if this was an ability he’d been born with — To make anyone who dared oppose him suddenly feel so terrified.

Looming over her so threateningly, blindfold the only thing concealing her true punishment — But she wouldn’t even get such a luxury it seemed, as his hand came up to take the cloth off. Sapphire eyes out in the open, pupils dilated just upon landing.

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching farther and farther into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next— Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter?

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding since intimacy was the one thing she struggled with — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

No matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn’t do anything against the supposed strongest. Satoru’s entire playful facade had washed off. She had a feeling this was what he had been hiding, truly — His glare was stronger, blue eyes shining painfully bright and still, still remaining dull. Devoid of love, but maybe she’d deluded that aspect into existence too. A slightly wrinkled lip, cold sneer of command—

Silence filled the room for a moment as he semi-circled to be a bit to her left, still in front. He blocked the door, but didn’t bother to close it. [name] hadn’t noticed her lip started to wobble until a fresh tear found its way down her cheeks. Although, just before it could pitter onto the floor, just before that soft thud—

Satoru had her on her bed. Grabbed the closest scrap of fabric to tie her wrists to the headboard, and when she made eye contact, saw how all the life had been drained out of his body — Realized he was nothing but a corpse of the man she thought — [name] knew he would ruin her. Fuck her. Rape her, here and now.

As he was tying the knot, not another word said on his end, the girl fought back tooth and nail, scratching, crying. She was confused, why be so neglectful up until now? “Let me go– Satoru I swear to god, I don’t— I don’t know or care if this is some sick fucking prank, just let me go—” She kicked him square in the stomach, but that invisible force was there once again.

“Plea— Please, Satoru. I’m not staying in a relationship like thi– Wh— What are you—” Her words were pathetically smothered by a whimper, two strong hands parting her thighs in a vice-like grip. A warning that, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t process properly. She tried to kick again, yanking her wrists against the cloth despite the burning tear.

His right hand’s slender fingers, the ones she flusteredly called pretty once upon a time, dug so harshly into her leg that she thought it might break. That was supposedly enough to silence her, and Satoru couldn’t help his sudden harsh laughter.

That carefully crafted silence had begun to shatter.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ cute like this, princess.” He almost panted out, but the notion still came across biting and condescending in the worst ways imaginable. A broken sob heaved its way out of her mouth, but he could only coo again.

“But… don’t think I’m not fucking pissed. You thought you could break up with me, huh? Right baby?” The taunt had returned. Satoru leaned down to finally slot his lips against hers, tongue invading and wet against her own. His hands moved from her thighs, sliding upwards until he was working her shirt up and over her breasts. He didn’t care much about unclasping the bra, instead just tearing it through the middle and tossing it to the side. Not like she’d need it anymore.

[name]’s chest moved up and down at a rapid pace, brushing against his sometimes, until he pulled away from the kiss to trail his mouth down lower. She tried to kick him away once more, but it seemed his patience was all but gone. He caught her right heel, snapping his wrist sharply—

CRACK—!

Her ankle was sprained. It didn’t click for her until the blinding pain bubbled up her figure, through her throat, onto her tongue — She bit it to stifle the scream that almost tore through. Instead, it all just came out as heavy sobs, tears upon tears cascading down her face in waterfalls.

“Shh…” He shushed her, carding a hand through her hair and kissing her lips once more. The purplish color tinted her ankle now, and while her sock covered the rest of her foot — She didn’t even want to know how it looked. “Now you get it, baby? How stupid it is to break up with me?”

[name] almost nodded. On instinct, she almost submitted, but instead — She shook her head. “No. Get— Get the fuck off me, Satoru. I’m calling the damn police.” And, her glare was almost effective.

Looked more like a puppy trying to bark to him though.

He sighed, before laughing again. Harsher, biting. Dragged a hand down his face, eyes not dull for a second. “Yeah, I saw this coming.”

With that, he snapped her other ankle, swallowing her scream up with another wet kiss. Her legs went limp, and he took the opportunity to knead her breasts with his hands, tweaking the nipples between his fingers and eliciting a small whimper into the rough battle between tongue.

Satoru moved his mouth down to her neck, sucking and biting everywhere. He made sure to mark her up effectively, all canines and tongue digging into her jugular and collar. She cried out every time, pain winning over pleasure. His tongue laved her tits, leaving bitemarks there too. Eventually though, he reached her sweatpants, tugging them down and off.

His fingers edged the fold of her panties, ignoring how she squirmed and whined uncomfortably. A chuckle left his throat, more sadistic than not. “Hah… Can’t wait to see what pretty noises I get when I fuck you.”

She flinched at that, eyes widened in horror as she still tried to move against the binds on her wrists.

He leaned down to rip her panties in half, stuffing them in his pocket before diving straight into swiping his tongue along her pussy. He licked a stripe right down her clit, the squelching noises as he sucked and fucked her on his wet muscle sounding unsettling to one, and heaven to the next.

Satoru was a man of his word, thrusting his tongue in and out of her at such a rapid pace, her cries held a wobbly lilt to them. She was trying so hard to not enjoy this, it was almost impressive to him.

In reality though — She wasn’t enjoying it one bit. Her head was pounding, eyes blurring with tears and the room spun, lips curved downward in a frown. She was angry at everything. God, Satoru, herself — She wished she saw the signs. She wished Satoru would stop. She wished for some divine intervention, but looking down, seeing this man eating her out like a man starved? It was the reminder she needed that Satoru is god.

He pulled away from [name]’s pussy, not bothering to wipe his chin of her juices. He looked angelic, and the nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if that made her the devil.

He unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it over his head. Then, his pants were off, along with his boxers.

Two strangers in a bed, put them in a bible and watch them burn.

Satoru positioned himself at her entrance, sliding the tip in excruciatingly slowly. It would be more tolerable under the pretense of pure, rough sex — Where he would just slam into her and leave her cold and naked. But instead, under the weight of romance, she felt her stomach churn.

He kissed her shoulder mockingly, and she realized he knew what he was doing. He knew he was stringing this along more than he needed to, and didn’t care.

The man slid in at an even slower pace, hissing out a low “Fuck…” Her pussy clenched around him, only earning a high keened whimper on his end too.

“Don’t say nothin’ against it now babe— Hhn, fuck— Y-You can deny it all you want, but this pussy doesn’t lie…”

Finally, he’d lost that self-restraining-front he tried to put up.

His hips thrusted in and out, hitting that spongy spot inside her — [name]’s toes curled. He kept whimpering, groaning, crying out her name every time he sunk inside.

“F-Fuckfuckfuck— You feel so good— Can’t— Won’t last—“ He groaned all raspy and breathy, ignoring her cries from underneath him.

Pleas for “Toru— ‘Toru please, please stop— Stop—“ Bubbled off her tongue, hanging in the air like unanswered prayers.

Faster and faster and faster. His hips rolled up into hers with the fervor of a devoted worshipper, a catholic kind of guilt in her eyes every time they met. His thrusts were relentless in every aspect of the word, hard, quick, and deep.

He moved her thighs to wrap around his waist, nails digging into them again. Over and over again, stinging pain like a blossom in the middle of a fiery massacre. It was the only constant in this whole ordeal, and she wondered what that meant.

Though, when he started to the stutter, hips too, all thoughts were silenced. He wasn’t pulling out. He wasn’t— He wasn’t—

“Sa— Satoru no, no, nononono no—“

She was cut off by the sudden sensation of Satoru’s hips stilling against hers, pelvis’ meeting at the center as his load spilled into her pussy. Ropes and ropes of white shot deep inside, stuffed full.

Where their bodies met, they truly became one.

[name] panted heavily, breaths all fucked up and skittery. Her body twitched, wrists burning and red from the rope burn. Her thighs fell numb around his waist, and her head cocked back as the earth stopped turning for a second.

Silence stretched far and further over the deserted apartment, door open and all. Prophetic records played in the room over, some 90’s rap serenade.

His hips started moving again before she could place what song it was, momentary peace diloricated and hung like caprizant ventricles, left and right, in and out.

Just two strangers in a bed. Let the scripture decide how their stories end.

☆ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘺𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

--

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next—  Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter? 

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!

heyy !!

𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

Hey gorgeous! I love your writing! Its beautiful <3

I wanna request something like apologetic noncon? Like yan! Doesn't think its ok but still does it, whispering sorry to the reader, telling them that they're sorry for doing this but it's for their own good!

Would love it more if it includes a bit of breeding kink! Please write one on either Yuji or Yuta from jjk! I think they'll be like the that!

Lots of love♥️

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘰𝘬𝘬𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘶 𝘺𝘶𝘶𝘵𝘢 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘨?, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

Snowflakes painted flourishing kisses to the Tokyo streets. White specks of the substance coated all pavement and surface, and wandering eyes remained fixated on the sight. Winter days always felt so— Right. Like not a single thing was wrong about it, everything was just perfect. 

Such is the rapt glaze to [name]’s eyes. She was beautiful in every way imaginable — From the way her varsity jacket was much too big for her figure, to the scrunching of her nose at the bitter cold, to the little shivers of her body — She was the walking personification of what Ananke stood for. Temptation incarnate. 

The girl’s long lashes blinked languidly up at the building in front of her. She wan’t sure whether or not to head in, especially since the neighborhood was a bit shady— But the cold was too much, her nose was turning pinkish, and yet her nerves still stopped her from taking another step. She didn’t want to see him right now. 

‘Him’, pertaining to the boy she liked for about two years in high school. This was his apartment complex, she knew that, but he was also the only person she knew in this area of Tokyo. Surely he would let her crash for a bit, at least until she could call someone for a ride, right? From what she recalled, the boy was kindhearted and always willing to help, as much as she hated to ask in the first place.

[name]’s fingers brushed stray strands of hair away from her face, pushing her bangs back as well — White sneakers stepping into the lobby, already making it into the elevator before she even registered the decision. Her eyes trailed up to look at the floors passing by, unsure whether she’d chosen the right number or not. 

She leaned back on her heels, puffing out a cold breath of air. Even inside the building, her breath still slightly froze over. She prayed the man’s apartment would be nice and toasty.

Another breath and the elevator dinged to signal her destination. She stepped out onto the floor, immediately warming up. Her body felt the hot air from the heaters all around the walls, fingers less numb, brain less foggy, and nose less stuffy. Her eyes didn’t feel like bags of weight either.

The floors were soft, red, velvet carpet. She observed a few of the paintings on either side of her, realizing her apartment wasn’t nearly as nice as this.

[name] vaguely recalled the correct apartment number, having come over to study a few times. Those were all fuzzy memories by now though. She was an adult that hadn’t seen him in 2 years — She didn’t like him like that anymore. The girl wouldn’t mind being friends, however, and that was the most probable outcome of the ordeal. Plus; she already fancied someone else. Her best friend (and roommate), Maki Zen’in — Honestly, [name] was completely enamored with her.

The girl ran a hand through her hair. A low buzzing started beneath her skin. Maybe it was the purple-ish ochre of the walls, but she’d come to realize how it smelled strangely of metal the closer she got to the room.

Pungent — And, addictive. She stopped in front of the door, momentarily allowing hesitation to stop her. But still, she knocked. 

No answer besides the sound of things clattering inside.

She knocked again— And this time, the door swung open quicker than she could blink. Wintertime was odd, because for a moment, the boy’s eyes flickered with a burning bloodlust— Gone with a blink.

Okkotsu Yuuta was a kind man. His gunmetal blue hues flicked from her nose up to her eyes, but it hardly took a second for the brightest grin to light up on his face. His smile lines — and eyebags, she noted — crinkled upward, canines glinting under the overhanging lamp. 

“[name]—?!” He sounded almost breathless, surprised, but most of all, happy to see her.

The fact that she’d never told him her name in highschool went right over her head. [name] mirrored his smile, pupils dilating at the sight. “Yuuta!” A chuckle slipped past her lips, pleased that he remembered her at all. Maybe, if fate would have it, they could really be friends.

“Ah— Please, please, come in! It’s freezing out in the hall— Man, they really should get heaters—” He offered with a chuckle of his own, noiret hair bouncing while leading her inside. His cheeks were decorated in a slight pink. She deduced it was from the cold. 

They had settled on the couch — Fireplace burning, heater on, hot chocolate in their hands. [name] didn’t really want to leave at this point, it was too cozy. Like a fox to its burrow, an eagle to an aerie, something about this just felt so right. She ran a ringed hand through her hair, hoping she looked somewhat presentable.

She’d changed a lot since high school, and in the best way possible, she hoped he would see that.

“Awh, man, I really wasn’t expecting to see you today! N-Not that it’s a bad thing!” He was quick to correct, cheeks darkening pink again, “I just— I haven’t seen you since our senior year, so this was a really nice surprise…” The man rubbed his nape, laughing airily. [name] noticed how even if his mannerisms hadn’t changed, he looked a lot more— Well, different. His hair was less ragged and way better kept. He had a very lean physique, visible despite his oversized clothing. His gaze was a bit sharper now, and his voice— 

Overall, he had changed quite a bit. [name] wondered if he noticed the little things about her too.

“No, it’s okay sweetie!” She held back a laugh at his flustered expression, “I was originally going to stay in the lobby to call a friend, but it was too cold down there— And, ah, I remembered coming here to study a few times, so yeah! I really hope I’m not imposing.” It was [name]’s turn to look bashful, eyes averted to the table.

“Don’t even worry about it! I’m happy you’re here, it’s a chance for us to catch up, y’know?” That same kind tone, that same raspiness and gentleness — Yuuta hadn’t changed that much, she supposed. He was still that same shy, soft-spoken guy he’d always been. It was endearing in its own way. 

A sip of her hot cocoa, “You’re right… How’ve you been, then? Like you said, it’s been a while.”

Yuuta hummed, sipping at his drink as well. “Well… I’ve been pretty good all in all. Being a sorcerer is a lot of work, so I still have a bunch of missions but besides that, I’d say I’m living a pretty laidback lifestyle right now.” He smiled earnestly, “What about you, sweetheart?”

The petname would’ve garnered the same reaction from her if she hadn’t seen the way his eyes flicked down to rake her figure, then back up in a blink once more. Her hands absentmindedly tugged the coat tighter around herself, willing her mind to remember his kindness and hospitality. Self-conscious — She was imagining things. “Honestly, same for me. I’ve been holding up alright after quitting the whole sorcerer thing— I’m glad it’s going well for you though! My part-time job’s really fun, and a lot less, well y’know, life-threatening.”

She emphasized her words with finger quotations, earning a laugh from the man next to her. She didn’t catch the way he watched her lips wrap around the edge of the mug with the focus of a man releasing his arrow. [name]’s tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and Yuuta’s smile illusioned straining. 

As their conversation continued, the banter grew more and more light-hearted. It sounded like they were long-time friends rather than just-meeting-again acquaintances. The girl would laugh at the boy’s little jokes or comments, and he would smile at each and every word out of her mouth.

Things were winding down, clock ticking faintly in the background. The fireplace was still crackling with newfound energy, and 3:26 A.M. flashed along [name]’s phone screen. Her body felt light, that low buzz from before returning tenfold, movements sluggish and less thought behind them. A little height to her psyche.

Yuuta picked up on every little twitch and movement of her figure, every single word out of her lips, every little reaction she had to offer. It was almost ritualistic — [name] would yawn, or sigh, or laugh, and Yuuta would blush, or giggle to himself, or grab a pillow to put on his lap.

3:27 A.M. She should’ve been home hours ago. She can imagine Maki’s terror to coming home to an empty apartment, completely barren— Oh, right. She was supposed to get groceries for the two of them. 

[name] hadn’t even realized how close Yuuta was by now. His arm was slung over the rear of the couch, fingers ghosting along her back at times. His breath painted butterflies along her neck every now and then, eliciting shivers and another tug of her jacket. Tighter just wasn’t tight enough.

The girl stretched her arms out in front of her, ignoring the way they trembled just slightly. She made a move to stand with confidence akin to a mortal in front of deities. “Well… I hate to cut this off right now, but I really should get going… My roommate is probably waiting for me back home.” She didn’t look him directly in the eyes— Couldn’t.

Yuuta hardly wasted a beat before standing up too, hand casual in its place around her waist. “Oh, are you sure? It’s really late, sweetheart… Don’t wanna wait until morning or something?” His eyes innocuous and slightly off-putting as he tilted his head, [name]’s trepidation blossomed into something worse. She waved him off, subtly realizing her movement to get out of his hold didn’t do anything.

“Nah, it’s fine! Like I said, I don’t wanna worry my roommate… Thanks so much for letting me stay over hon’, this was really fun.” [name] reached for her phone, ready to call Maki now that she had WiFi— Only to find that her phone… wasn’t… on the table.

Huh.

A pair of hands gently guided her waist to sit back down, a bit too close to his own frame, she realized. Silence settled over the pair — But something else settled in her stomach too. Pit-like, heavy, dread. 

One of those hands rubbed circles on her thigh, the other still slung around her hip and under her jacket. It was intimate. Too intimate. Black hair and gunmetal eyes, soft pink lips — Proximity closing in, she felt her breath hitch. The sluggish drive beneath her movements was getting worse, eyes blinking languidly. She was losing herself.

“Y’know…” He began, “Being a Jujutsu sorcerer’s helped me keep some discipline. I think I’ve subconsciously created some rules for myself, and it’s a ton of use, honestly.” Yuuta rested his chin on her shoulder, gentle smile transforming into something more sinister.

[name] felt her body shiver under his ministrations, only nodding so everything would end faster. He would stop talking, let her go, and she’d hopefully never have to see him again—

“Rule number one, and this is the one that’s saved me a bunch,” There was an odd glint in his eye as he sat up straight again, grabbing her mug of hot chocolate to drop it on the floor. She flinched at the sound of it shattering, hand instinctively reaching out to grab it— But it slipped right through her fingers.

It felt like time stopped when the liquid, previously in the mug, shrivelled up and morphed into some kind of powdery substance. 

“Never drink anything you didn’t make yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes flashed a brief electric blue, just before his hands found purchase on [name]’s wrists. The couch creaked under their weight as she cried out in the spur of the moment, a cracked whimper that hardly made it past her lips.

Everything blurred together. He had wrangled her into the perfect position, carrying her over to his room and tossing her onto the bed. Hardly another second, and he was on top of her once again, wrists pinned above her head. Yuuta’s bangs mingled with hers when he leaned down to press their lips together, tongue easily slipping into her mouth.

The headboard groaned with their movements. Sighing quietly to himself, his face decorated in cupid blush — He pulled back from the kiss to pepper the rest of her face, wet with tears, in more gentle adorations. “Ah, ‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry sweetheart—” He mumbled over and over again, way too high on the feel of her to really process much else.

In her drunken stupor, [name]’s body couldn’t do much to stop him. It seemed only her lips were working their purpose, spouting pleas for him to “Stop, please, just stop—”, to no avail.

She felt her jacket get slipped off her shoulders, even more panic aroused within her now. In a matter of seconds, all clothing covering her top half had been discarded among the floor. Yuuta’s hands found purchase on her breasts, kneading them under his fingers and pinching the pebbled nipples as his lips went further down her torso.

Teeth bit into her collarbones, neck, tits, stomach — Eventually reaching her sweatpants as well. The girl hadn’t stopped pleading for one second, weakly tugging at his hair to stop him, but it only earned a satisfied groan from the boy.

His canines tugged at the hem of her bottoms, eventually working them down so he had a fresh view of her pretty panties. He couldn’t hold back another low groan, it coming out as more of a whimper if anything. The guilt was eating him up inside, but he had to do this. For [name]’s own sake.

Yuuta dragged a slow finger through her clothed folds, relishing in the jerk it earned from her body. He tugged the panties down, finally, and wasted no time in latching onto her clit with his mouth. The whimper that followed was less quiet now, moreso delighted as he licked up every last drop from her folds. It didn’t matter how much she was squirming, his strong hands held her thighs firmly in place.

He worked his expert tongue along her clit, occasionally dipping into her hole — But it wasn’t long before his fingers worked their way inside instead. Two fingers scissored her apart, gasps and cries filling the room at the utter pain that didn’t evolve into pleasure. Her body wouldn’t move an inch, trembling under all the stress but unable to fight back at all.

After the third finger was added, and he was sure she was all ready, Yuuta pressed her thighs to her chest, releasing his cock from its restraints with a low hiss. Apologies were already bubbling on his tongue, dragging the tip through her dripping folds with satisfying ease. [name] couldn’t help it — She was sobbing by now, begging him to stop, that if he quit it right now and let her go, maybe they could forget about this—

But he was already pushing into her, a string of curses leaving his swollen and puffy lips. His eyes were bright and electric-kept, cheeks ever so bright pink. Hardly a second of still hips before he was rolling into her in quick and harsh thrusts, bed shaking with the force. “Shh— Please, please— I’m sorry, ‘m so, so sorry sweetheart— You’ll understand later, you’ll get it, I promise—” 

There were a number of things he said that rendered [name] speechless every time, that low buzz in her skin growing into white noise — It blocked everything else out of her ears.

“Been— Fuck— Been watching you since h-high school— Ngh—” He pointed his thrusts even deeper, canines digging into his bottom lip. “Noticed how b-beautiful you were, but you always— covered yourself up around me. Tugged your— Your sleeves down, sucked in your stomach— It always had me so confused– Haah, fuck,” He cut himself off with another sharp thrust, whimpering again when her pussy unconsciously clenched around him.

“You’re beautiful, [name]. Why don’t you— See that, h-huh? This was the only way to make you see it, to help you understand just how—” He rolled his hips up to meet hers, leaning down to lock eyes with her own as well. “F-Fucking perfect you are. ‘M sorry, so sorry it had to be like this, but it’s okay. We have all the time in the world.”

Yuuta’s words were a perfect dissonant harmony to [name]’s whines and pleads, trying to tune out anything he said. His pace grew sloppy as his hips stuttered, climax nearing. The girl’s eyes widened in pure, utter terror.

“Once I give you a child, y-you’ll learn how to love yourself along with them.” His words were final, despite how her eyes had widened to the size of saucers. Pace increasing drastically, earning high-keening whimpers from [name], Yuuta finally shot ropes of white into her walls, coating it in such heavy amounts of the thick liquid it started to seep out of her cunt.

Heavy breathing rang out in the room, painting it in a cacophony of blissful tears. The girl’s face was decorated in sweat, tears, and some of her hair stuck to her cheeks. Her bare chest heaved up and down, eyes shut tight as she wouldn’t dare meet Yuuta’s gaze. Not in a million goddamn years.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to pull out as he laid next to her. She couldn’t move anyway, so he just pulled her close and rested his chin atop her head. [name]’s eyes were dulled over, lips quivering as tears still poured forth, as if she was still processing the entire thing.

He’d thought that once it was over, he might need to cry everything out, not even be able to go forward with his plan out of pure remorse, but, — In the aftermath of it all, he felt every ounce of guilt wash away.

Love has its sacrifices. Some people are just willing to give up more than others.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.

characters — yandere! suguru geto x fem! reader

𝘵𝘸 — implied 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴/a, stalking, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

Suguru Geto followed a strict schedule.

He would wake up in the foggy residuals of a rainy day, orange lighting of the bedroom highlighting his eyebags and scars. The familiar sting would ache for a bit, but he would quickly realize why he’d woken up in the first place, and all previous pain would leave instantaneously. 

Tugging on his yukata, the man found himself in quite the good mood. He made some toast for himself, swiftly put his shoes on, and even had half the mind to make sure his hair looked good. An exhale, and Suguru had already left the house. 

It wasn’t a long walk, but he enjoyed the scenery as he went along. Raven locks spilling down his back, he hummed a rather lively tune and made his way down the street. 

Petrichor hung in the air. The ground was wet, grass dewey as the blades danced in tandem with windy weather. He ran a hand through his hair, tongue swiping over his lips as he looked up into the sky. Despite it being morn, the moon was still out. He wondered if planets collapsed easy like humans did. If Saturn was to reduce to dust because of itself, is she not the perfect depiction of human nature? Fleeting, it was. Nothing but.

He went from humming the tune to whistling, mood only getting better and better especially now that his destination was in sight. Today was the day. He was going to make his ultimate move, an action he’d been itching to complete for months now. What a great day indeed.

Suguru’s dark clothing easily shielded him as he came up on the house, cozy as ever. He maneuvered to the backyard, finding that same spot he had the perfect view from. 

He leant back on his palms, tilting his gaze up and fully taking in the sight through the window. 

The show began.

There she was. His pupils dilated, practically forming hearts. She seemed to be making breakfast for herself, singing along to some old love song. He wondered what that voice sounded like, since everytime he tried to catch a tune— Glass stood between them. He could’ve shattered it, but that would stop the sight altogether, wouldn’t it?

His [name] was something he’d cherish for eons to come. Suguru couldn’t focus on anything else but her, the one thing that granted him some kind of mental clarity. He’d spent his whole life not getting a single thing he wanted, not knowing what or who he was— But with her? She was the only thing he wanted. 

Which led to today. 8 months, 13 days, and 15 minutes — He’d stalked her for that long, becoming ‘friends’, so it was only fair that today he actually made a move, right? Patience is a virtue not even the gods showcased, which meant he didn’t either.

God, everytime he came around he’d catch a different part of [name]’s life — Her barely clothed body, her lazy days just laying on the couch, eating a meal, or even the barely occurring sleep.

The ravenette exhaled a shaky breath, really taking in every detail about his little beloved. From the way her baggy pajama pants and oversized shirt looked on her, to the way her lips formed all the words she sang — The way her smile shone brighter than any light present, to the way her hands trembled lightly around the spatula — He was in love. 

[name] was pathetically adorable in a way he just had to protect and keep for himself. Suguru wanted her to erase all sin from his hand. He knew she could clean him completely, restore his purity— If only she would just look at him. Almost frustratedly, Geto sighed.

He didn’t have to wait anymore. Working behind the scenes and making sure that slowly, slowly, she had no one else to rely on but him — The sweet neighbor a few houses down. They were well acquainted to the point she was comfortable with him. A few nods and hums here and there to whatever he was talking about on his usual morning stroll, words exchanged over coffee she’d offered, a simple serenade in the form of their idle ‘friendship’.

Geto felt like [name] barely even glanced his way. He felt his fingers itch to pull at his hair, but decided against it. As stated before, today was the day he finally did something. Nothing was going to stop that. Not like anyone could anyway. He’d carefully cut off all her loved ones from her life, either ending their lives completely or just giving them that little— Push.

It had been a rather awful day for [name] in general. She’d just had an awful fight with someone who wouldn’t even tell her what was wrong, her trust issues were the highest they’d been in a while, and she couldn’t find her goddamn reading glasses. Fuck. 

A hissed sigh fell from her lips, eyes shutting gently as her head fell back against the bed’s headboard. It was raining outside, today was going to be cozy and she was even going to finally take care of herself— But the argument just rubbed her off the wrong way. Now her mood was sour, her head hurt, and nobody—

The doorbell rang.

[name] wasn’t expecting anyone. She stood from her bed, trepidations both muted and rising. Making her way to the front door, opening — It was safe to say she really didn’t expect who was on the other side. 

“Suguru? What are you doing here?”

“Ah–” He ran a hand through his slightly dampened locks, smiling gently. “I was taking a walk and decided to surprise you!....Were you surprised?”

The girl couldn’t help but smile too, just relieved to have some company on such a downpoured day. “Yeah—” She laughed breathily, “Yeah, I was. Come on inside.”

Suguru’s smile didn’t falter as they took a seat on the couch, and the comfortable silence that ensued felt like complete, utter heaven. [name] finally took a deep breath, and the man finally decided to speak up.

“How have you been? I’m not trying to be rude, but you seem a little more… tired, if that’s the word, today.” He placed a hand on her back, rubbing little circles in an effort to let her be at peace. 

“Oh— I’m just… Nah, I just had a pretty bad argument with my brother, if you can even call it that.” Despite her reserved choice of words, something in her eyes shone, and whether it was tears or some other unspoken agony, her trembling bottom lip gave it away. 

He hummed in response, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Don’t feel obligated to hold back. I’m here to listen, sweetheart.” 

[name] turned her face to look at him, really look at him — And when she found not even a hint of deceit in his eyes, nor malice, the walls came tumbling down. She leant forward in her spot, putting her face in her hand and rubbing at her eyes to ease the fatigue at least a little.

“I—” Her voice cracked so she gulped heavily, “...My brother’s deciding to cut all contact with me, called me a slut and everything over text, and just hung up. Now he won’t answer my calls or texts and I don’t know why—” Her voice cracked again, echoing out into the walls. “I just don’t get it.”

The ravenette man ran his free hand through his hair, humming again. [name] found the suffocating feeling almost as a comfort, from the circles rubbed onto her back to the warmth Suguru was producing, even the tragic connotation of the day — Something had clicked back into place. What is born of the light cannot stray too far from it.

“I think it’s for the best.”

Her head shot up, eyebrows furrowed. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Ah, just let me explain,” Suguru didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her surprise, “If your brother left you high and dry for absolutely no reason, shouldn’t you do the same? Calling you a slut when you definitely aren’t, calling you an asshole for leaving him, cutting contact with you? If those aren’t extremes, I don’t know what is. And, he’s not even telling you why he did all of that. Why is it your responsibility to fix something you didn’t break, [name]?”

The girl didn’t know how to answer that. The petty respite of her own morals felt miniscule compared to the argument Suguru put forth. She watched the way his eyes flicked from her own, to her nose, and back up again. She watched the way his pupils dilated a bit, vaguely remembering what that meant, but holding no care for it.

She just wanted to absolutely melt in someone’s arms — So, she did. Without a single word exchanged, [name] wrapped her arms around the man and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

She missed both the blush on his face, and the bloodied phone in his pocket, belonging to her brother.

Suguru stood from his place on the grass, brushing any extra blades off his clothes before stretching his arms out. It was time. Years upon years of neglect and complete disregard of his own wellbeing had built up, he was not going to let this go now—

The man blew out a puff of air, smile creeping onto his face with the nonchalance of someone who had done this millions of times. If he was the same in every universe, a question he often pondered, did that hold any meaning to his devotion to this woman?

He approached the glass sliding doors in front of him, which were technically the backdoors of the house. He knocked rather politely to keep to his memorized script. It was time to see if [name] would play her part well too.

The girl perked up at the noise, tilting her head adorably as she paused the music and came up to open the door. “Oh! Suguru?” Her nose scrunched up confusedly, but that clueless smile did nothing to quell the immediate fluster seeping into his heart. Plus— Finally, finally, he could hear those little hums of hers. The little undertones, the way she weaved her notes only served to entice him further.

“Haha, I was just passing through and wanted to let you know that there’s a crime watch going around… I’d recommend higher security.” He offered the advice as kindly as can be, smiling still.

She gasped lightly, holding a light hand to her mouth as her eyebrows furrrowed in concern. “Oh no, I had no clue… I’ll definitely do that, thanks for the notice!” [name] chuckled bashfully, rubbing her nape before making eye contact again. “Actually— I made breakfast, would you want to come inside and eat?”

Ah, just as he had planned. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose, but if you’re offering, sure!” Another smile, another lighthearted chuckle, and Suguru made his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

[name] didn’t hear it lock with a soft snick. 

As the pair helped themselves to the spread of pancakes, coffee, and some lovely cookies, they made pleasant small talk. The string had begun to tighten, and Suguru felt his hunger only grow to an insatiable amount. God, he knew everything about her, absolutely everything— Why couldn’t she see how much he could give her—?

Things seemed to slow down a bit, finishing up breakfast and their conversation. Suguru knew this would be where he was supposed to say something about his leave, and, well, leave, but that wouldn’t be any fun. Instead, he resorted to just laying his eyes on the wonder in front of him, taking in the peace for a few more moments.

He knew what he was about to do was anything but keeping peace.

Suguru was adjacent to [name] at this point, so he leant over, casual as he placed his arm behind her head and nuzzling up close. She wouldn’t say anything about it, he knew that. He rubbed familiar circles on her shoulder, eyes dismissive as they ran down her frame. 

[name] was the one to break the silence, seemingly made a little uncomfortable by it. “I, uh— Did you have any plans for today, Suguru?” She faked a stretch, really just trying to use the opportunity to scoot a little away from him, but his arm kept her firmly in place.

He answered nonchalantly, watching carefully as she tried again to lean forward and take a cookie into her mouth, not-so-subtly moving away too. His lips curled into a smirk, “No, not really. I honestly just wanted to make sure my slut wasn’t back in contact with anyone I didn’t want her to.”

The girl promptly choked on her food, coughing and standing up, eyes blown wide with terror. A hand shot out to her wrist, but her teary whimper still echoed. “What—?!” Not what she wanted to hear, not what she thought she would hear— But preconceptions often fail us anyways. Pure, carnal fear rushed through her veins, legs stumbling to get away—

Suguru pulled [name] into his lap with ease, keeping her down no matter how she struggled. Nose buried into her neck along with his teeth, he chuckled lowly.

“Shh, don’t cry sweetheart, please— I just wanna help you see what you’re not realizing.” An uncomfortably gentle kiss placed under her jaw, hips grinding up into hers, “This was bound to happen. We were meant to be.”

The planets do fall as easily as humans. Jupiter crumbled into specks of dust, and amends couldn’t be made. Universal symphonies are mistaken for cacophanies, so what stops a kiss from morphing into a bite?

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘮𝘮𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘹 !!! 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘬𝘬 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be. 

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most. 

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face. 

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man. 

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night. 

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly. 

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short. 

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back. 

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps. 

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to— 

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted. 

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut. 

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter. 

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara— 

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall. 

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious. 

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time. 

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead. 

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to. 

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger. 

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command. 

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls. 

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now. 

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji— 

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☆

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 !!

𝐣𝐣𝐤 ☆

gojo satoru:

dilorication.

vantage.

geto suguru:

dilorication.

amends.

itadori yuuji:

megumi fushiguro:

metanoia.

kugisaki nobara:

kento nanami:

ryomen sukuna:

choso:

mahito:

okkutsu yuuta:

remorse.

zenin maki:

inumaki toge:

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 ☆

karasuno

hinata shoyo:

kageyama tobio:

tsukishima kei:

yamaguchi tadashi:

sugawara koshi:

sawamura daichi:

asahi azumane:

nishinoya yuu:

ryunosuke tanaka:

nekoma

tetsurou kuroo:

kozume kenma:

fukurodani

koutarou bokuto:

keiji akaashi:

seijoh

oikawa tooru:

iwaizumi hajime:

matsukawa issei:

hanamaki takahiro:

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi:

tendou satori:

eita semi:

inarizaki

shinsuke kita:

miya atsumu:

miya osamu:

rintarou suna:

other teams

kiyoomi sakusa:

yuji terushima:

𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 ☆

mark grayson:

eve wilkins:

nolan grayson:

cecil stedman:

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 & 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯 (𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩), 𝘴/𝘢, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘥𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭

A fresh new start always felt like bull.

It was like fate itself holding her life on puppet strings. Moving her like a numb pawn in a chess game. Everything felt calculated for everything except her. She just had to wait for things to go her way every once in a while, before it fell apart again.

Right now, it was going fairly mundanely. Nothing interesting or even mildly negative had happened in a while, though nothing had either. She had already been living alone for quite some time. Moved out of her parents’ house as soon as possible and invested in a house of her own for the sole reason of hating apartments. Too rickety, and she would feel safer in a smaller, single house than with broken windows or whatever else.

[name] ran a ringed hand through her hair, huffing out a breath as she hauled her cross-body bag over her shoulder. The job down at the local cafe awaited straight ahead, and despite her fears, she wasn’t a child anymore, she could do this. 

Morning pink and white skies, highlighted with gold clouds had her taking in the fresh air. In fact, it wasn’t until she picked her walking pace up again, stepping toward the cafe doors, that the slightest bit of dread began to pool in her stomach.

A sigh, and [name] reached for the handle as she made her way inside. Her eyes wandered, trailing along the gold embellishments among the otherwise green, brown, and orange-ish tints around her. She lumbered on her way to the back of the building, swiftly tugging her uniform on and starting to take orders from her position as cashier.

Customers piling in couldn’t deny the coziness, some of them staying for quite some time. [name] herself enjoyed every second spent on the job and could never imagine quitting. Or— At least… Those were her premonitions for now. It was a steady source of income while living alone, the atmosphere was nice, the people were nice, it wasn’t—

The doors opened just as the clock chimed at 3 o’clock. 

Not even a divine mercy could save such a tragedy. In waltzed two figures, tall in stature and a bit intimidating with their builds. [name] gulped for a second, feeling the cozy air around her start to dissipate. Despite recognizing them as regulars, the girl was unsettled. They always came in and just… observed her every move. She averted her gaze for the sake of her own well-being, lips pursing and unpursing. The feeling of her lip gloss brought back some sense, and she snapped out of her stupor.

In the short time she’d looked at them, she noticed they looked pretty identical to the last time. Cold white hair, blue eyes that held the world in their irises, black uniform — He was the one whose gaze raked along her entire figure, always whispering obscene things to his friend. Of course, said friend had raven hair, long locks that swayed with each step. They were tied up into a bun, and his matching eyes always remained locked on her face, barely wavering. His irises held nothing but sorrow, the weight of the universe—

‘Don’t judge people by their looks,’ She reminded herself. It’s rude to do so, even in this case… Her eyes flicked back to the pair, and she physically had to hold herself back from flinching. Both of their gazes were locked right onto her, one sporting a small smirk, and the other smiling softly. 

The man smirking ran a hand through his snowy white hair, whistling lowly and leaning over to whisper something in his presumed friend’s ear. The smiling man whispered something as well, raven locks swaying in the small breeze. She wouldn’t have cared about any of this had their stares not been piercing into her. Something felt off, something really felt off— What was once just invasive had turned predatory. At least before, it didn’t feel like this.

The first time the pair had come into the cafe, they took a seat and seemed to talk casually for a bit. They weren’t ordering anything, but just to be sure, [name] had made her way over and asked them if they wanted to try anything off the menu. She tried and failed to conceal her wince when their eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

That was the first time she’d experienced true intimidation. Satan regarded the two of them with a shiver, and she felt her hand tremble at her side. As if they had gotten what they wanted, the pair smiled, but the notion didn’t reach their eyes. 

Neither one of them spoke a word for a moment, until—

“Just coffee, thanks.” The ravenette had a gentle voice, countering his intimidating stature. She nodded, a strained ‘Of course!’ falling from her lips before she walked back to her place at the counter. Still, she felt their burning stares pierce through her back. 

Fate held a scissor to the string.

She tried to mind her own business. She really did. Returning to brewing some coffee for the person in line, sliding it across the table, and giving them a smile. Her lips could barely form the words, “Have a good day,” before she cut herself off, eyes widening. The coffee she had handed them knocked out of their grasp, laying spilled on the floor. 

[name] gasped quietly, eyes darting back up to meet black and blue hues. She froze a second, suddenly realizing that while she’d been on autopilot, spacing out— The rest of the cafe had gone empty. Beginning to yell at the pair, the customer the coffee had been for looked beyond pissed. They opened their mouth to continue screaming at the white-haired man, but—

A swift flick of his fingers, and the customer went flying across the room, seemingly gaining momentum as they crashed against the wall and hit their head hard enough to knock out. A sickening crack echoed throughout the room, allowing [name] to freeze completely. Her face paled in horror at the sight, a horrifying entity forming right behind the customer. They didn’t get the chance to fight, head effectively bitten clean off their body. 

Blood poured forth from the stump like that of the Lord, body falling limp. The crimson color had splattered all over the walls and floor, a horrifying canvas of the spiral to hell, to purgatory— 

Muted noiret hair cascaded over his shoulder as the man knelt on one knee in front of the body. He seemed to observe the way a few ants had already begun crawling out of the small hole in the wall, breaths quiet. Then, he cracked a smile. “‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’… May your god have mercy on your soul, low-life.”

With that, the entity swallowed the rest of the customer up whole.

It was quiet for a second. A clock ticked in the background, but she swore it almost felt like the seconds had slowed down. [name]’s mind was running wild with the visual and implied information dumped onto her. ‘What was that entity? Why did they kill the customer? What were they gonna do to her? Was this it? Were they going to kill her too?’

Despite the icy look he sent the corpse, the white-haired man huffed out a snicker. “C’mon, Suguru, don’t be like that.” He dragged the last word out, cracking his knuckles in front of him. His sapphire eyes took their time in studying every reaction [name] had to offer. From her shivers to her darting eyes — He consumed it all.

The ravenette chuckled too, lightheartedly smacking the other on the back. “How else should I be, Satoru?”

That seemed to snap her out of her state. The girl tried to scream, all blood leaving her face, but all she could form was a weak whimper. Her hands clutched at her uniform in an effort to ground herself, trying to sprint for the back. There were about 15 steps between herself and the door. She only made 3. 

A hand clasped around her wrist, tugging her backward and into a chest. “Trying to leave so soon? Oh c’mon now, princess,” Satoru’s hand trailed down to her waist, lips brushing against her earlobe and greedily drinking up the shivers he got in return. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Suguru made his way to her front, one hand in his pocket while the other grabbed her cheeks to make sure she looked right into those pools of tar. He smiled softly, a stark contrast to Satoru’s smug grin as his lips nipped at her neck. Suguru took in every little detail of her face, including the blood from the customer’s splatter. The pores, the imperfections, the perfections— He couldn’t get enough. 

“You’re a beautiful thing, y’know that?” He muttered, as if it was a secret only between the two of them. Something that no one else should ever know about. She tried to form a remark, anything to tell them off— But all it sounded like to them was a puppy’s whines.

His lips came crashing onto hers with a passion that rivaled Hades as he pursued Persephone. [name] tried desperately to push them off, using every bit of the strength she had— Yet as they backed her into the backroom, she knew it was all in vain. The realization didn’t stop her though, lips finally pushing past their rest and yelling for them to stop, almost sure it might draw the attention of someone outside. Before they closed the door, she saw that it had begun to pour rain, loud enough to completely mask any and all of her noises.

Satoru was the one that pushed her down onto the counter, Suguru immediately beginning to pull her oversized shirt off. The white haired man ran a hand through his strands at the sight, a hissed “Fuck,…” pulling through his throat. The ravenette saw how [name] tried to cover herself again, face pink, and immediately pinned her wrists above her head.

“Shh… It’s— It’s okay, we’ll take care of you, right, ‘Toru?” His voice was tight, like he was refraining from saying something, doing something— She tried to tug her wrists away from his hold, yelling for help, telling them to stop, just about anything that could just end the moment here and now. 

A chuckle, and Satoru leaned over her body, face mere centimeters from hers. His lips practically brushed hers as those damned jewel-like orbs devoured her own. 

“Yeah, we’ll treat ya real good, princess.”

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳-𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ☆

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 ☆

call me prix ☆

masterlist ☆

she/her for pronouns prty pls ☆

bisexual ahh mf ☆

horror fan to the extreme ☆

only writing dark content, fem reader ☆

this includes horror, extreme yandere, nsfw, gore, etc ☆

please request as frequently as possible !! ☆

requests should include the general plot of the idea, characters included, and if it's smut or not ☆

current fandoms i'm writing for are:

jjk ☆

haikyuu ☆

invincible ☆

that's about it ☆

i'm not your mom, so i'm not responsible for the content you decide to consume. i gave you my warnings, please heed them ☆

regardless, 18+ plssss ☆

ok bye ☆

If there is a god, they'll let me see more bully yandere Gojo fics 🙏

Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo— can't get enough of that concept I eat that every time

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, bullying

Feeling like an immature awkward bully Gojo today...

Satoru is the type of bully who calls you flat-chested no matter what size you are because it’s the only thing he can think of saying when you catch him staring - because he's too stuck on the thought of how badly he wants to titty-fuck you to think up anything else.

He's the type to blush real bad - not pink, but purple - if he ever catches the pretty frill of your underwear under your skirt. It gets him hard as a can of coke and he needs to find someplace where he can take care of it for it to go away.

When you're tasked to read a romance novel for class, he doesn't fail to comment on how no one in their right mind would ever like you like that - saying something like he wouldn't even hire you as a maid.

And if any guy other than him talks to you, he's quick to make it ugly - calling you a slut - telling you it's no wonder guys flock around you like flies to trash when you're such a flirty floozy - then asks how you're not ashamed of yourself.

Meanwhile, he's also threatening those same boys - not just with bodily harm, but all types of other ruin - financial and social - he'll fucking bury them in a shit pile so steep and deep they're never going to be able to crawl their way out.

When you start ignoring him and isolating yourself from anyone and any place he might be - he starts hunting you. And when he finds you, he's doing anything he can think of to punish you for it. Pours his milk carton over you - feels his throat get tight at the sight of your tits through your wet T-shirt.

"You know... actually... you look kinda cute like this." He murmurs, crouched down over you where you've stumbled into a pitiful heap on the floor. Having thought you could hide yourself in an empty classroom - though only having left yourself open to be caught alone with him.

The sight of the white creamy liquid running down your pretty face in pearls makes his head feel cloudy and hot. He can't stop himself from bearing over you, your cheeks cupped in both his hands as he doesn't kiss but licks your face - dragging his tongue over your lips and nose, then your eyes, sucking the skin while you whimper - sitting stiff and tense against the wall waiting for him to get done - only he doesn't.

Instead, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth. Setting his knees down on either side of you, he's searching for a place to rub his bulge and decides your tits are the most welcoming place to relieve the pressure.

He leans his forehead against the wall, panting while looking down at you and the sight of his fatty nestle into your cleavage - still wet and see-through with milk - his hand cups each soft mound, squeezing them together - so lost in that drool is dripping down his chin.

When he creams his pants, he's back to blushing purple - as though he'd just woken up from something he thought was a dream.

Scrambling to his feet, he's slipping in the milk on the floor, nearly tripping as he runs out of the classroom and leaves you there - speechless.