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currently trapped inside the jjk fandom. send help... or more characters.
masterlist last updated [19.07.26]
• Ongoing experiments
Twisted Oneshots - ongoing, my baby project — an ever-growing collection of dark, romantic, obsessive and emotionally devastating jjk x reader stories.🔪
Kiwi Oneshots - complete — a short and sweet lil collection, all wrapped up 🥝 (Jk! Nothing about my stories is "sweet".)
How to tame a yandere? - ongoing (slow updates lol, be patient with me) — my yandere-centric magazine series, new "issues" dropping when they drop 🩸
❀┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄❀
• Fandoms
jujutsu kaisen — the place where every obsession began. find everything below:
A/N testing work ♡ Part Two of three! Priiceless was Part One—this is the second concept I'm testing before deciding which idea deserves the full-series treatment. If this one does well, caleb gets his continuation. For now, consider this Part Two of the experiment. 🧍🏻♂️
div by ♡ @cafekitsune
"mm..." You’re asleep, completely unaware of the shift in the mattress or the careful way the blanket is peeled back from your hips. Your legs are parted just enough for Caleb to settle between them, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He moves slowly, so nothing jags you awake.
His mouth finds you already. Soft, wet heat closes over your clit. It’s puffy and swollen from the earlier teasing he gave you while you drifted off, the little bud standing out, tender and exposed. He seals his lips around it and sucks—gentle at first, then with a steady, hungry pull that makes the sensitive flesh throb against his tongue.
“Look at this,” he whispers, voice low and filthy right against your cunt. “Already so swollen for me. Pipesqueak’s little clit is all puffy… like it’s been waiting.” He gives another slow, wet suck, then flicks the tip of his tongue over the underside in tight circles. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Even while you’re out cold. What a filthy girl.”
He keeps talking while he works you, the words slipping between long, deliberate pulls of his mouth.
“Such a dirty little sister… letting your brother suck on this sensitive thing while you sleep. Can’t even close your legs.” His tongue flattens and drags, then he seals his lips again and sucks harder, the wet sound soft but constant in the quiet room. “Feels good, doesn’t it? That little clit throbbing on my tongue…”
He uses the flat of his tongue to press and roll the swollen bud, then switches to quick, focused flicks right over the most sensitive spot, never letting up long enough for the feeling to fade. Your body stays limp, breathing slow and even, but the soft folds around your clit grow slicker under his mouth.
“Mmh… just take it baby. Sleep through it while I play with this pretty, swollen clit. My filthy girl.” He sucks harder, cheeks hollowing, tongue working in relentless little strokes. Your clit is completely under his control—puffy, throbbing, trapped between his lips while he murmurs more of the same low, filthy praise. “Gonna make this little thing pulse… make you feel it even in your dreams~”
It happens without you waking. The orgasm rolls through you in a quiet, helpless wave—hips twitching faintly, inner walls fluttering, your swollen clit pulsing hard against his tongue as you come. Wetness spills onto his mouth and chin.
Caleb keeps sucking through it, slower now, riding out every throb. When the last small spasm fades he finally pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing the oversensitive tip.
“Bad girl… cumming on your brother’s tongue.” He leans in again and presses a soft, deliberate kiss right to the throbbing little bud, then another. One last gentle suck, almost tender, before he draws away.
His hand comes up and rests lightly on your head, fingers stroking once through your hair.
“What are you hiding from me, huh?”
—
The next morning, you found yourself sitting across from Caleb at the breakfast table, quietly picking at your food while he carried most of the conversation. He talked about the things he had planned for the day, something that had happened at work, and some completely random story that would normally have earned a laugh from you, and you did give him one when he glanced your way, forcing yourself to react naturally even though your attention kept drifting toward the phone resting beside your plate.
Caleb continued talking for a while before his voice gradually faded into silence, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with his head tilted slightly to the side, his expression thoughtful rather than accusing.
“Is there something bothering you?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question, before shaking your head. “No...” you immediately lowered your gaze again, focusing on your breakfast, but you could still feel Caleb's eyes lingering on you from across the table. Neither of you said anything for a while, until you finally finished eating, murmured something under your breath, and carried your plate away.
The moment you reached your room, the door clicked shut behind you, and you practically threw yourself onto the bed, immediately reaching for your phone.
Your 'new boyfriend' was already online.
You knew Caleb wouldn't approve if he found out. He would probably tell you to break things off, insist that you weren't ready for a relationship, and somehow turn the entire conversation into another lecture about how he knew what was best for you.
But seriously, you were more than old enough to make your own decisions. Still, it was easier to keep this from him.
For three days, then five, more than a week, you continued the same routine, careful not to make your avoidance of Caleb too obvious. You hadn't completely ignored him, either. Whenever he spoke to you, you answered, you laughed when he made a joke, you teased him back when he teased you, and you made enough of an effort to keep everything feeling normal that there shouldn't have been any reason for him to suspect anything.
Except Caleb seemed different anyway.
At first, you thought you were imagining it, but the longer it continued, the more obvious it became. He stopped asking questions. He stopped trying to pry into whatever had been occupying your attention, and even when you joked with him, his reactions seemed strangely muted, as though his mind was somewhere else.
He looked... dull. And somehow, that made you feel worse. Maybe you should just tell him. The thought crossed your mind more than once, and guilt had finally caught up with you, but every time you imagined actually telling him, you pictured the inevitable lecture, the questions, the disapproval, and the possibility that he would somehow convince you to end things before you'd even gotten the chance to see where they went.
“Tch.” The small sound escaped you as you stared down at your screen, watching the typing indicator appear and disappear beneath your boyfriend's latest message.
'What's got my baby sad?'
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. 'Nothing.' You sent it, stared at the message for a moment, then frowned. You didn't even know why you were feeling like this anymore.
Maybe it was Caleb or was the guilt. Maybe it was the fact that you'd spent more than a week hiding something from someone who had always been so involved in your life. Before you could overthink it, your fingers moved again.
'Can we meet?'
You weren't even sure why you'd asked. You'd expected him to send back a laughing emoji, maybe some shameless teasing, perhaps another flirty response that would make you roll your eyes at the screen. Instead, the message was simply marked as seen.
Then the typing bubbles appeared beneath his name. You leaned closer to the screen, completely absorbed in whatever answer he was about to send.
“Pipesqueak…”
“—!?” You'd jump at the sudden sight of Caleb, turning your head sharply toward the doorway only to realize that the door was already open. For a moment, you'd simply stare at it, frowning as you tried to remember whether you'd left it that way yourself, but the memory wouldn't come clearly enough to reassure you. Your attention would eventually return to him, and the uncertainty on your face would deepen as you looked up at him from where you were sitting, asking quietly, "What's wrong...?"
“....” Caleb would simply stare down at you, his expression unreadable in a way that would make you instinctively straighten a little beneath his gaze. Then, without taking his eyes off you, he'd ask, "Why are you ignoring me?"
The question would catch you so completely off guard that you'd hesitate before shifting farther back against the bed, a nervous little laugh escaping you as you tried to make sense of what he meant. "What? I'm not..."
He'd step closer to your bed, there'd be something unusually serious in his expression now, something that didn't quite resemble the older-brother version of Caleb you were accustomed to dealing with. Yet just as you'd begin to feel the weight of it, he'd chuckle, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked at you.
"Keeping secrets from gege now?"
You'd swallow nervously. “I…” you'd sigh, taking a deep breath and eventually give in, attempting another small laugh in the hope that it might ease the tension between you. "It's just... I'm talking to someone."
The words would barely leave your mouth before he'd immediately cut in. "Who?"
You'd halt. The nervous laughter would disappear just as quickly, leaving you staring at him for a moment before finally admitting,
"Boyfriend…"
Caleb would stare at you, and after a moment, he'd ask calmly, "You got a boyfriend now?" A small chuckle would follow. "And didn't even tell me?"
You'd hear the hurt in his tone despite the attempt to disguise it, and that would be enough to make you shift closer to the edge of the bed. You'd reach for his arm, holding onto it gently as you tried to reassure him, your voice becoming softer as you said, "I'm sorry... I... was about to tell you… really…"
Caleb would sigh, and the sound would make you look up at him again. "Which boyfriend though?"
“Eh?” You'd pause, confused by the question, your brows drawing together as you watched him reach for his phone. He'd pull it out without another word, and when the screen came into view, you'd immediately recognize that it was already unlocked. A chat was open.
For a moment, you'd simply stare at the screen, the realization settling over you with a sinking feeling as Caleb held the phone where you could see it. The messages between you and your boyfriend were right there, completely exposed…
Caleb would look back at you, the phone still in his hand, before asking with a faint, knowing edge to his voice, "This one?”
A/N testing work ♡ Part Two of three! Priiceless was Part One—this is the second concept I'm testing before deciding which idea deserves the full-series treatment. If this one does well, caleb gets his continuation. For now, consider this Part Two of the experiment. 🧍🏻♂️
div by ♡ @cafekitsune
"mm..." You’re asleep, completely unaware of the shift in the mattress or the careful way the blanket is peeled back from your hips. Your legs are parted just enough for Caleb to settle between them, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He moves slowly, so nothing jags you awake.
His mouth finds you already. Soft, wet heat closes over your clit. It’s puffy and swollen from the earlier teasing he gave you while you drifted off, the little bud standing out, tender and exposed. He seals his lips around it and sucks—gentle at first, then with a steady, hungry pull that makes the sensitive flesh throb against his tongue.
“Look at this,” he whispers, voice low and filthy right against your cunt. “Already so swollen for me. Pipesqueak’s little clit is all puffy… like it’s been waiting.” He gives another slow, wet suck, then flicks the tip of his tongue over the underside in tight circles. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Even while you’re out cold. What a filthy girl.”
He keeps talking while he works you, the words slipping between long, deliberate pulls of his mouth.
“Such a dirty little sister… letting your brother suck on this sensitive thing while you sleep. Can’t even close your legs.” His tongue flattens and drags, then he seals his lips again and sucks harder, the wet sound soft but constant in the quiet room. “Feels good, doesn’t it? That little clit throbbing on my tongue…”
He uses the flat of his tongue to press and roll the swollen bud, then switches to quick, focused flicks right over the most sensitive spot, never letting up long enough for the feeling to fade. Your body stays limp, breathing slow and even, but the soft folds around your clit grow slicker under his mouth.
“Mmh… just take it baby. Sleep through it while I play with this pretty, swollen clit. My filthy girl.” He sucks harder, cheeks hollowing, tongue working in relentless little strokes. Your clit is completely under his control—puffy, throbbing, trapped between his lips while he murmurs more of the same low, filthy praise. “Gonna make this little thing pulse… make you feel it even in your dreams~”
It happens without you waking. The orgasm rolls through you in a quiet, helpless wave—hips twitching faintly, inner walls fluttering, your swollen clit pulsing hard against his tongue as you come. Wetness spills onto his mouth and chin.
Caleb keeps sucking through it, slower now, riding out every throb. When the last small spasm fades he finally pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing the oversensitive tip.
“Bad girl… cumming on your brother’s tongue.” He leans in again and presses a soft, deliberate kiss right to the throbbing little bud, then another. One last gentle suck, almost tender, before he draws away.
His hand comes up and rests lightly on your head, fingers stroking once through your hair.
“What are you hiding from me, huh?”
—
The next morning, you found yourself sitting across from Caleb at the breakfast table, quietly picking at your food while he carried most of the conversation. He talked about the things he had planned for the day, something that had happened at work, and some completely random story that would normally have earned a laugh from you, and you did give him one when he glanced your way, forcing yourself to react naturally even though your attention kept drifting toward the phone resting beside your plate.
Caleb continued talking for a while before his voice gradually faded into silence, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with his head tilted slightly to the side, his expression thoughtful rather than accusing.
“Is there something bothering you?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question, before shaking your head. “No...” you immediately lowered your gaze again, focusing on your breakfast, but you could still feel Caleb's eyes lingering on you from across the table. Neither of you said anything for a while, until you finally finished eating, murmured something under your breath, and carried your plate away.
The moment you reached your room, the door clicked shut behind you, and you practically threw yourself onto the bed, immediately reaching for your phone.
Your 'new boyfriend' was already online.
You knew Caleb wouldn't approve if he found out. He would probably tell you to break things off, insist that you weren't ready for a relationship, and somehow turn the entire conversation into another lecture about how he knew what was best for you.
But seriously, you were more than old enough to make your own decisions. Still, it was easier to keep this from him.
For three days, then five, more than a week, you continued the same routine, careful not to make your avoidance of Caleb too obvious. You hadn't completely ignored him, either. Whenever he spoke to you, you answered, you laughed when he made a joke, you teased him back when he teased you, and you made enough of an effort to keep everything feeling normal that there shouldn't have been any reason for him to suspect anything.
Except Caleb seemed different anyway.
At first, you thought you were imagining it, but the longer it continued, the more obvious it became. He stopped asking questions. He stopped trying to pry into whatever had been occupying your attention, and even when you joked with him, his reactions seemed strangely muted, as though his mind was somewhere else.
He looked... dull. And somehow, that made you feel worse. Maybe you should just tell him. The thought crossed your mind more than once, and guilt had finally caught up with you, but every time you imagined actually telling him, you pictured the inevitable lecture, the questions, the disapproval, and the possibility that he would somehow convince you to end things before you'd even gotten the chance to see where they went.
“Tch.” The small sound escaped you as you stared down at your screen, watching the typing indicator appear and disappear beneath your boyfriend's latest message.
'What's got my baby sad?'
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. 'Nothing.' You sent it, stared at the message for a moment, then frowned. You didn't even know why you were feeling like this anymore.
Maybe it was Caleb or was the guilt. Maybe it was the fact that you'd spent more than a week hiding something from someone who had always been so involved in your life. Before you could overthink it, your fingers moved again.
'Can we meet?'
You weren't even sure why you'd asked. You'd expected him to send back a laughing emoji, maybe some shameless teasing, perhaps another flirty response that would make you roll your eyes at the screen. Instead, the message was simply marked as seen.
Then the typing bubbles appeared beneath his name. You leaned closer to the screen, completely absorbed in whatever answer he was about to send.
“Pipesqueak…”
“—!?” You'd jump at the sudden sight of Caleb, turning your head sharply toward the doorway only to realize that the door was already open. For a moment, you'd simply stare at it, frowning as you tried to remember whether you'd left it that way yourself, but the memory wouldn't come clearly enough to reassure you. Your attention would eventually return to him, and the uncertainty on your face would deepen as you looked up at him from where you were sitting, asking quietly, "What's wrong...?"
“....” Caleb would simply stare down at you, his expression unreadable in a way that would make you instinctively straighten a little beneath his gaze. Then, without taking his eyes off you, he'd ask, "Why are you ignoring me?"
The question would catch you so completely off guard that you'd hesitate before shifting farther back against the bed, a nervous little laugh escaping you as you tried to make sense of what he meant. "What? I'm not..."
He'd step closer to your bed, there'd be something unusually serious in his expression now, something that didn't quite resemble the older-brother version of Caleb you were accustomed to dealing with. Yet just as you'd begin to feel the weight of it, he'd chuckle, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked at you.
"Keeping secrets from gege now?"
You'd swallow nervously. “I…” you'd sigh, taking a deep breath and eventually give in, attempting another small laugh in the hope that it might ease the tension between you. "It's just... I'm talking to someone."
The words would barely leave your mouth before he'd immediately cut in. "Who?"
You'd halt. The nervous laughter would disappear just as quickly, leaving you staring at him for a moment before finally admitting,
"Boyfriend…"
Caleb would stare at you, and after a moment, he'd ask calmly, "You got a boyfriend now?" A small chuckle would follow. "And didn't even tell me?"
You'd hear the hurt in his tone despite the attempt to disguise it, and that would be enough to make you shift closer to the edge of the bed. You'd reach for his arm, holding onto it gently as you tried to reassure him, your voice becoming softer as you said, "I'm sorry... I... was about to tell you… really…"
Caleb would sigh, and the sound would make you look up at him again. "Which boyfriend though?"
“Eh?” You'd pause, confused by the question, your brows drawing together as you watched him reach for his phone. He'd pull it out without another word, and when the screen came into view, you'd immediately recognize that it was already unlocked. A chat was open.
For a moment, you'd simply stare at the screen, the realization settling over you with a sinking feeling as Caleb held the phone where you could see it. The messages between you and your boyfriend were right there, completely exposed…
Caleb would look back at you, the phone still in his hand, before asking with a faint, knowing edge to his voice, "This one?”
A/N testing work ♡ Part Two of three! Priiceless was Part One—this is the second concept I'm testing before deciding which idea deserves the full-series treatment. If this one does well, caleb gets his continuation. For now, consider this Part Two of the experiment. 🧍🏻♂️
div by ♡ @cafekitsune
"mm..." You’re asleep, completely unaware of the shift in the mattress or the careful way the blanket is peeled back from your hips. Your legs are parted just enough for Caleb to settle between them, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He moves slowly, so nothing jags you awake.
His mouth finds you already. Soft, wet heat closes over your clit. It’s puffy and swollen from the earlier teasing he gave you while you drifted off, the little bud standing out, tender and exposed. He seals his lips around it and sucks—gentle at first, then with a steady, hungry pull that makes the sensitive flesh throb against his tongue.
“Look at this,” he whispers, voice low and filthy right against your cunt. “Already so swollen for me. Pipesqueak’s little clit is all puffy… like it’s been waiting.” He gives another slow, wet suck, then flicks the tip of his tongue over the underside in tight circles. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Even while you’re out cold. What a filthy girl.”
He keeps talking while he works you, the words slipping between long, deliberate pulls of his mouth.
“Such a dirty little sister… letting your brother suck on this sensitive thing while you sleep. Can’t even close your legs.” His tongue flattens and drags, then he seals his lips again and sucks harder, the wet sound soft but constant in the quiet room. “Feels good, doesn’t it? That little clit throbbing on my tongue…”
He uses the flat of his tongue to press and roll the swollen bud, then switches to quick, focused flicks right over the most sensitive spot, never letting up long enough for the feeling to fade. Your body stays limp, breathing slow and even, but the soft folds around your clit grow slicker under his mouth.
“Mmh… just take it baby. Sleep through it while I play with this pretty, swollen clit. My filthy girl.” He sucks harder, cheeks hollowing, tongue working in relentless little strokes. Your clit is completely under his control—puffy, throbbing, trapped between his lips while he murmurs more of the same low, filthy praise. “Gonna make this little thing pulse… make you feel it even in your dreams~”
It happens without you waking. The orgasm rolls through you in a quiet, helpless wave—hips twitching faintly, inner walls fluttering, your swollen clit pulsing hard against his tongue as you come. Wetness spills onto his mouth and chin.
Caleb keeps sucking through it, slower now, riding out every throb. When the last small spasm fades he finally pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing the oversensitive tip.
“Bad girl… cumming on your brother’s tongue.” He leans in again and presses a soft, deliberate kiss right to the throbbing little bud, then another. One last gentle suck, almost tender, before he draws away.
His hand comes up and rests lightly on your head, fingers stroking once through your hair.
“What are you hiding from me, huh?”
—
The next morning, you found yourself sitting across from Caleb at the breakfast table, quietly picking at your food while he carried most of the conversation. He talked about the things he had planned for the day, something that had happened at work, and some completely random story that would normally have earned a laugh from you, and you did give him one when he glanced your way, forcing yourself to react naturally even though your attention kept drifting toward the phone resting beside your plate.
Caleb continued talking for a while before his voice gradually faded into silence, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with his head tilted slightly to the side, his expression thoughtful rather than accusing.
“Is there something bothering you?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question, before shaking your head. “No...” you immediately lowered your gaze again, focusing on your breakfast, but you could still feel Caleb's eyes lingering on you from across the table. Neither of you said anything for a while, until you finally finished eating, murmured something under your breath, and carried your plate away.
The moment you reached your room, the door clicked shut behind you, and you practically threw yourself onto the bed, immediately reaching for your phone.
Your 'new boyfriend' was already online.
You knew Caleb wouldn't approve if he found out. He would probably tell you to break things off, insist that you weren't ready for a relationship, and somehow turn the entire conversation into another lecture about how he knew what was best for you.
But seriously, you were more than old enough to make your own decisions. Still, it was easier to keep this from him.
For three days, then five, more than a week, you continued the same routine, careful not to make your avoidance of Caleb too obvious. You hadn't completely ignored him, either. Whenever he spoke to you, you answered, you laughed when he made a joke, you teased him back when he teased you, and you made enough of an effort to keep everything feeling normal that there shouldn't have been any reason for him to suspect anything.
Except Caleb seemed different anyway.
At first, you thought you were imagining it, but the longer it continued, the more obvious it became. He stopped asking questions. He stopped trying to pry into whatever had been occupying your attention, and even when you joked with him, his reactions seemed strangely muted, as though his mind was somewhere else.
He looked... dull. And somehow, that made you feel worse. Maybe you should just tell him. The thought crossed your mind more than once, and guilt had finally caught up with you, but every time you imagined actually telling him, you pictured the inevitable lecture, the questions, the disapproval, and the possibility that he would somehow convince you to end things before you'd even gotten the chance to see where they went.
“Tch.” The small sound escaped you as you stared down at your screen, watching the typing indicator appear and disappear beneath your boyfriend's latest message.
'What's got my baby sad?'
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. 'Nothing.' You sent it, stared at the message for a moment, then frowned. You didn't even know why you were feeling like this anymore.
Maybe it was Caleb or was the guilt. Maybe it was the fact that you'd spent more than a week hiding something from someone who had always been so involved in your life. Before you could overthink it, your fingers moved again.
'Can we meet?'
You weren't even sure why you'd asked. You'd expected him to send back a laughing emoji, maybe some shameless teasing, perhaps another flirty response that would make you roll your eyes at the screen. Instead, the message was simply marked as seen.
Then the typing bubbles appeared beneath his name. You leaned closer to the screen, completely absorbed in whatever answer he was about to send.
“Pipesqueak…”
“—!?” You'd jump at the sudden sight of Caleb, turning your head sharply toward the doorway only to realize that the door was already open. For a moment, you'd simply stare at it, frowning as you tried to remember whether you'd left it that way yourself, but the memory wouldn't come clearly enough to reassure you. Your attention would eventually return to him, and the uncertainty on your face would deepen as you looked up at him from where you were sitting, asking quietly, "What's wrong...?"
“....” Caleb would simply stare down at you, his expression unreadable in a way that would make you instinctively straighten a little beneath his gaze. Then, without taking his eyes off you, he'd ask, "Why are you ignoring me?"
The question would catch you so completely off guard that you'd hesitate before shifting farther back against the bed, a nervous little laugh escaping you as you tried to make sense of what he meant. "What? I'm not..."
He'd step closer to your bed, there'd be something unusually serious in his expression now, something that didn't quite resemble the older-brother version of Caleb you were accustomed to dealing with. Yet just as you'd begin to feel the weight of it, he'd chuckle, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked at you.
"Keeping secrets from gege now?"
You'd swallow nervously. “I…” you'd sigh, taking a deep breath and eventually give in, attempting another small laugh in the hope that it might ease the tension between you. "It's just... I'm talking to someone."
The words would barely leave your mouth before he'd immediately cut in. "Who?"
You'd halt. The nervous laughter would disappear just as quickly, leaving you staring at him for a moment before finally admitting,
"Boyfriend…"
Caleb would stare at you, and after a moment, he'd ask calmly, "You got a boyfriend now?" A small chuckle would follow. "And didn't even tell me?"
You'd hear the hurt in his tone despite the attempt to disguise it, and that would be enough to make you shift closer to the edge of the bed. You'd reach for his arm, holding onto it gently as you tried to reassure him, your voice becoming softer as you said, "I'm sorry... I... was about to tell you… really…"
Caleb would sigh, and the sound would make you look up at him again. "Which boyfriend though?"
“Eh?” You'd pause, confused by the question, your brows drawing together as you watched him reach for his phone. He'd pull it out without another word, and when the screen came into view, you'd immediately recognize that it was already unlocked. A chat was open.
For a moment, you'd simply stare at the screen, the realization settling over you with a sinking feeling as Caleb held the phone where you could see it. The messages between you and your boyfriend were right there, completely exposed…
Caleb would look back at you, the phone still in his hand, before asking with a faint, knowing edge to his voice, "This one?”
A/N testing work ♡ This is one of three ideas I'm testing out right now. If this one does well, I'll continue it as a full series! So for now, consider this Part One. I'm basically testing the waters before I commit to the other parts.🧍🏻♂️
You stepped in front of the locked door, pulling out the key you'd already managed to steal. Your fingers carefully slipped it into the lock, your tongue poking out slightly as you focused entirely on getting it open. You couldn't tell if the key was really that heavy or if your own body was somehow getting heavier with every passing second. One twist. Three. Six. Finally, there was a soft click, and your eyes immediately lit up.
“Yes!” you whispered, excitement flashing across your face as you grabbed the handle, only to suddenly notice something sitting on your shoulder. You slowly turned your head to the right.
A raven.
“What the—?!” You jumped so violently that the raven instantly took flight, disappearing down the corridor. Your body suddenly felt normal again, but your heart was pounding as you stared after it with a deep frown. “What the hell is that thing doing here…?” you murmured, watching the direction it had vanished before finally turning back toward the door. Whatever. You'd already come this far.
You pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was colder than you'd expected. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness until they landed on the enormous glass enclosure standing in the center of the room. Inside it was an egg.
Not an ordinary egg, either. It was huge, almost reaching your waist, its dark surface covered in strange, intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer beneath the faint light. Thick restraints surrounded the glass, securing the enclosure from every possible angle. You stared at it in silence, your eyes gleaming as you whispered, “This is going to change my life—”
—
"n.. noo.. no mwore..!"
Another hot spurt of thick semen floods your womb, the sticky load pumping deep as the unknown man with white hair and red eyes slams his hips forward. His massive cock drives straight into your cervix, the bulbous head battering that sensitive spot over and over while your pussy clenches and spasms around his throbbing shaft in another shattering orgasm. Juices squirt out around his girth, soaking his balls as they slap wetly against your ass.
"So this is what a human thief looks like up close.." he growls, voice rough with lust, his red eyes locked on your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure. His white hair falls across his forehead as he pounds harder, each thrust forcing more of his cum to slosh inside your overfilled belly. "You'll continue my legacy.."
He pulls back only to ram in again, the fat head of his cock kissing your womb with every brutal stroke. "I'll breed you and fill you up with the most expensive thing ever.." His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider so he can bury every inch of his veiny cock into your dripping cunt. "Wouldn't you want that sweetheart?"
"mmph- noo..." Your walls flutter and squeeze, milking him as he marks your neck with bites and sucks, leaving dark hickeys while his dick kisses your deepest core. "Shh... roll out your tongue," he commands, and when you obey he leans down to spit directly into your open mouth before claiming your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue shoving in as his cock fucks the shit out of your pussy. Wet sounds fill the air—skin slapping, cum squelching, your moans muffled against his mouth.
"Well.. it doesn't matter anymore.. you'll gladly take what I give you." He breaks the kiss, hips never slowing, his cock pistoning in and out of your cum-slick hole. One hand slides down to your belly, pressing firmly on the visible bulge where his dick stretches you from inside. The pressure makes you cry out, another gush of slick and semen leaking around his base as he grinds deep.
"Mhm…ine..." he murmurs, fingers rubbing the swollen mound while his cock pulses and unloads yet another heavy rope of seed straight into your womb.
His thick cock keeps slamming into your soaked pussy from behind now. Your belly already feels bloated and full, the sloshing load making wet squelching noises with every brutal thrust while his balls slap hard against your clit. “p-pleaswe.. forgive meh!... w.. won't steal—"
"....” The white-haired man grunts low, red eyes burning into your back as he grips your hips and yanks you back onto his pulsing shaft. “Too late, little thief. You should've thought about that before taking what wasn't yours.”
Suddenly the memory slams into you mid-thrust. Your boss leaning over the table that night, voice low and serious. "The egg is worth more than anything you've ever stolen. You get in, take it, and get out. That's all."
He never once mentioned this man...
The realization dies in your thoughts as the man's cock kisses your cervix again and again. Oh shit. The raven that watched you steal the egg. The strange heaviness in your body right after. The egg itself. All of it connects to this creature currently rearranging your guts with his massive dick.
You glance back at him, eyes wide, and he notices instantly. One hand shoots up to fist your hair, yanking your head back hard so your spine arches and his cock drives even deeper. “Already distracted? That's not like you." he snarls, then slams forward again, pounding the cum deeper while his free hand reaches under to rub your swollen clit. “Thought thieves were supposed to be more careful.”
He spits on your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb, still yanking your hair as he fucks load after load into your overfilled pussy. Your walls clench and flutter around his veiny shaft, milking him for more as he grinds the fat head against your womb entrance. "Feel that bulge? That's my seed claiming you. Gonna keep you like this until you're dripping nothing but me."
Another heavy spurt floods your core, forcing a gush of mixed juices to spray out around his pistoning cock. “Your employer left out a few important details, didn't he?” He laughs darkly and pulls your hair tighter, forcing your mouth open so he can lean over and spit into it again before kissing you messy and rough while his hips never stop jackhammering. "Good girl. Now squeeze that pussy and thank me for filling you. Yeah?”
—
A dimly lit office remained unusually quiet. A thick stack of bills rested across the wooden desk, each note being counted slowly between the man's fingers.
The door creaked open.
“Boss?”
He didn't look up, too focused on the money in front of him. “What?”
The man hesitated, glancing toward the empty chair nearby. “What about the girl?”
“Quiet.”
“But she—”
A sigh escaped him as another bill joined the growing pile.
“Did you…” The man's voice dropped. “Did you sell her?”
The counting finally stopped. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then the boss leaned back in his chair, looking down at the money with a faint, satisfied smile.
A/N testing work ♡ This is one of three ideas I'm testing out right now. If this one does well, I'll continue it as a full series! So for now, consider this Part One. I'm basically testing the waters before I commit to the other parts.🧍🏻♂️
You stepped in front of the locked door, pulling out the key you'd already managed to steal. Your fingers carefully slipped it into the lock, your tongue poking out slightly as you focused entirely on getting it open. You couldn't tell if the key was really that heavy or if your own body was somehow getting heavier with every passing second. One twist. Three. Six. Finally, there was a soft click, and your eyes immediately lit up.
“Yes!” you whispered, excitement flashing across your face as you grabbed the handle, only to suddenly notice something sitting on your shoulder. You slowly turned your head to the right.
A raven.
“What the—?!” You jumped so violently that the raven instantly took flight, disappearing down the corridor. Your body suddenly felt normal again, but your heart was pounding as you stared after it with a deep frown. “What the hell is that thing doing here…?” you murmured, watching the direction it had vanished before finally turning back toward the door. Whatever. You'd already come this far.
You pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was colder than you'd expected. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness until they landed on the enormous glass enclosure standing in the center of the room. Inside it was an egg.
Not an ordinary egg, either. It was huge, almost reaching your waist, its dark surface covered in strange, intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer beneath the faint light. Thick restraints surrounded the glass, securing the enclosure from every possible angle. You stared at it in silence, your eyes gleaming as you whispered, “This is going to change my life—”
—
"n.. noo.. no mwore..!"
Another hot spurt of thick semen floods your womb, the sticky load pumping deep as the unknown man with white hair and red eyes slams his hips forward. His massive cock drives straight into your cervix, the bulbous head battering that sensitive spot over and over while your pussy clenches and spasms around his throbbing shaft in another shattering orgasm. Juices squirt out around his girth, soaking his balls as they slap wetly against your ass.
"So this is what a human thief looks like up close.." he growls, voice rough with lust, his red eyes locked on your face twisted in overwhelming pleasure. His white hair falls across his forehead as he pounds harder, each thrust forcing more of his cum to slosh inside your overfilled belly. "You'll continue my legacy.."
He pulls back only to ram in again, the fat head of his cock kissing your womb with every brutal stroke. "I'll breed you and fill you up with the most expensive thing ever.." His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider so he can bury every inch of his veiny cock into your dripping cunt. "Wouldn't you want that sweetheart?"
"mmph- noo..." Your walls flutter and squeeze, milking him as he marks your neck with bites and sucks, leaving dark hickeys while his dick kisses your deepest core. "Shh... roll out your tongue," he commands, and when you obey he leans down to spit directly into your open mouth before claiming your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue shoving in as his cock fucks the shit out of your pussy. Wet sounds fill the air—skin slapping, cum squelching, your moans muffled against his mouth.
"Well.. it doesn't matter anymore.. you'll gladly take what I give you." He breaks the kiss, hips never slowing, his cock pistoning in and out of your cum-slick hole. One hand slides down to your belly, pressing firmly on the visible bulge where his dick stretches you from inside. The pressure makes you cry out, another gush of slick and semen leaking around his base as he grinds deep.
"Mhm…ine..." he murmurs, fingers rubbing the swollen mound while his cock pulses and unloads yet another heavy rope of seed straight into your womb.
His thick cock keeps slamming into your soaked pussy from behind now. Your belly already feels bloated and full, the sloshing load making wet squelching noises with every brutal thrust while his balls slap hard against your clit. “p-pleaswe.. forgive meh!... w.. won't steal—"
"....” The white-haired man grunts low, red eyes burning into your back as he grips your hips and yanks you back onto his pulsing shaft. “Too late, little thief. You should've thought about that before taking what wasn't yours.”
Suddenly the memory slams into you mid-thrust. Your boss leaning over the table that night, voice low and serious. "The egg is worth more than anything you've ever stolen. You get in, take it, and get out. That's all."
He never once mentioned this man...
The realization dies in your thoughts as the man's cock kisses your cervix again and again. Oh shit. The raven that watched you steal the egg. The strange heaviness in your body right after. The egg itself. All of it connects to this creature currently rearranging your guts with his massive dick.
You glance back at him, eyes wide, and he notices instantly. One hand shoots up to fist your hair, yanking your head back hard so your spine arches and his cock drives even deeper. “Already distracted? That's not like you." he snarls, then slams forward again, pounding the cum deeper while his free hand reaches under to rub your swollen clit. “Thought thieves were supposed to be more careful.”
He spits on your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb, still yanking your hair as he fucks load after load into your overfilled pussy. Your walls clench and flutter around his veiny shaft, milking him for more as he grinds the fat head against your womb entrance. "Feel that bulge? That's my seed claiming you. Gonna keep you like this until you're dripping nothing but me."
Another heavy spurt floods your core, forcing a gush of mixed juices to spray out around his pistoning cock. “Your employer left out a few important details, didn't he?” He laughs darkly and pulls your hair tighter, forcing your mouth open so he can lean over and spit into it again before kissing you messy and rough while his hips never stop jackhammering. "Good girl. Now squeeze that pussy and thank me for filling you. Yeah?”
—
A dimly lit office remained unusually quiet. A thick stack of bills rested across the wooden desk, each note being counted slowly between the man's fingers.
The door creaked open.
“Boss?”
He didn't look up, too focused on the money in front of him. “What?”
The man hesitated, glancing toward the empty chair nearby. “What about the girl?”
“Quiet.”
“But she—”
A sigh escaped him as another bill joined the growing pile.
“Did you…” The man's voice dropped. “Did you sell her?”
The counting finally stopped. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then the boss leaned back in his chair, looking down at the money with a faint, satisfied smile.
Please DO NOT read if you’re sensitive to these topics.
AN: This piece explores disturbing themes involving manipulation, abusive relationships, psychological torment, and obsessive behavior. The dynamics portrayed in this story are intentionally unhealthy and meant for fictional horror purposes only. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
AN: This piece was written as a commission. The core idea and dynamics were requested by the client, and I expanded on it with my own interpretation. Thank you for commissioning me<3
Masterlist
You sat in the passenger seat, posture straight, clothes pristine—everything about you composed, deliberate, almost painfully so.
The lines of your outfit were neat, unwrinkled, chosen with care, as if perfection on the outside could keep everything else from spilling through.
No one passing by, no one glancing into the car for even a second, would ever guess what lay hidden beneath the fabric—the faint bruises blooming in places no light reached, marks that ached quietly under every small movement, every breath you took.
Beside you, Satoru hummed absentmindedly, a soft, careless tune that filled the otherwise suffocating quiet. One hand rested lazily over the steering wheel, fingers tapping faintly in rhythm, while the other hung loose by his side. His sunglasses caught the afternoon sun, flashing briefly every time he shifted.
The stick of a lollipop rested between his lips, tilting slightly as he sucked on it, the faint clicking sound breaking the silence in small, irregular intervals.
Seconds stretched. The silence wasn’t empty—it pressed, thick and suffocating, settling into your chest. Then the light finally turned green.
And your heart lurched. Why? Because—
“Goddammit, move it!” Satoru’s voice snapped through the air as he bit down on the lollipop with an audible crack, his hand slamming against the horn. Once. Twice. Again. The sharp, blaring sound filled the car.
“Stop—” you cut in, your voice small but urgent.
He turned his head toward you, brows knitting slightly behind the dark lenses. “What?” The single word wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made your throat tighten.
You hesitated, fingers tightening in your lap. “That’s enough… maybe there’s a problem in the front…”
A scoff left him almost immediately. The horn blared again, longer this time, more aggressive. He glanced back at you, irritation creeping into his tone. “I’m just trying to clear the mess. We don’t have all day to sit here.”
“......."
“You’re… getting angry…” you murmured, shrinking slightly into your seat.
That made him pause.
“Ah? Nooo, I’m not—geez!” He let out a short laugh, light and dismissive, leaning a little closer as if to soften the moment.
“Why would I get angry over something this small…?” His voice turned playful, almost teasing, like it always did when he wanted to brush things off.
But it didn’t reach you. It never did.
Because you knew better… the actual him.
“Yes, You… are getting angry…” Your voice trembled despite your effort to steady it.
Your body shifted instinctively, pressing back against the seat as if distance alone could protect you. “…and when we get home… you’ll hit me again…”
The words slipped out—quiet, fragile, but impossibly heavy.
For a moment, Satoru’s smile faltered.
“Haha.. what—what are you saying, dear…” he said, a shaky laugh escaping him as his hand lifted, reaching toward your face. “Silly you… saying things like that—”
You flinched.
Your body moved before your mind could catch up, recoiling from his touch, your hand instinctively darting toward the car door as if there were somewhere to go.
Too late.
The same hand meant to caress you struck instead.
A sharp crack split the air as his palm connected with your cheek, snapping your head violently to the side. The world blurred instantly, your vision scattering as a high-pitched ringing flooded your ears.
Outside, horns blared—cars behind them growing impatient, noise building into chaos.
But inside the car, all of it felt distant.
The only thing you could hear… was that ringing.
—
It wasn’t always like this.
Satoru wasn’t the man you saw today—not the one whose voice could make your stomach twist, not the one whose touch made your body recoil before your mind even understood why.
Back then, he was everything people admired from a distance and envied up close.
Beautiful in the effortless way only he could be. Loud, playful, impossible to ignore. The kind of person who walked into a room and somehow made it brighter just by existing in it. He joked too much, laughed too loudly, teased relentlessly, and acted like the world had never given him a reason to take anything seriously. Everyone had a crush on him.
But he was your boyfriend.
And somehow, that felt unreal even months into the relationship.
He was clingy in the most shameless ways imaginable, constantly finding excuses to see you even if you’d only met hours ago. If you told him you were busy, he’d whine dramatically over the phone about how cruel you were for “abandoning” him. If you ignored his texts for too long, he’d show up anyway with snacks in one hand and that stupid grin on his face.
“C’mon,” he’d drag out, leaning half his body weight against you. “You can spare at least five minutes for your loving boyfriend, right?”
“Five minutes?” you’d scoff, trying not to laugh as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders anyway. “You’ve been here for an hour.”
“And I’ll stay for another five.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“See? You know me so well already. We should just get married.”
You’d shove his arm lightly while he laughed at his own joke, his sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as he grinned at you like you were the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He always looked at you like that—like there was nothing else worth paying attention to.
And maybe that was why you trusted him so easily.
Because he made everything feel light.
You spent nearly every day together. Late-night convenience store runs. Sitting shoulder to shoulder on sidewalks while he stole bites from your food even after insisting he “wasn’t hungry.”
Falling asleep during movies because he talked through half of them anyway. Endless teasing that always ended with you hitting his arm while he laughed dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him.
“You’re abusive,” he’d gasp between laughs.
“Oh, shut up.”
“No, seriously. I’m fragile!”
“You’re literally six foot three.”
“Fragile emotionally.”
And then he’d pull you closer before you could roll your eyes again, resting his chin on top of your head like he belonged there.
It felt easy. Safe. Like the kind of relationship people dreamed about having.
Then, after months together, he started begging you to move in with him.
Not casually either—constantly.
Every other conversation somehow circled back to it.
“Just move in already.”
“Satoru—”
“I’m serious.”
“You say that every day.”
“Because you keep saying no every day.”
You laughed the first few times, brushing him off while he dramatically collapsed across your lap, complaining about how heartless you were. But he kept insisting, over and over, until eventually the teasing in his voice faded into something more genuine.
“If something goes wrong, I’ll handle it,” he told you one night quietly, his fingers loosely intertwined with yours. “I’ll take responsibility for everything. You won’t have to worry about anything, okay?”
You remembered rolling your eyes at him then, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your chest.
“Fine,” you muttered eventually. “But if you keep teasing me twenty-four seven, I’m moving out.”
The grin that spread across his face had been blinding.
“Deal.”
You still remembered how excited he looked while helping you move your things in. How he carried half the boxes himself despite complaining dramatically the entire time. How he wrapped his arms around your waist in the kitchen afterward, swaying slightly with you while mumbling against your shoulder—
“See? This is nice. You’re stuck with me now.”
At the time, it made you laugh.
Now the memory made your chest ache.
Because the moment you stepped into that apartment—everything changed.
Not all at once. That would’ve been easier to notice.
Instead, it happened slowly. Quietly. Like cracks forming beneath glass.
At first, it was little things.
Late-night outings he never explained properly.
Missed calls. Messages left on read for hours even though you could clearly see him active on his phone beside you.
You’d ask him where he’d been, and he’d brush it off with an easy shrug.
“Work.”
“You were out until three in the morning...”
“And?” That word started appearing more often. Sharp. Dismissive. Irritated.
You endured it for a while, convincing yourself it was stress, exhaustion, anything other than what it felt like.
But eventually, the constant avoidance began wearing you down. The confusion turned into frustration. The frustration into resentment.
And one night, after another vague answer and another cold dismissal, something inside you finally snapped.
So you left.
Not forever. Not even with a plan. You just needed air.
The moment the apartment door shut behind you, your phone started vibrating.
Satoru.
The calls didn’t stop.
By the tenth one, your hands were shaking. By the twentieth, you answered.
“Where are you?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
And you—You were a fool for going back.
Because that night, it stopped being arguments.
And became violence.
“What is your problem!?” you shouted the second you stepped back into the apartment, your voice cracking under weeks of bottled-up anger. “Why can you go out whenever you want, but I can’t even leave the house without you acting insane!?”
Satoru stood near the kitchen counter, shoulders tense, his expression unreadable in the dim apartment lighting.
“Watch your tone,” he said flatly.
“No!” you snapped back immediately, the words spilling out before fear could stop them. “You don’t get to control me like this! You disappear whenever you want, ignore me whenever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit here quietly and accept it!?”
His jaw tightened.
You kept going anyway.
“What happened to you!?” Your breathing turned uneven, anger and hurt tangling together painfully in your chest. “You weren’t like this before!”
“Enough.”
“No, I’m serious!” you yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”
The silence afterward felt dangerous. Heavy.
And then—his hand struck your face so hard your vision flashed white.
The impact sent you stumbling sideways, pain exploding across your cheek almost instantly. Before you could even process what had happened, his fingers suddenly gripped your jaw harshly, forcing your head back toward him.
“I can go out whenever I want,” he hissed, his voice low and shaking with fury. “But you—”
His grip tightened painfully.
“—you cannot.”
You stared at him in complete shock. Your mind couldn’t catch up.
This was Satoru.
Satoru…
The same man who used to pout dramatically when you ignored him for five minutes. The same man who kissed your forehead while half asleep. The same man who once looked at you like you were something precious.
But the person standing in front of you now felt like a stranger wearing his face.
Your teeth clenched hard enough to hurt.
“Did you just hit me…?” Your voice trembled violently as tears burned behind your eyes. “Enough… I’ve had enough…”
You shoved his hand away from you.
“We’re breaking up.”
For the first time that night, something truly frightening crossed his face.
Not anger.
Panic.
“Breaking up…?” he repeated, the words nearly cracking apart as they left him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Another laugh escaped him, strained and uneven this time, his hand dragging through his hair almost frantically. “C’mon,” he scoffed, shaking his head like the idea itself was ridiculous. “You’re seriously saying that because of one argument?”
“Shut up!! We're over!”
You turned on your heel immediately, heading straight for the door before your courage disappeared.
Behind you, his voice came low and deadly calm. “I’m gonna rip those legs off if you walk out that door.”
Your steps faltered.
Because he meant it.
There wasn’t even a trace of humor in his voice. No teasing. No laughter. Nothing familiar.
Just rage. Cold and terrifying.
Your hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob. Your fingers wrapped around it shakily, twisting the lock with uneven breaths. The click sounded deafening in the silence.
You barely managed to pull the door open an inch before something yanked violently at your scalp.
A scream tore from your throat.
Satoru’s hand tangled brutally into your hair before he slammed your face straight into the door with enough force to make the wood shake. Pain exploded instantly through your skull, sharp and blinding, your vision bursting with stars as the side of your face scraped hard against the surface.
“Trying to leave me?” he snarled behind you, tightening his grip until it felt like strands of hair were ripping free from your scalp.
“Bad choice.”
The words still echoed in your head long after the memory should’ve faded.
—
“Y/N…”
The voice reached you gently, pulling you out of the haze like warm hands through cold water.
You blinked.
The apartment around you slowly came back into focus—the soft amber glow of the lamp in the corner, the quiet hum of rain tapping against the windows, the faint scent of tea lingering in the air. Somewhere nearby, pages rustled softly before stopping altogether.
“...Suguru?” you murmured, your voice quieter than intended as you finally looked up.
He hummed in response from where he sat beside you on the couch, his dark eyes already fixed on your face with that same calm attentiveness he always carried. There was no irritation in him. No impatience. Just quiet concern.
“Thinking about him again?” he asked softly.
The question caught you off guard.
You looked away almost immediately, fingers curling tighter around the sleeves of your sweater. “Nothing like that…” you whispered. “They’re just… still haunting me.”
For a moment, Suguru said nothing.
Then he sighed softly—so quietly it almost blended with the rain outside—and reached for you with careful hands, like he was afraid sudden movements might shatter you. His fingers brushed tenderly against your cheek before sliding beneath your chin, guiding you gently toward him.
“It’s okay,” he murmured.
Before you could respond, he shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands settled at the back of your head, fingers threading slowly through your hair in soft, rhythmic motions.
“There’s no need to be scared here,” he said quietly. “You’re safe with me.”
The words nearly hurt to hear.
Such a simple thing, yet it still felt unfamiliar sometimes.
Your body remained tense at first out of habit alone, shoulders stiff as if waiting for warmth to suddenly turn cruel. Waiting for patience to snap. Waiting for affection to become anger.
But Suguru only continued to pat your head gently, his touch steady and grounding, never demanding anything from you.
No force. No sharpness. No fear.
Just warmth.
Your eyes slowly lowered as exhaustion settled heavily into your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Sometimes I just…”
“Don’t apologize,” Suguru interrupted softly. The hand in your hair never stopped moving.
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat painful.
Suguru knew you had come from a bad relationship. He knew there were nightmares that woke you trembling in the middle of the night, knew there were certain noises that made you flinch without meaning to, knew there were bruises that had taken far too long to fade.
But you never told him who your ex actually was.
Somehow, you couldn’t…
Maybe because saying his name aloud would make everything feel real again. Maybe because a part of you still feared what would happen if Satoru ever found you.
So Suguru never pushed. Never demanded answers. He simply stayed.
And somehow, that meant more than words ever could.
He loved quietly—not through grand confessions or dramatic promises, but through actions so gentle they settled into your heart before you even noticed.
Through warm meals left waiting whenever you forgot to eat. Through late nights spent beside you when sleep wouldn’t come. Through the way he instinctively reached for your hand whenever he sensed you drifting too far into your thoughts.
He was calm. Patient. Tender in every way Satoru had never been.
Nothing alike him.
And perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself loving Suguru more each day without even realizing it.
—
Days passed quietly after that.
The middle of the year had settled over Japan. The weather changed its mood almost daily lately—one moment gentle, the next restless.
Tonight, the rain had finally stopped after pouring since afternoon, leaving the city outside damp and shimmering beneath the streetlights.
Suguru was getting ready to head out to buy dinner again.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said while slipping his shoes on near the entrance.
You stood a few steps away, arms loosely folded around yourself. “Be careful,” you murmured automatically before adding, quieter, “...and come back quickly.”
Suguru looked up at that.
The softest smile touched his lips before he straightened, walking back toward you instead of leaving immediately. His fingers brushed against your cheek in one last affectionate caress, warm and familiar.
“I will,” he said gently.
Then he leaned down just enough to press a brief kiss against your forehead before finally stepping out.
The door clicked shut behind him. Silence returned almost instantly.
Your shoulders slumped the moment he left, exhaustion seeping back into your body now that the warmth of his presence was gone. With a small sigh, you turned around—
—and paused.
His phone sat forgotten on the table.
“Oh, Suguru…” you muttered under your breath.
Quickly, you grabbed it before hurrying toward the door again, pulling it open in hopes of catching him before he got too far.
But the hallway outside was already empty.
You leaned slightly past the doorway, looking both ways, only to find nothing except the dim apartment lights and distant elevator sounds.
“He walks too fast…” you sighed softly.
Closing the door again, you glanced down at the phone in your hands.
The screen lit up instantly.
Your breath slowed a little at the sight of the wallpaper—a picture of you and Suguru together. It had been taken a few weeks ago during one of your evening walks, your expression caught mid-laugh while Suguru looked at you instead of the camera entirely.
A small smile tugged faintly at your lips without permission.
He didn’t even bother putting a password on his phone. Too trusting.
Your thumb slid across the screen easily before curiosity pulled you toward the gallery almost instinctively. You wondered if he had more photos like that saved somewhere.
At first, it felt harmless.
Just scrolling.
Photo after photo appeared—pictures of meals you cooked together, blurry shots of rainy streets, candid images of you half-asleep on the couch wrapped in blankets.
Then more.
Pictures of you alone.
You standing near convenience store shelves while deciding what snack to buy. You sitting by the train window absentmindedly watching outside.
You adjusting your sleeves during colder evenings.
Different places. Different days. Different clothes.
At first, your mind didn’t fully process it.
But then—Your breath caught sharply.
The clothes.
Every outfit in those photos—
They had all been given to you by Satoru.
The cream-colored cardigan. The black skirt. The oversized coat. The pale sweater.
All of them.
Your thumb froze against the screen.
Those clothes didn’t exist anymore.
You had thrown every single one away the day after you escaped Satoru. You remembered it clearly—the desperate feeling of ripping them from your closet because wearing them made your skin crawl. Because they smelled like him. Felt like him.
So why—
Your eyes dropped lower toward the date beneath one of the photos.
17/7/2025.
A date from before you had even met Suguru…
Your stomach twisted violently after seeing another picture. Another date.
All from the past. All from the time you were still with Satoru.
A cold feeling slowly crawled up your spine.
“…What…?” you whispered under your breath.
Why were these on Suguru’s phone?
The thought barely had time to settle before the sharp sound of the doorbell suddenly rang through the apartment.
You flinched hard.
Your grip tightened instinctively around the phone.
Suguru?
Maybe he realized he forgot it. That had to be it. Right?
You swallowed, forcing your breathing to steady.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ you told yourself quickly. There’s probably an explanation. You’ll just ask him normally—
Trying to calm your thoughts, you walked toward the door and reached for the doorknob.
But paused.
Your hand stopped. You didn’t know why.
Usually, you opened the door immediately whenever the bell rang at this hour because it was always Suguru.
Always.
Yet this time… Something felt wrong.
A strange heaviness settled into your chest, cold and instinctive. Slowly, you stepped toward the peephole instead and looked through it.
Soon enough, your entire body went still.
Blue eyes stared back at you from the other side of the door.
Bright even in the dim hallway.
Eyes you knew far too well…
—
The front door swung open immediately, followed by the familiar sound of shoes stepping inside the apartment.
Then—
“Babeee~”
Satoru’s voice rang through the apartment in a drawn-out sing-song tone, playful and unhinged all at once.
The moment you heard it, your body moved on instinct.
You ran.
Barely realizing what you were doing, you stumbled toward the bathroom at the end of the hallway, Suguru’s phone still clutched tightly in your trembling hand. Your pulse slammed violently against your ribs as you shoved yourself inside before locking the door with shaking fingers.
Your breathing came out uneven immediately. Too loud.
Outside, you could hear the apartment door shutting behind him.
Then slow footsteps. Unhurried. Like he already knew you had nowhere to go.
“Come out, come out…” Satoru called sweetly from somewhere in the living room. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. “Don’t make me wait, baby…”
Your hand flew over your mouth to muffle the sound of your breathing.
The bathroom suddenly felt suffocatingly small.
You could hear him walking around outside—slow footsteps against the wooden floor, drawers opening lazily, objects shifting around as if he were simply making himself comfortable.
“You know how much I hate being away from you?” he hummed lightly.
Another step. Closer.
“Mm… c’mon, don’t be mean now.” His voice softened into something dangerously affectionate. “Don’t you miss me?”
Your entire body trembled harder.
‘Please.’
‘Please hurry, Suguru.’
‘Please come back…’
Your eyes darted desperately toward the bathroom window, but it was too small—barely enough to let air through, let alone escape.
Outside, Satoru laughed softly to himself.
“You really ran from me?” he asked, sounding almost amused by the idea. “That hurts my feelings, Y/N.”
The floorboards creaked directly outside the hallway now. And suddenly—
BANG.
The sudden slam against the bathroom door made you jump violently, a terrified gasp nearly escaping your throat.
“Ahh, there you are~” His voice came right from the other side now.
You could picture it perfectly—that smile stretched across his face, sharp and beautiful and terrifying all at once.
“I know you’re in there,” he cooed. “Open the door.”
You pressed yourself farther back against the bathtub, shaking so badly your knees nearly gave out beneath you.
Silence before another softer knock.
“Y/N,” he said again, quieter this time. “Open the door…”
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying not to make a single sound.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he continued after a pause, his tone almost gentle now. “Can we not fight anymore, please?”
The words made your stomach twist.
“You know I didn’t mean it.” A small sigh followed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you… do you know how worried I was?”
Another pause.
“I missed you...”
“.....” Your nails dug painfully into your palm. Outside, the silence stretched just long enough to feel wrong.
Then his voice changed again. Still calm. Still soft. But colder now.
“Y/N,” he said slowly, “don’t make me come in there.”
Your breath hitched.
“I’m gonna count to three.” He meant it.
You knew he did.
“One.”
You looked around frantically, vision blurring through panic. The small bathroom suddenly felt impossibly defenseless.
“Two.”
Your gaze landed on random objects scattered nearby—a bottle, a hairdryer, anything. Anything.
You grabbed the first thing your shaking hands could reach.
Silence… Complete silence.
For one horrifying second, you thought maybe he left. Then—
CRACK.
The bathroom door suddenly shook violently as something slammed against it hard enough to splinter the wood near the lock.
You screamed, stumbling backward.
Another hit.
Before—
A hand forced itself through the broken gap near the handle.
Your entire body froze.
The sight alone felt horrifying.
Long fingers blindly reached around inside, searching for the lock while broken wood scraped against his skin.
“No—!” you choked out instinctively.
You threw the bottle in your hand toward him immediately. It smashed uselessly against the doorframe, barely slowing him down.
The lock clicked.
And your heartbeat stopped.
Slowly—The bathroom door creaked open.
And there he was.
Satoru stood in the doorway, white hair slightly messy, bright blue eyes glowing almost feverishly beneath the dim apartment lights.
Then he smiled.
Wide. Playful. Completely insane.
“Gotcha.”
—
A scream tore out of your throat the second the bathroom door opened.
You scrambled backward desperately, arms instinctively wrapping around yourself as panic exploded through your body. Your mind could already picture what would happen next—the hitting, the grabbing, the pain—
Then another voice cut through the room.
“What’s going on?”
Your head snapped up so fast it hurt.
And there—
Suguru. Standing calmly near the apartment entrance with a plastic dinner bag hanging loosely from one hand, dark eyes lifting toward the bathroom like he’d simply walked into an ordinary evening.
Relief hit you so violently it almost made you dizzy.
“Suguru—!” Your voice cracked with desperation.
But the moment the name left your lips, Suguru’s gaze shifted past you and landed on Satoru instead.
Completely calm. Completely unsurprised. As if this wasn’t horrifying. As if this was simply another meeting between them.
“Satoru…” Suguru greeted smoothly, slipping his shoes off near the doorway. “You’re quick.”
Satoru scoffed playfully, still standing in the broken bathroom doorway. “Of course. I’ve waited enough for that pussy.”
Suguru shook his head with a low chuckle, setting the dinner bag down onto the counter casually.
“Well, I left my phone for a reason…”
Satoru hummed softly at that, sounding almost pleased.
Your stomach dropped.
The air suddenly felt wrong…
What is even happening?
A weak, confused “...Huh?” slipped from your lips causing both of them look at you.
And then Satoru noticed the phone still clutched tightly in your shaking hand.
“Ah…” A grin spread slowly across his face.
He leaned down suddenly, snatching the phone from your grip with ease before scrolling through the screen lazily.
“Uh huh… looks like someone was having a moment,” he mocked lightly and turned the screen toward Suguru with a smirk, showing him the same old pictures.
“She was looking at the pictures I sent you, heh.”
Suguru hummed thoughtfully before stepping closer, glancing over Satoru’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen.
The sight made your chest tighten painfully.
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
The room around you felt distorted somehow, your mind struggling desperately to understand what was happening.
Then Satoru looked down at you again.
“If you had scrolled a bit more…” he said casually, almost amused by your expression, “…you’d have seen your cunt pics here as well.”
Your face drained completely of color. While Suguru sighed softly beside him. “Shh… you’re spoiling too early, Satoru.”
The gentleness in his tone made it worse somehow.
“Let’s get her out of here first,” Suguru said calmly, stepping forward slightly as if he intended to help you up.
But Satoru immediately lifted a hand to stop him.
“Ah ah… not like that.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips as his bright eyes flickered toward you. “She likes it rough.”
Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
The playful disbelief in his voice made your stomach twist violently.
“Mm hmm.” Then Satoru moved before you could react, his hand buried itself harshly into your hair near the scalp.
Pain ripped through you instantly.
You cried out as he yanked hard enough to drag you forward across the bathroom floor without caring about your struggles or the way your hands desperately clawed at his wrist.
“S-Stop—! Let me go!—”
Your words broke apart into a gasp as another sharp pull forced you fully out of the bathroom.
“See?” Satoru said playfully over his shoulder while dragging you across the floor like you weighed nothing.
Suguru stood there watching quietly now, arms crossing over his broad chest.
Then slowly—A smirk tugged at his lips too.
“Indeed.”
—
The air hung thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat, punctuated by the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.
The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the bodies moved in a frenzied rhythm. The bed beneath them creaked and groaned under the weight of their shared passion.
Satoru lay sprawled on the mattress, his arms wrapped around you in a possessive embrace. His grip tightened around your throat as he bucked his hips upwards, driving his cock deep into your already well-fucked cunt.
The bruises that littered your body were a testament to his rough handling, each one a reminder of the pleasure-pain that consumed you.
Above you, Suguru's face was contorted in a mask of concentration as he hammered his own throbbing member into your stretched hole. His hand came down to slap your sensitive folds, the sharp sting mixing with the pleasure that coursed through your veins.
Your cries echoed off the walls, mingling with the grunts and growls of the two men as they used your body for their own gratification.
"Look at that," Satoru sneered, his voice low and rough with arousal. "Taking both our cocks like a bitch in heat!"
"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Getting fucked raw, no lube to ease the way." His teeth sank into your neck, marking you as his territory.
Suguru chuckled darkly, reaching down to twist your nipples between his fingers. "She's loving every second of it... taking it up the ass while her cunt gets pounded. What a filthy slut."
The degradation only served to heighten your arousal, your body trembling as you clung to the edge of orgasm.
As your cries reached a fever pitch, Satoru and Suguru redoubled their efforts, fucking you with a desperate intensity.
Your vision blurred, your thoughts scattered as you felt the overwhelming need building inside you.
And then, with one final brutal thrust, you were pushed over the edge. Your body convulsed as you came, your cunt and ass clamping down around the cocks buried deep inside you.
Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your eyes rolling back in your head as the pleasure consumed you.
But even as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, they didn't stop. Not even close. They continued to pound into you, fucking you through the aftershocks until they too reached their own release.
With a grunt, Satoru pulled out of your abused cunt, his cock still rock hard and pulsing. "Clean him up," he ordered, pushing your head down towards Suguru's still-spurting cock.
You obeyed, taking him into your mouth and sucking him clean as Satoru positioned himself behind you. You felt the head of his cock press against your raw, gaping asshole before he plunged forward, burying himself deep inside you with a single brutal thrust.
The pain mingled with the lingering pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you choked on Suguru's cock, your throat filled with his hot, salty seed. Satoru continued to pound into your ass, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"Aww Y/N, You're too innocent..." Suguru said, his voice mocking as he pulled out of your mouth.
"Or maybe... Just a dumb whore."
—
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, you finally collapsed onto the bed, spent and sore. Satoru and Suguru looked at each other, both panting and drenched in sweat.
"So, what now?" Satoru muttered, wiping the sweat from his chest.
"You gotta fix my door first." Suguru replied while fixing his clothes, tossing the blanket over your battered, unconscious body.
While Satoru would scoff, leaning back playfully before saying.. "Ohh.. you know..."
your writing is amazing, i feel like i just walked into wonderland. the mixture of horror, storytelling, and raunchiness is scrumptious. hope your doing well and taking breaks 😼
AAAAA thank you so much 👁️💦👄💦👁️. And yeah, I was actually on a little break because of exams, but now I gotta LOCK TF INNNN🫃🏻✋🏻no more excuses, it’s time to get back to writing. Thank you for checking in!
This piece was written as a commission. Thank you~
"No way... that's insane."
You couldn't stop staring as another rider soared above the lagoon, suspended in the air for a heartbeat before swooping back down over the water. The entire resort looked like something out of a postcard—crystal-clear water, luxury cabanas, and tourists crowding the docks to watch the jetpack stunts.
Another rider landed smoothly before the next instructor waved your group forward.
"You're seriously doing this?" one of your friends laughed, already pulling out her phone.
"Obviously." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "If I die, at least make sure it goes viral."
"Hey, don't say that!"
"I'm kidding." You snorted before handing her your phone. "Record everything. Don't stop recording unless I actually drown."
"That's... somehow not reassuring."
You only laughed, already jogging toward the floating platform where your instructor—your assigned jetpack guard—waited with practiced patience. He secured your life jacket, checking every buckle twice.
"First time?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
You groaned. "Please pretend I'm a professional."
"I'll do my best." His amused smile somehow settled your nerves. "Just hold onto the support handles until I tell you otherwise," he instructed. "I'll keep you balanced. If you panic, don't fight the movement. Trust me."
The jetpack engine thundered to life beneath the surface. A second later, the pressure exploded upward. You barely had time to yelp before both of you surged into the air.
Your laughter broke into the wind as the lagoon rapidly shrank beneath your feet. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on the handles while his gloved hand stayed firm around your waist despite the force launching both of you skyward.
"Relax!" he called over the roar. "You're doing great!"
"I'm literally flying!" The words disappeared into another burst of delighted giggles.
The jetpack skimmed low enough for icy spray to pepper your legs before surging skyward again. Laughter escaped you as the instructor guided you through a smooth turn, the shoreline spinning into a blur of blue water and cheering tourists.
"See?" he laughed. "You're a natural."
Still grinning, you glanced down.
The lagoon stretched beneath you like a postcard. Your friends were little more than colorful dots on the dock, one of them still holding your phone toward the sky.
"Whoa..." you breathed, your excitement slowly giving way to awe. You hadn't realized how high you'd climbed.
Your smile faltered. "...We're really high."
"We're fine," the instructor called back. "Just enjoy the view."
You tried to…
But then, without warning, the steady pressure of the hand secured around your waist shifted.
It wasn't enough for you to understand what had happened. Your body merely registered that something felt... different. The grip that had held you effortlessly throughout every dive and spin suddenly loosened, and before your thoughts could even catch up, your balance tilted ever so slightly away from him.
You instinctively started to turn your head. "...Huh?—"
You never got the chance to look at him. The hand around your waist slipped away completely. One second you were flying. The next—
there was absolutely nothing holding you.
Your stomach lurched so violently it felt as though your heart had been ripped straight out with it. A scream exploded from your throat before you even realized you were falling, your body dropping away from the jetpack so suddenly that your hands clawed uselessly at empty air. Until—
SPLASH!
The impact swallowed your scream beneath a towering wall of water. On the dock, laughter ceased instantly. Heads whipped toward the splash.
"What the—"
"Someone fell!"
Your friends froze in horror, one of them still filming with your phone pointed toward the sky, unable to lower it fast enough.
For one suspended heartbeat, every eye searched the water where you'd disappeared beneath the surface.
Then another horrified scream rose from somewhere in the crowd.
"LOOK OUT!"
Dozens of faces snapped upward again. High above the lagoon, the instructor was no longer upright.
The jetpack still roared, blasting powerful streams of water as if nothing had gone wrong. But without his balance, the instructor had already been thrown backward, falling flat onto his back, completely helpless.
The shock lasted only a second before the entire lagoon erupted into chaos.
Shouts rang across the water as two rescue guards dove in without hesitation. Your lungs burned violently as water forced its way through your nose and down your throat. You couldn't even tell which way was up.
Strong hands finally caught hold of your life jacket.
"There! We've got her!"
The world lurched as they dragged you toward the surface. You broke the surface with a violent gasp, only to choke as water spilled from your mouth. Your chest felt like it had been crushed, every breath scraping painfully against your throat as the guards hauled you onto the dock.
"It's okay, breathe... easy, easy."
You barely heard them.
The moment your knees touched the wooden platform, another coughing fit doubled you over. Water dripped from your hair and clothes, your vision blurred with tears as your friends rubbed circles against your back.
"Oh my God..."
One dropped to her knees beside you while the other wrapped both arms around your shoulders before you could lose your balance again. "You're okay... It's okay..."
People were already crowding around, murmuring over one another, some calling emergency services while others stood frozen, staring back toward the lagoon.
Still coughing, you instinctively looked over your shoulder. Several rescue guards were pulling another body from the water.
The instructor.
His arms hung limply as they lifted him onto the dock, his head lolling unnaturally to one side. Then one of the guards shifted, no longer blocking your view.
Your breathing stopped.
There, just above his brow… a small, dark hole sat in the middle of his forehead.
Blood mixed with the water running down his face, thin streams trailing across the wooden planks beneath him.
The realization spread through the crowd one horrified expression at a time. He hadn't died from the fall.
He'd been shot.
—
The room smelled faintly of coffee and damp paperwork.
A laptop on the desk replayed the same shaky recording for what felt like the tenth time. The officer paused the footage just as your scream echoed through the speakers before leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the desk.
"So..." he began at last, his voice calm but unreadable, "none of you saw anyone?"
The three of you exchanged uncertain glances.
Your friend, still clutching the strap of her bag, swallowed before speaking. "I... I was recording the whole time. I never looked away from the screen." She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't notice anyone else."
The officer gave a slow nod, jotting something into his notebook before turning to your other friend.
"And you?"
She hesitated, searching her memory. "I wasn't really looking around either," she admitted quietly. "I kept watching them through the camera. Everything happened so fast... by the time I heard her scream..." Her voice faded, guilt creeping into her expression.
"Hm."
The officer closed the notebook without another word and finally looked at you. "You were closest to him." His eyes studied your face carefully.
"Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?"
"No." Your voice came out hoarse from the water you'd swallowed.
"It happened too fast. One second he was holding me, and the next…” You paused, the memory making your stomach tighten. "I was falling. I didn't even have time to look at him."
The officer remained silent for a moment before asking, almost casually, "Do you have any idea who might've wanted him dead?"
You blinked.
"What?"
"Or perhaps..." He folded his hands together. "Someone who might've been targeting you instead."
Your friends looked at you in confusion. You stared back at the officer, disbelief slowly giving way to irritation.
"...Excuse me?"
"You were attached to him when the shot was fired," he said evenly. "If the timing had been slightly different, you might've been the one hit.”
Your brows pulled together. "I don't know what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything." His tone stayed frustratingly neutral. "I'm asking whether there's anyone in your life who would have reason to harm you."
A humorless laugh escaped you. "No."
"You've never received threats?"
"No."
"No personal disputes? Financial problems? Someone holding a grudge?"
Your jaw tightened. Every question felt more absurd than the last, but you forced yourself to answer without raising your voice.
The officer didn't react. He simply held your gaze for another long second before he slid a notepad across the desk along with a pen.
"Before you leave, I need all three of you to write down your full names, phone numbers, and current addresses. If you plan on leaving the city, let us know beforehand.”
“....”
The three of you exchanged uneasy glances before taking the pen in silence. As you finished writing, the officer gathered the sheet and tucked it into the case file.
"We'll contact each of you again if we need further statements," he said matter-of-factly. "Until then, if you remember anything—no matter how insignificant it seems—you'll notify us immediately.”
—
Outside the station, the afternoon air felt heavier than it had a few hours earlier. Police cars came and went, officers spoke quietly near the entrance, and the distant wail of an ambulance faded into the city's usual traffic.
"So..." she glanced toward the road, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's just head home."
You gave a distracted hum in response, but your hand had already wandered to your face. Your fingers drifted to your left cheek, scratching absently for what felt like the hundredth time. The itch wasn't painful, just irritating enough that you couldn't seem to leave it alone.
"Tch..." The sound slipped from your lips before you realized it.
"What's wrong?" one of your friends asked, stepping closer. Her brows knitted as she leaned in to study your face. "Wait..."
"...Did you get hurt?"
"Hm?"
"There..." She frowned harder, clearly trying to figure out what was bothering her. "There's just... something."
Confused, you pulled your phone from your pocket and switched to the front camera. At first, nothing looked unusual—until you tilted the screen toward the light.
The skin along your left cheek had turned an angry shade of red, almost as though it'd been lightly scorched. It wasn't bleeding, but the angry patch easily explained the relentless itch.
"What is it?" your other friend asked.
"I think..." You frowned at your reflection again before locking the screen. "I should probably get this checked."
"Now?"
You nodded. "I'll just stop by the hospital. It's bothering me."
The two exchanged uncertain glances. "Are you sure you'll be okay going there alone?”
You offered them a tired smile and shook your head. “Ofcourse, I will. Why do you guys suddenly say that?”
She exchanged a glance with your other friend before lowering her voice. "I was just thinking about..." She hesitated. "You know... him."
“....” Your expression cooled almost instantly. "...Don't."
"I'm serious." She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. "He called you from, what, six different numbers after you blocked him?"
"Uh… more than that actually," your other friend corrected under her breath.
You let out a tired sigh. "That was months ago."
“And… I don't really want to remember it.”
A brief silence settled over the three of you.
"...Just be careful, okay?" your friend murmured.
You forced a smile. "I will.”
After a few reluctant goodbyes, they finally disappeared down the pavement, leaving you standing alone outside the station.
The itch returned almost immediately. You scratched your cheek again, then stopped yourself with an irritated sigh.
Several minutes later, a cab pulled up. You climbed into the back seat, gave the driver the name of the nearest hospital, and leaned against the window. Your phone found its way back into your hand almost instantly. The same red patch stared back at you. The longer you looked, the more uneasy you became.
"Rough day?”
The driver's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up, seeing only the back of his head.
"...Kind of," you admitted quietly before lowering your phone. "Could you hurry, please?"
A low chuckle escaped him.
"I'll get you there." His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. "Unless traffic decides to piss me off.”
“....” You let out a slow breath and leaned back again.
The ride passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional glance you stole at your own reflection. No matter how many times you looked, the redness seemed a little more noticeable than before.
By the time the hospital came into view, you'd almost convinced yourself it was nothing. You paid the fare, climbed out, then hesitated.
The irritation didn't seem serious enough to justify calling another cab afterward, especially during the evening rush.
You stepped back toward the driver's window and tapped lightly against the glass. It rolled down a second later.
Without really looking at the driver, you leaned toward the window, "Would you mind waiting? It shouldn't take too long."
“....”
Instead of answering, he casually lifted two rough fingers. He held them directly in front of his mouth, his tongue deliberately sticking out between the knuckles as he turned toward you.
The act was entirely wrong, uncomfortable even. Causing a violent shiver to race straight down your spine. It made you halt completely.
"...What?" Your brows drew together as confusion and deep unease flickered across your face.
Only then did he let his hand fall away. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on his face. Just an almost lazy indifference as he looked at you, as though he hadn't done anything unusual at all.
"Double check," he drawled. "I mean.”
You stood there for a few seconds, the driver's words taking a moment to register. Whatever unease had crawled beneath your skin lingered, refusing to leave even after the joke had been clarified. You looked at him once more before shaking your head lightly.
"...Never mind." Your voice came out quieter than you'd intended. "Just... go ahead."
He didn't answer.
The window slid back up, and you turned toward the hospital entrance instead, rubbing absently at your cheek.
Inside, a nurse guided you into one of the examination rooms, where a middle-aged doctor adjusted the overhead lamp before gently tilting your chin toward the light.
"Hm..." He studied the reddened patch on your cheek in silence, his gloved fingers hovering just above the irritated skin before lightly examining the edges.
"This wasn't caused by heat," he murmured.
You frowned. "Then?"
He removed his gloves and looked at you over the rim of his glasses. "Radiation residue."
Seeing your confusion, he continued, "Certain specialized rounds leave behind trace amounts. If someone was standing close enough when the projectile passed..." He glanced back at your cheek. "...a burn like this isn't impossible."
"Were you involved in some kind of shooting?"
You hesitated before giving him the shortest version possible of what had happened at the lagoon.
"I see."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a tube of ointment, carefully spreading a thin layer over the burn before covering it with fresh gauze.
"Use this twice a day. Don't scratch it, no matter how much it itches." He scribbled something onto a prescription pad before handing it over. "And tell the police. This may be relevant to their investigation."
You nodded, folding the paper without looking at it. "I will."
Whether you actually planned to return to the station tonight was another matter entirely.
—
By the time you finally made it home, the clock on your phone read 7:58 PM.
It buzzed again.
Six missed calls.
You stared at the notification for a moment before locking the screen with a tired sigh. Whoever it was could wait. Right now, all you wanted was a shower, clean clothes, and a few hours of silence.
After paying the driver, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The familiar quiet wrapped around you almost instantly.
You slipped off your shoes near the entrance, dropped your bag beside the couch, and had just started unbuttoning your shirt when something clinked softly in the kitchen.
Your head tilted.
"...Rats?"
Impossible. You'd checked every window before leaving that morning.
Frowning, you made your way toward the kitchen. The sight waiting there stopped you cold.
A man stood in front of your open refrigerator, one hand resting lazily against the door while the other rummaged through the shelves. He didn't even glance back.
"...Don't tell me this's all you've got." His voice was low, rough around the edges. He shifted a few containers aside before clicking his tongue.
"Not even a damn beer."
Your breath caught.
"W-Who are you?" Your voice cracked. "How did you get in here?!"
He reached into the fridge, pulled out one of your soda cans, and shut the door with his foot. Only then did he answer.
"Keep your voice down." He weighed the can in one hand. "Ya were enough of a pain in the ass to find."
A quiet hiss escaped the tab as he cracked it open. "Don't make this more annoying than it's gotta be."
Every instinct screamed at you to call someone. To inform the police. Your hand shot toward your pocket.
The phone barely cleared the fabric. Something blurred across your vision.
CRACK...
The unopened soda can slammed into the phone with frightening accuracy. It flew from your hand, bounced once across the tiles, and came to rest near the hallway. The screen had shattered beyond recognition.
Then the man finally looked at you. Recognition struck immediately.
The jaw, the scar and those tired green eyes.
The cab driver...
He stared for a second before speaking. "...[name]."
A pause.
"Right?"
He scratched absently at the side of his neck. "...Nah."
Another pause.
"[Na... me]?"
A shrug. "Whatever." He took an unhurried sip of the soda. "Point is..." His gaze settled on you.
"Ya comin' with me..." Another sip. "...or am I gonna have to carry you?"
You forced yourself to breathe. Your eyes drifted toward the knife block sitting beside the sink.
"...Just who are you?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could. "What do you want from me!?"
"You."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and flicked through a handful of photos before turning the screen toward you.
It was you.
Jogging everyday.
Crossing the street outside your apartment. Buying groceries. Walking home after sunset. Each picture had clearly been taken without your knowledge.
"...This you?" he asked. His thumb lazily swiped to the next one.
"Wasn't hard." Another swipe. "Kinda predictable, actually."
He lowered the phone, glancing briefly toward the apartment door. "...Neighbors ever stick their noses where they shouldn't?"
The question sent a chill through you. You didn't answer. Instead, you turned.
Run.
Pressure struck the side of your neck before your first step landed. Your body instantly gave out beneath you.
Your knees hit the floor. Your eyes remained open. You could still hear your own breathing. Still see everything around you. But nothing moved...
"...There it is." His voice came from somewhere above you. "Told ya."
He bent down, hooked an arm beneath your stomach, and effortlessly slung you over his shoulder. As casually as he adjusted your weight and headed for the front door.
"Buckle up.”
—
The cigarette between one man's fingers burned low, its ember glowing each time he took another drag. “So?”
Across from him, the other barely acknowledged the conversation, too busy leaning over a cheap cup of instant ramen. Steam curled lazily into the stale air as chopsticks scraped the bottom of the container.
"You taking the job or not... Toji?"
The chopsticks paused only long enough for him to finish chewing. Then he swallowed, tilted the cup to drain the last of the broth, and exhaled through his nose.
"...Gotta send her to the border." His voice remained flat. "Alive." The word itself sounded more troublesome than anything.
"What a pain."
The other man smirked around his cigarette. "But the money's worth it, right?"
Toji looked up. The corner of his mouth tugged into a lazy, humorless grin. "Yeah." A short chuckle escaped him.
"That's the only reason I'm bothering."
—
The old lock rattled before the worn key finally turned.
A damp, abandoned room greeted him as the lone bulb overhead flickered to life, bathing the space in harsh yellow light.
You were exactly where he'd left you—wrists rubbed raw, ankles no better, duct tape still sealing your mouth. The moment the light struck your face, you instinctively shrank away from the figure in the doorway despite having nowhere to run.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of you.
He crouched, hooked two rough fingers beneath your chin, and forced your face up. His gaze drifted over the bruises around your wrists and the exhaustion in your eyes before he let go with a quiet scoff.
Even now.
A quiet scoff slipped from him. His grip disappeared just as roughly as it came. "Save your energy for later."
He began to rise, already finished with the inspection.
"Mmh—! Mmh, mmh!!" The frantic noises behind him made him stop. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Annoyed.
He looked back over one shoulder, expression as blank as ever. "Ya got something useful to say?"
Your breathing hitched. For a brief moment you hesitated, fear warring with desperation before you nodded as hard as you could.
His eyes lingered on you for another second, judging whether you were worth the trouble. Then, without warning—
Rrrip…
The duct tape came off in one swift pull. A burning sting exploded across your lips and cheeks.
You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as tears threatened your eyes from the pain alone. Every instinct screamed to cry, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. If this was the only chance you'd get...
You couldn't waste it.
"...Who's behind this?" you asked, voice shaky despite your effort to stay composed. "Why are you doing this—"
His eyes rolled before you'd even finished. "Bullshit again." His hand reached for the roll of tape beside him.
"No—!" The word escaped louder than intended. "No, no, no... please." Your voice cracked as panic flooded in. "Hear me out... please. Just once... just once, please."
"I'll pay you!" A beat of silence.
"You can… have everything I have."
He looked at you with something dangerously close to amusement before letting out a quiet scoff.
"Sure you will."
Your heart lurched. You shuffled backward on instinct until your shoulders struck the wall behind you. "No, I'm serious!" Your breathing became uneven. "Please... please, I mean it."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting. "...You've got thirty seconds."
You nodded so quickly it almost hurt. Your lungs struggled to keep pace with your racing thoughts.
"Listen... I..." You swallowed hard. "I just need to know who hired you."
"I know you're doing this for money," you rushed on before he could interrupt. "You... you can have all my savings. Everything I have. I'll give it to you."
Your voice trembled despite every attempt to steady it. "Just... just let me go... please."
A low hum escaped him. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "Let you go?" His expression stayed almost painfully indifferent.
"So ya can run straight to the police?"
"No!"
"You can follow me!" you blurted out. "Like you did before! Please... believe me."
"You think you're the first person to say that?”
“—” Your mind raced, scrambling for any scrap of leverage against a man who seemed impossible to sway. Your gaze flicked over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near the corner of his mouth, and the complete lack of empathy in his piercing green eyes.
Desperation clawed at your throat. If you didn't say something—anything—to make him believe you, he was going to leave you here in the darkness... and you might never walk out.
After trying everything you can think of, your mind suddenly goes blank for a few agonizing seconds.
“You… listen,” The world feels like it tilts beneath you. Without thinking, driven by nothing but pure survival instinct, the words leave your mouth.
"You can fuck me. I... I'll let you fuck me..."
The words hang there, heavy and unbearable, and the second they leave your lips, regret crashes over you.
The room goes completely still.
His gaze stayed fixed on you, reading the panic written across your face. After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose and tilted his head, a cold smirk tugging at the scar near his mouth.
"Ya think that's gonna pay bills?"
The words landed without emotion. To him, everything had a price, and your offer clearly wasn't worth anything.
"Tch."
One hand steadied your head while the other pressed the tape back over your mouth, cutting off every desperate word before it could leave your lips. Ignoring your muffled protests, Toji stood and walked toward the door.
The lock clicked shut behind him.
—
The whole night passed without seeing him.
The next morning came and went in agonizing silence, and still, the room remained empty. There was nothing left to do but wait for him to come back.
You watched the light beyond the window slowly fade until the room fell dark once again. Hours in the same position had left one entire side of your body aching, stiff and nearly numb.
Then the heavy door creaked open. Boots echoed across the concrete as the overhead light snapped on, forcing you to squint against the sudden brightness. You lifted your head just enough to see Toji standing there.
Without a word, he rolled a plastic water bottle across the floor until it bumped against your leg.
He stood over you for a moment, silently taking in the rope burns around your wrists and your exhausted state. Then he crouched, wrapped a calloused hand around your shoulder, and hauled you upright. Pins and needles shot violently through your numb side.
Before you could react, he ripped the duct tape from your mouth in one swift pull.
He twisted the bottle open and shoved it against your lips, forcing you to drink. You swallowed greedily, choking as water spilled down your chin and soaked the front of your shirt when he refused to slow down.
The bottle emptied just as quickly. He pulled it away, and you slumped forward, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Washroom..."
Toji paused, his jaw tightening. He looked immediately pissed, a deep line forming between his dark brows as if your basic human anatomy was a personal inconvenience to his schedule.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he reached down, hauling you up roughly by your one arm. Your deadened legs wobbled beneath you, but he didn't care to let you find your footing, unceremoniously dragging you across the concrete toward the small adjoining bathroom.
Once there, he shoved you inside.
He didn't leave though. He just stood right in the doorway, his massive frame completely filling the frame, holding the door wide open.
You blinked through your exhaustion, looking from him to the toilet, your mind stumbling over the lack of privacy.
"...?" You swallowed hard, forcing the words past your dry throat. "Can you please untie my hands?"
Toji leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at you with flat, utterly bored eyes. "For what?"
"To clean..." you muttered, your face burning with a sudden, humiliating heat.
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp click of his tongue. He stepped forward, his movements terrifyingly fast as he grabbed your wrists. With a quick, dismissive twist of his fingers, he untied the left hand only, leaving your right wrist still bound and restricted.
He stepped back to his post in the doorway. Humiliated and desperate for a shred of dignity, you reached out with your one free hand, trying to pull the bathroom door closed.
He didn't even blink. He casually extended a single, heavy foot, planting his boot against the wood and holding it open nonchalantly. The door didn't move an inch against his weight.
Your breath hitched, a mix of frustration and shame tightening your chest. "Hey..? Let go of the door."
Toji’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous, low edge bleeding into his gravelly voice. "Dontcha order me around."
He shifted his weight, looking down at you with a mocking, entirely merciless smirk playing on the corner of his scarred mouth. "Besides, didn't ya say you'd let me fuck you? So what's ya issue now? A door?”
Your eyes widened, a sudden frown of sheer surprise twisting your features. "That's—that's not how I meant it!" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Shut up," Toji cut you off, his tone instantly dropping into a flat, icy command that brooked zero argument. He didn't even look angry anymore. Just completely done with the conversation.
"Do what you gotta do, or I'm making ya piss on the damn carpet. Take your pick."
"..."
The words died in your throat. You didn't argue anymore. Nope. There was no winning against a man who truly did not care about your modesty, your comfort, or about you.
You kept your head down, your eyes burning as you stared at the floor tiles. You moved with agonizing slowness, glancing up at him just for a split second to see if he was looking or if he had at least looked away out of basic decency.
He was just standing there, propped against the frame, watching with the same detached indifference. As you finally forced yourself to do your business under his unblinking stare, a suffocating wave of mortification washed over you.
Embarrassing, you thought, your chest aching with a raw, bitter sting as you kept your gaze fiercely locked onto the ground.
Fucking embarrassing…
—
A few more days dragged by in that same suffocating rhythm.
He kept you tied, only coming in to force water down your throat, shove a single meal your way, or order you to wash up once a day.
Every time he did, he looked irritated, as though keeping you alive was an inconvenience. The only thing that changed was the length of the silence between his visits.
What didn't change was the question gnawing at you.
Why hadn't he delivered you yet? If this was just a job, why the delay? Was the buyer farther away than you'd assumed... or had something gone wrong? Every passing day made the answer feel further out of reach, until the uncertainty itself became exhausting.
Then the heavy door flew open.
Toji walked in with a purpose you hadn't seen before. Before you could react, he was already in front of you.
He grabbed your shoulders, hauled you up, and dragged your stiff body across the floor before shoving you into a wooden chair. Pulling another chair over, he sat directly across from you, elbows resting on his knees, his dark green eyes fixed on yours.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
A stunned silence dropped over the room. You stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, your mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift in his motives.
He was bypassing his client…?
"Everything…" you breathed, your voice raw. "Everything I mean it."
Toji didn't look impressed. He leaned back, his expression turning flat and entirely bored.
"How much in exact?"
"..." You swallowed hard, calculating the numbers in your head, knowing this was your only lifeline.
"Worth more than a million. Even more, actually. And…”
“As I said before, I'm willing to give you my body, so yeah...!"
Toji closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He didn't want a sob story, and he certainly hadn't asked for your body. But if you insisted on offering it as part of the deal, he'd treat it as nothing more than a cheap down payment.
He dropped his hand from his face, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dark intensity. "Strip," he commanded flatly. Before the word could even fully register in your brain, his hands gripped the hem of his own black shirt. With a fluid, unbothered motion, he began pulling it up over his head, revealing the sharp, chiseled lines of his abs and the heavy musculature of his torso.
Your eyes widened in absolute shock, your heart leaping straight into your throat. "What? Now? Wait—!!"
Toji stopped midway, his arms lifted, the dark fabric of his shirt bunched up around his collarbone and obscuring half his face, but his piercing gaze remained entirely fixed on you through the gap.
Realizing how horribly your words had backfired, You quickly cleared your throat, trying desperately to sound grounded and speak the only language he actually cared about.
"Your main priority is money," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I can get it for you. But we have to handle the logistics first!"
Toji's lips twitched into a dismissive line. "Ya just have to tell me the pin," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. "Ya ain't going anywhere."
Your mind scrambled, you knew that if you just handed over a number, you became entirely useless to him.
"Large withdrawals don't work like that," you argued. "The bank needs me there. My ID. My signature. They won't hand over that kind of money to a stranger, no matter what pin you have...”
Toji didn't move. He sat there in the dim light, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn't believe you—not fully.
But he also knew the annoying, bureaucratic reality of wealthy institutions. He knew you could be telling the truth, and he wasn't a man to risk a massive payout over a technicality.
Rather than untying you completely and trusting you, he opted for a pragmatic middle ground.
"Fine," he muttered and dropped down into a crouch in front of your chair. A short, wicked blade materialized in his hand.
With one precise flick of his wrist, he sliced through the ropes binding your ankles. They dropped to the floor, freeing your feet, but he left your wrists bound tightly behind your back.
He stood up in one motion, sheathing the knife before you could even blink. "You try anything..." He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
Without waiting for a response, he was already moving, turning his back on you and walking toward the door to prepare for the trip.
You sat there, your ankles suddenly free, completely speechless for a second. It worked…?
—
No… you weren't naive enough to believe he'd suddenly trusted you.
Minutes crawled by.
The room fell back into that same suffocating silence you'd grown to hate. How long did it take to get ready?
You frowned toward the closed door. Had he changed his mind? Was he talking to whoever had hired him? Were they arguing over you?
The lock finally clicked.
Your head snapped toward the entrance. Bu, it wasn't Toji.
A different man stepped inside, dressed in an immaculate dark suit that looked almost absurdly expensive compared to the decaying room around him.
He spared you only a brief glance before looking past. "Everything ready?"
Heavy footsteps answered from somewhere behind him. Toji appeared in the doorway a second later, one hand shoved lazily into his pocket.
"Hm."
The suited man sighed through his nose. "You packed everything?"
"Yeah."
"And the vehicle?"
"Outside."
Another small nod. "Good." The conversation continued as though you weren't even there.
"The route changed," the suited man said. "There's more activity than expected."
Toji didn't look particularly interested. "So?"
"So don't take the highway."
A shrug. "I wasn't planning to."
The suited man studied him for a moment before giving a short, resigned hum, as though he'd expected exactly that answer.
Then, his attention settled fully on you. He approached with measured steps. Your shoulders instinctively tensed. "What are you—"
He crouched in front of you before you could finish. From inside his jacket, he produced a slim black folder along with a small electronic scanner no larger than his palm.
Your brows knitted together. "...What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flipped open the folder, briefly checking whatever documents were clipped inside before setting the scanner on his knee.
"Hold still."
Before you could pull away, his hand had already closed around your bound wrist. Your body reacted instantly. "Let go!—"
You twisted sharply, trying to wrench your hand free, but the ropes left you with almost no movement. "What are you doing?!"
"Stay still." His grip never tightened. It simply remained impossibly steady.
"I said let go! Damnit!" You struggled harder. The scanner emitted a quiet electronic beep as he calmly positioned your thumb against the glass surface.
"No!" You jerked again before a large hand landed heavily on the back of your chair.
Toji.
He simply stood behind you, one broad hand resting against the chair as if reminding you exactly how pointless resistance was.
The room somehow felt smaller. Even your breathing sounded too loud.
The suited man glanced up briefly, then back down and pressed your thumb onto the scanner once more. A soft chime echoed through the room.
He lifted your hand away. "...Done." He returned the scanner to the folder with practiced efficiency before pulling a small ink pad from another pocket.
Your eyes widened. "...Wait."
He took your index finger next. You struggled again, weaker this time. "What are you taking?"
Silence…
He rolled your fingertip across the ink, then onto one of the papers clipped inside the folder with precise, practiced movements.
He simply closed the folder with a quiet snap and stood. For several seconds, neither man spoke. The suited man tucked the documents back inside his jacket before looking toward Toji.
"Everything's settled. The transfer location's been changed." The suited man's gaze lingered for another moment. "Don't waste time."
Toji clicked his tongue. "Mm."
A brief silence followed. Then the suited man gave one last glance toward you. Whatever expression crossed his face disappeared too quickly to read.
He turned and headed for the door. Just before stepping outside, he paused without looking back.
"Hurry up."
The door shut behind him. You stared after it, your thoughts spiraling. Transfer, settled, and moving?
What had they just done with your fingerprints? What exactly had been settled?
Your gaze slowly lifted toward Toji. He remained exactly where he'd been, shoulders loose, looking down at you with the same tired, almost bored expression. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of dark cloth.
Before you could react, he stepped behind you. The fabric slipped over your eyes, plunging the room into absolute darkness. You instinctively jerked back, but his hand caught the side of your head, holding you still as he tied it firmly behind your skull. "Hold still."
A second later, another wad of cloth was shoved between your teeth. "Mmph—!"
He ignored your muffled protest, securing it tightly behind your head before giving it a brief tug to check it wouldn't come loose.
Satisfied, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped in front of you. One arm slid beneath yours while the other hooked around your waist. Before you could brace yourself, he hauled you effortlessly onto your feet.
"—!?" Your legs nearly buckled after days of weakness, and you stumbled straight into him.
"Tch…" He steadied you with obvious reluctance, waiting only long enough to make sure you wouldn't collapse outright.
You let out a muffled, frustrated sound through the gag, earning nothing more than an impatient click of his tongue. His grip tightened just enough to keep you moving as he steered you toward the door.
—
There was nothing left to guide you except sound and touch. Before the rough shove that sent you forward. Hands catching you before you hit the ground, only to throw you sideways onto cracked leather seats a heartbeat later.
The engine rumbled to life beneath you.
Blind, gagged, your wrists still bound behind your back, you lay awkwardly across the seat, forcing yourself to stay calm. Every bump in the road jolted through your weakened body, every turn sending you sliding across the upholstery until something—a boot, maybe a knee—wordlessly shoved you back into place.
You had no idea where he was taking you anymore.
—
Eventually, the engine died.
Before you could even brace yourself, a large, calloused hand clamped around your thigh.
"Mm—!" You were dragged across the seat so abruptly your hip scraped the edge before your forehead smacked straight into the car frame. Pain exploded through your skull. A muffled cry escaped behind the gag.
"Careful." The familiar voice came from somewhere to your right—calm, almost absentminded.
The grip on you disappeared just as another pair of hands seized you instead.
"Tch..."
You recognized the irritated scoff instantly. Without so much as asking if you could stand, Toji hauled you up against him and started walking.
After what felt like five long minutes, he finally stopped. Your feet touched solid ground. One hand remained gripping your upper arm while the other reached behind your head.
You squeezed your eyes shut on instinct before slowly blinking them open. “....?”
An abandoned water park stretched around you.
The resort had long been abandoned. Rust covered the railings, weeds cracked through the pavement, and silent slides loomed overhead. Beyond the still pool stood a weathered hotel, its dark windows staring back like empty eyes.
Your head snapped toward Toji. Confusion lasted barely a second before it curdled into anger.
"What the HELL are you doing?!" you shouted the instant he yanked the cloth from your mouth.
"You said we were going to the bank! Why did you bring me here? What are you planning?!"
“....” Toji looked down at you with the same detached expression he'd worn all morning. "Ya tried t' trick me," he said flatly.
"So I tricked ya first."
Silence…
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest, almost amused smirk. "Hm." He tilted his head.
"What's with that look?" His voice stayed lazy as he reached toward your face, fingers aiming for your chin. "Gonna bite?”
You jerked forward without thinking, snapping your teeth at his hand—CHOMP!
“....”
The back of his hand struck across your cheek. It wasn't a full-force hit, but it landed squarely against the injured, bandaged side of your face.
White-hot pain shot through your head. A broken gasp escaped you as your knees nearly gave out. Before you could recover, his fist buried itself in your hair. Your head was wrenched back. Tears stung your eyes.
"Look at me." His voice had gone cold. Just something hard enough to make your stomach drop.
"The deal's off." His grip tightened another fraction. "I wouldn't lose sleep killin' ya right now."
Your breathing came faster despite yourself. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the rise and fall of your chest. Then they lifted back to yours.
A quiet hum escaped him. "But..." His grip loosened just enough to keep you upright.
"...we got bigger fish t' fry."
Toji's grip in your hair stayed iron-tight as he shifted his stance. His boot hooked behind your ankle and twisted hard, yanking your leg out from under you.
You dropped fast, knees cracking against the concrete. Before you could even brace yourself, his free hand was already working his belt open.
"Stay down.” he muttered, voice low and flat. The metal clink of his buckle echoed once before he shoved his pants low enough to free his cock. It hung heavy, half-soft, right in front of your face.
He didn't give you time to react. His palm cracked across your bandaged cheek again. Harder this time—making your vision spark white.
"Open. Now."
"No! Get off—" You tried to twist away, but his fist in your hair wrenched your head forward. The soft weight of his cock slapped across your injured face, once, twice, the heat of it dragging over the bandages. He kept doing it, smacking your swollen cheek with the length of it until it started to stiffen against your skin.
"Tch. Look at you." Another slap, this time with the head, leaving a wet smear. "Thought you could pull one over on me?"
He pressed forward without warning, forcing the thickening head past your lips. Your jaw ached from the earlier hit, but he didn't care. He shoved deeper, the underside dragging over your tongue as he fed inch after inch into your mouth.
When you gagged and tried to pull back, his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the root in one brutal thrust.
"'Take it," he growled, voice still eerily calm. Both hands locked on your head now, fingers digging into your scalp as he started fucking your throat. Each thrust was rough and deliberate, the head punching past your gag reflex again and again.
Spit spilled from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick strings. He didn't slow down when you choked—he just pushed deeper, grinding his pelvis against your nose until your lungs burned.
"Cry all you want." His tone stayed detached, almost bored, even as he used your mouth like a toy. "Should've thought about that before ya tried to play me."
He pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air, then slammed forward again, harder. Your nose pressed flat to his hairy pelvis, throat convulsing around him. He held you there, hips rolling in short, grinding motions while your vision blurred with tears.
Every time you tried to push against his thighs, he slapped your wounded face again—until your arms dropped limp at your sides.
"Hands off," he ordered. "You lost that choice." His pace turned vicious after that. Short, brutal thrusts that made your throat bulge visibly with each one.
"Tch," he muttered, almost to himself. "Keep that throat open or I'll break your jaw.”
Toji didn't bother pulling out after he finished down your throat. He stayed buried to the hilt, letting the last weak pulses of his cock empty into you while your throat kept spasming around him.
When he finally dragged his length free, a thick string of spit and cum stretched from your swollen lips to the head of his cock before it snapped. You barely had time to cough before his boot slammed into your shoulder, knocking you onto your back against the cold concrete.
"Ain't done with ya yet," he said, voice flat as ever. His pants were already shoved down to his thighs, cock still glistening and half-hard. He dropped down without warning, one knee pinning your chest while his hands went straight for your clothes.
Fabric tore under his grip—shirt yanked open, buttons scattering, pants ripped down your legs with zero patience. You tried to kick, but he caught your ankle and twisted it hard, forcing your leg up and out until your hip burned.
"Fight if ya want. Won't change a damn thing." He shoved your thighs apart with his knees, settling between them like he owned the space. His cock dragged heavy against your inner thigh, already thickening again.
One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his fingers. The other reached down, lining himself up without a word of warning. The blunt head pressed against your entrance, then pushed—hard, relentless, forcing its way inside with one brutal thrust that made your back arch.
"Tch... fuck." he muttered, almost to himself. He buried himself to the base in one go, hips snapping forward until his pelvis smacked flush against yours. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around the sudden invasion, but he just grunted and started moving.
Your hands flew up on instinct, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed both wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head, pinning them there with his full weight. "Quit squirming."
He fucked you with deep, punishing strokes that made your whole body jolt. Each thrust bottomed out hard, the head of his cock battering against your cervix until pain and pressure blurred together. His free hand slapped your bandaged cheek again, then gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he used you. "Stay awake."
He let go of your wrists only to hook both hands under your knees, folding you in half until your thighs pressed against your chest. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his cock punching into you with wet, obscene sounds that echoed off the walls.
Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your face. He didn't slow down when you cried out—he just fucked harder, hips slapping against your ass with bruising force. Every thrust shoved you a few inches across the concrete, scraping your back raw.
"Don't." he warned, voice still eerily calm even as he pounded into you. His balls slapped against your ass with each brutal thrust. He leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck hard enough to leave marks, then licked over the bite like he was tasting sweat and fear. "You'll wear what I leave on you, brat."
He shifted his grip, one hand moving to your throat again while the other pressed down on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you.
Toji's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat, cutting off whatever broken words you tried to force out. "St—" was all you managed before two thick digits shoved past your lips, scraping over your tongue and jamming deep until they hit the back of your throat.
Your eyes rolled back instantly, body convulsing as you gagged hard around them. Spit flooded your mouth, bubbling around his knuckles while he held them there, pressing down on your tongue like he wanted to feel every wet choke.
Your pussy clenched violently around his cock from the intrusion, walls fluttering and squeezing his girth in panicked spasms. Toji hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering for a second. "Tch... fuck." A low grunt left him. "Gettin' tighter every time." He shoved his fingers deeper, curling them against your soft palate until you retched, tears spilling fresh down your temples.
From somewhere behind him, a calm, measured voice cut through the wet sounds of your throat being used. "Toji. Come out once you're finished."
Your head jerked toward the voice on instinct, desperate for any shred of help, but the suit man didn't spare you a glance. He stood there like you don't even exist, eyes fully on Toji.
Toji didn't even slow down. If anything, his hips snapped harder, brutal and punishing, driving his cock so deep your cervix ached with every thrust. "Yeah. I'm comin'.”
The suit man hums before his footsteps fade away without another word, leaving you alone with Toji's free hand fisted in your hair and yanked hard, forcing your head back to face him.
The fingers stayed buried in your throat, making you gag and drool around them while he fucked you. "Eyes on me." He ground his pelvis against your clit with every vicious thrust. "Ain't nobody comin' for ya."
Every time your walls fluttered around him he slapped your bandaged cheek again, hard enough to make your ears ring. "Tch... no wonder that shepherd wanted his stray back.” He let out a quiet, irritated breath. "....”
He buried himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing thick and hot as he emptied inside you, grinding deep while your walls spasmed around him. Only when the last spurt finished did he pull out, leaving your hole gaping and leaking his cum down your thighs..
He didn't even look at you as he tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper cutting through the silence like a knife. His boots scraped against the grimy floor as he stepped over you, and you felt the shadow of his frame loom for a moment.
"Don't ya move."
You couldn't see his face from where you lay, but you could feel his gaze on you. Then the door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway, heavy and unhurried, until there was only the sound of your own ragged breathing.
You stared at the door. At the crack running along the hinge.
Why?
You hadn't done anything. You hadn't crossed anyone. You hadn't stolen, hadn't cheated, hadn't even looked at someone the wrong way.
Then why you?
Your mind raced through every face you'd ever known, every conversation, every mistake, every stranger you'd passed on the street. There was nothing that could explain any of this.
He'd already taken everything. Your savings, freedom—even your dignity. So why were you still here?
If money was all he'd wanted, he could've killed you after the withdrawal. Instead, he kept dragging you from place to place like you still had some purpose.
Everyone had to be looking for you by now. But if Toji kept moving you... they'd never find you.
Your body screeched in protest as you forced yourself to roll, bound wrists scraping raw against the floor. You didn't even know where you were trying to go anymore—just anywhere.
You paused when you spotted the table nearby. Slowly, painfully, you dragged yourself toward it, lifting your bound wrists to rub the rope against the sharp metal edge. It wouldn't give.
Your whole body throbbed with every desperate movement, but you kept grinding the rope against the table leg, breathing harder and harder until the fibers finally started to fray. The moment you felt give, you arched back and shoved your legs through the gap, using your teeth next, tearing until the rope finally snapped free.
You immediately looked down at your ankles and clawed at the remaining rope, pulling and scratching until it tore apart. Once your legs were free you grabbed the table edge and hauled yourself up, a broken wince escaping as your back and everything else screamed in protest.
You scanned the room until you spotted your skirt crumpled in the corner, your torn panties useless beside it. You grabbed the skirt and pulled it on with shaking hands, then moved toward the door on unsteady legs.
You eased the warped wooden door open a fraction at a time. Every muscle protested as you slipped into the hallway, pausing the moment both feet crossed the threshold.
No sign of him.
You limped forward, one hand dragging along the stained wall for support. Every step pulled at your aching ribs while the raw rope burns around your wrists throbbed with each movement, crumbling plaster scraping beneath your fingertips.
A cool draft brushed across your face, carrying the scent of rain.
An exit…
You shoved your shoulder against the rusted metal door. It resisted at first, groaning in protest, before finally giving way with a screech.
An abandoned water park stretched before you, swallowed by years of neglect. Cracked pathways vanished beneath tangled weeds while rust bled down every railing. Towering slides loomed overhead, their faded paint peeling beneath the grey sky. Pools that had once sparkled now sat thick with algae, their murky surfaces barely stirring in the wind. The entire place looked ready to collapse.
One wrong step…
You swallowed hard.
This place could kill you just as easily as he could.
Your gaze swept across the grounds. Scanning the slides and rusted maintenance buildings.
Nothing.
You whipped your head to the left, tension flaring in your neck.
Still nothing.
Had he really just left? Was he gone? Had he actually—
Don't think. Just move.
You forced your body forward, limping across the uneven concrete. Every few steps you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to find him standing there—that same lazy expression, those dark eyes already knowing exactly where you'd run.
Your bare foot came down on a slick patch of moss hidden inside a crack in the pavement.
It slipped.
You threw your weight sideways, grabbing blindly until your hand caught a rusted pipe. The impact rattled through your shoulders as you barely stopped yourself from crashing face-first onto the concrete.
A shaky, sobbing breath escaped your trembling lips. "..."
You tightened your grip, forcing yourself upright. One more step. Then your weakened ankle folded beneath you.
"Ah—!" A blinding flash of pain shot up your leg, short-circuiting your brain. You clawed desperately at the empty air. The world flipped upside down.
SPLASH!
The stagnant water swallowed you whole.
Freezing filth rushed into your nose and mouth before you could scream. The shock drove every thought from your mind as you sank beneath the cloudy green water.
You kicked desperately. The raw skin around your ankles screamed the instant the filthy water touched it. Fire raced across every rope burn. Your wrists flared just as sharply when you tried to pull yourself upward, every stroke sending another bolt of pain through your arms.
It hurt.
It hurt enough to make your body lock up.
You fought toward the surface with clumsy, desperate movements, your heavy clothes dragging at every limb.
You sucked in a breath—Only to choke as another wave slapped across your face.
Water filled your mouth.
You coughed violently, arms thrashing without rhythm as your soaked clothes pulled you under again. "H-Help—!”
The desperate plea dissolved instantly into another wet, choking fit. Your vision began to blur at the edges, turning dark and fuzzy. Then, a horribly familiar, low voice drifted effortlessly across the water.
"...Ya like t' embarrass yourself or what?"
You blinked through stinging, watering eyes. Toji stood at the edge of the pool, one hand buried in his pocket, broad shoulders loose as he looked down at you. There wasn't a trace of urgency, concern, or even surprise on his face.
He watched you struggle for another agonizing second. Then, he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "If ya wanted t' die that badly..." His massive shoulders rose in a lazy, slow shrug. "...could-a just told me."
A beat passed before the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Wouldn't want my piggy bank dyin' yet.”
Suddenly, a muffled, sharp vibration buzzed from inside his dark jacket. He glanced down carelessly. Another desperate, strangled cough escaped your lips as your nose slipped beneath the water again.
Without a single word, he finally moved. He crouched down at the edge of the pool. One large, calloused hand reached down over the water.
His thick fingers hooked tightly into the collar of your soaked, heavy shirt. With absolute, terrifyingly effortless strength, he lifted. Your feet left the water entirely. Your legs dangled uselessly in the air.
Water streamed from your clothes in heavy, cascading sheets, slapping against the concrete before he deposited you onto the cracked ground.
You collapsed onto your hands and knees, coughing until your ribs ached. Murky water spilled from your mouth in ragged bursts.
You were sniffling, gasping, and sobbing, trying desperately to fill your burning lungs with air.
Above you, Toji stood at his full height, giving you a slow, calculating once-over from head to toe. "Hm." A faint, amused scoff escaped his lips.
"Even managed t' cover your shit." His dark eyes lingered on the hem of the skirt you had frantically pulled back on before running. "...Ya're really somethin'."
One of his massive hand grabbed the front of your skirt and ripped it straight down the middle, the fabric tearing like paper. The ruined cloth was tossed aside. Your top came next. His fingers hooked into the collar and yanked, buttons popping, seams splitting until both the shirt and the bra beneath were shredded and flung away.
Cold air hit your bare skin as you were left naked except for the tattered remnants clinging to your wrists. "No—please, stop—fuck you, you piece of shit—" Your voice cracked into desperate curses and pleas, but Toji only grunted in irritation. He caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head against the wet concrete.
"Shut it." His free hand delivered two quick, sharp slaps to your already bruised cheek. "Ain't nobody listenin' to that mouth."
He shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, then dropped to straddle your chest. Your wrists stayed trapped in his grip while he shoved his length between your tits, squeezing them together with his other hand. He started thrusting, slow and deliberate, the head of his cock bumping your chin with every stroke.
A few heavy drops from the sky splattering across your face, then more, cold and relentless. Water ran down Toji's back and dripped from his hair onto your skin, but he didn't pause.
His hips kept moving, cock sliding between your breasts, getting harder with each thrust while your choked sobs mixed with the sound of rain hitting concrete.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. But he ignored and kept fucking the valley of your tits until he was fully hard, thick and heavy between your soft flesh.
"Tch." He finally pulled back, grabbed one of your legs, and hauled it up over his shoulder. The position spread you wide, exposing your already swollen, red pussy to his gaze. He leaned in, spat directly on your cunt, then lined up and drove in dry. "Fuck..."
The only slickness came from the cum he'd left inside you earlier. It made a filthy, wet sound as he forced his way deep, stretching your sore walls around him. Your back arched off the ground. A broken, choking sound tore from your throat.
Toji's hand clamped around your neck, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He held your head pinned to the concrete while his hips snapped forward, each thrust making your ass bounce and his coarse pubic hair grind against your clit.
Midway through a brutal thrust his phone buzzed again. He clicked his tongue, reached into his pocket with one hand, and answered without slowing down. He put it on speaker, the other hand still crushing your windpipe.
Almost with a rough thrust, he leaned over you, and mercilessly pressed the phone directly against your wet ear.
Instantly, a man's voice erupted from the speaker, so sharp it seemed to slice straight through your pounding heartbeat.
"Toji."
"Wo ist mein Liebling?! Warum antwortest du nicht?! Was zum Teufel machst du da?!" A harsh breath crackled through the line before he barked again, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
"Bring sie sofort zu mir. Hörst du mich? Sofort. Und wenn ihr auch nur ein Haar fehlt..."
“....”
Your entire body went rigid.
Because you knew him...
The man you had disappeared from almost a year ago.
You'd blocked every number he used. Deleted every message. Left without giving him the closure he'd insisted he deserved because there was nothing left to explain.
Every conversation with him had become another cage, every apology another promise that lasted a day before he tightened his grip again. You had walked away because staying had become unbearable.
You'd expected anything else. But never...
Never this.
Your trembling hands curled against the rough concrete as your mind desperately tried to reject the obvious, but there was no mistaking it.
Toji caught every flicker of realization crossing your face. His mouth slowly curved into a smirk, lazy and mocking. He watched you for another second before giving a quiet, amused huff through his nose. "Know him?"
Toji didn't seem bothered by your silence. He pulled the phone away from your ear and lifted it to his own instead, looking more inconvenienced than anything.
"Quit yellin'," he barked. "English."
A long beat of silence crackled through the speaker before the man spoke again, every trace of panic stripped from his voice.
"Where is she?"
Toji's eyes drifted back to you. You hadn't even realized you'd started shaking harder until his gaze settled on you.
A dry chuckle escaped him. "Funny thing..." he said, scratching idly at his jaw. "Ya paid me t' bring her in." He let the sentence hang just long enough.
"...Then figured you'd kill me after."
Silence...
Then the voice on the other end snapped. "What?"
"What the hell are you talking about?—"
With a careless flick of his wrist, Toji tossed the phone onto your chest. It bounced once against your bare skin before settling there, the speaker still on, the frantic voice spilling into the open air.
"...Liebling? Can you hear me?"
"What did he do to you?"
"Answer me."
"[Name]!"
Your fingers twitched weakly beside the phone, but they wouldn't obey you. Toji knew they wouldn't.
He kept driving his cock into your cunt with brutal, punishing thrusts, each one forcing your ass to slap against the wet concrete. His hips snapped forward without mercy, the thick length stretching your already swollen walls while the previous load inside you squelched wetly around him.
Toji's free hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he forced your head back against the ground. Rain poured down over both of you, soaking his hair, running down his chest, dripping onto your face with every thrust.
"[Name], huh..." he said, voice low and flat even as he kept fucking you.
His pace turned more vicious, the wet slap of skin against skin mixing with the rain and the distant voice still demanding through the speaker. Your body jolted under him with every thrust, tits bouncing, thighs shaking around his waist.
Toji's hand moved from your jaw to your mouth. His rough fingers hooked between your lips, pulling them apart into a forced, grotesque smile while he kept pounding into you. Your eyes rolled back, unfocused and glassy, tears mixing with rainwater as your expression went slack and fucked-out.
"Hah..." he muttered, almost to himself, watching the way your face twisted under his grip. "...ain't even here anymore."
His cock twitched deep inside you. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pubic bone against your clit as he came hard, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into your womb.
His hips jerked with each pulse, forcing every drop as deep as it would go while his fingers kept your mouth stretched into that empty, broken smile.
"...She's occupied."
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"No way... that's insane."
You couldn't stop staring as another rider soared above the lagoon, suspended in the air for a heartbeat before swooping back down over the water. The entire resort looked like something out of a postcard—crystal-clear water, luxury cabanas, and tourists crowding the docks to watch the jetpack stunts.
Another rider landed smoothly before the next instructor waved your group forward.
"You're seriously doing this?" one of your friends laughed, already pulling out her phone.
"Obviously." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "If I die, at least make sure it goes viral."
"Hey, don't say that!"
"I'm kidding." You snorted before handing her your phone. "Record everything. Don't stop recording unless I actually drown."
"That's... somehow not reassuring."
You only laughed, already jogging toward the floating platform where your instructor—your assigned jetpack guard—waited with practiced patience. He secured your life jacket, checking every buckle twice.
"First time?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
You groaned. "Please pretend I'm a professional."
"I'll do my best." His amused smile somehow settled your nerves. "Just hold onto the support handles until I tell you otherwise," he instructed. "I'll keep you balanced. If you panic, don't fight the movement. Trust me."
The jetpack engine thundered to life beneath the surface. A second later, the pressure exploded upward. You barely had time to yelp before both of you surged into the air.
Your laughter broke into the wind as the lagoon rapidly shrank beneath your feet. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on the handles while his gloved hand stayed firm around your waist despite the force launching both of you skyward.
"Relax!" he called over the roar. "You're doing great!"
"I'm literally flying!" The words disappeared into another burst of delighted giggles.
The jetpack skimmed low enough for icy spray to pepper your legs before surging skyward again. Laughter escaped you as the instructor guided you through a smooth turn, the shoreline spinning into a blur of blue water and cheering tourists.
"See?" he laughed. "You're a natural."
Still grinning, you glanced down.
The lagoon stretched beneath you like a postcard. Your friends were little more than colorful dots on the dock, one of them still holding your phone toward the sky.
"Whoa..." you breathed, your excitement slowly giving way to awe. You hadn't realized how high you'd climbed.
Your smile faltered. "...We're really high."
"We're fine," the instructor called back. "Just enjoy the view."
You tried to…
But then, without warning, the steady pressure of the hand secured around your waist shifted.
It wasn't enough for you to understand what had happened. Your body merely registered that something felt... different. The grip that had held you effortlessly throughout every dive and spin suddenly loosened, and before your thoughts could even catch up, your balance tilted ever so slightly away from him.
You instinctively started to turn your head. "...Huh?—"
You never got the chance to look at him. The hand around your waist slipped away completely. One second you were flying. The next—
there was absolutely nothing holding you.
Your stomach lurched so violently it felt as though your heart had been ripped straight out with it. A scream exploded from your throat before you even realized you were falling, your body dropping away from the jetpack so suddenly that your hands clawed uselessly at empty air. Until—
SPLASH!
The impact swallowed your scream beneath a towering wall of water. On the dock, laughter ceased instantly. Heads whipped toward the splash.
"What the—"
"Someone fell!"
Your friends froze in horror, one of them still filming with your phone pointed toward the sky, unable to lower it fast enough.
For one suspended heartbeat, every eye searched the water where you'd disappeared beneath the surface.
Then another horrified scream rose from somewhere in the crowd.
"LOOK OUT!"
Dozens of faces snapped upward again. High above the lagoon, the instructor was no longer upright.
The jetpack still roared, blasting powerful streams of water as if nothing had gone wrong. But without his balance, the instructor had already been thrown backward, falling flat onto his back, completely helpless.
The shock lasted only a second before the entire lagoon erupted into chaos.
Shouts rang across the water as two rescue guards dove in without hesitation. Your lungs burned violently as water forced its way through your nose and down your throat. You couldn't even tell which way was up.
Strong hands finally caught hold of your life jacket.
"There! We've got her!"
The world lurched as they dragged you toward the surface. You broke the surface with a violent gasp, only to choke as water spilled from your mouth. Your chest felt like it had been crushed, every breath scraping painfully against your throat as the guards hauled you onto the dock.
"It's okay, breathe... easy, easy."
You barely heard them.
The moment your knees touched the wooden platform, another coughing fit doubled you over. Water dripped from your hair and clothes, your vision blurred with tears as your friends rubbed circles against your back.
"Oh my God..."
One dropped to her knees beside you while the other wrapped both arms around your shoulders before you could lose your balance again. "You're okay... It's okay..."
People were already crowding around, murmuring over one another, some calling emergency services while others stood frozen, staring back toward the lagoon.
Still coughing, you instinctively looked over your shoulder. Several rescue guards were pulling another body from the water.
The instructor.
His arms hung limply as they lifted him onto the dock, his head lolling unnaturally to one side. Then one of the guards shifted, no longer blocking your view.
Your breathing stopped.
There, just above his brow… a small, dark hole sat in the middle of his forehead.
Blood mixed with the water running down his face, thin streams trailing across the wooden planks beneath him.
The realization spread through the crowd one horrified expression at a time. He hadn't died from the fall.
He'd been shot.
—
The room smelled faintly of coffee and damp paperwork.
A laptop on the desk replayed the same shaky recording for what felt like the tenth time. The officer paused the footage just as your scream echoed through the speakers before leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the desk.
"So..." he began at last, his voice calm but unreadable, "none of you saw anyone?"
The three of you exchanged uncertain glances.
Your friend, still clutching the strap of her bag, swallowed before speaking. "I... I was recording the whole time. I never looked away from the screen." She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't notice anyone else."
The officer gave a slow nod, jotting something into his notebook before turning to your other friend.
"And you?"
She hesitated, searching her memory. "I wasn't really looking around either," she admitted quietly. "I kept watching them through the camera. Everything happened so fast... by the time I heard her scream..." Her voice faded, guilt creeping into her expression.
"Hm."
The officer closed the notebook without another word and finally looked at you. "You were closest to him." His eyes studied your face carefully.
"Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?"
"No." Your voice came out hoarse from the water you'd swallowed.
"It happened too fast. One second he was holding me, and the next…” You paused, the memory making your stomach tighten. "I was falling. I didn't even have time to look at him."
The officer remained silent for a moment before asking, almost casually, "Do you have any idea who might've wanted him dead?"
You blinked.
"What?"
"Or perhaps..." He folded his hands together. "Someone who might've been targeting you instead."
Your friends looked at you in confusion. You stared back at the officer, disbelief slowly giving way to irritation.
"...Excuse me?"
"You were attached to him when the shot was fired," he said evenly. "If the timing had been slightly different, you might've been the one hit.”
Your brows pulled together. "I don't know what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything." His tone stayed frustratingly neutral. "I'm asking whether there's anyone in your life who would have reason to harm you."
A humorless laugh escaped you. "No."
"You've never received threats?"
"No."
"No personal disputes? Financial problems? Someone holding a grudge?"
Your jaw tightened. Every question felt more absurd than the last, but you forced yourself to answer without raising your voice.
The officer didn't react. He simply held your gaze for another long second before he slid a notepad across the desk along with a pen.
"Before you leave, I need all three of you to write down your full names, phone numbers, and current addresses. If you plan on leaving the city, let us know beforehand.”
“....”
The three of you exchanged uneasy glances before taking the pen in silence. As you finished writing, the officer gathered the sheet and tucked it into the case file.
"We'll contact each of you again if we need further statements," he said matter-of-factly. "Until then, if you remember anything—no matter how insignificant it seems—you'll notify us immediately.”
—
Outside the station, the afternoon air felt heavier than it had a few hours earlier. Police cars came and went, officers spoke quietly near the entrance, and the distant wail of an ambulance faded into the city's usual traffic.
"So..." she glanced toward the road, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's just head home."
You gave a distracted hum in response, but your hand had already wandered to your face. Your fingers drifted to your left cheek, scratching absently for what felt like the hundredth time. The itch wasn't painful, just irritating enough that you couldn't seem to leave it alone.
"Tch..." The sound slipped from your lips before you realized it.
"What's wrong?" one of your friends asked, stepping closer. Her brows knitted as she leaned in to study your face. "Wait..."
"...Did you get hurt?"
"Hm?"
"There..." She frowned harder, clearly trying to figure out what was bothering her. "There's just... something."
Confused, you pulled your phone from your pocket and switched to the front camera. At first, nothing looked unusual—until you tilted the screen toward the light.
The skin along your left cheek had turned an angry shade of red, almost as though it'd been lightly scorched. It wasn't bleeding, but the angry patch easily explained the relentless itch.
"What is it?" your other friend asked.
"I think..." You frowned at your reflection again before locking the screen. "I should probably get this checked."
"Now?"
You nodded. "I'll just stop by the hospital. It's bothering me."
The two exchanged uncertain glances. "Are you sure you'll be okay going there alone?”
You offered them a tired smile and shook your head. “Ofcourse, I will. Why do you guys suddenly say that?”
She exchanged a glance with your other friend before lowering her voice. "I was just thinking about..." She hesitated. "You know... him."
“....” Your expression cooled almost instantly. "...Don't."
"I'm serious." She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. "He called you from, what, six different numbers after you blocked him?"
"Uh… more than that actually," your other friend corrected under her breath.
You let out a tired sigh. "That was months ago."
“And… I don't really want to remember it.”
A brief silence settled over the three of you.
"...Just be careful, okay?" your friend murmured.
You forced a smile. "I will.”
After a few reluctant goodbyes, they finally disappeared down the pavement, leaving you standing alone outside the station.
The itch returned almost immediately. You scratched your cheek again, then stopped yourself with an irritated sigh.
Several minutes later, a cab pulled up. You climbed into the back seat, gave the driver the name of the nearest hospital, and leaned against the window. Your phone found its way back into your hand almost instantly. The same red patch stared back at you. The longer you looked, the more uneasy you became.
"Rough day?”
The driver's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up, seeing only the back of his head.
"...Kind of," you admitted quietly before lowering your phone. "Could you hurry, please?"
A low chuckle escaped him.
"I'll get you there." His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. "Unless traffic decides to piss me off.”
“....” You let out a slow breath and leaned back again.
The ride passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional glance you stole at your own reflection. No matter how many times you looked, the redness seemed a little more noticeable than before.
By the time the hospital came into view, you'd almost convinced yourself it was nothing. You paid the fare, climbed out, then hesitated.
The irritation didn't seem serious enough to justify calling another cab afterward, especially during the evening rush.
You stepped back toward the driver's window and tapped lightly against the glass. It rolled down a second later.
Without really looking at the driver, you leaned toward the window, "Would you mind waiting? It shouldn't take too long."
“....”
Instead of answering, he casually lifted two rough fingers. He held them directly in front of his mouth, his tongue deliberately sticking out between the knuckles as he turned toward you.
The act was entirely wrong, uncomfortable even. Causing a violent shiver to race straight down your spine. It made you halt completely.
"...What?" Your brows drew together as confusion and deep unease flickered across your face.
Only then did he let his hand fall away. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on his face. Just an almost lazy indifference as he looked at you, as though he hadn't done anything unusual at all.
"Double check," he drawled. "I mean.”
You stood there for a few seconds, the driver's words taking a moment to register. Whatever unease had crawled beneath your skin lingered, refusing to leave even after the joke had been clarified. You looked at him once more before shaking your head lightly.
"...Never mind." Your voice came out quieter than you'd intended. "Just... go ahead."
He didn't answer.
The window slid back up, and you turned toward the hospital entrance instead, rubbing absently at your cheek.
Inside, a nurse guided you into one of the examination rooms, where a middle-aged doctor adjusted the overhead lamp before gently tilting your chin toward the light.
"Hm..." He studied the reddened patch on your cheek in silence, his gloved fingers hovering just above the irritated skin before lightly examining the edges.
"This wasn't caused by heat," he murmured.
You frowned. "Then?"
He removed his gloves and looked at you over the rim of his glasses. "Radiation residue."
Seeing your confusion, he continued, "Certain specialized rounds leave behind trace amounts. If someone was standing close enough when the projectile passed..." He glanced back at your cheek. "...a burn like this isn't impossible."
"Were you involved in some kind of shooting?"
You hesitated before giving him the shortest version possible of what had happened at the lagoon.
"I see."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a tube of ointment, carefully spreading a thin layer over the burn before covering it with fresh gauze.
"Use this twice a day. Don't scratch it, no matter how much it itches." He scribbled something onto a prescription pad before handing it over. "And tell the police. This may be relevant to their investigation."
You nodded, folding the paper without looking at it. "I will."
Whether you actually planned to return to the station tonight was another matter entirely.
—
By the time you finally made it home, the clock on your phone read 7:58 PM.
It buzzed again.
Six missed calls.
You stared at the notification for a moment before locking the screen with a tired sigh. Whoever it was could wait. Right now, all you wanted was a shower, clean clothes, and a few hours of silence.
After paying the driver, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The familiar quiet wrapped around you almost instantly.
You slipped off your shoes near the entrance, dropped your bag beside the couch, and had just started unbuttoning your shirt when something clinked softly in the kitchen.
Your head tilted.
"...Rats?"
Impossible. You'd checked every window before leaving that morning.
Frowning, you made your way toward the kitchen. The sight waiting there stopped you cold.
A man stood in front of your open refrigerator, one hand resting lazily against the door while the other rummaged through the shelves. He didn't even glance back.
"...Don't tell me this's all you've got." His voice was low, rough around the edges. He shifted a few containers aside before clicking his tongue.
"Not even a damn beer."
Your breath caught.
"W-Who are you?" Your voice cracked. "How did you get in here?!"
He reached into the fridge, pulled out one of your soda cans, and shut the door with his foot. Only then did he answer.
"Keep your voice down." He weighed the can in one hand. "Ya were enough of a pain in the ass to find."
A quiet hiss escaped the tab as he cracked it open. "Don't make this more annoying than it's gotta be."
Every instinct screamed at you to call someone. To inform the police. Your hand shot toward your pocket.
The phone barely cleared the fabric. Something blurred across your vision.
CRACK...
The unopened soda can slammed into the phone with frightening accuracy. It flew from your hand, bounced once across the tiles, and came to rest near the hallway. The screen had shattered beyond recognition.
Then the man finally looked at you. Recognition struck immediately.
The jaw, the scar and those tired green eyes.
The cab driver...
He stared for a second before speaking. "...[name]."
A pause.
"Right?"
He scratched absently at the side of his neck. "...Nah."
Another pause.
"[Na... me]?"
A shrug. "Whatever." He took an unhurried sip of the soda. "Point is..." His gaze settled on you.
"Ya comin' with me..." Another sip. "...or am I gonna have to carry you?"
You forced yourself to breathe. Your eyes drifted toward the knife block sitting beside the sink.
"...Just who are you?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could. "What do you want from me!?"
"You."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and flicked through a handful of photos before turning the screen toward you.
It was you.
Jogging everyday.
Crossing the street outside your apartment. Buying groceries. Walking home after sunset. Each picture had clearly been taken without your knowledge.
"...This you?" he asked. His thumb lazily swiped to the next one.
"Wasn't hard." Another swipe. "Kinda predictable, actually."
He lowered the phone, glancing briefly toward the apartment door. "...Neighbors ever stick their noses where they shouldn't?"
The question sent a chill through you. You didn't answer. Instead, you turned.
Run.
Pressure struck the side of your neck before your first step landed. Your body instantly gave out beneath you.
Your knees hit the floor. Your eyes remained open. You could still hear your own breathing. Still see everything around you. But nothing moved...
"...There it is." His voice came from somewhere above you. "Told ya."
He bent down, hooked an arm beneath your stomach, and effortlessly slung you over his shoulder. As casually as he adjusted your weight and headed for the front door.
"Buckle up.”
—
The cigarette between one man's fingers burned low, its ember glowing each time he took another drag. “So?”
Across from him, the other barely acknowledged the conversation, too busy leaning over a cheap cup of instant ramen. Steam curled lazily into the stale air as chopsticks scraped the bottom of the container.
"You taking the job or not... Toji?"
The chopsticks paused only long enough for him to finish chewing. Then he swallowed, tilted the cup to drain the last of the broth, and exhaled through his nose.
"...Gotta send her to the border." His voice remained flat. "Alive." The word itself sounded more troublesome than anything.
"What a pain."
The other man smirked around his cigarette. "But the money's worth it, right?"
Toji looked up. The corner of his mouth tugged into a lazy, humorless grin. "Yeah." A short chuckle escaped him.
"That's the only reason I'm bothering."
—
The old lock rattled before the worn key finally turned.
A damp, abandoned room greeted him as the lone bulb overhead flickered to life, bathing the space in harsh yellow light.
You were exactly where he'd left you—wrists rubbed raw, ankles no better, duct tape still sealing your mouth. The moment the light struck your face, you instinctively shrank away from the figure in the doorway despite having nowhere to run.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of you.
He crouched, hooked two rough fingers beneath your chin, and forced your face up. His gaze drifted over the bruises around your wrists and the exhaustion in your eyes before he let go with a quiet scoff.
Even now.
A quiet scoff slipped from him. His grip disappeared just as roughly as it came. "Save your energy for later."
He began to rise, already finished with the inspection.
"Mmh—! Mmh, mmh!!" The frantic noises behind him made him stop. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Annoyed.
He looked back over one shoulder, expression as blank as ever. "Ya got something useful to say?"
Your breathing hitched. For a brief moment you hesitated, fear warring with desperation before you nodded as hard as you could.
His eyes lingered on you for another second, judging whether you were worth the trouble. Then, without warning—
Rrrip…
The duct tape came off in one swift pull. A burning sting exploded across your lips and cheeks.
You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as tears threatened your eyes from the pain alone. Every instinct screamed to cry, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. If this was the only chance you'd get...
You couldn't waste it.
"...Who's behind this?" you asked, voice shaky despite your effort to stay composed. "Why are you doing this—"
His eyes rolled before you'd even finished. "Bullshit again." His hand reached for the roll of tape beside him.
"No—!" The word escaped louder than intended. "No, no, no... please." Your voice cracked as panic flooded in. "Hear me out... please. Just once... just once, please."
"I'll pay you!" A beat of silence.
"You can… have everything I have."
He looked at you with something dangerously close to amusement before letting out a quiet scoff.
"Sure you will."
Your heart lurched. You shuffled backward on instinct until your shoulders struck the wall behind you. "No, I'm serious!" Your breathing became uneven. "Please... please, I mean it."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting. "...You've got thirty seconds."
You nodded so quickly it almost hurt. Your lungs struggled to keep pace with your racing thoughts.
"Listen... I..." You swallowed hard. "I just need to know who hired you."
"I know you're doing this for money," you rushed on before he could interrupt. "You... you can have all my savings. Everything I have. I'll give it to you."
Your voice trembled despite every attempt to steady it. "Just... just let me go... please."
A low hum escaped him. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "Let you go?" His expression stayed almost painfully indifferent.
"So ya can run straight to the police?"
"No!"
"You can follow me!" you blurted out. "Like you did before! Please... believe me."
"You think you're the first person to say that?”
“—” Your mind raced, scrambling for any scrap of leverage against a man who seemed impossible to sway. Your gaze flicked over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near the corner of his mouth, and the complete lack of empathy in his piercing green eyes.
Desperation clawed at your throat. If you didn't say something—anything—to make him believe you, he was going to leave you here in the darkness... and you might never walk out.
After trying everything you can think of, your mind suddenly goes blank for a few agonizing seconds.
“You… listen,” The world feels like it tilts beneath you. Without thinking, driven by nothing but pure survival instinct, the words leave your mouth.
"You can fuck me. I... I'll let you fuck me..."
The words hang there, heavy and unbearable, and the second they leave your lips, regret crashes over you.
The room goes completely still.
His gaze stayed fixed on you, reading the panic written across your face. After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose and tilted his head, a cold smirk tugging at the scar near his mouth.
"Ya think that's gonna pay bills?"
The words landed without emotion. To him, everything had a price, and your offer clearly wasn't worth anything.
"Tch."
One hand steadied your head while the other pressed the tape back over your mouth, cutting off every desperate word before it could leave your lips. Ignoring your muffled protests, Toji stood and walked toward the door.
The lock clicked shut behind him.
—
The whole night passed without seeing him.
The next morning came and went in agonizing silence, and still, the room remained empty. There was nothing left to do but wait for him to come back.
You watched the light beyond the window slowly fade until the room fell dark once again. Hours in the same position had left one entire side of your body aching, stiff and nearly numb.
Then the heavy door creaked open. Boots echoed across the concrete as the overhead light snapped on, forcing you to squint against the sudden brightness. You lifted your head just enough to see Toji standing there.
Without a word, he rolled a plastic water bottle across the floor until it bumped against your leg.
He stood over you for a moment, silently taking in the rope burns around your wrists and your exhausted state. Then he crouched, wrapped a calloused hand around your shoulder, and hauled you upright. Pins and needles shot violently through your numb side.
Before you could react, he ripped the duct tape from your mouth in one swift pull.
He twisted the bottle open and shoved it against your lips, forcing you to drink. You swallowed greedily, choking as water spilled down your chin and soaked the front of your shirt when he refused to slow down.
The bottle emptied just as quickly. He pulled it away, and you slumped forward, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Washroom..."
Toji paused, his jaw tightening. He looked immediately pissed, a deep line forming between his dark brows as if your basic human anatomy was a personal inconvenience to his schedule.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he reached down, hauling you up roughly by your one arm. Your deadened legs wobbled beneath you, but he didn't care to let you find your footing, unceremoniously dragging you across the concrete toward the small adjoining bathroom.
Once there, he shoved you inside.
He didn't leave though. He just stood right in the doorway, his massive frame completely filling the frame, holding the door wide open.
You blinked through your exhaustion, looking from him to the toilet, your mind stumbling over the lack of privacy.
"...?" You swallowed hard, forcing the words past your dry throat. "Can you please untie my hands?"
Toji leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at you with flat, utterly bored eyes. "For what?"
"To clean..." you muttered, your face burning with a sudden, humiliating heat.
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp click of his tongue. He stepped forward, his movements terrifyingly fast as he grabbed your wrists. With a quick, dismissive twist of his fingers, he untied the left hand only, leaving your right wrist still bound and restricted.
He stepped back to his post in the doorway. Humiliated and desperate for a shred of dignity, you reached out with your one free hand, trying to pull the bathroom door closed.
He didn't even blink. He casually extended a single, heavy foot, planting his boot against the wood and holding it open nonchalantly. The door didn't move an inch against his weight.
Your breath hitched, a mix of frustration and shame tightening your chest. "Hey..? Let go of the door."
Toji’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous, low edge bleeding into his gravelly voice. "Dontcha order me around."
He shifted his weight, looking down at you with a mocking, entirely merciless smirk playing on the corner of his scarred mouth. "Besides, didn't ya say you'd let me fuck you? So what's ya issue now? A door?”
Your eyes widened, a sudden frown of sheer surprise twisting your features. "That's—that's not how I meant it!" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Shut up," Toji cut you off, his tone instantly dropping into a flat, icy command that brooked zero argument. He didn't even look angry anymore. Just completely done with the conversation.
"Do what you gotta do, or I'm making ya piss on the damn carpet. Take your pick."
"..."
The words died in your throat. You didn't argue anymore. Nope. There was no winning against a man who truly did not care about your modesty, your comfort, or about you.
You kept your head down, your eyes burning as you stared at the floor tiles. You moved with agonizing slowness, glancing up at him just for a split second to see if he was looking or if he had at least looked away out of basic decency.
He was just standing there, propped against the frame, watching with the same detached indifference. As you finally forced yourself to do your business under his unblinking stare, a suffocating wave of mortification washed over you.
Embarrassing, you thought, your chest aching with a raw, bitter sting as you kept your gaze fiercely locked onto the ground.
Fucking embarrassing…
—
A few more days dragged by in that same suffocating rhythm.
He kept you tied, only coming in to force water down your throat, shove a single meal your way, or order you to wash up once a day.
Every time he did, he looked irritated, as though keeping you alive was an inconvenience. The only thing that changed was the length of the silence between his visits.
What didn't change was the question gnawing at you.
Why hadn't he delivered you yet? If this was just a job, why the delay? Was the buyer farther away than you'd assumed... or had something gone wrong? Every passing day made the answer feel further out of reach, until the uncertainty itself became exhausting.
Then the heavy door flew open.
Toji walked in with a purpose you hadn't seen before. Before you could react, he was already in front of you.
He grabbed your shoulders, hauled you up, and dragged your stiff body across the floor before shoving you into a wooden chair. Pulling another chair over, he sat directly across from you, elbows resting on his knees, his dark green eyes fixed on yours.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
A stunned silence dropped over the room. You stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, your mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift in his motives.
He was bypassing his client…?
"Everything…" you breathed, your voice raw. "Everything I mean it."
Toji didn't look impressed. He leaned back, his expression turning flat and entirely bored.
"How much in exact?"
"..." You swallowed hard, calculating the numbers in your head, knowing this was your only lifeline.
"Worth more than a million. Even more, actually. And…”
“As I said before, I'm willing to give you my body, so yeah...!"
Toji closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He didn't want a sob story, and he certainly hadn't asked for your body. But if you insisted on offering it as part of the deal, he'd treat it as nothing more than a cheap down payment.
He dropped his hand from his face, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dark intensity. "Strip," he commanded flatly. Before the word could even fully register in your brain, his hands gripped the hem of his own black shirt. With a fluid, unbothered motion, he began pulling it up over his head, revealing the sharp, chiseled lines of his abs and the heavy musculature of his torso.
Your eyes widened in absolute shock, your heart leaping straight into your throat. "What? Now? Wait—!!"
Toji stopped midway, his arms lifted, the dark fabric of his shirt bunched up around his collarbone and obscuring half his face, but his piercing gaze remained entirely fixed on you through the gap.
Realizing how horribly your words had backfired, You quickly cleared your throat, trying desperately to sound grounded and speak the only language he actually cared about.
"Your main priority is money," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I can get it for you. But we have to handle the logistics first!"
Toji's lips twitched into a dismissive line. "Ya just have to tell me the pin," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. "Ya ain't going anywhere."
Your mind scrambled, you knew that if you just handed over a number, you became entirely useless to him.
"Large withdrawals don't work like that," you argued. "The bank needs me there. My ID. My signature. They won't hand over that kind of money to a stranger, no matter what pin you have...”
Toji didn't move. He sat there in the dim light, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn't believe you—not fully.
But he also knew the annoying, bureaucratic reality of wealthy institutions. He knew you could be telling the truth, and he wasn't a man to risk a massive payout over a technicality.
Rather than untying you completely and trusting you, he opted for a pragmatic middle ground.
"Fine," he muttered and dropped down into a crouch in front of your chair. A short, wicked blade materialized in his hand.
With one precise flick of his wrist, he sliced through the ropes binding your ankles. They dropped to the floor, freeing your feet, but he left your wrists bound tightly behind your back.
He stood up in one motion, sheathing the knife before you could even blink. "You try anything..." He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
Without waiting for a response, he was already moving, turning his back on you and walking toward the door to prepare for the trip.
You sat there, your ankles suddenly free, completely speechless for a second. It worked…?
—
No… you weren't naive enough to believe he'd suddenly trusted you.
Minutes crawled by.
The room fell back into that same suffocating silence you'd grown to hate. How long did it take to get ready?
You frowned toward the closed door. Had he changed his mind? Was he talking to whoever had hired him? Were they arguing over you?
The lock finally clicked.
Your head snapped toward the entrance. Bu, it wasn't Toji.
A different man stepped inside, dressed in an immaculate dark suit that looked almost absurdly expensive compared to the decaying room around him.
He spared you only a brief glance before looking past. "Everything ready?"
Heavy footsteps answered from somewhere behind him. Toji appeared in the doorway a second later, one hand shoved lazily into his pocket.
"Hm."
The suited man sighed through his nose. "You packed everything?"
"Yeah."
"And the vehicle?"
"Outside."
Another small nod. "Good." The conversation continued as though you weren't even there.
"The route changed," the suited man said. "There's more activity than expected."
Toji didn't look particularly interested. "So?"
"So don't take the highway."
A shrug. "I wasn't planning to."
The suited man studied him for a moment before giving a short, resigned hum, as though he'd expected exactly that answer.
Then, his attention settled fully on you. He approached with measured steps. Your shoulders instinctively tensed. "What are you—"
He crouched in front of you before you could finish. From inside his jacket, he produced a slim black folder along with a small electronic scanner no larger than his palm.
Your brows knitted together. "...What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flipped open the folder, briefly checking whatever documents were clipped inside before setting the scanner on his knee.
"Hold still."
Before you could pull away, his hand had already closed around your bound wrist. Your body reacted instantly. "Let go!—"
You twisted sharply, trying to wrench your hand free, but the ropes left you with almost no movement. "What are you doing?!"
"Stay still." His grip never tightened. It simply remained impossibly steady.
"I said let go! Damnit!" You struggled harder. The scanner emitted a quiet electronic beep as he calmly positioned your thumb against the glass surface.
"No!" You jerked again before a large hand landed heavily on the back of your chair.
Toji.
He simply stood behind you, one broad hand resting against the chair as if reminding you exactly how pointless resistance was.
The room somehow felt smaller. Even your breathing sounded too loud.
The suited man glanced up briefly, then back down and pressed your thumb onto the scanner once more. A soft chime echoed through the room.
He lifted your hand away. "...Done." He returned the scanner to the folder with practiced efficiency before pulling a small ink pad from another pocket.
Your eyes widened. "...Wait."
He took your index finger next. You struggled again, weaker this time. "What are you taking?"
Silence…
He rolled your fingertip across the ink, then onto one of the papers clipped inside the folder with precise, practiced movements.
He simply closed the folder with a quiet snap and stood. For several seconds, neither man spoke. The suited man tucked the documents back inside his jacket before looking toward Toji.
"Everything's settled. The transfer location's been changed." The suited man's gaze lingered for another moment. "Don't waste time."
Toji clicked his tongue. "Mm."
A brief silence followed. Then the suited man gave one last glance toward you. Whatever expression crossed his face disappeared too quickly to read.
He turned and headed for the door. Just before stepping outside, he paused without looking back.
"Hurry up."
The door shut behind him. You stared after it, your thoughts spiraling. Transfer, settled, and moving?
What had they just done with your fingerprints? What exactly had been settled?
Your gaze slowly lifted toward Toji. He remained exactly where he'd been, shoulders loose, looking down at you with the same tired, almost bored expression. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of dark cloth.
Before you could react, he stepped behind you. The fabric slipped over your eyes, plunging the room into absolute darkness. You instinctively jerked back, but his hand caught the side of your head, holding you still as he tied it firmly behind your skull. "Hold still."
A second later, another wad of cloth was shoved between your teeth. "Mmph—!"
He ignored your muffled protest, securing it tightly behind your head before giving it a brief tug to check it wouldn't come loose.
Satisfied, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped in front of you. One arm slid beneath yours while the other hooked around your waist. Before you could brace yourself, he hauled you effortlessly onto your feet.
"—!?" Your legs nearly buckled after days of weakness, and you stumbled straight into him.
"Tch…" He steadied you with obvious reluctance, waiting only long enough to make sure you wouldn't collapse outright.
You let out a muffled, frustrated sound through the gag, earning nothing more than an impatient click of his tongue. His grip tightened just enough to keep you moving as he steered you toward the door.
—
There was nothing left to guide you except sound and touch. Before the rough shove that sent you forward. Hands catching you before you hit the ground, only to throw you sideways onto cracked leather seats a heartbeat later.
The engine rumbled to life beneath you.
Blind, gagged, your wrists still bound behind your back, you lay awkwardly across the seat, forcing yourself to stay calm. Every bump in the road jolted through your weakened body, every turn sending you sliding across the upholstery until something—a boot, maybe a knee—wordlessly shoved you back into place.
You had no idea where he was taking you anymore.
—
Eventually, the engine died.
Before you could even brace yourself, a large, calloused hand clamped around your thigh.
"Mm—!" You were dragged across the seat so abruptly your hip scraped the edge before your forehead smacked straight into the car frame. Pain exploded through your skull. A muffled cry escaped behind the gag.
"Careful." The familiar voice came from somewhere to your right—calm, almost absentminded.
The grip on you disappeared just as another pair of hands seized you instead.
"Tch..."
You recognized the irritated scoff instantly. Without so much as asking if you could stand, Toji hauled you up against him and started walking.
After what felt like five long minutes, he finally stopped. Your feet touched solid ground. One hand remained gripping your upper arm while the other reached behind your head.
You squeezed your eyes shut on instinct before slowly blinking them open. “....?”
An abandoned water park stretched around you.
The resort had long been abandoned. Rust covered the railings, weeds cracked through the pavement, and silent slides loomed overhead. Beyond the still pool stood a weathered hotel, its dark windows staring back like empty eyes.
Your head snapped toward Toji. Confusion lasted barely a second before it curdled into anger.
"What the HELL are you doing?!" you shouted the instant he yanked the cloth from your mouth.
"You said we were going to the bank! Why did you bring me here? What are you planning?!"
“....” Toji looked down at you with the same detached expression he'd worn all morning. "Ya tried t' trick me," he said flatly.
"So I tricked ya first."
Silence…
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest, almost amused smirk. "Hm." He tilted his head.
"What's with that look?" His voice stayed lazy as he reached toward your face, fingers aiming for your chin. "Gonna bite?”
You jerked forward without thinking, snapping your teeth at his hand—CHOMP!
“....”
The back of his hand struck across your cheek. It wasn't a full-force hit, but it landed squarely against the injured, bandaged side of your face.
White-hot pain shot through your head. A broken gasp escaped you as your knees nearly gave out. Before you could recover, his fist buried itself in your hair. Your head was wrenched back. Tears stung your eyes.
"Look at me." His voice had gone cold. Just something hard enough to make your stomach drop.
"The deal's off." His grip tightened another fraction. "I wouldn't lose sleep killin' ya right now."
Your breathing came faster despite yourself. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the rise and fall of your chest. Then they lifted back to yours.
A quiet hum escaped him. "But..." His grip loosened just enough to keep you upright.
"...we got bigger fish t' fry."
Toji's grip in your hair stayed iron-tight as he shifted his stance. His boot hooked behind your ankle and twisted hard, yanking your leg out from under you.
You dropped fast, knees cracking against the concrete. Before you could even brace yourself, his free hand was already working his belt open.
"Stay down.” he muttered, voice low and flat. The metal clink of his buckle echoed once before he shoved his pants low enough to free his cock. It hung heavy, half-soft, right in front of your face.
He didn't give you time to react. His palm cracked across your bandaged cheek again. Harder this time—making your vision spark white.
"Open. Now."
"No! Get off—" You tried to twist away, but his fist in your hair wrenched your head forward. The soft weight of his cock slapped across your injured face, once, twice, the heat of it dragging over the bandages. He kept doing it, smacking your swollen cheek with the length of it until it started to stiffen against your skin.
"Tch. Look at you." Another slap, this time with the head, leaving a wet smear. "Thought you could pull one over on me?"
He pressed forward without warning, forcing the thickening head past your lips. Your jaw ached from the earlier hit, but he didn't care. He shoved deeper, the underside dragging over your tongue as he fed inch after inch into your mouth.
When you gagged and tried to pull back, his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the root in one brutal thrust.
"'Take it," he growled, voice still eerily calm. Both hands locked on your head now, fingers digging into your scalp as he started fucking your throat. Each thrust was rough and deliberate, the head punching past your gag reflex again and again.
Spit spilled from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick strings. He didn't slow down when you choked—he just pushed deeper, grinding his pelvis against your nose until your lungs burned.
"Cry all you want." His tone stayed detached, almost bored, even as he used your mouth like a toy. "Should've thought about that before ya tried to play me."
He pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air, then slammed forward again, harder. Your nose pressed flat to his hairy pelvis, throat convulsing around him. He held you there, hips rolling in short, grinding motions while your vision blurred with tears.
Every time you tried to push against his thighs, he slapped your wounded face again—until your arms dropped limp at your sides.
"Hands off," he ordered. "You lost that choice." His pace turned vicious after that. Short, brutal thrusts that made your throat bulge visibly with each one.
"Tch," he muttered, almost to himself. "Keep that throat open or I'll break your jaw.”
Toji didn't bother pulling out after he finished down your throat. He stayed buried to the hilt, letting the last weak pulses of his cock empty into you while your throat kept spasming around him.
When he finally dragged his length free, a thick string of spit and cum stretched from your swollen lips to the head of his cock before it snapped. You barely had time to cough before his boot slammed into your shoulder, knocking you onto your back against the cold concrete.
"Ain't done with ya yet," he said, voice flat as ever. His pants were already shoved down to his thighs, cock still glistening and half-hard. He dropped down without warning, one knee pinning your chest while his hands went straight for your clothes.
Fabric tore under his grip—shirt yanked open, buttons scattering, pants ripped down your legs with zero patience. You tried to kick, but he caught your ankle and twisted it hard, forcing your leg up and out until your hip burned.
"Fight if ya want. Won't change a damn thing." He shoved your thighs apart with his knees, settling between them like he owned the space. His cock dragged heavy against your inner thigh, already thickening again.
One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his fingers. The other reached down, lining himself up without a word of warning. The blunt head pressed against your entrance, then pushed—hard, relentless, forcing its way inside with one brutal thrust that made your back arch.
"Tch... fuck." he muttered, almost to himself. He buried himself to the base in one go, hips snapping forward until his pelvis smacked flush against yours. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around the sudden invasion, but he just grunted and started moving.
Your hands flew up on instinct, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed both wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head, pinning them there with his full weight. "Quit squirming."
He fucked you with deep, punishing strokes that made your whole body jolt. Each thrust bottomed out hard, the head of his cock battering against your cervix until pain and pressure blurred together. His free hand slapped your bandaged cheek again, then gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he used you. "Stay awake."
He let go of your wrists only to hook both hands under your knees, folding you in half until your thighs pressed against your chest. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his cock punching into you with wet, obscene sounds that echoed off the walls.
Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your face. He didn't slow down when you cried out—he just fucked harder, hips slapping against your ass with bruising force. Every thrust shoved you a few inches across the concrete, scraping your back raw.
"Don't." he warned, voice still eerily calm even as he pounded into you. His balls slapped against your ass with each brutal thrust. He leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck hard enough to leave marks, then licked over the bite like he was tasting sweat and fear. "You'll wear what I leave on you, brat."
He shifted his grip, one hand moving to your throat again while the other pressed down on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you.
Toji's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat, cutting off whatever broken words you tried to force out. "St—" was all you managed before two thick digits shoved past your lips, scraping over your tongue and jamming deep until they hit the back of your throat.
Your eyes rolled back instantly, body convulsing as you gagged hard around them. Spit flooded your mouth, bubbling around his knuckles while he held them there, pressing down on your tongue like he wanted to feel every wet choke.
Your pussy clenched violently around his cock from the intrusion, walls fluttering and squeezing his girth in panicked spasms. Toji hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering for a second. "Tch... fuck." A low grunt left him. "Gettin' tighter every time." He shoved his fingers deeper, curling them against your soft palate until you retched, tears spilling fresh down your temples.
From somewhere behind him, a calm, measured voice cut through the wet sounds of your throat being used. "Toji. Come out once you're finished."
Your head jerked toward the voice on instinct, desperate for any shred of help, but the suit man didn't spare you a glance. He stood there like you don't even exist, eyes fully on Toji.
Toji didn't even slow down. If anything, his hips snapped harder, brutal and punishing, driving his cock so deep your cervix ached with every thrust. "Yeah. I'm comin'.”
The suit man hums before his footsteps fade away without another word, leaving you alone with Toji's free hand fisted in your hair and yanked hard, forcing your head back to face him.
The fingers stayed buried in your throat, making you gag and drool around them while he fucked you. "Eyes on me." He ground his pelvis against your clit with every vicious thrust. "Ain't nobody comin' for ya."
Every time your walls fluttered around him he slapped your bandaged cheek again, hard enough to make your ears ring. "Tch... no wonder that shepherd wanted his stray back.” He let out a quiet, irritated breath. "....”
He buried himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing thick and hot as he emptied inside you, grinding deep while your walls spasmed around him. Only when the last spurt finished did he pull out, leaving your hole gaping and leaking his cum down your thighs..
He didn't even look at you as he tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper cutting through the silence like a knife. His boots scraped against the grimy floor as he stepped over you, and you felt the shadow of his frame loom for a moment.
"Don't ya move."
You couldn't see his face from where you lay, but you could feel his gaze on you. Then the door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway, heavy and unhurried, until there was only the sound of your own ragged breathing.
You stared at the door. At the crack running along the hinge.
Why?
You hadn't done anything. You hadn't crossed anyone. You hadn't stolen, hadn't cheated, hadn't even looked at someone the wrong way.
Then why you?
Your mind raced through every face you'd ever known, every conversation, every mistake, every stranger you'd passed on the street. There was nothing that could explain any of this.
He'd already taken everything. Your savings, freedom—even your dignity. So why were you still here?
If money was all he'd wanted, he could've killed you after the withdrawal. Instead, he kept dragging you from place to place like you still had some purpose.
Everyone had to be looking for you by now. But if Toji kept moving you... they'd never find you.
Your body screeched in protest as you forced yourself to roll, bound wrists scraping raw against the floor. You didn't even know where you were trying to go anymore—just anywhere.
You paused when you spotted the table nearby. Slowly, painfully, you dragged yourself toward it, lifting your bound wrists to rub the rope against the sharp metal edge. It wouldn't give.
Your whole body throbbed with every desperate movement, but you kept grinding the rope against the table leg, breathing harder and harder until the fibers finally started to fray. The moment you felt give, you arched back and shoved your legs through the gap, using your teeth next, tearing until the rope finally snapped free.
You immediately looked down at your ankles and clawed at the remaining rope, pulling and scratching until it tore apart. Once your legs were free you grabbed the table edge and hauled yourself up, a broken wince escaping as your back and everything else screamed in protest.
You scanned the room until you spotted your skirt crumpled in the corner, your torn panties useless beside it. You grabbed the skirt and pulled it on with shaking hands, then moved toward the door on unsteady legs.
You eased the warped wooden door open a fraction at a time. Every muscle protested as you slipped into the hallway, pausing the moment both feet crossed the threshold.
No sign of him.
You limped forward, one hand dragging along the stained wall for support. Every step pulled at your aching ribs while the raw rope burns around your wrists throbbed with each movement, crumbling plaster scraping beneath your fingertips.
A cool draft brushed across your face, carrying the scent of rain.
An exit…
You shoved your shoulder against the rusted metal door. It resisted at first, groaning in protest, before finally giving way with a screech.
An abandoned water park stretched before you, swallowed by years of neglect. Cracked pathways vanished beneath tangled weeds while rust bled down every railing. Towering slides loomed overhead, their faded paint peeling beneath the grey sky. Pools that had once sparkled now sat thick with algae, their murky surfaces barely stirring in the wind. The entire place looked ready to collapse.
One wrong step…
You swallowed hard.
This place could kill you just as easily as he could.
Your gaze swept across the grounds. Scanning the slides and rusted maintenance buildings.
Nothing.
You whipped your head to the left, tension flaring in your neck.
Still nothing.
Had he really just left? Was he gone? Had he actually—
Don't think. Just move.
You forced your body forward, limping across the uneven concrete. Every few steps you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to find him standing there—that same lazy expression, those dark eyes already knowing exactly where you'd run.
Your bare foot came down on a slick patch of moss hidden inside a crack in the pavement.
It slipped.
You threw your weight sideways, grabbing blindly until your hand caught a rusted pipe. The impact rattled through your shoulders as you barely stopped yourself from crashing face-first onto the concrete.
A shaky, sobbing breath escaped your trembling lips. "..."
You tightened your grip, forcing yourself upright. One more step. Then your weakened ankle folded beneath you.
"Ah—!" A blinding flash of pain shot up your leg, short-circuiting your brain. You clawed desperately at the empty air. The world flipped upside down.
SPLASH!
The stagnant water swallowed you whole.
Freezing filth rushed into your nose and mouth before you could scream. The shock drove every thought from your mind as you sank beneath the cloudy green water.
You kicked desperately. The raw skin around your ankles screamed the instant the filthy water touched it. Fire raced across every rope burn. Your wrists flared just as sharply when you tried to pull yourself upward, every stroke sending another bolt of pain through your arms.
It hurt.
It hurt enough to make your body lock up.
You fought toward the surface with clumsy, desperate movements, your heavy clothes dragging at every limb.
You sucked in a breath—Only to choke as another wave slapped across your face.
Water filled your mouth.
You coughed violently, arms thrashing without rhythm as your soaked clothes pulled you under again. "H-Help—!”
The desperate plea dissolved instantly into another wet, choking fit. Your vision began to blur at the edges, turning dark and fuzzy. Then, a horribly familiar, low voice drifted effortlessly across the water.
"...Ya like t' embarrass yourself or what?"
You blinked through stinging, watering eyes. Toji stood at the edge of the pool, one hand buried in his pocket, broad shoulders loose as he looked down at you. There wasn't a trace of urgency, concern, or even surprise on his face.
He watched you struggle for another agonizing second. Then, he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "If ya wanted t' die that badly..." His massive shoulders rose in a lazy, slow shrug. "...could-a just told me."
A beat passed before the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Wouldn't want my piggy bank dyin' yet.”
Suddenly, a muffled, sharp vibration buzzed from inside his dark jacket. He glanced down carelessly. Another desperate, strangled cough escaped your lips as your nose slipped beneath the water again.
Without a single word, he finally moved. He crouched down at the edge of the pool. One large, calloused hand reached down over the water.
His thick fingers hooked tightly into the collar of your soaked, heavy shirt. With absolute, terrifyingly effortless strength, he lifted. Your feet left the water entirely. Your legs dangled uselessly in the air.
Water streamed from your clothes in heavy, cascading sheets, slapping against the concrete before he deposited you onto the cracked ground.
You collapsed onto your hands and knees, coughing until your ribs ached. Murky water spilled from your mouth in ragged bursts.
You were sniffling, gasping, and sobbing, trying desperately to fill your burning lungs with air.
Above you, Toji stood at his full height, giving you a slow, calculating once-over from head to toe. "Hm." A faint, amused scoff escaped his lips.
"Even managed t' cover your shit." His dark eyes lingered on the hem of the skirt you had frantically pulled back on before running. "...Ya're really somethin'."
One of his massive hand grabbed the front of your skirt and ripped it straight down the middle, the fabric tearing like paper. The ruined cloth was tossed aside. Your top came next. His fingers hooked into the collar and yanked, buttons popping, seams splitting until both the shirt and the bra beneath were shredded and flung away.
Cold air hit your bare skin as you were left naked except for the tattered remnants clinging to your wrists. "No—please, stop—fuck you, you piece of shit—" Your voice cracked into desperate curses and pleas, but Toji only grunted in irritation. He caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head against the wet concrete.
"Shut it." His free hand delivered two quick, sharp slaps to your already bruised cheek. "Ain't nobody listenin' to that mouth."
He shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, then dropped to straddle your chest. Your wrists stayed trapped in his grip while he shoved his length between your tits, squeezing them together with his other hand. He started thrusting, slow and deliberate, the head of his cock bumping your chin with every stroke.
A few heavy drops from the sky splattering across your face, then more, cold and relentless. Water ran down Toji's back and dripped from his hair onto your skin, but he didn't pause.
His hips kept moving, cock sliding between your breasts, getting harder with each thrust while your choked sobs mixed with the sound of rain hitting concrete.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. But he ignored and kept fucking the valley of your tits until he was fully hard, thick and heavy between your soft flesh.
"Tch." He finally pulled back, grabbed one of your legs, and hauled it up over his shoulder. The position spread you wide, exposing your already swollen, red pussy to his gaze. He leaned in, spat directly on your cunt, then lined up and drove in dry. "Fuck..."
The only slickness came from the cum he'd left inside you earlier. It made a filthy, wet sound as he forced his way deep, stretching your sore walls around him. Your back arched off the ground. A broken, choking sound tore from your throat.
Toji's hand clamped around your neck, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He held your head pinned to the concrete while his hips snapped forward, each thrust making your ass bounce and his coarse pubic hair grind against your clit.
Midway through a brutal thrust his phone buzzed again. He clicked his tongue, reached into his pocket with one hand, and answered without slowing down. He put it on speaker, the other hand still crushing your windpipe.
Almost with a rough thrust, he leaned over you, and mercilessly pressed the phone directly against your wet ear.
Instantly, a man's voice erupted from the speaker, so sharp it seemed to slice straight through your pounding heartbeat.
"Toji."
"Wo ist mein Liebling?! Warum antwortest du nicht?! Was zum Teufel machst du da?!" A harsh breath crackled through the line before he barked again, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
"Bring sie sofort zu mir. Hörst du mich? Sofort. Und wenn ihr auch nur ein Haar fehlt..."
“....”
Your entire body went rigid.
Because you knew him...
The man you had disappeared from almost a year ago.
You'd blocked every number he used. Deleted every message. Left without giving him the closure he'd insisted he deserved because there was nothing left to explain.
Every conversation with him had become another cage, every apology another promise that lasted a day before he tightened his grip again. You had walked away because staying had become unbearable.
You'd expected anything else. But never...
Never this.
Your trembling hands curled against the rough concrete as your mind desperately tried to reject the obvious, but there was no mistaking it.
Toji caught every flicker of realization crossing your face. His mouth slowly curved into a smirk, lazy and mocking. He watched you for another second before giving a quiet, amused huff through his nose. "Know him?"
Toji didn't seem bothered by your silence. He pulled the phone away from your ear and lifted it to his own instead, looking more inconvenienced than anything.
"Quit yellin'," he barked. "English."
A long beat of silence crackled through the speaker before the man spoke again, every trace of panic stripped from his voice.
"Where is she?"
Toji's eyes drifted back to you. You hadn't even realized you'd started shaking harder until his gaze settled on you.
A dry chuckle escaped him. "Funny thing..." he said, scratching idly at his jaw. "Ya paid me t' bring her in." He let the sentence hang just long enough.
"...Then figured you'd kill me after."
Silence...
Then the voice on the other end snapped. "What?"
"What the hell are you talking about?—"
With a careless flick of his wrist, Toji tossed the phone onto your chest. It bounced once against your bare skin before settling there, the speaker still on, the frantic voice spilling into the open air.
"...Liebling? Can you hear me?"
"What did he do to you?"
"Answer me."
"[Name]!"
Your fingers twitched weakly beside the phone, but they wouldn't obey you. Toji knew they wouldn't.
He kept driving his cock into your cunt with brutal, punishing thrusts, each one forcing your ass to slap against the wet concrete. His hips snapped forward without mercy, the thick length stretching your already swollen walls while the previous load inside you squelched wetly around him.
Toji's free hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he forced your head back against the ground. Rain poured down over both of you, soaking his hair, running down his chest, dripping onto your face with every thrust.
"[Name], huh..." he said, voice low and flat even as he kept fucking you.
His pace turned more vicious, the wet slap of skin against skin mixing with the rain and the distant voice still demanding through the speaker. Your body jolted under him with every thrust, tits bouncing, thighs shaking around his waist.
Toji's hand moved from your jaw to your mouth. His rough fingers hooked between your lips, pulling them apart into a forced, grotesque smile while he kept pounding into you. Your eyes rolled back, unfocused and glassy, tears mixing with rainwater as your expression went slack and fucked-out.
"Hah..." he muttered, almost to himself, watching the way your face twisted under his grip. "...ain't even here anymore."
His cock twitched deep inside you. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pubic bone against your clit as he came hard, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into your womb.
His hips jerked with each pulse, forcing every drop as deep as it would go while his fingers kept your mouth stretched into that empty, broken smile.
"...She's occupied."
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"No way... that's insane."
You couldn't stop staring as another rider soared above the lagoon, suspended in the air for a heartbeat before swooping back down over the water. The entire resort looked like something out of a postcard—crystal-clear water, luxury cabanas, and tourists crowding the docks to watch the jetpack stunts.
Another rider landed smoothly before the next instructor waved your group forward.
"You're seriously doing this?" one of your friends laughed, already pulling out her phone.
"Obviously." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "If I die, at least make sure it goes viral."
"Hey, don't say that!"
"I'm kidding." You snorted before handing her your phone. "Record everything. Don't stop recording unless I actually drown."
"That's... somehow not reassuring."
You only laughed, already jogging toward the floating platform where your instructor—your assigned jetpack guard—waited with practiced patience. He secured your life jacket, checking every buckle twice.
"First time?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
You groaned. "Please pretend I'm a professional."
"I'll do my best." His amused smile somehow settled your nerves. "Just hold onto the support handles until I tell you otherwise," he instructed. "I'll keep you balanced. If you panic, don't fight the movement. Trust me."
The jetpack engine thundered to life beneath the surface. A second later, the pressure exploded upward. You barely had time to yelp before both of you surged into the air.
Your laughter broke into the wind as the lagoon rapidly shrank beneath your feet. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on the handles while his gloved hand stayed firm around your waist despite the force launching both of you skyward.
"Relax!" he called over the roar. "You're doing great!"
"I'm literally flying!" The words disappeared into another burst of delighted giggles.
The jetpack skimmed low enough for icy spray to pepper your legs before surging skyward again. Laughter escaped you as the instructor guided you through a smooth turn, the shoreline spinning into a blur of blue water and cheering tourists.
"See?" he laughed. "You're a natural."
Still grinning, you glanced down.
The lagoon stretched beneath you like a postcard. Your friends were little more than colorful dots on the dock, one of them still holding your phone toward the sky.
"Whoa..." you breathed, your excitement slowly giving way to awe. You hadn't realized how high you'd climbed.
Your smile faltered. "...We're really high."
"We're fine," the instructor called back. "Just enjoy the view."
You tried to…
But then, without warning, the steady pressure of the hand secured around your waist shifted.
It wasn't enough for you to understand what had happened. Your body merely registered that something felt... different. The grip that had held you effortlessly throughout every dive and spin suddenly loosened, and before your thoughts could even catch up, your balance tilted ever so slightly away from him.
You instinctively started to turn your head. "...Huh?—"
You never got the chance to look at him. The hand around your waist slipped away completely. One second you were flying. The next—
there was absolutely nothing holding you.
Your stomach lurched so violently it felt as though your heart had been ripped straight out with it. A scream exploded from your throat before you even realized you were falling, your body dropping away from the jetpack so suddenly that your hands clawed uselessly at empty air. Until—
SPLASH!
The impact swallowed your scream beneath a towering wall of water. On the dock, laughter ceased instantly. Heads whipped toward the splash.
"What the—"
"Someone fell!"
Your friends froze in horror, one of them still filming with your phone pointed toward the sky, unable to lower it fast enough.
For one suspended heartbeat, every eye searched the water where you'd disappeared beneath the surface.
Then another horrified scream rose from somewhere in the crowd.
"LOOK OUT!"
Dozens of faces snapped upward again. High above the lagoon, the instructor was no longer upright.
The jetpack still roared, blasting powerful streams of water as if nothing had gone wrong. But without his balance, the instructor had already been thrown backward, falling flat onto his back, completely helpless.
The shock lasted only a second before the entire lagoon erupted into chaos.
Shouts rang across the water as two rescue guards dove in without hesitation. Your lungs burned violently as water forced its way through your nose and down your throat. You couldn't even tell which way was up.
Strong hands finally caught hold of your life jacket.
"There! We've got her!"
The world lurched as they dragged you toward the surface. You broke the surface with a violent gasp, only to choke as water spilled from your mouth. Your chest felt like it had been crushed, every breath scraping painfully against your throat as the guards hauled you onto the dock.
"It's okay, breathe... easy, easy."
You barely heard them.
The moment your knees touched the wooden platform, another coughing fit doubled you over. Water dripped from your hair and clothes, your vision blurred with tears as your friends rubbed circles against your back.
"Oh my God..."
One dropped to her knees beside you while the other wrapped both arms around your shoulders before you could lose your balance again. "You're okay... It's okay..."
People were already crowding around, murmuring over one another, some calling emergency services while others stood frozen, staring back toward the lagoon.
Still coughing, you instinctively looked over your shoulder. Several rescue guards were pulling another body from the water.
The instructor.
His arms hung limply as they lifted him onto the dock, his head lolling unnaturally to one side. Then one of the guards shifted, no longer blocking your view.
Your breathing stopped.
There, just above his brow… a small, dark hole sat in the middle of his forehead.
Blood mixed with the water running down his face, thin streams trailing across the wooden planks beneath him.
The realization spread through the crowd one horrified expression at a time. He hadn't died from the fall.
He'd been shot.
—
The room smelled faintly of coffee and damp paperwork.
A laptop on the desk replayed the same shaky recording for what felt like the tenth time. The officer paused the footage just as your scream echoed through the speakers before leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the desk.
"So..." he began at last, his voice calm but unreadable, "none of you saw anyone?"
The three of you exchanged uncertain glances.
Your friend, still clutching the strap of her bag, swallowed before speaking. "I... I was recording the whole time. I never looked away from the screen." She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't notice anyone else."
The officer gave a slow nod, jotting something into his notebook before turning to your other friend.
"And you?"
She hesitated, searching her memory. "I wasn't really looking around either," she admitted quietly. "I kept watching them through the camera. Everything happened so fast... by the time I heard her scream..." Her voice faded, guilt creeping into her expression.
"Hm."
The officer closed the notebook without another word and finally looked at you. "You were closest to him." His eyes studied your face carefully.
"Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?"
"No." Your voice came out hoarse from the water you'd swallowed.
"It happened too fast. One second he was holding me, and the next…” You paused, the memory making your stomach tighten. "I was falling. I didn't even have time to look at him."
The officer remained silent for a moment before asking, almost casually, "Do you have any idea who might've wanted him dead?"
You blinked.
"What?"
"Or perhaps..." He folded his hands together. "Someone who might've been targeting you instead."
Your friends looked at you in confusion. You stared back at the officer, disbelief slowly giving way to irritation.
"...Excuse me?"
"You were attached to him when the shot was fired," he said evenly. "If the timing had been slightly different, you might've been the one hit.”
Your brows pulled together. "I don't know what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything." His tone stayed frustratingly neutral. "I'm asking whether there's anyone in your life who would have reason to harm you."
A humorless laugh escaped you. "No."
"You've never received threats?"
"No."
"No personal disputes? Financial problems? Someone holding a grudge?"
Your jaw tightened. Every question felt more absurd than the last, but you forced yourself to answer without raising your voice.
The officer didn't react. He simply held your gaze for another long second before he slid a notepad across the desk along with a pen.
"Before you leave, I need all three of you to write down your full names, phone numbers, and current addresses. If you plan on leaving the city, let us know beforehand.”
“....”
The three of you exchanged uneasy glances before taking the pen in silence. As you finished writing, the officer gathered the sheet and tucked it into the case file.
"We'll contact each of you again if we need further statements," he said matter-of-factly. "Until then, if you remember anything—no matter how insignificant it seems—you'll notify us immediately.”
—
Outside the station, the afternoon air felt heavier than it had a few hours earlier. Police cars came and went, officers spoke quietly near the entrance, and the distant wail of an ambulance faded into the city's usual traffic.
"So..." she glanced toward the road, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's just head home."
You gave a distracted hum in response, but your hand had already wandered to your face. Your fingers drifted to your left cheek, scratching absently for what felt like the hundredth time. The itch wasn't painful, just irritating enough that you couldn't seem to leave it alone.
"Tch..." The sound slipped from your lips before you realized it.
"What's wrong?" one of your friends asked, stepping closer. Her brows knitted as she leaned in to study your face. "Wait..."
"...Did you get hurt?"
"Hm?"
"There..." She frowned harder, clearly trying to figure out what was bothering her. "There's just... something."
Confused, you pulled your phone from your pocket and switched to the front camera. At first, nothing looked unusual—until you tilted the screen toward the light.
The skin along your left cheek had turned an angry shade of red, almost as though it'd been lightly scorched. It wasn't bleeding, but the angry patch easily explained the relentless itch.
"What is it?" your other friend asked.
"I think..." You frowned at your reflection again before locking the screen. "I should probably get this checked."
"Now?"
You nodded. "I'll just stop by the hospital. It's bothering me."
The two exchanged uncertain glances. "Are you sure you'll be okay going there alone?”
You offered them a tired smile and shook your head. “Ofcourse, I will. Why do you guys suddenly say that?”
She exchanged a glance with your other friend before lowering her voice. "I was just thinking about..." She hesitated. "You know... him."
“....” Your expression cooled almost instantly. "...Don't."
"I'm serious." She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. "He called you from, what, six different numbers after you blocked him?"
"Uh… more than that actually," your other friend corrected under her breath.
You let out a tired sigh. "That was months ago."
“And… I don't really want to remember it.”
A brief silence settled over the three of you.
"...Just be careful, okay?" your friend murmured.
You forced a smile. "I will.”
After a few reluctant goodbyes, they finally disappeared down the pavement, leaving you standing alone outside the station.
The itch returned almost immediately. You scratched your cheek again, then stopped yourself with an irritated sigh.
Several minutes later, a cab pulled up. You climbed into the back seat, gave the driver the name of the nearest hospital, and leaned against the window. Your phone found its way back into your hand almost instantly. The same red patch stared back at you. The longer you looked, the more uneasy you became.
"Rough day?”
The driver's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up, seeing only the back of his head.
"...Kind of," you admitted quietly before lowering your phone. "Could you hurry, please?"
A low chuckle escaped him.
"I'll get you there." His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. "Unless traffic decides to piss me off.”
“....” You let out a slow breath and leaned back again.
The ride passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional glance you stole at your own reflection. No matter how many times you looked, the redness seemed a little more noticeable than before.
By the time the hospital came into view, you'd almost convinced yourself it was nothing. You paid the fare, climbed out, then hesitated.
The irritation didn't seem serious enough to justify calling another cab afterward, especially during the evening rush.
You stepped back toward the driver's window and tapped lightly against the glass. It rolled down a second later.
Without really looking at the driver, you leaned toward the window, "Would you mind waiting? It shouldn't take too long."
“....”
Instead of answering, he casually lifted two rough fingers. He held them directly in front of his mouth, his tongue deliberately sticking out between the knuckles as he turned toward you.
The act was entirely wrong, uncomfortable even. Causing a violent shiver to race straight down your spine. It made you halt completely.
"...What?" Your brows drew together as confusion and deep unease flickered across your face.
Only then did he let his hand fall away. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on his face. Just an almost lazy indifference as he looked at you, as though he hadn't done anything unusual at all.
"Double check," he drawled. "I mean.”
You stood there for a few seconds, the driver's words taking a moment to register. Whatever unease had crawled beneath your skin lingered, refusing to leave even after the joke had been clarified. You looked at him once more before shaking your head lightly.
"...Never mind." Your voice came out quieter than you'd intended. "Just... go ahead."
He didn't answer.
The window slid back up, and you turned toward the hospital entrance instead, rubbing absently at your cheek.
Inside, a nurse guided you into one of the examination rooms, where a middle-aged doctor adjusted the overhead lamp before gently tilting your chin toward the light.
"Hm..." He studied the reddened patch on your cheek in silence, his gloved fingers hovering just above the irritated skin before lightly examining the edges.
"This wasn't caused by heat," he murmured.
You frowned. "Then?"
He removed his gloves and looked at you over the rim of his glasses. "Radiation residue."
Seeing your confusion, he continued, "Certain specialized rounds leave behind trace amounts. If someone was standing close enough when the projectile passed..." He glanced back at your cheek. "...a burn like this isn't impossible."
"Were you involved in some kind of shooting?"
You hesitated before giving him the shortest version possible of what had happened at the lagoon.
"I see."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a tube of ointment, carefully spreading a thin layer over the burn before covering it with fresh gauze.
"Use this twice a day. Don't scratch it, no matter how much it itches." He scribbled something onto a prescription pad before handing it over. "And tell the police. This may be relevant to their investigation."
You nodded, folding the paper without looking at it. "I will."
Whether you actually planned to return to the station tonight was another matter entirely.
—
By the time you finally made it home, the clock on your phone read 7:58 PM.
It buzzed again.
Six missed calls.
You stared at the notification for a moment before locking the screen with a tired sigh. Whoever it was could wait. Right now, all you wanted was a shower, clean clothes, and a few hours of silence.
After paying the driver, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The familiar quiet wrapped around you almost instantly.
You slipped off your shoes near the entrance, dropped your bag beside the couch, and had just started unbuttoning your shirt when something clinked softly in the kitchen.
Your head tilted.
"...Rats?"
Impossible. You'd checked every window before leaving that morning.
Frowning, you made your way toward the kitchen. The sight waiting there stopped you cold.
A man stood in front of your open refrigerator, one hand resting lazily against the door while the other rummaged through the shelves. He didn't even glance back.
"...Don't tell me this's all you've got." His voice was low, rough around the edges. He shifted a few containers aside before clicking his tongue.
"Not even a damn beer."
Your breath caught.
"W-Who are you?" Your voice cracked. "How did you get in here?!"
He reached into the fridge, pulled out one of your soda cans, and shut the door with his foot. Only then did he answer.
"Keep your voice down." He weighed the can in one hand. "Ya were enough of a pain in the ass to find."
A quiet hiss escaped the tab as he cracked it open. "Don't make this more annoying than it's gotta be."
Every instinct screamed at you to call someone. To inform the police. Your hand shot toward your pocket.
The phone barely cleared the fabric. Something blurred across your vision.
CRACK...
The unopened soda can slammed into the phone with frightening accuracy. It flew from your hand, bounced once across the tiles, and came to rest near the hallway. The screen had shattered beyond recognition.
Then the man finally looked at you. Recognition struck immediately.
The jaw, the scar and those tired green eyes.
The cab driver...
He stared for a second before speaking. "...[name]."
A pause.
"Right?"
He scratched absently at the side of his neck. "...Nah."
Another pause.
"[Na... me]?"
A shrug. "Whatever." He took an unhurried sip of the soda. "Point is..." His gaze settled on you.
"Ya comin' with me..." Another sip. "...or am I gonna have to carry you?"
You forced yourself to breathe. Your eyes drifted toward the knife block sitting beside the sink.
"...Just who are you?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could. "What do you want from me!?"
"You."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and flicked through a handful of photos before turning the screen toward you.
It was you.
Jogging everyday.
Crossing the street outside your apartment. Buying groceries. Walking home after sunset. Each picture had clearly been taken without your knowledge.
"...This you?" he asked. His thumb lazily swiped to the next one.
"Wasn't hard." Another swipe. "Kinda predictable, actually."
He lowered the phone, glancing briefly toward the apartment door. "...Neighbors ever stick their noses where they shouldn't?"
The question sent a chill through you. You didn't answer. Instead, you turned.
Run.
Pressure struck the side of your neck before your first step landed. Your body instantly gave out beneath you.
Your knees hit the floor. Your eyes remained open. You could still hear your own breathing. Still see everything around you. But nothing moved...
"...There it is." His voice came from somewhere above you. "Told ya."
He bent down, hooked an arm beneath your stomach, and effortlessly slung you over his shoulder. As casually as he adjusted your weight and headed for the front door.
"Buckle up.”
—
The cigarette between one man's fingers burned low, its ember glowing each time he took another drag. “So?”
Across from him, the other barely acknowledged the conversation, too busy leaning over a cheap cup of instant ramen. Steam curled lazily into the stale air as chopsticks scraped the bottom of the container.
"You taking the job or not... Toji?"
The chopsticks paused only long enough for him to finish chewing. Then he swallowed, tilted the cup to drain the last of the broth, and exhaled through his nose.
"...Gotta send her to the border." His voice remained flat. "Alive." The word itself sounded more troublesome than anything.
"What a pain."
The other man smirked around his cigarette. "But the money's worth it, right?"
Toji looked up. The corner of his mouth tugged into a lazy, humorless grin. "Yeah." A short chuckle escaped him.
"That's the only reason I'm bothering."
—
The old lock rattled before the worn key finally turned.
A damp, abandoned room greeted him as the lone bulb overhead flickered to life, bathing the space in harsh yellow light.
You were exactly where he'd left you—wrists rubbed raw, ankles no better, duct tape still sealing your mouth. The moment the light struck your face, you instinctively shrank away from the figure in the doorway despite having nowhere to run.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of you.
He crouched, hooked two rough fingers beneath your chin, and forced your face up. His gaze drifted over the bruises around your wrists and the exhaustion in your eyes before he let go with a quiet scoff.
Even now.
A quiet scoff slipped from him. His grip disappeared just as roughly as it came. "Save your energy for later."
He began to rise, already finished with the inspection.
"Mmh—! Mmh, mmh!!" The frantic noises behind him made him stop. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Annoyed.
He looked back over one shoulder, expression as blank as ever. "Ya got something useful to say?"
Your breathing hitched. For a brief moment you hesitated, fear warring with desperation before you nodded as hard as you could.
His eyes lingered on you for another second, judging whether you were worth the trouble. Then, without warning—
Rrrip…
The duct tape came off in one swift pull. A burning sting exploded across your lips and cheeks.
You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as tears threatened your eyes from the pain alone. Every instinct screamed to cry, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. If this was the only chance you'd get...
You couldn't waste it.
"...Who's behind this?" you asked, voice shaky despite your effort to stay composed. "Why are you doing this—"
His eyes rolled before you'd even finished. "Bullshit again." His hand reached for the roll of tape beside him.
"No—!" The word escaped louder than intended. "No, no, no... please." Your voice cracked as panic flooded in. "Hear me out... please. Just once... just once, please."
"I'll pay you!" A beat of silence.
"You can… have everything I have."
He looked at you with something dangerously close to amusement before letting out a quiet scoff.
"Sure you will."
Your heart lurched. You shuffled backward on instinct until your shoulders struck the wall behind you. "No, I'm serious!" Your breathing became uneven. "Please... please, I mean it."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting. "...You've got thirty seconds."
You nodded so quickly it almost hurt. Your lungs struggled to keep pace with your racing thoughts.
"Listen... I..." You swallowed hard. "I just need to know who hired you."
"I know you're doing this for money," you rushed on before he could interrupt. "You... you can have all my savings. Everything I have. I'll give it to you."
Your voice trembled despite every attempt to steady it. "Just... just let me go... please."
A low hum escaped him. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "Let you go?" His expression stayed almost painfully indifferent.
"So ya can run straight to the police?"
"No!"
"You can follow me!" you blurted out. "Like you did before! Please... believe me."
"You think you're the first person to say that?”
“—” Your mind raced, scrambling for any scrap of leverage against a man who seemed impossible to sway. Your gaze flicked over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near the corner of his mouth, and the complete lack of empathy in his piercing green eyes.
Desperation clawed at your throat. If you didn't say something—anything—to make him believe you, he was going to leave you here in the darkness... and you might never walk out.
After trying everything you can think of, your mind suddenly goes blank for a few agonizing seconds.
“You… listen,” The world feels like it tilts beneath you. Without thinking, driven by nothing but pure survival instinct, the words leave your mouth.
"You can fuck me. I... I'll let you fuck me..."
The words hang there, heavy and unbearable, and the second they leave your lips, regret crashes over you.
The room goes completely still.
His gaze stayed fixed on you, reading the panic written across your face. After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose and tilted his head, a cold smirk tugging at the scar near his mouth.
"Ya think that's gonna pay bills?"
The words landed without emotion. To him, everything had a price, and your offer clearly wasn't worth anything.
"Tch."
One hand steadied your head while the other pressed the tape back over your mouth, cutting off every desperate word before it could leave your lips. Ignoring your muffled protests, Toji stood and walked toward the door.
The lock clicked shut behind him.
—
The whole night passed without seeing him.
The next morning came and went in agonizing silence, and still, the room remained empty. There was nothing left to do but wait for him to come back.
You watched the light beyond the window slowly fade until the room fell dark once again. Hours in the same position had left one entire side of your body aching, stiff and nearly numb.
Then the heavy door creaked open. Boots echoed across the concrete as the overhead light snapped on, forcing you to squint against the sudden brightness. You lifted your head just enough to see Toji standing there.
Without a word, he rolled a plastic water bottle across the floor until it bumped against your leg.
He stood over you for a moment, silently taking in the rope burns around your wrists and your exhausted state. Then he crouched, wrapped a calloused hand around your shoulder, and hauled you upright. Pins and needles shot violently through your numb side.
Before you could react, he ripped the duct tape from your mouth in one swift pull.
He twisted the bottle open and shoved it against your lips, forcing you to drink. You swallowed greedily, choking as water spilled down your chin and soaked the front of your shirt when he refused to slow down.
The bottle emptied just as quickly. He pulled it away, and you slumped forward, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Washroom..."
Toji paused, his jaw tightening. He looked immediately pissed, a deep line forming between his dark brows as if your basic human anatomy was a personal inconvenience to his schedule.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he reached down, hauling you up roughly by your one arm. Your deadened legs wobbled beneath you, but he didn't care to let you find your footing, unceremoniously dragging you across the concrete toward the small adjoining bathroom.
Once there, he shoved you inside.
He didn't leave though. He just stood right in the doorway, his massive frame completely filling the frame, holding the door wide open.
You blinked through your exhaustion, looking from him to the toilet, your mind stumbling over the lack of privacy.
"...?" You swallowed hard, forcing the words past your dry throat. "Can you please untie my hands?"
Toji leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at you with flat, utterly bored eyes. "For what?"
"To clean..." you muttered, your face burning with a sudden, humiliating heat.
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp click of his tongue. He stepped forward, his movements terrifyingly fast as he grabbed your wrists. With a quick, dismissive twist of his fingers, he untied the left hand only, leaving your right wrist still bound and restricted.
He stepped back to his post in the doorway. Humiliated and desperate for a shred of dignity, you reached out with your one free hand, trying to pull the bathroom door closed.
He didn't even blink. He casually extended a single, heavy foot, planting his boot against the wood and holding it open nonchalantly. The door didn't move an inch against his weight.
Your breath hitched, a mix of frustration and shame tightening your chest. "Hey..? Let go of the door."
Toji’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous, low edge bleeding into his gravelly voice. "Dontcha order me around."
He shifted his weight, looking down at you with a mocking, entirely merciless smirk playing on the corner of his scarred mouth. "Besides, didn't ya say you'd let me fuck you? So what's ya issue now? A door?”
Your eyes widened, a sudden frown of sheer surprise twisting your features. "That's—that's not how I meant it!" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Shut up," Toji cut you off, his tone instantly dropping into a flat, icy command that brooked zero argument. He didn't even look angry anymore. Just completely done with the conversation.
"Do what you gotta do, or I'm making ya piss on the damn carpet. Take your pick."
"..."
The words died in your throat. You didn't argue anymore. Nope. There was no winning against a man who truly did not care about your modesty, your comfort, or about you.
You kept your head down, your eyes burning as you stared at the floor tiles. You moved with agonizing slowness, glancing up at him just for a split second to see if he was looking or if he had at least looked away out of basic decency.
He was just standing there, propped against the frame, watching with the same detached indifference. As you finally forced yourself to do your business under his unblinking stare, a suffocating wave of mortification washed over you.
Embarrassing, you thought, your chest aching with a raw, bitter sting as you kept your gaze fiercely locked onto the ground.
Fucking embarrassing…
—
A few more days dragged by in that same suffocating rhythm.
He kept you tied, only coming in to force water down your throat, shove a single meal your way, or order you to wash up once a day.
Every time he did, he looked irritated, as though keeping you alive was an inconvenience. The only thing that changed was the length of the silence between his visits.
What didn't change was the question gnawing at you.
Why hadn't he delivered you yet? If this was just a job, why the delay? Was the buyer farther away than you'd assumed... or had something gone wrong? Every passing day made the answer feel further out of reach, until the uncertainty itself became exhausting.
Then the heavy door flew open.
Toji walked in with a purpose you hadn't seen before. Before you could react, he was already in front of you.
He grabbed your shoulders, hauled you up, and dragged your stiff body across the floor before shoving you into a wooden chair. Pulling another chair over, he sat directly across from you, elbows resting on his knees, his dark green eyes fixed on yours.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
A stunned silence dropped over the room. You stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, your mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift in his motives.
He was bypassing his client…?
"Everything…" you breathed, your voice raw. "Everything I mean it."
Toji didn't look impressed. He leaned back, his expression turning flat and entirely bored.
"How much in exact?"
"..." You swallowed hard, calculating the numbers in your head, knowing this was your only lifeline.
"Worth more than a million. Even more, actually. And…”
“As I said before, I'm willing to give you my body, so yeah...!"
Toji closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He didn't want a sob story, and he certainly hadn't asked for your body. But if you insisted on offering it as part of the deal, he'd treat it as nothing more than a cheap down payment.
He dropped his hand from his face, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dark intensity. "Strip," he commanded flatly. Before the word could even fully register in your brain, his hands gripped the hem of his own black shirt. With a fluid, unbothered motion, he began pulling it up over his head, revealing the sharp, chiseled lines of his abs and the heavy musculature of his torso.
Your eyes widened in absolute shock, your heart leaping straight into your throat. "What? Now? Wait—!!"
Toji stopped midway, his arms lifted, the dark fabric of his shirt bunched up around his collarbone and obscuring half his face, but his piercing gaze remained entirely fixed on you through the gap.
Realizing how horribly your words had backfired, You quickly cleared your throat, trying desperately to sound grounded and speak the only language he actually cared about.
"Your main priority is money," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I can get it for you. But we have to handle the logistics first!"
Toji's lips twitched into a dismissive line. "Ya just have to tell me the pin," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. "Ya ain't going anywhere."
Your mind scrambled, you knew that if you just handed over a number, you became entirely useless to him.
"Large withdrawals don't work like that," you argued. "The bank needs me there. My ID. My signature. They won't hand over that kind of money to a stranger, no matter what pin you have...”
Toji didn't move. He sat there in the dim light, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn't believe you—not fully.
But he also knew the annoying, bureaucratic reality of wealthy institutions. He knew you could be telling the truth, and he wasn't a man to risk a massive payout over a technicality.
Rather than untying you completely and trusting you, he opted for a pragmatic middle ground.
"Fine," he muttered and dropped down into a crouch in front of your chair. A short, wicked blade materialized in his hand.
With one precise flick of his wrist, he sliced through the ropes binding your ankles. They dropped to the floor, freeing your feet, but he left your wrists bound tightly behind your back.
He stood up in one motion, sheathing the knife before you could even blink. "You try anything..." He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
Without waiting for a response, he was already moving, turning his back on you and walking toward the door to prepare for the trip.
You sat there, your ankles suddenly free, completely speechless for a second. It worked…?
—
No… you weren't naive enough to believe he'd suddenly trusted you.
Minutes crawled by.
The room fell back into that same suffocating silence you'd grown to hate. How long did it take to get ready?
You frowned toward the closed door. Had he changed his mind? Was he talking to whoever had hired him? Were they arguing over you?
The lock finally clicked.
Your head snapped toward the entrance. Bu, it wasn't Toji.
A different man stepped inside, dressed in an immaculate dark suit that looked almost absurdly expensive compared to the decaying room around him.
He spared you only a brief glance before looking past. "Everything ready?"
Heavy footsteps answered from somewhere behind him. Toji appeared in the doorway a second later, one hand shoved lazily into his pocket.
"Hm."
The suited man sighed through his nose. "You packed everything?"
"Yeah."
"And the vehicle?"
"Outside."
Another small nod. "Good." The conversation continued as though you weren't even there.
"The route changed," the suited man said. "There's more activity than expected."
Toji didn't look particularly interested. "So?"
"So don't take the highway."
A shrug. "I wasn't planning to."
The suited man studied him for a moment before giving a short, resigned hum, as though he'd expected exactly that answer.
Then, his attention settled fully on you. He approached with measured steps. Your shoulders instinctively tensed. "What are you—"
He crouched in front of you before you could finish. From inside his jacket, he produced a slim black folder along with a small electronic scanner no larger than his palm.
Your brows knitted together. "...What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flipped open the folder, briefly checking whatever documents were clipped inside before setting the scanner on his knee.
"Hold still."
Before you could pull away, his hand had already closed around your bound wrist. Your body reacted instantly. "Let go!—"
You twisted sharply, trying to wrench your hand free, but the ropes left you with almost no movement. "What are you doing?!"
"Stay still." His grip never tightened. It simply remained impossibly steady.
"I said let go! Damnit!" You struggled harder. The scanner emitted a quiet electronic beep as he calmly positioned your thumb against the glass surface.
"No!" You jerked again before a large hand landed heavily on the back of your chair.
Toji.
He simply stood behind you, one broad hand resting against the chair as if reminding you exactly how pointless resistance was.
The room somehow felt smaller. Even your breathing sounded too loud.
The suited man glanced up briefly, then back down and pressed your thumb onto the scanner once more. A soft chime echoed through the room.
He lifted your hand away. "...Done." He returned the scanner to the folder with practiced efficiency before pulling a small ink pad from another pocket.
Your eyes widened. "...Wait."
He took your index finger next. You struggled again, weaker this time. "What are you taking?"
Silence…
He rolled your fingertip across the ink, then onto one of the papers clipped inside the folder with precise, practiced movements.
He simply closed the folder with a quiet snap and stood. For several seconds, neither man spoke. The suited man tucked the documents back inside his jacket before looking toward Toji.
"Everything's settled. The transfer location's been changed." The suited man's gaze lingered for another moment. "Don't waste time."
Toji clicked his tongue. "Mm."
A brief silence followed. Then the suited man gave one last glance toward you. Whatever expression crossed his face disappeared too quickly to read.
He turned and headed for the door. Just before stepping outside, he paused without looking back.
"Hurry up."
The door shut behind him. You stared after it, your thoughts spiraling. Transfer, settled, and moving?
What had they just done with your fingerprints? What exactly had been settled?
Your gaze slowly lifted toward Toji. He remained exactly where he'd been, shoulders loose, looking down at you with the same tired, almost bored expression. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of dark cloth.
Before you could react, he stepped behind you. The fabric slipped over your eyes, plunging the room into absolute darkness. You instinctively jerked back, but his hand caught the side of your head, holding you still as he tied it firmly behind your skull. "Hold still."
A second later, another wad of cloth was shoved between your teeth. "Mmph—!"
He ignored your muffled protest, securing it tightly behind your head before giving it a brief tug to check it wouldn't come loose.
Satisfied, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped in front of you. One arm slid beneath yours while the other hooked around your waist. Before you could brace yourself, he hauled you effortlessly onto your feet.
"—!?" Your legs nearly buckled after days of weakness, and you stumbled straight into him.
"Tch…" He steadied you with obvious reluctance, waiting only long enough to make sure you wouldn't collapse outright.
You let out a muffled, frustrated sound through the gag, earning nothing more than an impatient click of his tongue. His grip tightened just enough to keep you moving as he steered you toward the door.
—
There was nothing left to guide you except sound and touch. Before the rough shove that sent you forward. Hands catching you before you hit the ground, only to throw you sideways onto cracked leather seats a heartbeat later.
The engine rumbled to life beneath you.
Blind, gagged, your wrists still bound behind your back, you lay awkwardly across the seat, forcing yourself to stay calm. Every bump in the road jolted through your weakened body, every turn sending you sliding across the upholstery until something—a boot, maybe a knee—wordlessly shoved you back into place.
You had no idea where he was taking you anymore.
—
Eventually, the engine died.
Before you could even brace yourself, a large, calloused hand clamped around your thigh.
"Mm—!" You were dragged across the seat so abruptly your hip scraped the edge before your forehead smacked straight into the car frame. Pain exploded through your skull. A muffled cry escaped behind the gag.
"Careful." The familiar voice came from somewhere to your right—calm, almost absentminded.
The grip on you disappeared just as another pair of hands seized you instead.
"Tch..."
You recognized the irritated scoff instantly. Without so much as asking if you could stand, Toji hauled you up against him and started walking.
After what felt like five long minutes, he finally stopped. Your feet touched solid ground. One hand remained gripping your upper arm while the other reached behind your head.
You squeezed your eyes shut on instinct before slowly blinking them open. “....?”
An abandoned water park stretched around you.
The resort had long been abandoned. Rust covered the railings, weeds cracked through the pavement, and silent slides loomed overhead. Beyond the still pool stood a weathered hotel, its dark windows staring back like empty eyes.
Your head snapped toward Toji. Confusion lasted barely a second before it curdled into anger.
"What the HELL are you doing?!" you shouted the instant he yanked the cloth from your mouth.
"You said we were going to the bank! Why did you bring me here? What are you planning?!"
“....” Toji looked down at you with the same detached expression he'd worn all morning. "Ya tried t' trick me," he said flatly.
"So I tricked ya first."
Silence…
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest, almost amused smirk. "Hm." He tilted his head.
"What's with that look?" His voice stayed lazy as he reached toward your face, fingers aiming for your chin. "Gonna bite?”
You jerked forward without thinking, snapping your teeth at his hand—CHOMP!
“....”
The back of his hand struck across your cheek. It wasn't a full-force hit, but it landed squarely against the injured, bandaged side of your face.
White-hot pain shot through your head. A broken gasp escaped you as your knees nearly gave out. Before you could recover, his fist buried itself in your hair. Your head was wrenched back. Tears stung your eyes.
"Look at me." His voice had gone cold. Just something hard enough to make your stomach drop.
"The deal's off." His grip tightened another fraction. "I wouldn't lose sleep killin' ya right now."
Your breathing came faster despite yourself. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the rise and fall of your chest. Then they lifted back to yours.
A quiet hum escaped him. "But..." His grip loosened just enough to keep you upright.
"...we got bigger fish t' fry."
Toji's grip in your hair stayed iron-tight as he shifted his stance. His boot hooked behind your ankle and twisted hard, yanking your leg out from under you.
You dropped fast, knees cracking against the concrete. Before you could even brace yourself, his free hand was already working his belt open.
"Stay down.” he muttered, voice low and flat. The metal clink of his buckle echoed once before he shoved his pants low enough to free his cock. It hung heavy, half-soft, right in front of your face.
He didn't give you time to react. His palm cracked across your bandaged cheek again. Harder this time—making your vision spark white.
"Open. Now."
"No! Get off—" You tried to twist away, but his fist in your hair wrenched your head forward. The soft weight of his cock slapped across your injured face, once, twice, the heat of it dragging over the bandages. He kept doing it, smacking your swollen cheek with the length of it until it started to stiffen against your skin.
"Tch. Look at you." Another slap, this time with the head, leaving a wet smear. "Thought you could pull one over on me?"
He pressed forward without warning, forcing the thickening head past your lips. Your jaw ached from the earlier hit, but he didn't care. He shoved deeper, the underside dragging over your tongue as he fed inch after inch into your mouth.
When you gagged and tried to pull back, his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the root in one brutal thrust.
"'Take it," he growled, voice still eerily calm. Both hands locked on your head now, fingers digging into your scalp as he started fucking your throat. Each thrust was rough and deliberate, the head punching past your gag reflex again and again.
Spit spilled from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick strings. He didn't slow down when you choked—he just pushed deeper, grinding his pelvis against your nose until your lungs burned.
"Cry all you want." His tone stayed detached, almost bored, even as he used your mouth like a toy. "Should've thought about that before ya tried to play me."
He pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air, then slammed forward again, harder. Your nose pressed flat to his hairy pelvis, throat convulsing around him. He held you there, hips rolling in short, grinding motions while your vision blurred with tears.
Every time you tried to push against his thighs, he slapped your wounded face again—until your arms dropped limp at your sides.
"Hands off," he ordered. "You lost that choice." His pace turned vicious after that. Short, brutal thrusts that made your throat bulge visibly with each one.
"Tch," he muttered, almost to himself. "Keep that throat open or I'll break your jaw.”
Toji didn't bother pulling out after he finished down your throat. He stayed buried to the hilt, letting the last weak pulses of his cock empty into you while your throat kept spasming around him.
When he finally dragged his length free, a thick string of spit and cum stretched from your swollen lips to the head of his cock before it snapped. You barely had time to cough before his boot slammed into your shoulder, knocking you onto your back against the cold concrete.
"Ain't done with ya yet," he said, voice flat as ever. His pants were already shoved down to his thighs, cock still glistening and half-hard. He dropped down without warning, one knee pinning your chest while his hands went straight for your clothes.
Fabric tore under his grip—shirt yanked open, buttons scattering, pants ripped down your legs with zero patience. You tried to kick, but he caught your ankle and twisted it hard, forcing your leg up and out until your hip burned.
"Fight if ya want. Won't change a damn thing." He shoved your thighs apart with his knees, settling between them like he owned the space. His cock dragged heavy against your inner thigh, already thickening again.
One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his fingers. The other reached down, lining himself up without a word of warning. The blunt head pressed against your entrance, then pushed—hard, relentless, forcing its way inside with one brutal thrust that made your back arch.
"Tch... fuck." he muttered, almost to himself. He buried himself to the base in one go, hips snapping forward until his pelvis smacked flush against yours. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around the sudden invasion, but he just grunted and started moving.
Your hands flew up on instinct, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed both wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head, pinning them there with his full weight. "Quit squirming."
He fucked you with deep, punishing strokes that made your whole body jolt. Each thrust bottomed out hard, the head of his cock battering against your cervix until pain and pressure blurred together. His free hand slapped your bandaged cheek again, then gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he used you. "Stay awake."
He let go of your wrists only to hook both hands under your knees, folding you in half until your thighs pressed against your chest. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his cock punching into you with wet, obscene sounds that echoed off the walls.
Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your face. He didn't slow down when you cried out—he just fucked harder, hips slapping against your ass with bruising force. Every thrust shoved you a few inches across the concrete, scraping your back raw.
"Don't." he warned, voice still eerily calm even as he pounded into you. His balls slapped against your ass with each brutal thrust. He leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck hard enough to leave marks, then licked over the bite like he was tasting sweat and fear. "You'll wear what I leave on you, brat."
He shifted his grip, one hand moving to your throat again while the other pressed down on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you.
Toji's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat, cutting off whatever broken words you tried to force out. "St—" was all you managed before two thick digits shoved past your lips, scraping over your tongue and jamming deep until they hit the back of your throat.
Your eyes rolled back instantly, body convulsing as you gagged hard around them. Spit flooded your mouth, bubbling around his knuckles while he held them there, pressing down on your tongue like he wanted to feel every wet choke.
Your pussy clenched violently around his cock from the intrusion, walls fluttering and squeezing his girth in panicked spasms. Toji hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering for a second. "Tch... fuck." A low grunt left him. "Gettin' tighter every time." He shoved his fingers deeper, curling them against your soft palate until you retched, tears spilling fresh down your temples.
From somewhere behind him, a calm, measured voice cut through the wet sounds of your throat being used. "Toji. Come out once you're finished."
Your head jerked toward the voice on instinct, desperate for any shred of help, but the suit man didn't spare you a glance. He stood there like you don't even exist, eyes fully on Toji.
Toji didn't even slow down. If anything, his hips snapped harder, brutal and punishing, driving his cock so deep your cervix ached with every thrust. "Yeah. I'm comin'.”
The suit man hums before his footsteps fade away without another word, leaving you alone with Toji's free hand fisted in your hair and yanked hard, forcing your head back to face him.
The fingers stayed buried in your throat, making you gag and drool around them while he fucked you. "Eyes on me." He ground his pelvis against your clit with every vicious thrust. "Ain't nobody comin' for ya."
Every time your walls fluttered around him he slapped your bandaged cheek again, hard enough to make your ears ring. "Tch... no wonder that shepherd wanted his stray back.” He let out a quiet, irritated breath. "....”
He buried himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing thick and hot as he emptied inside you, grinding deep while your walls spasmed around him. Only when the last spurt finished did he pull out, leaving your hole gaping and leaking his cum down your thighs..
He didn't even look at you as he tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper cutting through the silence like a knife. His boots scraped against the grimy floor as he stepped over you, and you felt the shadow of his frame loom for a moment.
"Don't ya move."
You couldn't see his face from where you lay, but you could feel his gaze on you. Then the door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway, heavy and unhurried, until there was only the sound of your own ragged breathing.
You stared at the door. At the crack running along the hinge.
Why?
You hadn't done anything. You hadn't crossed anyone. You hadn't stolen, hadn't cheated, hadn't even looked at someone the wrong way.
Then why you?
Your mind raced through every face you'd ever known, every conversation, every mistake, every stranger you'd passed on the street. There was nothing that could explain any of this.
He'd already taken everything. Your savings, freedom—even your dignity. So why were you still here?
If money was all he'd wanted, he could've killed you after the withdrawal. Instead, he kept dragging you from place to place like you still had some purpose.
Everyone had to be looking for you by now. But if Toji kept moving you... they'd never find you.
Your body screeched in protest as you forced yourself to roll, bound wrists scraping raw against the floor. You didn't even know where you were trying to go anymore—just anywhere.
You paused when you spotted the table nearby. Slowly, painfully, you dragged yourself toward it, lifting your bound wrists to rub the rope against the sharp metal edge. It wouldn't give.
Your whole body throbbed with every desperate movement, but you kept grinding the rope against the table leg, breathing harder and harder until the fibers finally started to fray. The moment you felt give, you arched back and shoved your legs through the gap, using your teeth next, tearing until the rope finally snapped free.
You immediately looked down at your ankles and clawed at the remaining rope, pulling and scratching until it tore apart. Once your legs were free you grabbed the table edge and hauled yourself up, a broken wince escaping as your back and everything else screamed in protest.
You scanned the room until you spotted your skirt crumpled in the corner, your torn panties useless beside it. You grabbed the skirt and pulled it on with shaking hands, then moved toward the door on unsteady legs.
You eased the warped wooden door open a fraction at a time. Every muscle protested as you slipped into the hallway, pausing the moment both feet crossed the threshold.
No sign of him.
You limped forward, one hand dragging along the stained wall for support. Every step pulled at your aching ribs while the raw rope burns around your wrists throbbed with each movement, crumbling plaster scraping beneath your fingertips.
A cool draft brushed across your face, carrying the scent of rain.
An exit…
You shoved your shoulder against the rusted metal door. It resisted at first, groaning in protest, before finally giving way with a screech.
An abandoned water park stretched before you, swallowed by years of neglect. Cracked pathways vanished beneath tangled weeds while rust bled down every railing. Towering slides loomed overhead, their faded paint peeling beneath the grey sky. Pools that had once sparkled now sat thick with algae, their murky surfaces barely stirring in the wind. The entire place looked ready to collapse.
One wrong step…
You swallowed hard.
This place could kill you just as easily as he could.
Your gaze swept across the grounds. Scanning the slides and rusted maintenance buildings.
Nothing.
You whipped your head to the left, tension flaring in your neck.
Still nothing.
Had he really just left? Was he gone? Had he actually—
Don't think. Just move.
You forced your body forward, limping across the uneven concrete. Every few steps you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to find him standing there—that same lazy expression, those dark eyes already knowing exactly where you'd run.
Your bare foot came down on a slick patch of moss hidden inside a crack in the pavement.
It slipped.
You threw your weight sideways, grabbing blindly until your hand caught a rusted pipe. The impact rattled through your shoulders as you barely stopped yourself from crashing face-first onto the concrete.
A shaky, sobbing breath escaped your trembling lips. "..."
You tightened your grip, forcing yourself upright. One more step. Then your weakened ankle folded beneath you.
"Ah—!" A blinding flash of pain shot up your leg, short-circuiting your brain. You clawed desperately at the empty air. The world flipped upside down.
SPLASH!
The stagnant water swallowed you whole.
Freezing filth rushed into your nose and mouth before you could scream. The shock drove every thought from your mind as you sank beneath the cloudy green water.
You kicked desperately. The raw skin around your ankles screamed the instant the filthy water touched it. Fire raced across every rope burn. Your wrists flared just as sharply when you tried to pull yourself upward, every stroke sending another bolt of pain through your arms.
It hurt.
It hurt enough to make your body lock up.
You fought toward the surface with clumsy, desperate movements, your heavy clothes dragging at every limb.
You sucked in a breath—Only to choke as another wave slapped across your face.
Water filled your mouth.
You coughed violently, arms thrashing without rhythm as your soaked clothes pulled you under again. "H-Help—!”
The desperate plea dissolved instantly into another wet, choking fit. Your vision began to blur at the edges, turning dark and fuzzy. Then, a horribly familiar, low voice drifted effortlessly across the water.
"...Ya like t' embarrass yourself or what?"
You blinked through stinging, watering eyes. Toji stood at the edge of the pool, one hand buried in his pocket, broad shoulders loose as he looked down at you. There wasn't a trace of urgency, concern, or even surprise on his face.
He watched you struggle for another agonizing second. Then, he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "If ya wanted t' die that badly..." His massive shoulders rose in a lazy, slow shrug. "...could-a just told me."
A beat passed before the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Wouldn't want my piggy bank dyin' yet.”
Suddenly, a muffled, sharp vibration buzzed from inside his dark jacket. He glanced down carelessly. Another desperate, strangled cough escaped your lips as your nose slipped beneath the water again.
Without a single word, he finally moved. He crouched down at the edge of the pool. One large, calloused hand reached down over the water.
His thick fingers hooked tightly into the collar of your soaked, heavy shirt. With absolute, terrifyingly effortless strength, he lifted. Your feet left the water entirely. Your legs dangled uselessly in the air.
Water streamed from your clothes in heavy, cascading sheets, slapping against the concrete before he deposited you onto the cracked ground.
You collapsed onto your hands and knees, coughing until your ribs ached. Murky water spilled from your mouth in ragged bursts.
You were sniffling, gasping, and sobbing, trying desperately to fill your burning lungs with air.
Above you, Toji stood at his full height, giving you a slow, calculating once-over from head to toe. "Hm." A faint, amused scoff escaped his lips.
"Even managed t' cover your shit." His dark eyes lingered on the hem of the skirt you had frantically pulled back on before running. "...Ya're really somethin'."
One of his massive hand grabbed the front of your skirt and ripped it straight down the middle, the fabric tearing like paper. The ruined cloth was tossed aside. Your top came next. His fingers hooked into the collar and yanked, buttons popping, seams splitting until both the shirt and the bra beneath were shredded and flung away.
Cold air hit your bare skin as you were left naked except for the tattered remnants clinging to your wrists. "No—please, stop—fuck you, you piece of shit—" Your voice cracked into desperate curses and pleas, but Toji only grunted in irritation. He caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head against the wet concrete.
"Shut it." His free hand delivered two quick, sharp slaps to your already bruised cheek. "Ain't nobody listenin' to that mouth."
He shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, then dropped to straddle your chest. Your wrists stayed trapped in his grip while he shoved his length between your tits, squeezing them together with his other hand. He started thrusting, slow and deliberate, the head of his cock bumping your chin with every stroke.
A few heavy drops from the sky splattering across your face, then more, cold and relentless. Water ran down Toji's back and dripped from his hair onto your skin, but he didn't pause.
His hips kept moving, cock sliding between your breasts, getting harder with each thrust while your choked sobs mixed with the sound of rain hitting concrete.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. But he ignored and kept fucking the valley of your tits until he was fully hard, thick and heavy between your soft flesh.
"Tch." He finally pulled back, grabbed one of your legs, and hauled it up over his shoulder. The position spread you wide, exposing your already swollen, red pussy to his gaze. He leaned in, spat directly on your cunt, then lined up and drove in dry. "Fuck..."
The only slickness came from the cum he'd left inside you earlier. It made a filthy, wet sound as he forced his way deep, stretching your sore walls around him. Your back arched off the ground. A broken, choking sound tore from your throat.
Toji's hand clamped around your neck, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He held your head pinned to the concrete while his hips snapped forward, each thrust making your ass bounce and his coarse pubic hair grind against your clit.
Midway through a brutal thrust his phone buzzed again. He clicked his tongue, reached into his pocket with one hand, and answered without slowing down. He put it on speaker, the other hand still crushing your windpipe.
Almost with a rough thrust, he leaned over you, and mercilessly pressed the phone directly against your wet ear.
Instantly, a man's voice erupted from the speaker, so sharp it seemed to slice straight through your pounding heartbeat.
"Toji."
"Wo ist mein Liebling?! Warum antwortest du nicht?! Was zum Teufel machst du da?!" A harsh breath crackled through the line before he barked again, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
"Bring sie sofort zu mir. Hörst du mich? Sofort. Und wenn ihr auch nur ein Haar fehlt..."
“....”
Your entire body went rigid.
Because you knew him...
The man you had disappeared from almost a year ago.
You'd blocked every number he used. Deleted every message. Left without giving him the closure he'd insisted he deserved because there was nothing left to explain.
Every conversation with him had become another cage, every apology another promise that lasted a day before he tightened his grip again. You had walked away because staying had become unbearable.
You'd expected anything else. But never...
Never this.
Your trembling hands curled against the rough concrete as your mind desperately tried to reject the obvious, but there was no mistaking it.
Toji caught every flicker of realization crossing your face. His mouth slowly curved into a smirk, lazy and mocking. He watched you for another second before giving a quiet, amused huff through his nose. "Know him?"
Toji didn't seem bothered by your silence. He pulled the phone away from your ear and lifted it to his own instead, looking more inconvenienced than anything.
"Quit yellin'," he barked. "English."
A long beat of silence crackled through the speaker before the man spoke again, every trace of panic stripped from his voice.
"Where is she?"
Toji's eyes drifted back to you. You hadn't even realized you'd started shaking harder until his gaze settled on you.
A dry chuckle escaped him. "Funny thing..." he said, scratching idly at his jaw. "Ya paid me t' bring her in." He let the sentence hang just long enough.
"...Then figured you'd kill me after."
Silence...
Then the voice on the other end snapped. "What?"
"What the hell are you talking about?—"
With a careless flick of his wrist, Toji tossed the phone onto your chest. It bounced once against your bare skin before settling there, the speaker still on, the frantic voice spilling into the open air.
"...Liebling? Can you hear me?"
"What did he do to you?"
"Answer me."
"[Name]!"
Your fingers twitched weakly beside the phone, but they wouldn't obey you. Toji knew they wouldn't.
He kept driving his cock into your cunt with brutal, punishing thrusts, each one forcing your ass to slap against the wet concrete. His hips snapped forward without mercy, the thick length stretching your already swollen walls while the previous load inside you squelched wetly around him.
Toji's free hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he forced your head back against the ground. Rain poured down over both of you, soaking his hair, running down his chest, dripping onto your face with every thrust.
"[Name], huh..." he said, voice low and flat even as he kept fucking you.
His pace turned more vicious, the wet slap of skin against skin mixing with the rain and the distant voice still demanding through the speaker. Your body jolted under him with every thrust, tits bouncing, thighs shaking around his waist.
Toji's hand moved from your jaw to your mouth. His rough fingers hooked between your lips, pulling them apart into a forced, grotesque smile while he kept pounding into you. Your eyes rolled back, unfocused and glassy, tears mixing with rainwater as your expression went slack and fucked-out.
"Hah..." he muttered, almost to himself, watching the way your face twisted under his grip. "...ain't even here anymore."
His cock twitched deep inside you. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pubic bone against your clit as he came hard, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into your womb.
His hips jerked with each pulse, forcing every drop as deep as it would go while his fingers kept your mouth stretched into that empty, broken smile.
"...She's occupied."
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"No way... that's insane."
You couldn't stop staring as another rider soared above the lagoon, suspended in the air for a heartbeat before swooping back down over the water. The entire resort looked like something out of a postcard—crystal-clear water, luxury cabanas, and tourists crowding the docks to watch the jetpack stunts.
Another rider landed smoothly before the next instructor waved your group forward.
"You're seriously doing this?" one of your friends laughed, already pulling out her phone.
"Obviously." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "If I die, at least make sure it goes viral."
"Hey, don't say that!"
"I'm kidding." You snorted before handing her your phone. "Record everything. Don't stop recording unless I actually drown."
"That's... somehow not reassuring."
You only laughed, already jogging toward the floating platform where your instructor—your assigned jetpack guard—waited with practiced patience. He secured your life jacket, checking every buckle twice.
"First time?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
You groaned. "Please pretend I'm a professional."
"I'll do my best." His amused smile somehow settled your nerves. "Just hold onto the support handles until I tell you otherwise," he instructed. "I'll keep you balanced. If you panic, don't fight the movement. Trust me."
The jetpack engine thundered to life beneath the surface. A second later, the pressure exploded upward. You barely had time to yelp before both of you surged into the air.
Your laughter broke into the wind as the lagoon rapidly shrank beneath your feet. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on the handles while his gloved hand stayed firm around your waist despite the force launching both of you skyward.
"Relax!" he called over the roar. "You're doing great!"
"I'm literally flying!" The words disappeared into another burst of delighted giggles.
The jetpack skimmed low enough for icy spray to pepper your legs before surging skyward again. Laughter escaped you as the instructor guided you through a smooth turn, the shoreline spinning into a blur of blue water and cheering tourists.
"See?" he laughed. "You're a natural."
Still grinning, you glanced down.
The lagoon stretched beneath you like a postcard. Your friends were little more than colorful dots on the dock, one of them still holding your phone toward the sky.
"Whoa..." you breathed, your excitement slowly giving way to awe. You hadn't realized how high you'd climbed.
Your smile faltered. "...We're really high."
"We're fine," the instructor called back. "Just enjoy the view."
You tried to…
But then, without warning, the steady pressure of the hand secured around your waist shifted.
It wasn't enough for you to understand what had happened. Your body merely registered that something felt... different. The grip that had held you effortlessly throughout every dive and spin suddenly loosened, and before your thoughts could even catch up, your balance tilted ever so slightly away from him.
You instinctively started to turn your head. "...Huh?—"
You never got the chance to look at him. The hand around your waist slipped away completely. One second you were flying. The next—
there was absolutely nothing holding you.
Your stomach lurched so violently it felt as though your heart had been ripped straight out with it. A scream exploded from your throat before you even realized you were falling, your body dropping away from the jetpack so suddenly that your hands clawed uselessly at empty air. Until—
SPLASH!
The impact swallowed your scream beneath a towering wall of water. On the dock, laughter ceased instantly. Heads whipped toward the splash.
"What the—"
"Someone fell!"
Your friends froze in horror, one of them still filming with your phone pointed toward the sky, unable to lower it fast enough.
For one suspended heartbeat, every eye searched the water where you'd disappeared beneath the surface.
Then another horrified scream rose from somewhere in the crowd.
"LOOK OUT!"
Dozens of faces snapped upward again. High above the lagoon, the instructor was no longer upright.
The jetpack still roared, blasting powerful streams of water as if nothing had gone wrong. But without his balance, the instructor had already been thrown backward, falling flat onto his back, completely helpless.
The shock lasted only a second before the entire lagoon erupted into chaos.
Shouts rang across the water as two rescue guards dove in without hesitation. Your lungs burned violently as water forced its way through your nose and down your throat. You couldn't even tell which way was up.
Strong hands finally caught hold of your life jacket.
"There! We've got her!"
The world lurched as they dragged you toward the surface. You broke the surface with a violent gasp, only to choke as water spilled from your mouth. Your chest felt like it had been crushed, every breath scraping painfully against your throat as the guards hauled you onto the dock.
"It's okay, breathe... easy, easy."
You barely heard them.
The moment your knees touched the wooden platform, another coughing fit doubled you over. Water dripped from your hair and clothes, your vision blurred with tears as your friends rubbed circles against your back.
"Oh my God..."
One dropped to her knees beside you while the other wrapped both arms around your shoulders before you could lose your balance again. "You're okay... It's okay..."
People were already crowding around, murmuring over one another, some calling emergency services while others stood frozen, staring back toward the lagoon.
Still coughing, you instinctively looked over your shoulder. Several rescue guards were pulling another body from the water.
The instructor.
His arms hung limply as they lifted him onto the dock, his head lolling unnaturally to one side. Then one of the guards shifted, no longer blocking your view.
Your breathing stopped.
There, just above his brow… a small, dark hole sat in the middle of his forehead.
Blood mixed with the water running down his face, thin streams trailing across the wooden planks beneath him.
The realization spread through the crowd one horrified expression at a time. He hadn't died from the fall.
He'd been shot.
—
The room smelled faintly of coffee and damp paperwork.
A laptop on the desk replayed the same shaky recording for what felt like the tenth time. The officer paused the footage just as your scream echoed through the speakers before leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the desk.
"So..." he began at last, his voice calm but unreadable, "none of you saw anyone?"
The three of you exchanged uncertain glances.
Your friend, still clutching the strap of her bag, swallowed before speaking. "I... I was recording the whole time. I never looked away from the screen." She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't notice anyone else."
The officer gave a slow nod, jotting something into his notebook before turning to your other friend.
"And you?"
She hesitated, searching her memory. "I wasn't really looking around either," she admitted quietly. "I kept watching them through the camera. Everything happened so fast... by the time I heard her scream..." Her voice faded, guilt creeping into her expression.
"Hm."
The officer closed the notebook without another word and finally looked at you. "You were closest to him." His eyes studied your face carefully.
"Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?"
"No." Your voice came out hoarse from the water you'd swallowed.
"It happened too fast. One second he was holding me, and the next…” You paused, the memory making your stomach tighten. "I was falling. I didn't even have time to look at him."
The officer remained silent for a moment before asking, almost casually, "Do you have any idea who might've wanted him dead?"
You blinked.
"What?"
"Or perhaps..." He folded his hands together. "Someone who might've been targeting you instead."
Your friends looked at you in confusion. You stared back at the officer, disbelief slowly giving way to irritation.
"...Excuse me?"
"You were attached to him when the shot was fired," he said evenly. "If the timing had been slightly different, you might've been the one hit.”
Your brows pulled together. "I don't know what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything." His tone stayed frustratingly neutral. "I'm asking whether there's anyone in your life who would have reason to harm you."
A humorless laugh escaped you. "No."
"You've never received threats?"
"No."
"No personal disputes? Financial problems? Someone holding a grudge?"
Your jaw tightened. Every question felt more absurd than the last, but you forced yourself to answer without raising your voice.
The officer didn't react. He simply held your gaze for another long second before he slid a notepad across the desk along with a pen.
"Before you leave, I need all three of you to write down your full names, phone numbers, and current addresses. If you plan on leaving the city, let us know beforehand.”
“....”
The three of you exchanged uneasy glances before taking the pen in silence. As you finished writing, the officer gathered the sheet and tucked it into the case file.
"We'll contact each of you again if we need further statements," he said matter-of-factly. "Until then, if you remember anything—no matter how insignificant it seems—you'll notify us immediately.”
—
Outside the station, the afternoon air felt heavier than it had a few hours earlier. Police cars came and went, officers spoke quietly near the entrance, and the distant wail of an ambulance faded into the city's usual traffic.
"So..." she glanced toward the road, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's just head home."
You gave a distracted hum in response, but your hand had already wandered to your face. Your fingers drifted to your left cheek, scratching absently for what felt like the hundredth time. The itch wasn't painful, just irritating enough that you couldn't seem to leave it alone.
"Tch..." The sound slipped from your lips before you realized it.
"What's wrong?" one of your friends asked, stepping closer. Her brows knitted as she leaned in to study your face. "Wait..."
"...Did you get hurt?"
"Hm?"
"There..." She frowned harder, clearly trying to figure out what was bothering her. "There's just... something."
Confused, you pulled your phone from your pocket and switched to the front camera. At first, nothing looked unusual—until you tilted the screen toward the light.
The skin along your left cheek had turned an angry shade of red, almost as though it'd been lightly scorched. It wasn't bleeding, but the angry patch easily explained the relentless itch.
"What is it?" your other friend asked.
"I think..." You frowned at your reflection again before locking the screen. "I should probably get this checked."
"Now?"
You nodded. "I'll just stop by the hospital. It's bothering me."
The two exchanged uncertain glances. "Are you sure you'll be okay going there alone?”
You offered them a tired smile and shook your head. “Ofcourse, I will. Why do you guys suddenly say that?”
She exchanged a glance with your other friend before lowering her voice. "I was just thinking about..." She hesitated. "You know... him."
“....” Your expression cooled almost instantly. "...Don't."
"I'm serious." She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. "He called you from, what, six different numbers after you blocked him?"
"Uh… more than that actually," your other friend corrected under her breath.
You let out a tired sigh. "That was months ago."
“And… I don't really want to remember it.”
A brief silence settled over the three of you.
"...Just be careful, okay?" your friend murmured.
You forced a smile. "I will.”
After a few reluctant goodbyes, they finally disappeared down the pavement, leaving you standing alone outside the station.
The itch returned almost immediately. You scratched your cheek again, then stopped yourself with an irritated sigh.
Several minutes later, a cab pulled up. You climbed into the back seat, gave the driver the name of the nearest hospital, and leaned against the window. Your phone found its way back into your hand almost instantly. The same red patch stared back at you. The longer you looked, the more uneasy you became.
"Rough day?”
The driver's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up, seeing only the back of his head.
"...Kind of," you admitted quietly before lowering your phone. "Could you hurry, please?"
A low chuckle escaped him.
"I'll get you there." His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. "Unless traffic decides to piss me off.”
“....” You let out a slow breath and leaned back again.
The ride passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional glance you stole at your own reflection. No matter how many times you looked, the redness seemed a little more noticeable than before.
By the time the hospital came into view, you'd almost convinced yourself it was nothing. You paid the fare, climbed out, then hesitated.
The irritation didn't seem serious enough to justify calling another cab afterward, especially during the evening rush.
You stepped back toward the driver's window and tapped lightly against the glass. It rolled down a second later.
Without really looking at the driver, you leaned toward the window, "Would you mind waiting? It shouldn't take too long."
“....”
Instead of answering, he casually lifted two rough fingers. He held them directly in front of his mouth, his tongue deliberately sticking out between the knuckles as he turned toward you.
The act was entirely wrong, uncomfortable even. Causing a violent shiver to race straight down your spine. It made you halt completely.
"...What?" Your brows drew together as confusion and deep unease flickered across your face.
Only then did he let his hand fall away. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on his face. Just an almost lazy indifference as he looked at you, as though he hadn't done anything unusual at all.
"Double check," he drawled. "I mean.”
You stood there for a few seconds, the driver's words taking a moment to register. Whatever unease had crawled beneath your skin lingered, refusing to leave even after the joke had been clarified. You looked at him once more before shaking your head lightly.
"...Never mind." Your voice came out quieter than you'd intended. "Just... go ahead."
He didn't answer.
The window slid back up, and you turned toward the hospital entrance instead, rubbing absently at your cheek.
Inside, a nurse guided you into one of the examination rooms, where a middle-aged doctor adjusted the overhead lamp before gently tilting your chin toward the light.
"Hm..." He studied the reddened patch on your cheek in silence, his gloved fingers hovering just above the irritated skin before lightly examining the edges.
"This wasn't caused by heat," he murmured.
You frowned. "Then?"
He removed his gloves and looked at you over the rim of his glasses. "Radiation residue."
Seeing your confusion, he continued, "Certain specialized rounds leave behind trace amounts. If someone was standing close enough when the projectile passed..." He glanced back at your cheek. "...a burn like this isn't impossible."
"Were you involved in some kind of shooting?"
You hesitated before giving him the shortest version possible of what had happened at the lagoon.
"I see."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a tube of ointment, carefully spreading a thin layer over the burn before covering it with fresh gauze.
"Use this twice a day. Don't scratch it, no matter how much it itches." He scribbled something onto a prescription pad before handing it over. "And tell the police. This may be relevant to their investigation."
You nodded, folding the paper without looking at it. "I will."
Whether you actually planned to return to the station tonight was another matter entirely.
—
By the time you finally made it home, the clock on your phone read 7:58 PM.
It buzzed again.
Six missed calls.
You stared at the notification for a moment before locking the screen with a tired sigh. Whoever it was could wait. Right now, all you wanted was a shower, clean clothes, and a few hours of silence.
After paying the driver, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The familiar quiet wrapped around you almost instantly.
You slipped off your shoes near the entrance, dropped your bag beside the couch, and had just started unbuttoning your shirt when something clinked softly in the kitchen.
Your head tilted.
"...Rats?"
Impossible. You'd checked every window before leaving that morning.
Frowning, you made your way toward the kitchen. The sight waiting there stopped you cold.
A man stood in front of your open refrigerator, one hand resting lazily against the door while the other rummaged through the shelves. He didn't even glance back.
"...Don't tell me this's all you've got." His voice was low, rough around the edges. He shifted a few containers aside before clicking his tongue.
"Not even a damn beer."
Your breath caught.
"W-Who are you?" Your voice cracked. "How did you get in here?!"
He reached into the fridge, pulled out one of your soda cans, and shut the door with his foot. Only then did he answer.
"Keep your voice down." He weighed the can in one hand. "Ya were enough of a pain in the ass to find."
A quiet hiss escaped the tab as he cracked it open. "Don't make this more annoying than it's gotta be."
Every instinct screamed at you to call someone. To inform the police. Your hand shot toward your pocket.
The phone barely cleared the fabric. Something blurred across your vision.
CRACK...
The unopened soda can slammed into the phone with frightening accuracy. It flew from your hand, bounced once across the tiles, and came to rest near the hallway. The screen had shattered beyond recognition.
Then the man finally looked at you. Recognition struck immediately.
The jaw, the scar and those tired green eyes.
The cab driver...
He stared for a second before speaking. "...[name]."
A pause.
"Right?"
He scratched absently at the side of his neck. "...Nah."
Another pause.
"[Na... me]?"
A shrug. "Whatever." He took an unhurried sip of the soda. "Point is..." His gaze settled on you.
"Ya comin' with me..." Another sip. "...or am I gonna have to carry you?"
You forced yourself to breathe. Your eyes drifted toward the knife block sitting beside the sink.
"...Just who are you?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could. "What do you want from me!?"
"You."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and flicked through a handful of photos before turning the screen toward you.
It was you.
Jogging everyday.
Crossing the street outside your apartment. Buying groceries. Walking home after sunset. Each picture had clearly been taken without your knowledge.
"...This you?" he asked. His thumb lazily swiped to the next one.
"Wasn't hard." Another swipe. "Kinda predictable, actually."
He lowered the phone, glancing briefly toward the apartment door. "...Neighbors ever stick their noses where they shouldn't?"
The question sent a chill through you. You didn't answer. Instead, you turned.
Run.
Pressure struck the side of your neck before your first step landed. Your body instantly gave out beneath you.
Your knees hit the floor. Your eyes remained open. You could still hear your own breathing. Still see everything around you. But nothing moved...
"...There it is." His voice came from somewhere above you. "Told ya."
He bent down, hooked an arm beneath your stomach, and effortlessly slung you over his shoulder. As casually as he adjusted your weight and headed for the front door.
"Buckle up.”
—
The cigarette between one man's fingers burned low, its ember glowing each time he took another drag. “So?”
Across from him, the other barely acknowledged the conversation, too busy leaning over a cheap cup of instant ramen. Steam curled lazily into the stale air as chopsticks scraped the bottom of the container.
"You taking the job or not... Toji?"
The chopsticks paused only long enough for him to finish chewing. Then he swallowed, tilted the cup to drain the last of the broth, and exhaled through his nose.
"...Gotta send her to the border." His voice remained flat. "Alive." The word itself sounded more troublesome than anything.
"What a pain."
The other man smirked around his cigarette. "But the money's worth it, right?"
Toji looked up. The corner of his mouth tugged into a lazy, humorless grin. "Yeah." A short chuckle escaped him.
"That's the only reason I'm bothering."
—
The old lock rattled before the worn key finally turned.
A damp, abandoned room greeted him as the lone bulb overhead flickered to life, bathing the space in harsh yellow light.
You were exactly where he'd left you—wrists rubbed raw, ankles no better, duct tape still sealing your mouth. The moment the light struck your face, you instinctively shrank away from the figure in the doorway despite having nowhere to run.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of you.
He crouched, hooked two rough fingers beneath your chin, and forced your face up. His gaze drifted over the bruises around your wrists and the exhaustion in your eyes before he let go with a quiet scoff.
Even now.
A quiet scoff slipped from him. His grip disappeared just as roughly as it came. "Save your energy for later."
He began to rise, already finished with the inspection.
"Mmh—! Mmh, mmh!!" The frantic noises behind him made him stop. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. Annoyed.
He looked back over one shoulder, expression as blank as ever. "Ya got something useful to say?"
Your breathing hitched. For a brief moment you hesitated, fear warring with desperation before you nodded as hard as you could.
His eyes lingered on you for another second, judging whether you were worth the trouble. Then, without warning—
Rrrip…
The duct tape came off in one swift pull. A burning sting exploded across your lips and cheeks.
You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as tears threatened your eyes from the pain alone. Every instinct screamed to cry, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. If this was the only chance you'd get...
You couldn't waste it.
"...Who's behind this?" you asked, voice shaky despite your effort to stay composed. "Why are you doing this—"
His eyes rolled before you'd even finished. "Bullshit again." His hand reached for the roll of tape beside him.
"No—!" The word escaped louder than intended. "No, no, no... please." Your voice cracked as panic flooded in. "Hear me out... please. Just once... just once, please."
"I'll pay you!" A beat of silence.
"You can… have everything I have."
He looked at you with something dangerously close to amusement before letting out a quiet scoff.
"Sure you will."
Your heart lurched. You shuffled backward on instinct until your shoulders struck the wall behind you. "No, I'm serious!" Your breathing became uneven. "Please... please, I mean it."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting. "...You've got thirty seconds."
You nodded so quickly it almost hurt. Your lungs struggled to keep pace with your racing thoughts.
"Listen... I..." You swallowed hard. "I just need to know who hired you."
"I know you're doing this for money," you rushed on before he could interrupt. "You... you can have all my savings. Everything I have. I'll give it to you."
Your voice trembled despite every attempt to steady it. "Just... just let me go... please."
A low hum escaped him. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "Let you go?" His expression stayed almost painfully indifferent.
"So ya can run straight to the police?"
"No!"
"You can follow me!" you blurted out. "Like you did before! Please... believe me."
"You think you're the first person to say that?”
“—” Your mind raced, scrambling for any scrap of leverage against a man who seemed impossible to sway. Your gaze flicked over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near the corner of his mouth, and the complete lack of empathy in his piercing green eyes.
Desperation clawed at your throat. If you didn't say something—anything—to make him believe you, he was going to leave you here in the darkness... and you might never walk out.
After trying everything you can think of, your mind suddenly goes blank for a few agonizing seconds.
“You… listen,” The world feels like it tilts beneath you. Without thinking, driven by nothing but pure survival instinct, the words leave your mouth.
"You can fuck me. I... I'll let you fuck me..."
The words hang there, heavy and unbearable, and the second they leave your lips, regret crashes over you.
The room goes completely still.
His gaze stayed fixed on you, reading the panic written across your face. After a long moment, he exhaled through his nose and tilted his head, a cold smirk tugging at the scar near his mouth.
"Ya think that's gonna pay bills?"
The words landed without emotion. To him, everything had a price, and your offer clearly wasn't worth anything.
"Tch."
One hand steadied your head while the other pressed the tape back over your mouth, cutting off every desperate word before it could leave your lips. Ignoring your muffled protests, Toji stood and walked toward the door.
The lock clicked shut behind him.
—
The whole night passed without seeing him.
The next morning came and went in agonizing silence, and still, the room remained empty. There was nothing left to do but wait for him to come back.
You watched the light beyond the window slowly fade until the room fell dark once again. Hours in the same position had left one entire side of your body aching, stiff and nearly numb.
Then the heavy door creaked open. Boots echoed across the concrete as the overhead light snapped on, forcing you to squint against the sudden brightness. You lifted your head just enough to see Toji standing there.
Without a word, he rolled a plastic water bottle across the floor until it bumped against your leg.
He stood over you for a moment, silently taking in the rope burns around your wrists and your exhausted state. Then he crouched, wrapped a calloused hand around your shoulder, and hauled you upright. Pins and needles shot violently through your numb side.
Before you could react, he ripped the duct tape from your mouth in one swift pull.
He twisted the bottle open and shoved it against your lips, forcing you to drink. You swallowed greedily, choking as water spilled down your chin and soaked the front of your shirt when he refused to slow down.
The bottle emptied just as quickly. He pulled it away, and you slumped forward, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Washroom..."
Toji paused, his jaw tightening. He looked immediately pissed, a deep line forming between his dark brows as if your basic human anatomy was a personal inconvenience to his schedule.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he reached down, hauling you up roughly by your one arm. Your deadened legs wobbled beneath you, but he didn't care to let you find your footing, unceremoniously dragging you across the concrete toward the small adjoining bathroom.
Once there, he shoved you inside.
He didn't leave though. He just stood right in the doorway, his massive frame completely filling the frame, holding the door wide open.
You blinked through your exhaustion, looking from him to the toilet, your mind stumbling over the lack of privacy.
"...?" You swallowed hard, forcing the words past your dry throat. "Can you please untie my hands?"
Toji leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at you with flat, utterly bored eyes. "For what?"
"To clean..." you muttered, your face burning with a sudden, humiliating heat.
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp click of his tongue. He stepped forward, his movements terrifyingly fast as he grabbed your wrists. With a quick, dismissive twist of his fingers, he untied the left hand only, leaving your right wrist still bound and restricted.
He stepped back to his post in the doorway. Humiliated and desperate for a shred of dignity, you reached out with your one free hand, trying to pull the bathroom door closed.
He didn't even blink. He casually extended a single, heavy foot, planting his boot against the wood and holding it open nonchalantly. The door didn't move an inch against his weight.
Your breath hitched, a mix of frustration and shame tightening your chest. "Hey..? Let go of the door."
Toji’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous, low edge bleeding into his gravelly voice. "Dontcha order me around."
He shifted his weight, looking down at you with a mocking, entirely merciless smirk playing on the corner of his scarred mouth. "Besides, didn't ya say you'd let me fuck you? So what's ya issue now? A door?”
Your eyes widened, a sudden frown of sheer surprise twisting your features. "That's—that's not how I meant it!" you stammered, your voice cracking.
"Shut up," Toji cut you off, his tone instantly dropping into a flat, icy command that brooked zero argument. He didn't even look angry anymore. Just completely done with the conversation.
"Do what you gotta do, or I'm making ya piss on the damn carpet. Take your pick."
"..."
The words died in your throat. You didn't argue anymore. Nope. There was no winning against a man who truly did not care about your modesty, your comfort, or about you.
You kept your head down, your eyes burning as you stared at the floor tiles. You moved with agonizing slowness, glancing up at him just for a split second to see if he was looking or if he had at least looked away out of basic decency.
He was just standing there, propped against the frame, watching with the same detached indifference. As you finally forced yourself to do your business under his unblinking stare, a suffocating wave of mortification washed over you.
Embarrassing, you thought, your chest aching with a raw, bitter sting as you kept your gaze fiercely locked onto the ground.
Fucking embarrassing…
—
A few more days dragged by in that same suffocating rhythm.
He kept you tied, only coming in to force water down your throat, shove a single meal your way, or order you to wash up once a day.
Every time he did, he looked irritated, as though keeping you alive was an inconvenience. The only thing that changed was the length of the silence between his visits.
What didn't change was the question gnawing at you.
Why hadn't he delivered you yet? If this was just a job, why the delay? Was the buyer farther away than you'd assumed... or had something gone wrong? Every passing day made the answer feel further out of reach, until the uncertainty itself became exhausting.
Then the heavy door flew open.
Toji walked in with a purpose you hadn't seen before. Before you could react, he was already in front of you.
He grabbed your shoulders, hauled you up, and dragged your stiff body across the floor before shoving you into a wooden chair. Pulling another chair over, he sat directly across from you, elbows resting on his knees, his dark green eyes fixed on yours.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
A stunned silence dropped over the room. You stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, your mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift in his motives.
He was bypassing his client…?
"Everything…" you breathed, your voice raw. "Everything I mean it."
Toji didn't look impressed. He leaned back, his expression turning flat and entirely bored.
"How much in exact?"
"..." You swallowed hard, calculating the numbers in your head, knowing this was your only lifeline.
"Worth more than a million. Even more, actually. And…”
“As I said before, I'm willing to give you my body, so yeah...!"
Toji closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He didn't want a sob story, and he certainly hadn't asked for your body. But if you insisted on offering it as part of the deal, he'd treat it as nothing more than a cheap down payment.
He dropped his hand from his face, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dark intensity. "Strip," he commanded flatly. Before the word could even fully register in your brain, his hands gripped the hem of his own black shirt. With a fluid, unbothered motion, he began pulling it up over his head, revealing the sharp, chiseled lines of his abs and the heavy musculature of his torso.
Your eyes widened in absolute shock, your heart leaping straight into your throat. "What? Now? Wait—!!"
Toji stopped midway, his arms lifted, the dark fabric of his shirt bunched up around his collarbone and obscuring half his face, but his piercing gaze remained entirely fixed on you through the gap.
Realizing how horribly your words had backfired, You quickly cleared your throat, trying desperately to sound grounded and speak the only language he actually cared about.
"Your main priority is money," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I can get it for you. But we have to handle the logistics first!"
Toji's lips twitched into a dismissive line. "Ya just have to tell me the pin," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. "Ya ain't going anywhere."
Your mind scrambled, you knew that if you just handed over a number, you became entirely useless to him.
"Large withdrawals don't work like that," you argued. "The bank needs me there. My ID. My signature. They won't hand over that kind of money to a stranger, no matter what pin you have...”
Toji didn't move. He sat there in the dim light, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn't believe you—not fully.
But he also knew the annoying, bureaucratic reality of wealthy institutions. He knew you could be telling the truth, and he wasn't a man to risk a massive payout over a technicality.
Rather than untying you completely and trusting you, he opted for a pragmatic middle ground.
"Fine," he muttered and dropped down into a crouch in front of your chair. A short, wicked blade materialized in his hand.
With one precise flick of his wrist, he sliced through the ropes binding your ankles. They dropped to the floor, freeing your feet, but he left your wrists bound tightly behind your back.
He stood up in one motion, sheathing the knife before you could even blink. "You try anything..." He didn't even bother to finish the sentence.
Without waiting for a response, he was already moving, turning his back on you and walking toward the door to prepare for the trip.
You sat there, your ankles suddenly free, completely speechless for a second. It worked…?
—
No… you weren't naive enough to believe he'd suddenly trusted you.
Minutes crawled by.
The room fell back into that same suffocating silence you'd grown to hate. How long did it take to get ready?
You frowned toward the closed door. Had he changed his mind? Was he talking to whoever had hired him? Were they arguing over you?
The lock finally clicked.
Your head snapped toward the entrance. Bu, it wasn't Toji.
A different man stepped inside, dressed in an immaculate dark suit that looked almost absurdly expensive compared to the decaying room around him.
He spared you only a brief glance before looking past. "Everything ready?"
Heavy footsteps answered from somewhere behind him. Toji appeared in the doorway a second later, one hand shoved lazily into his pocket.
"Hm."
The suited man sighed through his nose. "You packed everything?"
"Yeah."
"And the vehicle?"
"Outside."
Another small nod. "Good." The conversation continued as though you weren't even there.
"The route changed," the suited man said. "There's more activity than expected."
Toji didn't look particularly interested. "So?"
"So don't take the highway."
A shrug. "I wasn't planning to."
The suited man studied him for a moment before giving a short, resigned hum, as though he'd expected exactly that answer.
Then, his attention settled fully on you. He approached with measured steps. Your shoulders instinctively tensed. "What are you—"
He crouched in front of you before you could finish. From inside his jacket, he produced a slim black folder along with a small electronic scanner no larger than his palm.
Your brows knitted together. "...What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flipped open the folder, briefly checking whatever documents were clipped inside before setting the scanner on his knee.
"Hold still."
Before you could pull away, his hand had already closed around your bound wrist. Your body reacted instantly. "Let go!—"
You twisted sharply, trying to wrench your hand free, but the ropes left you with almost no movement. "What are you doing?!"
"Stay still." His grip never tightened. It simply remained impossibly steady.
"I said let go! Damnit!" You struggled harder. The scanner emitted a quiet electronic beep as he calmly positioned your thumb against the glass surface.
"No!" You jerked again before a large hand landed heavily on the back of your chair.
Toji.
He simply stood behind you, one broad hand resting against the chair as if reminding you exactly how pointless resistance was.
The room somehow felt smaller. Even your breathing sounded too loud.
The suited man glanced up briefly, then back down and pressed your thumb onto the scanner once more. A soft chime echoed through the room.
He lifted your hand away. "...Done." He returned the scanner to the folder with practiced efficiency before pulling a small ink pad from another pocket.
Your eyes widened. "...Wait."
He took your index finger next. You struggled again, weaker this time. "What are you taking?"
Silence…
He rolled your fingertip across the ink, then onto one of the papers clipped inside the folder with precise, practiced movements.
He simply closed the folder with a quiet snap and stood. For several seconds, neither man spoke. The suited man tucked the documents back inside his jacket before looking toward Toji.
"Everything's settled. The transfer location's been changed." The suited man's gaze lingered for another moment. "Don't waste time."
Toji clicked his tongue. "Mm."
A brief silence followed. Then the suited man gave one last glance toward you. Whatever expression crossed his face disappeared too quickly to read.
He turned and headed for the door. Just before stepping outside, he paused without looking back.
"Hurry up."
The door shut behind him. You stared after it, your thoughts spiraling. Transfer, settled, and moving?
What had they just done with your fingerprints? What exactly had been settled?
Your gaze slowly lifted toward Toji. He remained exactly where he'd been, shoulders loose, looking down at you with the same tired, almost bored expression. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of dark cloth.
Before you could react, he stepped behind you. The fabric slipped over your eyes, plunging the room into absolute darkness. You instinctively jerked back, but his hand caught the side of your head, holding you still as he tied it firmly behind your skull. "Hold still."
A second later, another wad of cloth was shoved between your teeth. "Mmph—!"
He ignored your muffled protest, securing it tightly behind your head before giving it a brief tug to check it wouldn't come loose.
Satisfied, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped in front of you. One arm slid beneath yours while the other hooked around your waist. Before you could brace yourself, he hauled you effortlessly onto your feet.
"—!?" Your legs nearly buckled after days of weakness, and you stumbled straight into him.
"Tch…" He steadied you with obvious reluctance, waiting only long enough to make sure you wouldn't collapse outright.
You let out a muffled, frustrated sound through the gag, earning nothing more than an impatient click of his tongue. His grip tightened just enough to keep you moving as he steered you toward the door.
—
There was nothing left to guide you except sound and touch. Before the rough shove that sent you forward. Hands catching you before you hit the ground, only to throw you sideways onto cracked leather seats a heartbeat later.
The engine rumbled to life beneath you.
Blind, gagged, your wrists still bound behind your back, you lay awkwardly across the seat, forcing yourself to stay calm. Every bump in the road jolted through your weakened body, every turn sending you sliding across the upholstery until something—a boot, maybe a knee—wordlessly shoved you back into place.
You had no idea where he was taking you anymore.
—
Eventually, the engine died.
Before you could even brace yourself, a large, calloused hand clamped around your thigh.
"Mm—!" You were dragged across the seat so abruptly your hip scraped the edge before your forehead smacked straight into the car frame. Pain exploded through your skull. A muffled cry escaped behind the gag.
"Careful." The familiar voice came from somewhere to your right—calm, almost absentminded.
The grip on you disappeared just as another pair of hands seized you instead.
"Tch..."
You recognized the irritated scoff instantly. Without so much as asking if you could stand, Toji hauled you up against him and started walking.
After what felt like five long minutes, he finally stopped. Your feet touched solid ground. One hand remained gripping your upper arm while the other reached behind your head.
You squeezed your eyes shut on instinct before slowly blinking them open. “....?”
An abandoned water park stretched around you.
The resort had long been abandoned. Rust covered the railings, weeds cracked through the pavement, and silent slides loomed overhead. Beyond the still pool stood a weathered hotel, its dark windows staring back like empty eyes.
Your head snapped toward Toji. Confusion lasted barely a second before it curdled into anger.
"What the HELL are you doing?!" you shouted the instant he yanked the cloth from your mouth.
"You said we were going to the bank! Why did you bring me here? What are you planning?!"
“....” Toji looked down at you with the same detached expression he'd worn all morning. "Ya tried t' trick me," he said flatly.
"So I tricked ya first."
Silence…
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest, almost amused smirk. "Hm." He tilted his head.
"What's with that look?" His voice stayed lazy as he reached toward your face, fingers aiming for your chin. "Gonna bite?”
You jerked forward without thinking, snapping your teeth at his hand—CHOMP!
“....”
The back of his hand struck across your cheek. It wasn't a full-force hit, but it landed squarely against the injured, bandaged side of your face.
White-hot pain shot through your head. A broken gasp escaped you as your knees nearly gave out. Before you could recover, his fist buried itself in your hair. Your head was wrenched back. Tears stung your eyes.
"Look at me." His voice had gone cold. Just something hard enough to make your stomach drop.
"The deal's off." His grip tightened another fraction. "I wouldn't lose sleep killin' ya right now."
Your breathing came faster despite yourself. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the rise and fall of your chest. Then they lifted back to yours.
A quiet hum escaped him. "But..." His grip loosened just enough to keep you upright.
"...we got bigger fish t' fry."
Toji's grip in your hair stayed iron-tight as he shifted his stance. His boot hooked behind your ankle and twisted hard, yanking your leg out from under you.
You dropped fast, knees cracking against the concrete. Before you could even brace yourself, his free hand was already working his belt open.
"Stay down.” he muttered, voice low and flat. The metal clink of his buckle echoed once before he shoved his pants low enough to free his cock. It hung heavy, half-soft, right in front of your face.
He didn't give you time to react. His palm cracked across your bandaged cheek again. Harder this time—making your vision spark white.
"Open. Now."
"No! Get off—" You tried to twist away, but his fist in your hair wrenched your head forward. The soft weight of his cock slapped across your injured face, once, twice, the heat of it dragging over the bandages. He kept doing it, smacking your swollen cheek with the length of it until it started to stiffen against your skin.
"Tch. Look at you." Another slap, this time with the head, leaving a wet smear. "Thought you could pull one over on me?"
He pressed forward without warning, forcing the thickening head past your lips. Your jaw ached from the earlier hit, but he didn't care. He shoved deeper, the underside dragging over your tongue as he fed inch after inch into your mouth.
When you gagged and tried to pull back, his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the root in one brutal thrust.
"'Take it," he growled, voice still eerily calm. Both hands locked on your head now, fingers digging into your scalp as he started fucking your throat. Each thrust was rough and deliberate, the head punching past your gag reflex again and again.
Spit spilled from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick strings. He didn't slow down when you choked—he just pushed deeper, grinding his pelvis against your nose until your lungs burned.
"Cry all you want." His tone stayed detached, almost bored, even as he used your mouth like a toy. "Should've thought about that before ya tried to play me."
He pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air, then slammed forward again, harder. Your nose pressed flat to his hairy pelvis, throat convulsing around him. He held you there, hips rolling in short, grinding motions while your vision blurred with tears.
Every time you tried to push against his thighs, he slapped your wounded face again—until your arms dropped limp at your sides.
"Hands off," he ordered. "You lost that choice." His pace turned vicious after that. Short, brutal thrusts that made your throat bulge visibly with each one.
"Tch," he muttered, almost to himself. "Keep that throat open or I'll break your jaw.”
Toji didn't bother pulling out after he finished down your throat. He stayed buried to the hilt, letting the last weak pulses of his cock empty into you while your throat kept spasming around him.
When he finally dragged his length free, a thick string of spit and cum stretched from your swollen lips to the head of his cock before it snapped. You barely had time to cough before his boot slammed into your shoulder, knocking you onto your back against the cold concrete.
"Ain't done with ya yet," he said, voice flat as ever. His pants were already shoved down to his thighs, cock still glistening and half-hard. He dropped down without warning, one knee pinning your chest while his hands went straight for your clothes.
Fabric tore under his grip—shirt yanked open, buttons scattering, pants ripped down your legs with zero patience. You tried to kick, but he caught your ankle and twisted it hard, forcing your leg up and out until your hip burned.
"Fight if ya want. Won't change a damn thing." He shoved your thighs apart with his knees, settling between them like he owned the space. His cock dragged heavy against your inner thigh, already thickening again.
One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his fingers. The other reached down, lining himself up without a word of warning. The blunt head pressed against your entrance, then pushed—hard, relentless, forcing its way inside with one brutal thrust that made your back arch.
"Tch... fuck." he muttered, almost to himself. He buried himself to the base in one go, hips snapping forward until his pelvis smacked flush against yours. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around the sudden invasion, but he just grunted and started moving.
Your hands flew up on instinct, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed both wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head, pinning them there with his full weight. "Quit squirming."
He fucked you with deep, punishing strokes that made your whole body jolt. Each thrust bottomed out hard, the head of his cock battering against your cervix until pain and pressure blurred together. His free hand slapped your bandaged cheek again, then gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he used you. "Stay awake."
He let go of your wrists only to hook both hands under your knees, folding you in half until your thighs pressed against your chest. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his cock punching into you with wet, obscene sounds that echoed off the walls.
Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your face. He didn't slow down when you cried out—he just fucked harder, hips slapping against your ass with bruising force. Every thrust shoved you a few inches across the concrete, scraping your back raw.
"Don't." he warned, voice still eerily calm even as he pounded into you. His balls slapped against your ass with each brutal thrust. He leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck hard enough to leave marks, then licked over the bite like he was tasting sweat and fear. "You'll wear what I leave on you, brat."
He shifted his grip, one hand moving to your throat again while the other pressed down on your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock moving inside you.
Toji's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat, cutting off whatever broken words you tried to force out. "St—" was all you managed before two thick digits shoved past your lips, scraping over your tongue and jamming deep until they hit the back of your throat.
Your eyes rolled back instantly, body convulsing as you gagged hard around them. Spit flooded your mouth, bubbling around his knuckles while he held them there, pressing down on your tongue like he wanted to feel every wet choke.
Your pussy clenched violently around his cock from the intrusion, walls fluttering and squeezing his girth in panicked spasms. Toji hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering for a second. "Tch... fuck." A low grunt left him. "Gettin' tighter every time." He shoved his fingers deeper, curling them against your soft palate until you retched, tears spilling fresh down your temples.
From somewhere behind him, a calm, measured voice cut through the wet sounds of your throat being used. "Toji. Come out once you're finished."
Your head jerked toward the voice on instinct, desperate for any shred of help, but the suit man didn't spare you a glance. He stood there like you don't even exist, eyes fully on Toji.
Toji didn't even slow down. If anything, his hips snapped harder, brutal and punishing, driving his cock so deep your cervix ached with every thrust. "Yeah. I'm comin'.”
The suit man hums before his footsteps fade away without another word, leaving you alone with Toji's free hand fisted in your hair and yanked hard, forcing your head back to face him.
The fingers stayed buried in your throat, making you gag and drool around them while he fucked you. "Eyes on me." He ground his pelvis against your clit with every vicious thrust. "Ain't nobody comin' for ya."
Every time your walls fluttered around him he slapped your bandaged cheek again, hard enough to make your ears ring. "Tch... no wonder that shepherd wanted his stray back.” He let out a quiet, irritated breath. "....”
He buried himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing thick and hot as he emptied inside you, grinding deep while your walls spasmed around him. Only when the last spurt finished did he pull out, leaving your hole gaping and leaking his cum down your thighs..
He didn't even look at you as he tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper cutting through the silence like a knife. His boots scraped against the grimy floor as he stepped over you, and you felt the shadow of his frame loom for a moment.
"Don't ya move."
You couldn't see his face from where you lay, but you could feel his gaze on you. Then the door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway, heavy and unhurried, until there was only the sound of your own ragged breathing.
You stared at the door. At the crack running along the hinge.
Why?
You hadn't done anything. You hadn't crossed anyone. You hadn't stolen, hadn't cheated, hadn't even looked at someone the wrong way.
Then why you?
Your mind raced through every face you'd ever known, every conversation, every mistake, every stranger you'd passed on the street. There was nothing that could explain any of this.
He'd already taken everything. Your savings, freedom—even your dignity. So why were you still here?
If money was all he'd wanted, he could've killed you after the withdrawal. Instead, he kept dragging you from place to place like you still had some purpose.
Everyone had to be looking for you by now. But if Toji kept moving you... they'd never find you.
Your body screeched in protest as you forced yourself to roll, bound wrists scraping raw against the floor. You didn't even know where you were trying to go anymore—just anywhere.
You paused when you spotted the table nearby. Slowly, painfully, you dragged yourself toward it, lifting your bound wrists to rub the rope against the sharp metal edge. It wouldn't give.
Your whole body throbbed with every desperate movement, but you kept grinding the rope against the table leg, breathing harder and harder until the fibers finally started to fray. The moment you felt give, you arched back and shoved your legs through the gap, using your teeth next, tearing until the rope finally snapped free.
You immediately looked down at your ankles and clawed at the remaining rope, pulling and scratching until it tore apart. Once your legs were free you grabbed the table edge and hauled yourself up, a broken wince escaping as your back and everything else screamed in protest.
You scanned the room until you spotted your skirt crumpled in the corner, your torn panties useless beside it. You grabbed the skirt and pulled it on with shaking hands, then moved toward the door on unsteady legs.
You eased the warped wooden door open a fraction at a time. Every muscle protested as you slipped into the hallway, pausing the moment both feet crossed the threshold.
No sign of him.
You limped forward, one hand dragging along the stained wall for support. Every step pulled at your aching ribs while the raw rope burns around your wrists throbbed with each movement, crumbling plaster scraping beneath your fingertips.
A cool draft brushed across your face, carrying the scent of rain.
An exit…
You shoved your shoulder against the rusted metal door. It resisted at first, groaning in protest, before finally giving way with a screech.
An abandoned water park stretched before you, swallowed by years of neglect. Cracked pathways vanished beneath tangled weeds while rust bled down every railing. Towering slides loomed overhead, their faded paint peeling beneath the grey sky. Pools that had once sparkled now sat thick with algae, their murky surfaces barely stirring in the wind. The entire place looked ready to collapse.
One wrong step…
You swallowed hard.
This place could kill you just as easily as he could.
Your gaze swept across the grounds. Scanning the slides and rusted maintenance buildings.
Nothing.
You whipped your head to the left, tension flaring in your neck.
Still nothing.
Had he really just left? Was he gone? Had he actually—
Don't think. Just move.
You forced your body forward, limping across the uneven concrete. Every few steps you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to find him standing there—that same lazy expression, those dark eyes already knowing exactly where you'd run.
Your bare foot came down on a slick patch of moss hidden inside a crack in the pavement.
It slipped.
You threw your weight sideways, grabbing blindly until your hand caught a rusted pipe. The impact rattled through your shoulders as you barely stopped yourself from crashing face-first onto the concrete.
A shaky, sobbing breath escaped your trembling lips. "..."
You tightened your grip, forcing yourself upright. One more step. Then your weakened ankle folded beneath you.
"Ah—!" A blinding flash of pain shot up your leg, short-circuiting your brain. You clawed desperately at the empty air. The world flipped upside down.
SPLASH!
The stagnant water swallowed you whole.
Freezing filth rushed into your nose and mouth before you could scream. The shock drove every thought from your mind as you sank beneath the cloudy green water.
You kicked desperately. The raw skin around your ankles screamed the instant the filthy water touched it. Fire raced across every rope burn. Your wrists flared just as sharply when you tried to pull yourself upward, every stroke sending another bolt of pain through your arms.
It hurt.
It hurt enough to make your body lock up.
You fought toward the surface with clumsy, desperate movements, your heavy clothes dragging at every limb.
You sucked in a breath—Only to choke as another wave slapped across your face.
Water filled your mouth.
You coughed violently, arms thrashing without rhythm as your soaked clothes pulled you under again. "H-Help—!”
The desperate plea dissolved instantly into another wet, choking fit. Your vision began to blur at the edges, turning dark and fuzzy. Then, a horribly familiar, low voice drifted effortlessly across the water.
"...Ya like t' embarrass yourself or what?"
You blinked through stinging, watering eyes. Toji stood at the edge of the pool, one hand buried in his pocket, broad shoulders loose as he looked down at you. There wasn't a trace of urgency, concern, or even surprise on his face.
He watched you struggle for another agonizing second. Then, he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. "If ya wanted t' die that badly..." His massive shoulders rose in a lazy, slow shrug. "...could-a just told me."
A beat passed before the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Wouldn't want my piggy bank dyin' yet.”
Suddenly, a muffled, sharp vibration buzzed from inside his dark jacket. He glanced down carelessly. Another desperate, strangled cough escaped your lips as your nose slipped beneath the water again.
Without a single word, he finally moved. He crouched down at the edge of the pool. One large, calloused hand reached down over the water.
His thick fingers hooked tightly into the collar of your soaked, heavy shirt. With absolute, terrifyingly effortless strength, he lifted. Your feet left the water entirely. Your legs dangled uselessly in the air.
Water streamed from your clothes in heavy, cascading sheets, slapping against the concrete before he deposited you onto the cracked ground.
You collapsed onto your hands and knees, coughing until your ribs ached. Murky water spilled from your mouth in ragged bursts.
You were sniffling, gasping, and sobbing, trying desperately to fill your burning lungs with air.
Above you, Toji stood at his full height, giving you a slow, calculating once-over from head to toe. "Hm." A faint, amused scoff escaped his lips.
"Even managed t' cover your shit." His dark eyes lingered on the hem of the skirt you had frantically pulled back on before running. "...Ya're really somethin'."
One of his massive hand grabbed the front of your skirt and ripped it straight down the middle, the fabric tearing like paper. The ruined cloth was tossed aside. Your top came next. His fingers hooked into the collar and yanked, buttons popping, seams splitting until both the shirt and the bra beneath were shredded and flung away.
Cold air hit your bare skin as you were left naked except for the tattered remnants clinging to your wrists. "No—please, stop—fuck you, you piece of shit—" Your voice cracked into desperate curses and pleas, but Toji only grunted in irritation. He caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head against the wet concrete.
"Shut it." His free hand delivered two quick, sharp slaps to your already bruised cheek. "Ain't nobody listenin' to that mouth."
He shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, then dropped to straddle your chest. Your wrists stayed trapped in his grip while he shoved his length between your tits, squeezing them together with his other hand. He started thrusting, slow and deliberate, the head of his cock bumping your chin with every stroke.
A few heavy drops from the sky splattering across your face, then more, cold and relentless. Water ran down Toji's back and dripped from his hair onto your skin, but he didn't pause.
His hips kept moving, cock sliding between your breasts, getting harder with each thrust while your choked sobs mixed with the sound of rain hitting concrete.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. But he ignored and kept fucking the valley of your tits until he was fully hard, thick and heavy between your soft flesh.
"Tch." He finally pulled back, grabbed one of your legs, and hauled it up over his shoulder. The position spread you wide, exposing your already swollen, red pussy to his gaze. He leaned in, spat directly on your cunt, then lined up and drove in dry. "Fuck..."
The only slickness came from the cum he'd left inside you earlier. It made a filthy, wet sound as he forced his way deep, stretching your sore walls around him. Your back arched off the ground. A broken, choking sound tore from your throat.
Toji's hand clamped around your neck, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He held your head pinned to the concrete while his hips snapped forward, each thrust making your ass bounce and his coarse pubic hair grind against your clit.
Midway through a brutal thrust his phone buzzed again. He clicked his tongue, reached into his pocket with one hand, and answered without slowing down. He put it on speaker, the other hand still crushing your windpipe.
Almost with a rough thrust, he leaned over you, and mercilessly pressed the phone directly against your wet ear.
Instantly, a man's voice erupted from the speaker, so sharp it seemed to slice straight through your pounding heartbeat.
"Toji."
"Wo ist mein Liebling?! Warum antwortest du nicht?! Was zum Teufel machst du da?!" A harsh breath crackled through the line before he barked again, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
"Bring sie sofort zu mir. Hörst du mich? Sofort. Und wenn ihr auch nur ein Haar fehlt..."
“....”
Your entire body went rigid.
Because you knew him...
The man you had disappeared from almost a year ago.
You'd blocked every number he used. Deleted every message. Left without giving him the closure he'd insisted he deserved because there was nothing left to explain.
Every conversation with him had become another cage, every apology another promise that lasted a day before he tightened his grip again. You had walked away because staying had become unbearable.
You'd expected anything else. But never...
Never this.
Your trembling hands curled against the rough concrete as your mind desperately tried to reject the obvious, but there was no mistaking it.
Toji caught every flicker of realization crossing your face. His mouth slowly curved into a smirk, lazy and mocking. He watched you for another second before giving a quiet, amused huff through his nose. "Know him?"
Toji didn't seem bothered by your silence. He pulled the phone away from your ear and lifted it to his own instead, looking more inconvenienced than anything.
"Quit yellin'," he barked. "English."
A long beat of silence crackled through the speaker before the man spoke again, every trace of panic stripped from his voice.
"Where is she?"
Toji's eyes drifted back to you. You hadn't even realized you'd started shaking harder until his gaze settled on you.
A dry chuckle escaped him. "Funny thing..." he said, scratching idly at his jaw. "Ya paid me t' bring her in." He let the sentence hang just long enough.
"...Then figured you'd kill me after."
Silence...
Then the voice on the other end snapped. "What?"
"What the hell are you talking about?—"
With a careless flick of his wrist, Toji tossed the phone onto your chest. It bounced once against your bare skin before settling there, the speaker still on, the frantic voice spilling into the open air.
"...Liebling? Can you hear me?"
"What did he do to you?"
"Answer me."
"[Name]!"
Your fingers twitched weakly beside the phone, but they wouldn't obey you. Toji knew they wouldn't.
He kept driving his cock into your cunt with brutal, punishing thrusts, each one forcing your ass to slap against the wet concrete. His hips snapped forward without mercy, the thick length stretching your already swollen walls while the previous load inside you squelched wetly around him.
Toji's free hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he forced your head back against the ground. Rain poured down over both of you, soaking his hair, running down his chest, dripping onto your face with every thrust.
"[Name], huh..." he said, voice low and flat even as he kept fucking you.
His pace turned more vicious, the wet slap of skin against skin mixing with the rain and the distant voice still demanding through the speaker. Your body jolted under him with every thrust, tits bouncing, thighs shaking around his waist.
Toji's hand moved from your jaw to your mouth. His rough fingers hooked between your lips, pulling them apart into a forced, grotesque smile while he kept pounding into you. Your eyes rolled back, unfocused and glassy, tears mixing with rainwater as your expression went slack and fucked-out.
"Hah..." he muttered, almost to himself, watching the way your face twisted under his grip. "...ain't even here anymore."
His cock twitched deep inside you. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding his pubic bone against your clit as he came hard, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into your womb.
His hips jerked with each pulse, forcing every drop as deep as it would go while his fingers kept your mouth stretched into that empty, broken smile.
"...She's occupied."
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Please DO NOT read if you're sensitive to these topics.
AN: This piece explores very dark themes. If you're uncomfortable with yandere dynamics, abuse, or psychological torment, please skip this. Reader discretion is strongly advised. (FUCK MY PREVIOUS ACCOUNT. IM GONNA START OVER)
Masterlist
You don't remember falling asleep.
One moment, your thumb was lazily dragging down the screen of your phone, mindlessly watching reel after reel-cats knocking things off tables, oddly satisfying slime videos, a few too many Gojo edits-and the next, a sharp pain had erupted behind your eyes. Like a migraine laced with something sinister. You winced, thinking maybe the blue light had finally caught up with you, so you tossed the phone aside and curled under your blanket, hoping a quick nap would reset your brain.
But what greets you when you open your eyes again is... not your room.
The ceiling is too high. Wooden, carved with an elegance that reeks of power. The sheets beneath your fingers are silk, not the cotton covers you remember. And your clothes-your eyes widen-you're not even in your pajamas anymore. A pale robe, almost translucent, clings to your skin like a second layer, soft and foreign. There's a strange floral scent in the air-lotus, maybe, or something sweeter, heavier-and your limbs feel like they've been asleep for centuries.
You sit up slowly, heart beginning to pound.
This isn't your room. This isn't your world.
The walls are rich with tapestries and scrolls, the designs swirling like they're alive. The bed you lie in is massive, fit for royalty, the mattress sinking just the right amount. Still, none of it comforts you. The air itself feels off-thick with an energy that prickles at your skin. You feel watched. Haunted.
Your throat tightens as an unexplainable fear begins to bloom in your chest.
"This has to be a dream," you murmur to yourself, voice barely audible. "It has to be..."
A sharp gasp cuts through the silence.
You snap your head to the corner of the room. A woman in a formal kimono stands frozen in place. Her eyes are wide with disbelief, her hands trembling so badly you can hear the sleeves of her kimono rustling. Her lips part, but no words come out at first. She looks like she's seen a ghost.
"M...mistress," she finally stammers. Her voice is paper-thin, her bow so deep her forehead almost touches the floor. "You're awake... you... you shouldn't have..."
You blink. Mistress? You try to ask her what she means, but the words tangle in your throat.
The commotion must have alerted others, because more women come rushing in. They're dressed similarly, their expressions matching the first-nervous, pale, careful. As if the very sight of you is both a miracle and a threat.
Their eyes flick between one another before one of them steps forward, bowing low. "Pardon me," she says softly, barely louder than a whisper. Her hands reach out gently, taking yours. Her touch is cool and practiced, as if she's done this a hundred times-but never with someone like you.
You're too stunned to protest as she helps you off the bed. The fabric of your robe slides off your skin with every movement, light as air. The other maids trail behind like shadows, always three steps behind, heads lowered.
They guide you through halls that feel like they belong to another century. The floor is polished wood, the doors tall and heavy with carvings of ancient beings. Eventually, you're led to a bath-a giant stone basin filled with steaming water, petals of crimson and gold floating on top. The walls are etched with dragon motifs, and the scent of rose milk fills your lungs.
"Please," one murmurs, gesturing for you to undress.
You hesitate... but something about their anxious eyes keeps you quiet. Besides, it's not like you have a better plan.
They bathe you with reverence, their hands gentle as they pour warm water over your shoulders, brushing your hair until it shines. The tension in your muscles starts to ease despite yourself. Maybe it's the warmth. Maybe it's the surreal luxury. Or maybe you're just trying not to panic.
You close your eyes. Try to pretend this is just some lucid dream. That you'll wake up in your bed soon, phone hot from charging beside you, and laugh at how weird it all was.
But when your eyes open again, you're in another room.
This one is darker. Richer in tone. The kimono they dress you in is exquisite-deep red silk with golden embroidery along the sleeves, trailing like fire down your arms. It's heavy, ornate, almost ceremonial. One of the maids lingers beside you as the others step away, and her fingers hesitate as they tighten the obi around your waist.
"Master will be here soon..." she whispers close to your ear, her voice unsteady.
You turn your head. "Master?" you echo, but she steps back quickly, bowing so low her forehead nearly grazes the tatami mat. None of them answer you.
They leave you alone in the room again.
You stand awkwardly for a moment, heart racing. Then you sink down to sit, trying to wrap your head around anything that's happened. You pinch your cheek hard.
"OW-fuck!"
It hurts.
This isn't a dream.
You glance at the door.
No sound. No movement. The silence is oppressive.
You breathe in deeply, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Who the hell is this "Master"? What is this place? And why does everyone keep calling me mistress-
The door bursts open.
You jolt to your feet.
Your breath catches.
Standing in the doorway is a figure you never thought you'd see outside the pages of a manga. Towering, broad-shouldered, his presence devours the room the moment he steps in. Black markings curl like living ink across his pale skin, decorating his chest, arms-all four of them. Two at his sides, two crossed casually over his broad chest.
His eyes gleam a deep crimson, gleaming like freshly spilled blood. His lips curl into a smirk, sharp canines flashing.
Sukuna.
Your knees threaten to buckle.
The real Ryomen Sukuna, in all his Heian-era, cursed-glory. Except this... this version of him isn't behind a screen. He's terrifyingly real. His aura alone is suffocating. He's taller than you imagined, more monstrous-more god-like.
And he's staring straight at you.
"Finally awake, little dove?" he drawls, voice dark and velvety. Amused.
Your mouth opens-but no sound comes out.
Sukuna's smirk widens as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a deliberate thud. "I've waited long enough," he murmurs, eyes dragging over you like a predator assessing its prey.
"You're finally where you belong."
That was the last time you saw him.
Since that strange, terrifying encounter, Sukuna had vanished like a storm passing in the night-leaving behind only his weighty presence in every shadowed corner of the palace. His voice no longer echoed through the halls, and his crimson eyes were nowhere to be found. But his influence? It remained thick in the air, in the silence, in the tension that wrapped around your ribs like a rope with each breath.
You were confined to a lavish room, endlessly served and watched over like a fragile porcelain doll. His orders, the maids said. They never looked you in the eye, always bowing low, too respectful or too afraid-you weren't sure which.
There was always someone there. Someone trailing after you, someone bringing meals before you even asked, someone ensuring your every whim was met-without explanation, without fail. Most concerning, however, was the doctor.
No matter where you went, he followed. Silent, expressionless, always checking your pulse, your eyes, your temperature-as if you were deeply ill. As if one wrong move would shatter you.
You didn't understand. Not any of it.
But today... you'd had enough.
"This silence is driving me insane," you muttered to yourself, fingers curling into the silk fabric of your kimono. Your reflection in the polished mirror barely looked like you anymore-so regal, so restrained, so not you.
Your voice rang firm through the chambers when you made the demand:
"I want to speak to Lord Sukuna. Now."
The reaction was immediate. Shock, gasps, eyes wide with disbelief. A few maids dropped to their knees, as if your words were blasphemy. One brave servant stammered, "M-Mistress... surely you mean something else..."
"I said what I said," you snapped, glaring at her. "Send word to him. I need answers."
There was hesitation. Panic, even. But eventually, someone slipped away to deliver your request. And not long after, the order came:
You were to be escorted to his den.
The walk there felt endless. Every step echoed with tension, every hallway dim and lined with golden carvings of beasts that seemed to watch you pass. The aura was suffocating.
And then the doors opened.
Your breath hitched.
There he was.
Sukuna lounged on a massive throne carved from obsidian, bones, and some metal that shimmered like blood under moonlight. Two of his arms were crossed over his chest, but the third hand lazily cradled his face, and the fourth? It extended outward-pointing directly at you.
His lips curled into a wicked smirk as his voice broke the silence.<br />
"Ku ku ku... I cannot believe my eyes..." His tone was playful, laced with something darker. "You're actually here to see me. When every time before... I had to force you."
You gulped, throat dry, but not because of his words.
It was his aura.
It pressed down on you like gravity itself had turned its hatred toward you. Your knees felt weak, breath shaky. His eyes-those blood-red, inhuman eyes-were boring into your soul, as if trying to unravel you.
But you couldn't turn back now.
You clenched your fists tight, desperate to hold your ground. "I-I need to talk to you," you said, then shouted. "This sounds stupid but I'm not from this world!!"
Silence.
Utter, chilling silence.
You looked up slowly, pulse thudding in your ears. His smirk had vanished. No more teasing. No more games. His expression now was... unreadable. Dangerous.
"That definitely sounds stupid," he said at last, voice low. "This is why you shouldn't have left your bed."
"No, listen!" you cried, stepping forward. "This isn't a delusion, I swear! I was in my world-just on my phone-and then there was this pain, and I woke up here. I don't know how, but I'm stuck in this world and I-I want to go home!"
You poured out every detail, from the reels on your screen to the gut-churning confusion when you first opened your eyes in that unfamiliar bed. Your voice cracked from desperation. You didn't care how insane you sounded-you just needed him to understand.
For a moment, he just stared at you. Unmoving. Silent. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.
Then suddenly-something seized your waist.
You gasped sharply.
One of his massive arms had wrapped around you in a vice-like grip, lifting you as easily as one might scoop up a doll. You could barely breathe-his fingers pressed deep into your sides, almost crushing. The heat of his skin burned through the fabric of your clothes.
"W-What are you doing-!?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he yanked you onto his lap, your body landing hard against the firm muscle of his thighs. The proximity made your skin crawl and burn at the same time-his monstrous face now inches from yours. You could see every line of those black markings, the gleam in his fangs, the hunger in his gaze.
Then he whispered-low, guttural, final.
"Home?"
A pause.
"But little dove..."
His breath ghosted against your cheek.
"This. Is. Your. Home."
You stared at Sukuna in disbelief, your heart pounding as you tried to process his words. Home? How could this hellish place, this nightmare made reality, possibly be considered home? You shook your head vehemently, tears streaking down your face.
"No! This can't be my home. I have a life, a family back in my own world. I can't stay here!" You choked on the word, revulsion and fear warring within you. "Why don't you understand...!!?"
"Of course I understand, little dove. And I don't give a fuck." Sukuna growled, his voice a cold, round, and deep rumble that reverberated through your fragile form. "You belong to me now. This is your home, your place, your purpose. Serving me, milking your plump tits for my pleasure, warming my bed. everything else is just a cruel lie that you've convinced yourself to believe."
Sukuna paused, sensing your desperate need to flee, to escape his cruel grasp and the twisted world he inhabited. A cruel smirk played across his lips, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement.
"Tell me, little dove," he purred dangerously, one hand drifting down to cup the swell of your generous breast, fingers sinking into the plush flesh. "do you really think you can run from me? From your destiny?"
You shuddered, immediately gripping his wrist, trying to pry his hand off your breast, but he barely seemed to notice your struggles, his grip unyielding. "Stop! I.. I just want to go back!! I don't want this..!" You slammed your other hand against his chest, hitting him again and again, but he remained unmoved, his heart beating with a slow, steady strength that mocked your weakness.
Sukuna's grip tightened, squeezing the breath from your lungs as his four powerful arms encircled you possessively. He could feel the frantic pounding of your heart, hear the desperate whimpers and cries spilling from your rosebud lips. It should have stirred some semblance of empathy within him, but instead, it only fueled his sadistic amusement.
He tilted his head to the side, his pink hair brushing against your tear-stained cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "No, little dove," Sukuna growled, his voice a menacing rumble. "Just because you don't want this doesn't mean you can avoid your fate. Don't you remember what happens when you try to avoid it? Avoid me? Or do I need to remind you hmm?"
One hand drifted down your trembling body, fingers sinking into the plush flesh of your thigh, while the other tangled in your hair, forcing your head back to bare the delicate column of your throat to his hungry gaze.
"You think you can run?" Sukuna chuckled darkly, his thumb brushing over the pulse point on your neck, feeling it race beneath your soft skin. "I will hunt you down, little dove. I will find you in the darkest corners of the earth and drag you back here, back to your rightful place at my side. Just like before."
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Give up your futile resistance. The sooner you accept your destiny, the easier it will be for you. I can be cruel or I can be kind... but either way, you're mine."
You trembled uncontrollably in his ruthless grip, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The heat of his body seeped into your skin, his cruel words sinking into my mind like poisoned barbs. A broken sob tore from your throat as you shook your head frantically, hair whipping around your face. "No, please...I'm begging you...don't..." You choked out, but the words died in your throat as you felt the cold press of something hard and sharp against your spine. Your eyes widened in terror as you realized it was the tip of a blade, its edge biting into your skin.
"Hurts, does it?" Sukuna's dark chuckle reverberated through your aching bones as he felt you squirm and hiss in pain, your delicate body helplessly pinned beneath his immense strength. The sound of your fearful whimpers only served to fuel the sadistic hunger that constantly dwelled within him.
Leaning forward, Sukuna's lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "No more 'no's' or 'noo's', little dove. You've made a mistake, and now you must face the consequences. Now, be a good girl and hold still while I claim what's mine..."
With that, Sukuna claimed your lips in a brutal, punishing kiss, his tongue forcing its way past your soft lips to conquer the sweet recesses of your mouth. He drank from you greedily, uncaring of your muffled cries and whimpers, determined to mark you, to claim you, to make you his in every way imaginable. His grip on your body tightened as he forced his hungry mouth against yours, his tongue invading the warm cavern of your mouth, claiming every inch of you. he could taste the salty tears that had been spilling down your soft cheeks, could feel your delicate hands pushing weakly against his broad chest in a futile attempt to escape his brutal kiss.
He swallowed your muffled cries and whimpers, drinking them down like the sweetest nectar, reveling in the way your petite frame shuddered and trembled against his own. Sukuna's hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing and kneading the generous curves of your breasts, the soft globes of your ass, as if he were trying to mold you to his will.
When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and bruised, glistening with his saliva. Sukuna's chest rumbled with a dark, wicked chuckle as he take in the dazed, terrified expression on your face, your eyes glazed with unshed tears and confusion.
Trailing a single black nail down the delicate line of your jaw, over your pounding pulse, Sukuna leaned in to growl, "Crying won't save you. You've got this on yourself..."
His hand drifted lower, the black nail tracing the hollow of your throat, the soft swell of your collarbone, until it reached the neckline of your dress. With a cruel smirk playing across his lips, Sukuna hooked a finger beneath the delicate fabric and yanked it downwards, baring the creamy, unblemished flesh of your cleavage to his hungry gaze. Sukuna's eyes darkened with lust as he stared down at the revealed expanse of soft, tender skin, his mouth watering at the sight of the ripe, succulent curves. He leaned in, his warm breath washing over your newly exposed skin, the heat of it making your flesh prickle with goosebumps. Sukuna felt your body stiffen beneath his touch, heard the sharp intake of breath you took as you braced yourself for what was to come.
Sukuna chuckled darkly. "Don't be frightened, little dove. I know you can't resist me forever. Your body is already betraying you, craving my touch, aching for my possession."
To prove his point, Sukuna brushed his thumb over one of your nipples, now stiff and straining against the thin fabric of your dress. He could feel it pebble even further at his touch, your body's reaction a glaring contrast to your continued protests. His smirk grew wider. "You see? Your tits are so eager for my attention, so hungry for my mouth and fingers. They know who they belong to, even if you try to deny it."
Sukuna's hand slid further down your dress, his fingers dipping beneath the hem to stroke the soft skin of your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, the dampness that was already gathering there. His fingers crept higher, brushing maddeningly close to your aching, needy sex. "Stupid girl. Always denying what's good for you."
You shook your head weakly, your eyes filling with fresh tears as Sukuna's cruel words and even crueler touch left you reeling. "N-no, please...I don't...I won't..." You tried to protest, but your voice was hoarse and breathless, barely above a whisper. Your body felt heavy, leaden, pinned beneath the unyielding weight of Sukuna's massive frame. You could feel every hard, muscular inch of him pressed against your softer curves, the heat of his skin seeping into your own until it felt like your blood was boiling in your veins.
As his fingers crept higher, brushing maddeningly close to your aching, dripping sex, you couldn't help but squirm and writhe beneath him, your hips jerking instinctively as if trying to escape his touch. A choked moan spilled past your lips before you could stop it, the sound humiliating you even as it echoed in the charged air between your bodies. "D-don't touch me..." You whimpered weakly, even as your thighs fell open just a little more, your core clenching and fluttering around nothing.
Sukuna's lips curled into a cruel, wicked smirk at your desperate plea, your voice pitching higher as you begged him to stop. He could feel you squirming and writhing beneath him, your body helplessly pinned against his rock-hard muscles, your soft curves molding to the contours of his powerful frame.
But your pleas only seemed to amuse and excite Sukuna further. He drank in the sight of you, your tear-stained cheeks, your swollen and bruised lips parted around your frightened whimpers, your wide, terrified eyes. The picture of innocence and fear, and yet, Sukuna knew better. He knew the dark desires that lurked beneath the surface, the hunger that gnawed at your core.
One of Sukuna's large hands slid up your trembling thigh, his rough palm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His fingers brushed maddeningly close to your dripping sex, teasing you with a touch that was almost, but not quite, where you needed it most.
"Oh, but your pretty little cunt tells a different story," Sukuna purred, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "It's practically dripping, so hot and swollen and ready for my touch. Stop lying to yourself, you stupid girl."
To prove his point, Sukuna roughly brushed his Fingers over your aching, needy sex, feeling it clench and flutter around nothing, desperate to be filled, stretched, claimed.
"You can lie to me all you want, but you can't lie to your body. This slutty little thing is mine, and it's begging for my cock, for my touch, for my possession," Sukuna growled, his fingers delving between your slick folds, coating themselves in your dripping arousal. He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick them clean, tasting your fear.
You shuddered violently as his fingers brushed against your drenched, aching sex, a humiliating moan tearing from your throat as your hips bucked involuntarily. Tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of your treacherous body's betrayal, your core clenching greedily around nothing, desperate to be filled by the monster looming over you.
"N-no...it's not true..." You whimpered, even as your thighs trembled and fell open further, giving Sukuna easier access to your most intimate places. "I d-don't...I'm not..." But your protests sounded weak and halfhearted, even to your own ears. You could feel the shameful heat of your arousal, the way your body screamed for Sukuna's touch, for his possession, no matter how much your mind recoiled at the thought.
As Sukuna brought his fingers, glistening with your shameful essence, to his mouth and licked them clean, you turned your face away, unable to watch as he tasted your betrayal. A choked sob escaped your lips as the horrible truth sank in - no matter how much you fought it, your body was already giving in to Sukuna, already submitting to his cruel will.
"Listen to you, making such pretty little sounds. Your mouth says no, but this greedy cunt says yes, louder than anything else. Stop lying to yourself, little dove. Stop denying what your body so desperately craves." Sukuna curled his fingers inside your dripping sex, stroking that sensitive spot deep within your core. At the same time, he rolled and pinched your stiff nipple between his fingers, the cruel pleasure bordering on pain making your back arch off the bed.
He could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling like a bowstring ready to snap. Sukuna knew you were close, teetering on the brink of that precipice. He wanted to throw you over it, to make you shatter in his arms, screaming your pleasure for all the world to hear.
"Cum for me," Sukuna commanded, his voice a low, dominant growl. " Cum on my fingers like the desperate slut you are. Show me who you belong to, who this hungry little pussy belongs to. Do it, little dove. Give yourself to me completely, and I might just give this needy cunt what it's begging for..."
You couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat as Sukuna's fingers stroked that sensitive spot inside you, your body writhing and convulsing beneath his touch. Your nipple throbbed almost painfully as he pinched and rolled it between his fingers, the cruel pleasure bordering on agony. Tears streamed down your face as you felt the coil within you tightening, your body hurtling towards a devastating climax.
"N-no...I d-don't..." you gasped out, even as your hips jerked and bucked wildly, grinding your dripping sex against Sukuna's stroking fingers. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched, gripping his digits like a vice as your pleasure built to a unbearable peak.
Sukuna's dominant command, growled in that deep, rumbling voice, shattered the last of your resistance. Your body betrayed you completely as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, plunging headlong into a mind-bending orgasm.
"AgHh~!!!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your sex clamped down rhythmically around Sukuna's fingers, your juices gushing out to soak his hand and the sheets beneath you.
"Such a good girl," Sukuna growled, his fingers still pumping lazily into your sensitive, dripping sex. "Coming so hard on my fingers like the desperate slut you are. I think you've earned a reward, don't you?"
With that, Sukuna abruptly withdrew his fingers from your trembling pussy, ignoring your whimper. Sukuna's hand drifted down to the waistband of his pants, roughly palming the massive, throbbing bulge that strained against the fabric. He could feel his twin cocks twitching and pulsing in anticipation, aching to be buried deep inside your tight, dripping heat. "I'm going to ruin this needy little cunt," Sukuna promised darkly, his voice a low, menacing growl. "I'm going to split you open on my thick cocks, stretch this greedy hole until you can't take it anymore. You want that, don't you, little dove? You want me to claim you, to make you mine forever?"
Sukuna's eyes flashed with cruel, sadistic hunger as he gazed down at your trembling, pleasure-drunk form. He could see the desperate, craving look on your face, the way your hips arched up towards him, seeking more of his touch, more of his possession. With a wicked smirk playing across his lips, Sukuna swiftly undid his pants, freeing his massive, throbbing erections from its confines. They sprang forth, long, thick, and hard, the swollen heads already weeping with need.
"Open your eyes, little dove," Sukuna commanded, his voice a sharp, dominant bark. "Look at what you've done, look at the monster you've unleashed. This is what you do to me, what you've begged for with this slutty little body. Now, take responsibility for your actions..."
You slowly opened your eyes, dazed and bleary from the intensity of your orgasm, to find Sukuna looming over you. As your vision cleared, your gaze was drawn to the massive, intimidating sight of his twin cocks, thick and pulsing with a life of their own as they stood proudly erect from their confines. They were enormous, easily the size of your wrist, the swollen heads an angry, almost violent purple. You couldn't help but imagine how they would feel stretching you impossibly wide, splitting you open and ruining your tight, virgin passage.
The thought sent a illicit thrill of fear and shameful anticipation through your body, even as your treacherous sex clenched and fluttered, already missing the absence of Sukuna's fingers. You knew you should look away, should recoil in horror at the sight of such brutal, punishing cocks, but you found yourself frozen, transfixed by their raw, animalistic power.
"N-no, please..." you whispered, even as your thighs trembled and fell open further, baring your dripping, aching sex to Sukuna's hungry gaze. "They're too big...I c-can't..." But your feeble protest sounded weak, even to your own ears. Your body wasYour body was telling a different story, your hips tilting up in a silent invitation, your dripping sex glistening and flushed, swollen with arousal. Sukuna's smirk widened as he took in your trembling, needy form, his cocks twitching eagerly at the sight of your helpless submission. "Oh, little dove. You can, And you will. Your greedy little cunt is dripping for it, aching to be split open and claimed, to be ruined for anyone else."
He took a step closer, the thick heads of his cocks now brushing maddeningly against your slick folds. You could feel the searing heat radiating from his massive shafts, the hard throb of the thick veins pulsing beneath the silky skin. Sukuna reached down, gripping your thighs and forcing them further apart, baring your most sacred place completely to his conquering advance.
"Stop denying your desire, my little slut. Stop lying to yourself and admit how badly you need to be filled, stretched, used. Your hungry little pussy is sobbing for my cocks, begging to be stuffed and claimed." Sukuna snarled, his voice dripping with cruel amusement as he watched you tremble and hesitate. "Relax if you don't want to break." With that, Sukuna's massive cocks jerked forward, the swollen heads nudging demandingly at your dripping slit. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as you felt the scorching heat of his flesh pressing insistently at your most intimate entrance. A choked whimper escaped your throat, your hips squirming and bucking weakly in a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation. Sukuna growled, his voice a commanding bark that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading them wider as he pressed forward, He could feel your velvet walls stretching to their absolute limit, the delicate flesh straining and bulging obscenely around the girth of his shafts. The sight of your pussy lips flowering open, split wide by his cocks, was almost enough to make Sukuna cum right then and there.
Sukuna's hips rocked forward in a brutal, punishing rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each savage thrust. He could feel your slick arousal gushing around his pistoning cocks, your juices dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you.But even as he fucked into you with ruthless abandon, Sukuna could see the terror and pain etched into every line of your face, could hear the choked, muffled cries that fell from your bruised lips. And it only made him want to destroy you, to ruin you utterly, to fuck you until nothing remained of the innocent little girl you once were.
"Scream for me," Sukuna commanded, his voice a cruel, sadistic growl as he pounded into you with brutal force. "Scream and let the whole fucking world know who this cunt belongs to. Scream, and maybe I'll give this tight little fuckhole the release you've earned, you desperate little cock sleeve. Now, scream for me like the wanton slut you are!" Sukuna snarled, his hips slamming forward with brutal force, driving his massive shafts even deeper into your ravaged pussy. He could feel your body convulsing beneath his, your back arching off the bed as if electrified. Your eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared up at him with a mix of fear and reluctant pleasure, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.You could feel each thick, pulsing spurt as it battered against your cervix, pushing deeper and deeper into your unprotected womb until you swore you could feel the liquid heat sloshing in your stomach. The sight only spurred on Sukuna's ruthless pounding, his cocks pulsing and throbbing inside your tightened heat.
"Fuck, this cunt was made for my cocks," Sukuna groaned, his grip on your throat tightening reflexively as he chased his release. "Gonna fill this slutty hole to the brim, mark you as mine inside and out..." With a final, brutal thrust, Sukuna buried his massive length to the hilt inside you, his swollen cockheads kissing your womb. A guttural roar tore from his throat as his orgasm crashed over him, his twin shafts erupting like volcanoes deep inside your core.
Sukuna's eyes rolled back in bliss as he emptied himself inside you, thick ropes of scalding cum painting your insides white. He could feel your stomach bulging slightly with the sheer volume of his release, marked by the obscene outline of his cocks pulsing beneath your skin. "Get pregnant!" Sukuna growled, grinding his hips against yours as the last spurts of his cum dripped into your thoroughly claimed cunt. "Fuck... Never ever think about going back to your world..."
You woke up with a sharp jolt, cold metal biting into your neck.
The room was dim-only lit by the soft glow of flickering lanterns. Shadows danced across the ceiling, and for a moment, it almost felt peaceful... until the clinking sound reminded you.
Chains.
Heavy, cruel iron chains.
One thick collar encircled your neck, connected by a short length of chain to the cuffs clamped around your wrists. Another set bound your ankles, attached to the polished wooden foot of the bed. You couldn't even sit up without the cold metal tugging hard at your skin.
You blinked slowly, body aching. Your muscles screamed. Your skin was marred with bruises and scratches-memories of the last time Sukuna had touched you. Not tender, never tender. He treated your body like something to break, to possess, to remind you that he could.
Your lips throbbed, swollen and split. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted painfully with emptiness.
How long had it been?
You didn't know. Days blurred together in this cursed place.
The door creaked open, and you turned your head weakly.
A maid entered-quiet, cautious, eyes downcast like always. She approached slowly, trembling, and knelt beside the bed with a tray of food. Steam curled from the soup's surface, and the bread looked fresh, but you didn't move.
"Please..." she whispered, barely audible. "It's been three days since you last woke up. Please eat something..."
You stared at her.
But not out of sympathy.
You were too numb for that now.
She was just another pawn in his castle. Like everyone else. Like you.
"Get out," you croaked, voice hoarse.
She flinched but bowed lower and scurried away, leaving the tray behind.
You didn't touch it.
Not a bite. Not a sip.
Let it rot.
Let him rot.
If this was throwing mud at Sukuna's orders, then so be it.
You didn't care anymore.
Not after what he did.
Not after the way he broke you like a toy that wouldn't bend to his will.
And perhaps-perhaps you hoped that if you wasted away here, starving slowly, he'd lose interest. Let you go. Kill you. But then-
The sound of footsteps-heavy, echoing-told you he was near before the door even opened.
Sukuna stepped inside, towering and regal and terrible in crimson robes, his presence crashing into the room like a wave of dread.
You turned your face away, defiantly silent.
But he was already at your side.
One of his arms reached down, calloused fingers brushing against your lips-right where they were swollen and crusted with blood. You hissed in pain, instinctively flinching, but he didn't pull away. He pressed harder.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, little dove?"
You bit your tongue to keep from trembling.
And then you answered, voice barely above a whisper.
"That's better than being like this... with you."
A thick silence followed.
Sukuna's eyes narrowed, yet his hand didn't retreat. Instead, his claws grazed your cheek now, so lightly it was almost tender-but his nails scraped your skin just enough to remind you that he could shred your throat with a flick of his wrist.
"I can make it easy for you," he murmured.
That line sent a chill down your spine.
Your heart pounded so loudly you thought he might hear it.
He meant it.
He was offering death as casually as a gift.
But then his tone changed-just enough to make your blood freeze in a different way.
"...But I won't," he said, leaning closer, his breath hot against your face.
"You're precious to me."
Precious.
Like a cursed jewel.
Like a possession he didn't intend to return.
His fourth hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze up. You didn't want to look into his eyes. You didn't want to see the madness there, the claim he believed he had over you.
"Don't make me force-feed you," he whispered. "You know I will."
Then he kissed you.
Hard.
It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle.
It was a reminder.
Of who held the chain.
Of who could crush you, and who chose not to.
You tried not to sob when he pulled back, your chest tight with emotion. Rage, fear, disgust-maybe a part of you screaming this isn't how it's supposed to be.
But his hand remained at your throat, warm and strong.
"I'll give you an hour," he said. "Eat. Or I'll come back. And this time..."
He grinned, cruel and toothy.
"I won't be so nice."
And just like that, he turned and walked away-his laughter echoing down the hall as the door slammed shut.
You lay there, chained and cold, lips bruised and heart breaking. You stared at the untouched tray of food beside the bed.
Maybe death would've been easier.
But monsters don't let you die that easily-not when you're their favorite toy.
As always, you stood by the window.
The chain around your neck pulled tight with every breath, its iron weight an eternal reminder-you were never free. Your legs, still chained at the ankles, throbbed with old wounds. You couldn't go far, but you stood anyway, every day, just to feel a breeze through the crack in the glass.
Your eyes burned. You'd cried too much.
And still, no one cared.
The door creaked again behind you.
You didn't flinch.
Another maid. Another tray. Another hollow voice urging you to eat. You never turned your head. You never even looked anymore.
Until she said-
"Lord Sukuna is going on a hunt today..."
Your head turned.
Your gaze met hers-nervous, unsure. Why tell you that?
But then her eyes welled with tears, and her voice broke.
"Mistress... I'm sorry..."
She dropped to her knees before you, sobbing into her sleeves. Her hands trembled violently as she reached toward you, not with food-but something else.
You blinked.
Was this real?
You couldn't feel anything. Not shock, not fear. Just an emptiness-until her next words shattered your silence.
"All these five years..." she choked out, "...I had to watch you go through this. Since that day... when Lord Sukuna first took you... burned your village... slaughtered everyone."
You stood frozen.
Your breathing hitched.
You wanted to ask-what are you saying? But your throat felt stuck.
"No matter how many times you tried to run... no matter how many times you screamed for help... he always dragged you back..."
Her voice cracked. "He almost killed you, Mistress. I remember... that day, when you stopped breathing. You were... gone for two years."
Your heart stopped.
Two... years?
"You weren't waking up... your chest didn't rise... I thought you were..."
She broke into sobs, covering her mouth. "But Lord wouldn't believe it. He kept you in his bed, kept touching your face, checking your pulse, talking to your unconscious body like... like you'd just wake up if he stayed close enough..."
Your knees trembled.
Was this reincarnation?
Or resurrection?
Is that why your body never felt right? Why your memories of that time were nothing but a blur of fire, screams, and his voice?
"I had to watch all of it in silence... I couldn't do anything..." the maid whispered through her tears.
And then... she looked up at you.
Her eyes-full of guilt. Of fear. But also... a flicker of resolve.
"Mistress... please let me help you."
She reached under her kimono and pulled out something that made your eyes widen-
Keys.
You stepped back instinctively, the chain rattling.
"W-What are you doing?"
Her hands reached your legs.
"Freeing you," she said, unlocking the iron cuff with trembling fingers. "Please... run. Run far away. Don't look back."
You gaped at her, your heart racing.
She backed away, not meeting your eyes, but her voice shook as she added-
"Before he comes back."
Something snapped inside you.
It didn't matter how broken your body felt. Or how bad your feet hurt. Or how loud the chains clinked with every movement. You were moving.
You jumped.
Out the window.
The drop was steep. Your body hit the earth hard. Sharp pain shot through your legs-but you didn't stop. Couldn't.
The cold wind lashed your face, and the branches clawed your arms like hungry ghosts. The forest was thick, wild. Poisoned thorns scraped your skin, but you tore through them anyway.
Your bare feet bled with every step-leaving red stains across the moss and mud.
The iron collar and wrist chains clanked as you ran.
Still, you ran.
You didn't care if the plants tore you apart.
You didn't care if the cold numbed your lungs.
You didn't care if you were breathing like fire and coughing blood.
Because ahead-just through the trees-
There was light.
A sliver of silver sun.
It pierced the leaves like hope cracking through a nightmare.
You burst through the underbrush, arms scratched raw, legs shaking-
But a wide smile broke across your bloody lips.
"I-I'm free!!!"
You gasped those words like it was the first breath of your life. Light burst through the trees, the sun bathing your blood-stained skin in golden warmth. Your smile stretched wide-your voice trembling with the joy of hope-
And then-
Thwip.
Spring.
Snap.
A sharp sound.
Too fast. Too clean.
You didn't even realize it hit you until your knees gave out.<br />
A fiery pain bloomed across your back, spreading through your spine like molten steel.
Your eyes widened.
Your smile faded.
Then-
You collapsed.
Face-first into the cold earth.
The world spun. Blurred.
You heard hooves. Multiple. Thunderous. The ground trembled under them.
A shadow fell over your body.
You turned your head, barely able to lift your chin-your limbs heavy like they were sinking into the soil.
Sukuna.
On horseback.
Dressed in obsidian black robes. His bow still aimed toward your twitching, bleeding form.
Flanked by soldiers cloaked in red and bone-white masks. None dared speak.
The wind blew around him, stirring his robes, his long hair flowing like a death flag.
He looked down at you-no anger. No rage.
Just silence.
That made it worse.
The weight of it. Like gravity itself turned cruel.
You stare at the glossy magazine cover, the title printed in bold, playful font: "How to Tame a Yandere?" It was a random impulse purchase-snatched off the shelf of that oddly charming new bookstore at the edge of town. You weren't even sure why you bought it. Curiosity? Boredom? Or... maybe, just maybe, because of the way your boyfriend had been acting lately.
"Okay, let's not jump to conclusions," you murmur, flipping the pages. "Satoru's just... intense. Not a yandere...!"
Still, as your eyes scan the article, you feel your stomach tighten.
"Step One: Identify what kind of Yandere he is."
Underneath it, a whole chart appears. Possessive type. Obsessive type. Deranged type. Manipulative. Silent. Flirty but lethal.
Do people like this really exist? you think, squinting.
Your phone buzzes on the bed next to you. You glance at it. Nothing yet.
"...Okay. Let's test him," you whisper to yourself.
You sit up straighter and pick out the dress-the one he bought for you just last week. It was expensive. Flattering. A little too flattering. You slip it on, take a few shots in the mirror-one with a slight pout, one more candid-and then open your messages.
You: Which one looks better? I wanna post them💅🏻
You stare at the screen, then toss your phone aside, heart thumping. A few seconds pass. Then-
Satoru 🩵: Both.
"...That's it?" You frown, checking the magazine again.
"If he doesn't react much... try harder."
Your brow twitches. "Don't blame me, Mr. Blindfolded Menace."
You grab the matching lingerie set. He bought that too-said it would look cute on you. You never posted anything that bold before... but these are just photos. Just for testing.
Click. Click. Click.
Caption: Still can't decide which one... might post both🤔
Back at Jujutsu High, Satoru Gojo's chill day is interrupted by his phone buzzing again. He opens the message, casually smiling-until the image loads.
Silence.
His smile fades.
"Excuse me for a bit," he tells the students, voice eerily calm.
Meanwhile, you're lying on your bed, nervously eyeing your phone. It's been five minutes. No reply. "Okay maybe I went too far-"
"Are you messing with me, princess?"
You scream-not from the phone, but because that voice came from behind you. You twist around and see Satoru Gojo standing in the middle of your room, still dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, a smile stretched across his lips... but something beneath it feels dangerously unreadable.
"What the-how did you get here so fast!?"
He steps forward, removing his blindfold just slightly so one pale blue eye can meet yours.
"It's just pictures!" you argue, clutching a pillow. "Jeez, calm down!"
Satoru chuckles. "Ah yeah, pictures of you in lingerie. Real chill stuff."
You swallow. "It was just-uh-a joke. A test."
"Oh?" His voice drops.
"Want me to turn your 'ha ha ha' into 'ah~ah~ah~'?"
Your soul practically leaves your body.
"I WAS JOKING!!! I'M NOT GOING TO POST THEM!!!"
He raises a brow, then his eyes drift to your hand-the open magazine still sitting on the bed.
"What's that?"
Your heart drops. "N-nothing."
Before he can lean in, you hurl the magazine across the room like a grenade. It hits the wall and flops to the ground, open to a page that reads:
"Step Three: If he catches you testing him, RUN."
Fuck, You're so doomed.
-
Yet, You didn't give up.
Last time might've been a complete disaster-okay, fine, a near-death experience-but you learned something from it. Sort of. Enough to try again. The magazine had flipped open later that night on your bedroom floor, as if mocking you, revealing a fresh step in loopy red font.
Step Four: Go out without informing him.
If he notices, observe how he reacts.
You had stared at it like it was insane.
"...That's really playing with fire," you'd muttered.
And yet.
Here you were, tiptoeing your way into actual danger. Again.
For science.
"Satoru's not going to freak out," you said aloud that morning, brushing your hair in front of the mirror. "He's mature. He knows I'm safe. It's just a little reunion."
Even your own reflection raised an eyebrow at you.
But you still picked your outfit with care. Not too flashy. Not too boring. Just enough to say: I'm not guilty, but also please don't vaporize anyone today, thank you very much.
---
The restaurant was dimly lit, filled with nostalgic warmth and laughter. Old classmates crowded around a table full of empty glasses and half-eaten appetizers, talking over each other in that chaotic way only reunions had. You recognized familiar faces, names that rolled off your tongue easily again. And for a while-just a short, shimmering while-you forgot all about why you'd come here.
You laughed. You drank. The wine was good-too good. You didn't realize how quickly you were sipping until the room began to blur slightly at the edges. Your cheeks were flushed. Time lost meaning.
"Y/n! I didn't think you'd come!"
"Still gorgeous as ever!"
"Hey, remember our literature teacher-what was her name-"
You laughed with them. You wanted to. And when you finally excused yourself and stepped out into the cool night air, you didn't think much of the faint dizziness. You just knew you needed a bit of fresh air before heading home. Preferably in an Uber. Preferably alive.
That's when you heard footsteps behind you.
Then a voice.
"Y/n...?"
You turned around slowly. A guy-slightly taller than you, soft brown hair, oddly familiar smile.
"I'm Haruki. We were good friends in school, remember?" he asked.
You blinked, the name struggling to connect in your fuzzy mind. "...Oh."
"You look even prettier now," he said casually, stepping closer. "I think you drank too much. Let me drop you home?"
You took a small step back, trying to smile politely. "That's kind, but I'm good-really."
"Nah, come on," he chuckled. "It's not safe for a girl to be out drunk alone. At least let me walk you to the cab."
You opened your mouth, about to refuse again-
And then a hand grabbed your wrist. Gently, yet firmly. Cold fingers laced through yours.
"She's with me," said a voice, flat and dangerous.
You froze.
Everything did.
The breeze stopped mid-gust. The flickering streetlights halted. The hum of the city went silent.
Your chest tightened.
"toru-"
But you weren't facing him.
No.
You could feel him. The way the air pulsed with cursed energy, heavy and suffocating. The way your breath caught in your throat as the familiar chill of his domain seeped into your skin.
And Haruki-
Haruki opened his mouth to say something-
But he never got the chance.
In one blink-
You heard the sound. A clean slice.
The next second, Haruki's head dropped clean from his neck.
Blood sprayed upward like a grotesque fountain. His body stood for one terrible moment longer, swaying, then collapsed.
You stared.
You couldn't move.
You couldn't scream.
Your lips parted, but only a choked sound came out.
Your brain refused to register the horror you'd just witnessed-
You could still feel the heat of the blood.
You were close enough to feel it.
Your knees buckled.
Satoru caught you before you could fall, his arms firm around your waist, his head resting against yours with something far too calm for what just happened.
"Lesson learned, right?"
Bonus scene:
"Took you long enough," drawled Satoru, leaning lazily against the couch, arms spread over the back like he owned the entire world-and you were just the most prized part of it.
You stopped in your tracks, fresh out of the shower, your towel barely clinging to your frame. Water dripped from the ends of your hair as you narrowed your eyes at him. Bombastic. Unforgiving. The ultimate side-eye.
You knew how he was looking at you behind that damn blindfold.
He was practically smirking through it. You could feel his gaze dragging down your legs, pausing at your collarbone like he was mapping out your weaknesses.
Satoru chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Don't look at me like that, princess. You know it only makes me worse."
Before you could retort, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you down with zero warning until you were flush against him, settling you squarely on his lap.
You gasped, startled, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for balance. "Satoru-!"
"The water must've been cold..." he whispered, voice thick with heat, "...let me warm you up."
Your cheeks went up in flames. You blinked, stammering, "H-Huh?! How'd you-?"
But then you paused.
Wait.
How did he know the water was cold?
Your eyes narrowed slowly, suspiciously, and you reached up. "Don't you dare-"
You slid a finger beneath his blindfold and pushed it up just a bit.
And there they were.
Those goddamn eyes.
That bright blue mischief practically glinting at you like a neon sign that read: I saw everything.
His grin was criminal.
"Satoru..." you hissed, voice cracking with betrayal. "You were watching me shower-?!"
He didn't even blink. "It's not my fault that whenever I close my eyes, I see you. Naked. Even now."
His gaze flicked down deliberately, eyes darkening just a shade as they lingered on the dip of your shirt.
You squirmed on his lap now, half-mortified and half ready to throttle him with your towel. "YOU STUPID!! PERVERT YANDERE!!"
He just laughed and wrapped his arms around you tighter.
"I know," he whispered in your ear, annoyingly smug. "And you love me anyway."
You hated how right he was.
Even if you were absolutely reporting him to the Yandere Behavior Hotline later.
Dark themes, yandere behavior, obsession, manipulation, gaslighting, emotional dependency, financial control (sugar daddy dynamics), family neglect, implied captivity themes, toxic relationship, psychological torment, mild physical intimacy, possessiveness, power imbalance, hidden intentions, deceit, mention of lies, unhealthy romance.
Please DO NOT read if you're uncomfortable with yandere dynamics, toxic/abusive relationships, manipulation, or psychological torment. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Masterlist
The night air was thick with humidity and the scent of blooming plum blossoms as you lay entwined with Kento in his opulent bedroom, the silken sheets tangled around your naked bodies. His muscular chest heaved with each labored breath, glistening with a sheen of sweat from their passionate lovemaking. You could feel his heart pounding against your own as he held you close, his strong arms encircling your waist possessively.
Nanami's eyes, usually so intense and piercing, now gazed at you with a tender warmth that made your heart flutter. He reached up to gently caress your cheek, his calloused fingers brushing against your heated skin and leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. A slow, sensual smile played on his sensual lips as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your own.
"Mm, you're exquisite, my dear..." He murmured, his deep voice low and husky with desire. "Absolutely breathtaking... I could make love to you for hours and never grow tired of this."
His words sent shivers down your spine, and you felt your body trembling with anticipation for his next touch, his next caress. You arched your back slightly, pressing your ample bosom against his hard, muscular chest as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes, a coy smile playing on your own lips.
"Uhm, are you sure?" you purred, trailing a finger down his chiseled jawline. "Can you keep going?"
Nanami's eyes darkened with lust at your bold words, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. He rolled you both over suddenly, pinning you beneath his powerful frame as he settled between your thighs. You gasped, realising the sudden shift. "W..wait!"
Nanami felt your body tense beneath him, sensing your sudden distress. He paused, his grin fading into a look of gentle concern as he gazed down at you with soft, caring eyes. His hands, which had been roaming your curves, now stilled and cupped your face tenderly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to well up.
He leaned down, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead before nuzzling his nose against yours, his breath warm and comforting against your skin. When he spoke, his voice was a low, flirty murmur, yet laced with a gentleness that soothed your frayed nerves.
"Shhh, don't worry baby girl..." He cooes, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "I got it all covered, sweetheart. Your little womb is safe with me, don't you fret."
He punctuated his words with a soft, sensual kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shiver. One hand drifted down to rest possessively on your lower belly, his fingers splaying across your stomach in a protective gesture before he moved in slowly, biting his lower lips to keep himself sane from rutting into you like a wild animal. "Fuck... I fucking love this. You. So much baby..."
-
You never thought your friends' teasing would come true.
They used to laugh at your thrift-store shoes and faded bag, mocking half-jokes that "only a sugar daddy can save you." You'd roll your eyes, insisting that wasn't your style. You didn't need some stranger's money-you'd manage. Somehow.
But managing had become harder than you ever admitted. After your parents' situation forced you into your uncle and aunt's home, the arrangement quickly turned brittle. They had mouths of their own to feed, bills of their own to pay, and your aunt didn't sugarcoat it when she finally said, "You're grown now-if you want anything, do it on your own. We can't provide for you anymore."
So you scraped together part-time jobs, lived off instant noodles, tried to juggle studies with exhaustion. Rent piling up, bills staring back, family still calling you with emergencies you couldn't afford to help with. Each day, the weight pressed heavier, and though you tried to laugh it off, deep down you'd begun to wonder if life would ever get easier.
And then-him.
It was a tiring evening when you bumped into someone on the subway stairs, late from class and rushing, muttering a breathless "Sorry!" before disappearing into the crowd. You hadn't even seen his face properly. Just the brush of his shoulder against yours, the faint scent of cologne, and then he was gone.
You would have forgotten the moment completely... if you hadn't seen him again the next day.
At first, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he just worked nearby, maybe he always caught the same line. He didn't look like a creep, didn't stare too long, didn't make you feel watched. His presence was quiet, grounded. Safe.
Until one evening, he approached you.
"You forgot this."
You blinked, puzzled, as he held out a neatly folded handkerchief.
Your brows furrowed. "I... what?"
He placed it gently into your palm, his expression calm, unreadable. "When you bumped into me."
You stared down at the cloth in your hand. Did that happen? You didn't remember dropping anything. But the way he said it, steady and certain, left no room for doubt. You could only murmur a soft, "Thank you," before giving a small, awkward smile.
That was how it began. Conversations slipped into the spaces of your commute, his voice low and even, easy to listen to after the long fatigue of class. You learned his name-Nanami. He always spoke like every word had been carefully considered before leaving his lips, and that made you relax. Around him, you never felt rushed.
It started small.
A ride home here, a coffee slipped into your hand there. You told yourself it was nothing-that Nanami was just polite, that maybe he treated everyone this way. But then the little gestures began to multiply.
One evening, you noticed the scarf around your neck wasn't yours. It was warmer, softer, far too expensive to be from your student budget. "You'll catch a cold otherwise," Nanami had said, already looping it around you before you could protest. When you tried to give it back the next day, he shook his head once. "Keep it."
Then came the umbrella-sleek, sturdy, obviously imported. Then a leather-bound planner you hadn't asked for but desperately needed. Then a set of pens so refined you were afraid to even touch them.
It built slowly, like water filling a glass.
You never asked for anything. That was the strangest part. Somehow, he always knew. You'd mention in passing how your shoes were wearing thin, and the next week, a pristine pair would be waiting in a discreet bag, his only explanation a calm, "They'll last longer."
When you tried to refuse, cheeks burning, he'd only give you that steady look-one that made you feel childish for resisting. "Why deny yourself something so small?" he'd ask, voice even, leaving no room for your protest to stand.
The first time he handed you his black card, your fingers actually trembled.
"I-I can't take this," you stammered, holding it out like it was on fire.
"Of course you can." His tone was gentle, but unyielding. He slid it back into your palm, closing your hand around it with his own. "Buy whatever you like."
"I don't... I've never-Nanami-san, this is too much-"
"You deserve more than scraps," he cut in quietly. His gaze was calm, steady, as though he were merely stating a fact. "Don't limit yourself."
Your stomach twisted with guilt and longing all at once. The card weighed heavily in your pocket all day, and you nearly convinced yourself not to use it. But the moment you swiped it at a boutique you'd only ever admired from afar, when the cashier didn't look at you with pity but with respect-something inside you shifted.
The world began to feel softer around you.
Day by day, you found yourself less hesitant. A handbag here, shoes that actually fit comfortably, meals that weren't instant noodles. It felt wrong at first, indulgent and foreign. But Nanami never looked disappointed. He only looked... satisfied. As though he'd been waiting for you to finally accept what he offered.
Slowly, you stopped flinching when he handed you shopping bags. You stopped stammering apologies when he insisted on paying. You even stopped feeling guilty about slipping his card into your wallet.
Because each time you resisted, he was there with that quiet, immovable patience-never raising his voice, never scolding, just... waiting. Until giving in felt easier than fighting.
And you didn't realize it at first, but somewhere along the line, his generosity had become a habit. Your habit.
He spoiled you so thoroughly, so gently, that dependence wrapped around your ribs like silk, tight and invisible.
One rainy evening, after the announcement echoed through the station speakers about heavy delays, he glanced at you. "They've suspended trains for at least another hour. Let me drop you off instead."
You hesitated. "Ah... no, it's fine. I'll wait."
"The rain will only get worse," he replied calmly. "It's late already. Don't trouble yourself unnecessarily." His tone wasn't forceful, but it carried that quiet authority you found difficult to argue with. After a beat, you nodded.
Inside the car, you sat stiff at first, clutching your bag, watching the streetlights blur through the rain on the windows. Nanami drove with the same composure he spoke with, making occasional comments-about the weather, about the subway system, about how reckless students could be with their health. His voice filled the silence in a way that didn't feel invasive.
But then a thought struck you, and you turned toward him, frowning slightly.
"You have a car... then why do you take the subway?"
For the first time, his composure broke-not in discomfort, but in quiet amusement. He glanced at you briefly, lips tugging in a faint smile. Then, softly, he chuckled.
"To see you, silly."
The words hung in the air like a spark, catching you off guard. Your cheeks heated instantly, heart pounding against your ribs. There was nothing dangerous in his voice, nothing menacing. Just a calm honesty that sent warmth curling in your chest. No one had ever said something like that to you.
And so, the routine continued. His presence slipped seamlessly into your life-sometimes with coffee on tired mornings, sometimes with quiet car rides home, sometimes with thoughtful little things you hadn't even realized you needed. Day by day, you found yourself spoiled. Cared for. Owned.
"Technically... he's my sugar daddy, isn't he?" you once caught yourself thinking.
Now-
"Princess."
The gentle word tugged you from your thoughts. You blinked, realizing you were still inside his car. The street outside your apartment blurred under the streetlight glow. Nanami had parked quietly, waiting for you to notice.
"Oh-sorry! We're here already!? Thank you for the ride!" You scrambled to unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle.
But before you could step out, his calm voice stopped you.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
You froze, glancing back at him. His expression was as unreadable as always, but the faint lift of his brow made your cheeks burn. Your lips parted, hesitation curling in your stomach-before you leaned in and pressed a shy kiss to his cheek.
He didn't move, only let the faintest smirk slip as you pulled away. "Good girl."
You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face, before muttering a quick "Uhm... Goodnight," and slipping out into the night air.
As his car pulled away, you stood on the curb, bag clutched tightly, already rehearsing the excuse you'd give your aunt and uncle for why you came home in a stranger's car again.
Because no one could know.
Not yet.
-
You pushed the door open as quietly as possible, hoping to slip upstairs before anyone noticed. The house was dim except for the yellow glow of the living room lamp. Maybe your aunt and uncle had already gone to bed-
"Where were you?"
You froze.
Your aunt stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, foot tapping lightly against the floor. Her sharp eyes narrowed the moment they landed on you, and your mouth went dry.
"I-" You gripped the strap of your bag tighter, scrambling for an excuse. "I stayed late at the library... group work, you know, it ran longer than I thought."
Her lips curved into a humorless smile. "Oh really? The library, hm?" She took a slow step forward, tilting her head. "Because I saw a car idling outside just a minute ago. A very nice car. And I've seen him around you more than once these past few days."
Your stomach dropped. Heat crawled up the back of your neck. You tried to laugh, weak and shaky. "Ah... maybe you're mistaken-"
"Don't play dumb with me." Her eyes flicked down, scanning you with a predator's precision. For a moment, she seemed ready to scold you further, but then she paused. Her gaze locked on your ears.
Her tone shifted instantly. "Wait. Are those... gold?"
Your breath caught. Without thinking, you raised a hand to your earlobe, fingertips brushing against the delicate studs Nanami had slipped into your palm just yesterday with a quiet 'These suit you better.' You hadn't even realized you'd worn them home.
Your aunt's brows arched higher. "He bought you those, didn't he?"
You shifted your weight from foot to foot, eyes falling to the floor. It was pointless to deny it. "...Yes."
And just like that, her entire demeanor transformed. The sharpness in her face melted into something almost gleeful. "Ahh, why didn't you say so earlier!" She clapped her hands together, voice rising with sudden excitement. "Why didn't you invite him inside, hmm? Never do that again, do you hear me? You should have brought him in!"
Your mouth fell open. "W-What? No, it's not like that, he's-he's just-"
"Just what?" she cut you off, eyes glittering now. "Clearly not just anything if he's spoiling you with expensive jewelry. We should get to know him better. Don't you think so?"
Panic surged in your chest. You shook your head quickly. "He's... busy. Really busy. It's hard to catch him outside of classes and work. I don't think-"
"Oh, I know, I know!" she waved off your protests as though they were nothing. "Maybe this weekend? No, no-how about tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow is better. I'll speak with your uncle about arranging something. A dinner, perhaps. That way we can welcome him properly into the family."
"Wait, what-tomorrow? I never said-"
"Perfect." She spun on her heel, already heading down the hallway, muttering excitedly about food and plans. "I'll talk to your uncle about the menu. Don't you dare come home late tomorrow."
And just like that, she was gone.
You stood rooted to the spot, speechless, a sigh escaping before you even realized it. You pressed a hand to your forehead, groaning softly, and dragged yourself upstairs to your room.
The moment you set your bag down, your phone buzzed on the desk. A notification glowed across the screen.
Nanami.
Your heart stuttered when you read it.
Tomorrow. 6 p.m.
As if he had known. As if he had already decided.
-
The next day passed in a blur. You dressed with unusual care, hands trembling slightly as you fixed your hair, slipped on shoes that felt a little too new. When you stepped into the kitchen to grab your bag, the smell of frying onions clung to the air, your aunt busy at the stove.
She looked over her shoulder, eyes lighting up. "Ah, all ready?" Her smile was wide, satisfied. "Remember what's tonight. Don't you dare forget to bring him here afterward."
Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. "...Right."
A low scoff came from the table, where your uncle sat with the newspaper half-folded. He didn't bother looking up. "Tsk. He's just a scam. Ain't no way some rich guy would get with you anyway."
The words cut clean, sharper than he probably even meant them. They landed heavy in your chest, like stones pulling you down. You dropped your gaze to the tiled floor, shoulders curling inward. A painful little reminder of reality, perhaps. Of who you were compared to someone like him.
"Enough." Your aunt's voice snapped like a whip. She slammed the ladle onto the counter, glaring at her husband. "Don't you ruin this for her. Let her do whatever she wants-it's a good opportunity for us."
She'd whisper before turning back toward you. "Go on now. Don't be late!"
You nodded quickly, slipping out the door before your throat could tighten further. The weight of their voices clung to you as you stepped into the cool evening air.
By the time you reached the usual place, the sight of Nanami's car waiting exactly where it always did made your heart stutter. As if he had been waiting just for you, as if there was no world outside this little pocket of routine. He was already out of the car, opening the door for you with that calm, unreadable expression.
"Good evening," he said softly.
You slid into the seat, setting your bag down quietly. The door closed with a muted thud. The car smelled faintly of his cologne, steady and grounding, yet you couldn't shake the heaviness from earlier.
Nanami glanced at you as he adjusted the wheel. His gaze lingered a second too long. "Not feeling good?"
Your breath caught. For a moment, you thought he could see right through you. You shook your head quickly, forcing a small smile. "No... nothing like that."
He didn't press. He only reached for your hand, his touch warm, steady, and brought it up to his lips. The brush of his mouth against your knuckles was soft, deliberate, as though promising things you couldn't even name. He lingered there for a heartbeat before letting go, the silence that followed far more comforting than words.
The city lights passed by in a blur outside. You leaned your head lightly against the glass, watching them smear into ribbons of gold. Inside your chest, thoughts turned over one after another, restless.
Maybe... maybe if I could move out. Maybe then things would be easier.
You turned your head slightly, glancing at Nanami. His profile was calm, eyes fixed on the road, hands steady on the wheel.
Maybe... if I could move in with him instead.
The thought startled you, sharp and dangerous, but it didn't leave. It lingered, pulsing quietly in the back of your mind, as though it had been waiting there all along.
-
The mall was alive with chatter, the air filled with the low hum of music, footsteps, and the occasional ring of laughter. You walked beside Nanami, half a step behind him as always. He never let you pay attention to the price tags. Instead, his gaze swept over everything like he already knew what would look good on you.
"This," he murmured, taking a delicate silk blouse off a rack, holding it against your frame for a second before handing it to the clerk. Then a pair of shoes caught his eyes. "And these. Try them."
Your arms filled quickly, and the pile of things he insisted on grew almost comical. Dresses you'd never even dare to touch before, jewelry sparkling under the store's lights, soft cashmere, leather-luxuries you'd only ever seen through glass.
"Nanami-san-" you began nervously as he slipped yet another box into the clerk's hands.
"Don't," he interrupted gently, his tone final but not unkind. His gaze lowered to meet yours, firm, steady. "I like seeing you in things I choose."
The heat in your cheeks was instant, impossible to hide.
Moments later, you found yourself ushered into a changing room with more outfits than you could handle. The small cubicle felt too warm as you tried on one after another, fabric whispering against your skin. You struggled with a dress that clung too tightly, muttering curses under your breath as you tugged at the zipper. Then came the sharp snap of your bra strap giving out.
"Shit," you whispered, panicked as the broken strap slid against your shoulder. You fumbled, trying to knot it, your fingers clumsy with frustration.
And then-
A hand brushed against your arm.
You froze, your entire body jolting as another arm slid around your waist from behind. You almost screamed, but a low, steady voice hushed against your ear.
"Shh. It's me."
Nanami.
Your heart lurched violently as you twisted your head to see him there, far too close, his calm presence filling the tiny space. "N-Nanami-san," you stammered, heat flooding your face. "What are you doing-? Why are you inside?"
"You were taking a long time." His voice was even, but the way his hand spread across your waist was far from casual. He leaned closer, his breath brushing against the back of your neck. "I was worried. Seems I was right."
His fingers skimmed over your bare shoulder, down to where the strap had broken. The brush of his skin against yours made you shudder involuntarily.
"I..." Your words caught, your throat too dry. "Nanami-san... not here..."
He hummed low in his throat, as though considering your protest, but pressed a soft kiss just above your shoulder blade anyway. The warmth of his lips sent sparks racing down your spine.
"You'll need another," he murmured against your skin. His fingers lingered, grazing lightly as if reluctant to pull away. "Wait here. I'll get one for you."
You could only nod, too flustered to argue. He finally stepped back, brushing his thumb once against your arm before leaving the changing room as quietly as he'd entered.
The second he was gone, you pressed a trembling hand against your chest. Your heartbeat was a wild, unsteady rhythm. You never expected him to do something like that-in public, of all places. Yet, instead of shame, a strange warmth pooled in your stomach. You didn't hate it. Not even a little.
By the time you emerged, Nanami was waiting, perfectly composed as though nothing had happened. He only handed you a small bag with a new piece inside, and you swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze fully.
Later, the two of you strolled through the mall, shopping bags heavy in your hands, but he didn't let you carry them long. He passed you a cup of ice cream, the cold sweetness grounding you as he held the rest.
Back in the car, you licked a drip from the side of the cone, still trying to calm the flutter in your chest. Nanami fastened his seatbelt, glanced at you once, and said casually, "I was thinking of meeting your family."
Your spoon stilled mid-air. You blinked at him, caught off guard. "M-Meet... my family?"
He gave a simple nod, as if it was the most natural request in the world. "Yes. How about now?"
Your throat tightened. Of all things, you hadn't planned to tell him about your aunt and uncle waiting at home. The thought of them sitting across from Nanami-probing, judging, maybe even trying to use him-made your stomach twist. And yet... it wasn't like you could say no.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
Nanami noticed, of course he did. His gaze softened, one hand reaching to rest briefly over yours on your lap. "Don't worry," he said quietly. "Everything will be fine."
-
The house smelled faintly of fried onions when Nanami walked in behind you. Your aunt practically flew from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her face stretched into the widest smile you'd ever seen on her.
"Ohhh, so this is Nanami-san!" she gushed, already stepping forward with outstretched hands as though greeting a long-lost relative. "I've heard so much about you! Welcome, welcome, please sit-do you drink tea? Coffee? I can make snacks too, you must be tired from work-"
Nanami inclined his head politely, his expression composed. "Tea will do. Thank you."
Your aunt beamed, as if he'd just handed her gold, and bustled off with exaggerated eagerness. You could only sit stiffly beside him on the couch, trying not to fidget as your uncle leaned back in his chair across the room, arms crossed and lips pressed thin.
"So," your uncle began, his voice low and unimpressed. His gaze raked over Nanami's tailored suit, then over you. "You're the one hanging around my niece."
"Uncle..." you hissed, embarrassed, but he didn't look at you.
Nanami, unbothered, met the older man's stare with quiet steadiness. "Yes. That would be me."
Your uncle scoffed. "You rich types all look the same. Flashy cars, nice suits... all talk, no substance." He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "What's your intention here, eh? Playing around? Don't think you can just-"
"Dear!" Your aunt cut in sharply, returning with the tea tray and forcing a laugh. "Don't be so rude! Nanami-san is our guest!" She set the cups down with trembling hands, eyes darting nervously between the two men.
Nanami reached calmly into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. Without a word, he set it on the table in front of your uncle.
The room went silent.
Your uncle frowned, pulling the papers out, scanning them quickly. His eyes widened. Once. Then twice. His hand froze mid-turn.
"This..." His voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat. "This is... property? You-?"
"Correct," Nanami interrupted smoothly, his tone calm as ever. "One of mine. I was considering letting it go. I thought perhaps your family might find better use for it."
Your aunt gasped audibly, her hands flying to her mouth. She glanced at the documents, then at Nanami, then at you, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant.
"My goodness! Nanami-san, you're too generous! Really, you shouldn't trouble yourself with us, but-oh, heavens, this means so much!" She was practically bowing now, her earlier warmth exploding into full-blown flattery. "You're truly... truly like family already!"
You sat frozen, lips parted slightly, your heart hammering. Did he really just... give them one of his properties? Why?
Your uncle, who only minutes ago had been ready to throw Nanami out, now looked pale, reverent even, clutching the papers like sacred scripture.
Nanami took a slow sip of his tea, unhurried, letting the silence stretch just enough before speaking again. "Actually," he said casually, "I was planning on taking YN with me to Bali. It's a great season to see the beach."
The words dropped like a stone in water.
You whipped your head toward him, eyes wide. "W-What?"
But before you could form a real protest, your aunt jumped in, her face glowing. "Bali! Oh, what a lovely idea! Perfect for her! Yes, yes-take her, no problem at all!" She waved her hand as if dismissing any thought of objection. "Go whenever you want, stay as long as you like. Really, we insist!"
Your uncle, now completely subdued, nodded eagerly. "Right, right. Go. Don't worry about us."
You sat there, dumbfounded, your throat tight, your hands curling into your skirt. Just like that... they don't care. Not even a second thought.
Nanami set his cup down gently, his lips curving in the faintest hint of a smile as he glanced at you. His eyes, however, were unreadable, deep and calm. He didn't need to speak for you to know what he was thinking.
He had already won.
And you-caught between shock, disbelief, and a strange, dangerous pull-you could only look back at him, your pulse pounding in your ears.
---
The next day-
Your aunt and uncle didn't even give you space to think. The moment Nanami stood and excused himself to wait by the car, they practically descended on you.
"Go, go!" your aunt said, shoving a half-zipped suitcase toward you. "Don't waste his time! We already packed most of your clothes-what else do you need? Toothbrush? Makeup? We'll buy you new ones when you get back!"
"I-wait, packed?" Your voice trembled as you took the handle, staring at the luggage in disbelief. "You... already-"
"Of course," your aunt cut in, her eyes gleaming with urgency. "Do you know what an opportunity this is? Bali! You don't say no to that. Ever. So hurry up and change into something nice, hm? Don't embarrass us."
Your uncle muttered from the doorway, though his tone lacked its usual bite. "Don't dawdle, girl. He's waiting."
The words pressed down on you like weights. Your chest tightened, but your legs moved anyway, carrying you upstairs to grab what little you could think of. Ten minutes later, you were back at the door, your aunt practically pushing you outside, calling out cheerful goodbyes as though sending you off to summer camp.
Nanami was waiting by the car, calm as ever. He took the suitcase from you without a word, tucking it neatly into the trunk before opening your door. The moment you slid into the seat, his presence washed over you, steady, grounding.
The car purred to life, and as the city lights slipped past outside the window, his hand brushed yours lightly, resting over your knuckles. "Forget about them for now," he murmured, eyes still on the road. "You've been carrying too much. Just relax."
Your shoulders loosened despite yourself. You nodded faintly. "...Alright."
By the time you reached the airport, exhaustion weighed heavy on your body. The rush, the tension, the constant tugging of other people's expectations-it all caught up with you. Through check-in, through security, Nanami guided you quietly, always a step ahead, every detail handled before you even thought to worry. He carried your passport, your ticket, your bag, as if it was second nature.
Once seated on the plane, you let out a long, shaky sigh, your head tilting against the cool window. Nanami glanced at you, his voice a low murmur above the hum of the cabin. "Sleep. I'll wake you when we land."
You hesitated, then nodded. The weight of his words felt like permission. Slowly, you let your eyes flutter shut. His presence beside you, steady and composed, was the last thing you felt before slipping into slumber.
For the first time in a long time-it was peaceful.
-
Back at the house, your uncle sat at the dining table, the folder of property papers spread neatly before him. He held the phone pressed to his ear, speaking with the lawyer in a gruff tone.
"Yes, yes-just transfer the title under my name. Nanami-san gifted it to us, so make it quick."
On the other end, the lawyer hummed, the faint scratch of paper audible as he flipped through the documents. A pause. Then another.
"...I think there's been a mistake," the lawyer finally said, adjusting his glasses. "This company name-'Kaizen Holdings,' was it?-there's no record of such a company existing. Not here. Not anywhere."
Silence stretched across the kitchen.
Your uncle blinked, leaning forward. "...What?"
"I've checked twice already," the lawyer continued, his voice clipped, efficient. "The seal here is fabricated. The registration number doesn't match any corporate database. Legally speaking, this property doesn't exist."
The words hit like a hammer.
Your uncle sat frozen, knuckles whitening around the paper. Your aunt, hovering nearby, slowly shook her head, her lips parting in disbelief.
"W-What do you mean it doesn't exist?" she stammered. "He gave us the papers. He-he said-"
But the lawyer was firm. "I'm afraid, madam, these documents are meaningless."
The line went quiet after that, leaving only the soft hum of the disconnected call and the frantic rustle of papers that suddenly felt like nothing at all.
Your aunt and uncle exchanged a single look-fear creeping at the edges of their greed, but confusion overwhelming it.
And far above the clouds, you slept soundly, unaware of the storm beginning to unravel behind you.
Nanami sat with his arms folded loosely, his gaze steady on your profile. Your cheek pressed against the window, lashes fluttering faintly with each breath. Innocent. Trusting. His lips curved almost imperceptibly.
He slid his phone from his pocket, tilting it low. After a quiet beat, he pressed it to his ear, voice a low murmur that didn't disturb your sleep. A smirk ghosted across his mouth as he slipped the phone away again, his eyes never leaving your face.
Genre: Pure Horror, Psychological Horror, Dark Fiction, Thriller, Yandere undertones
Word count: 9.5k
Warnings:
Extreme psychological horror, stalking, invasion of privacy, identity manipulation, obsession, yandere behavior, gaslighting, paranoia, home intrusion, implied violence, death (non-graphic), isolation, fear-inducing themes, emotional distress, loss of safety, disturbing scenarios.
Please DO NOT read if you're sensitive to intense psychological horror or themes involving stalking, manipulation, and loss of control.
AN: This piece is pure horror, not romance. It explores the consequences of blurred boundaries, obsession, and the danger of being too seen by the wrong person. If you’re expecting comfort, this is not that story. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Masterlist
The room was a chaotic testament to neglect, the floor littered with crumpled clothes—discarded shirts, tangled jeans, and rumpled socks—strewn haphazardly across the worn carpet like the aftermath of a storm that had raged for days without respite.
Empty takeout containers teetered precariously on side tables, their greasy remnants congealing in the dim light filtering through half-drawn blinds, while stacks of unopened mail and forgotten gadgets cluttered every available surface, dust motes dancing lazily in the stale air. It hadn't been cleaned in what felt like an eternity, the faint musty scent of disuse mingling with the sharper tang of sweat and arousal that now dominated the space.
And there you were, seated with your legs spread wide on the sagging couch, the cushions dipping under your weight as your bare thighs trembled from the relentless onslaught between them. Your panties lay discarded somewhere in the mess—tossed aside in a haze of urgency, perhaps tangled with a stray sock or kicked under the coffee table—leaving your most intimate folds exposed and glistening.
In your hand, you'd been handed a phone earlier, its screen glowing softly as your fingers scrolled through the pages of a steamy novel, the words blurring slightly at the edges of your vision from the building haze of ecstasy.
Between your legs knelt the man, his broad shoulders wedged firmly against your inner thighs, holding you open with unyielding strength as his mouth devoured your pussy with insatiable hunger.
He'd been at it for hours now, his tongue working you over in a merciless rhythm that had you soaking the sheets beneath your ass, wet spots blooming from the multiple messes you'd made—your juices spilling out in waves, slick and abundant, as orgasm after teasing near-orgasm ripped through you.
Your brain swam in a fog of pure, overwhelming pleasure, every coherent thought dissolving into the electric pulses firing from your core, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face despite the exhaustion settling into your limbs.
He teased his tongue deep into your hole, plunging it in with slow, deliberate thrusts that mimicked a cock's invasion, curling and twisting inside your clenching walls to lap at the sensitive ridges, drawing out your arousal in thick, creamy rivulets that he slurped greedily.
The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking filled the room—schlick, slurp, smack—as he hollowed his cheeks and sealed his lips around your entrance, creating a vacuum that pulled at your folds, intensifying the suction until your pussy fluttered wildly, threatening to gush again.
Then, just as your body tensed on the brink, he'd withdraw, only to flatten his tongue broad and firm against your entire slit, licking upward in long, languid strokes that coated his chin and your thighs anew, savoring every drop as he traced the swollen contours of your labia, flicking briefly over your throbbing clit before diving back in.
It was so intensely good, the dual assault of his voracious mouth and the filthy scenes unfolding on your phone screen amplifying each sensation tenfold—the novel's descriptions of raw, pounding fucks mirroring the way his tongue fucked into you now, stretching and probing without mercy.
“Ngh~.. enough already…!" you moaned, yet tangling your fingers in his hair and pushing his face harder against your throbbing core.
He responded with a low growl of hunger, doubling his efforts as he savored the taste of your arousal. His nose brushed against your clit with each thrust of his tongue, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting through your body.
You could feel another orgasm building rapidly, your thighs trembling and your toes curling as the intensity mounted. The man between your legs showed no signs of letting up, determined to bring you to the pinnacle of ecstasy with his skilled oral ministrations.
“aAhh-! I.. I'm gonna-!" you cried out, your hips bucking against his face as the pleasure reached a fever pitch. "I'm going to-cum! I'm cumming again…!"
Your body convulsed as the powerful orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his probing tongue. The man lapped up your juices eagerly, prolonging your climax with his relentless stimulation. By the time you finally collapsed back onto the couch, completely spent and satisfied, your sheets were damp with the evidence of your pleasure.
But…
Even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, the man between your legs showed no signs of stopping. He gently spread your sensitive lips wider with his fingers, exposing your swollen, throbbing clit to his hungry gaze.
Before you could react, he dove back in, flicking the tip of his tongue against your sensitive nub in quick, feather-light strokes. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your overstimulated nerves screaming in protest at the relentless assault.
“No stop…!! it's too much-!" you gasped, instinctively trying to close your thighs and push him away. But he was having none of it, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you in place as he continued his relentless onslaught.
Your phone slipped from your trembling fingers, clattering to the floor and forgotten as you struggled to process the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, you felt his thumb pressing against your entrance, slowly pushing inside your dripping channel.
"Ahhhh…!?" you cried out, your back arching off the couch as a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain shot through you. Your pussy clenched around his invading digit, drawing him deeper as he began to thrust in time with the flicks of his tongue against your clit.
He growled against your flesh, the vibrations adding another layer of intense sensation as he worked you towards yet another climax. Your brain felt fuzzy, your thoughts scattering as all you could focus on was the incredible pleasure building inside you once more.
"Pleaseee… I can't...I can't take anymore…!" you whimpered, tears of overwhelming stimulation pricking at the corners of your eyes. But even as you pleaded, you knew it was a lie.
You watch him hungrily worshipping you, eyes closed, mouth working like an animal—too desperate... too much—Aggressive—as if you're going to disappear if he stops—Just like you've read in those adult books.
And this man... is one of those who writes such works that you've been enjoying so much.
Your thoughts would snap as he made you hold the phone again that you dropped accidentally, making you focus back on it once more.
—
You were a book girl.
Obsessed with your fictional men. The kind that lived between pages and ink, in half-finished sentences and quiet confessions. The kind that weren’t real—but felt more real than anything you could reach. You got lost in your imagination often, and not in a way that pulled you away from life, but in a way that softened it. Made it easier to breathe through long, tiring days. Even after everything—work, responsibilities, conversations that drained more than they gave—you still found time. Always. A few stolen minutes, an hour past midnight, eyes heavy but unwilling to close. Just one more chapter, you’d tell yourself. Just one more scene.
And lately… there was one writer.
Your current obsession.
Their username sat at the top of your notifications more often than you’d like to admit, their stories bookmarked, reread, memorized in fragments. The way they wrote your favorite characters—it wasn’t just good. It was breathtaking. Intense in a quiet, consuming way. Twisted, dark, in the way emotions were unraveled and stitched back together. And the reader in those stories… it was unsettling how familiar it felt. Not identical, not obvious—but close enough to make your chest tighten at certain lines, like you’d been understood without ever speaking.
No one really knew who they were. No face. No name. Just words.
And somehow, everyone had come to the same conclusion—you included.
They had to be a woman.
Because the way they wrote for the female gaze… the way they captured longing, hesitation, the softness of affection and the sharp edge of vulnerability—it didn’t feel like something a man could replicate so effortlessly. So naturally. So you believed it, without questioning. It made sense. It felt easier that way.
Either way… you loved their work. That was the only thing that mattered.
You had been following them for a while now. Quietly at first. Reading everything they posted, going back to older pieces, liking, saving, rereading. Then slowly, you started engaging more. A comment here and there—nothing too long, nothing too personal. Just simple things.
“This was so good.”
“I loved this part.”
“You write them perfectly.”
Sometimes, when the feeling lingered longer than usual, you’d send a direct message. Just a small one.
“Your writing is really comforting. Thank you for this.”
“I don’t know how you do it, but this was amazing again.”
Normal things. Safe things. The kind of messages you never really expected a reply to.
And you didn’t, at first.
Until one day—
You had stared at your screen longer than necessary, rereading the notification as if it might disappear.
A reply. From them.
“Thank you. i’m really glad you liked it.”
It was simple. Lowercase. Almost shy.
Your fingers had hovered over your keyboard for a moment before you typed back, a small smile already forming without you realizing.
“liked it? i loved it 😭 you write them so well, it’s actually unfair.”
There was a pause. You watched the typing bubble appear… disappear… then appear again.
“umm i’m not very good at replying to messages like this… but thank you. really.”
You blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. It was endearing. Unexpectedly so.
“that’s okay. you don’t have to be 😭 your writing does all the talking anyway.”
Another pause. Longer this time. Something about that stayed with you.
Because it made sense.
Here was someone who struggled with simple conversations, who hesitated over replies, who admitted—so plainly—that they weren’t good at this. And yet… when they wrote, it was like none of that existed. Every word deliberate. Every emotion precise. As if they could say everything they couldn’t out loud, but only through stories.
And you liked that. You liked that a lot.
—
After that, you kept messaging them. Not constantly, not enough to be overwhelming—just occasionally. When a story hit harder than usual. When a line stayed with you longer than it should have.
Nothing deep. Nothing intrusive. Just—
“this one got me!”
“i think this is my favorite so far.”
“the way you wrote this scene?? insane.”
And every now and then, they replied.
Short messages. Slightly awkward. But honest.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough.
Because somehow, between their quiet replies and the way they wrote entire worlds with ease—
You found yourself liking them not just as a writer… But as a person you barely knew.
Nothing really serious though…
—
The idea had come to you more than once. You had pushed it away every time.
Because requesting something like that—it felt… too personal. Too indulgent. Asking your favorite writer to take you, your thoughts, your habits, your little pieces of identity, and turn it into a story? It sounded like crossing a line you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.
What if they found it weird?
What if they refused?
What if it made things awkward?
You had stared at your chat with them longer than you’d like to admit, fingers hovering over the keyboard, typing something and deleting it again. The blinking cursor felt louder than usual.
It was just a message. Just a request. And yet—Your heart still beat a little faster when you finally started typing.
‘hey… can i ask something a bit different?’
You almost put your phone down right after sending it, already preparing yourself for no reply. Or a delayed one. That was normal. That was expected.
But the reply came quicker than usual. Too quick.
‘yeah, of course. what is it?’
You blinked, sitting up a little straighter without realizing.
Right. Okay. Now you actually had to say it.
Your fingers moved slower this time.
‘i was thinking… would you ever write something like a personalized fic?—like… using someone’s name and personality?’ You paused, then quickly added—
‘it’s okay if not! i was just curious 😭’
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Stayed. Disappeared. Came back again. Longer this time.
‘well… I’ve thought about it before, actually.’
‘what did you have in mind?’
Your breath caught slightly. They didn’t reject it. They were… interested.
You sat up properly now, pulling your knees closer as you typed, a small, nervous smile forming.
‘um… something like my favorite character x me… but like—based on my actual personality, not just a random reader insert!!
you could use my name and everything… but maybe change it if you post it publicly?’
A second later—
’only if you’re comfortable ofc!!’
This time, the reply took a little longer. But when it came—It wasn’t short. Not at all.
‘that actually sounds really interesting.’
‘i’d want to do it properly though, if i’m writing you as you…not just surface-level traits.’
‘if you’re okay with that, i’d need to ask you a few things first.’
A pause. Then another message followed.
‘also, yes—i wouldn’t post anything with your real name or identifying details. i can change that version.’
You didn’t even realize how wide your smile had gotten until your cheeks started to hurt.
‘yes yes that’s completely fine!! thank you so much, seriously 😭’’
There was a brief pause before they continued. And then the questions started. Not rushed. Not overwhelming. But deliberate.
---
‘what’s your name?’
‘and your age?’
‘what do you do right now—study, work?’
‘your location—do you want it to be accurate in the story, or different?’
You answered each one, one by one, a little more easily than you expected.
Then came more.
‘what do you like?’
‘things that comfort you?’
‘things you dislike?’
‘what kind of behavior makes you shut down?’
‘what kind of affection do you prefer?’
You paused at some of them. Thinking. Actually thinking. But you still answered. Because somehow, it felt like they would use it carefully.
And then—The last question.
‘how would you like the male character to be?’
You smiled a little at that, leaning back slightly as you typed, the answer coming easier than all the others.
‘honestly? the way you usually write them 😭like… a little twisted? yandere vibes?’
‘i really love that kind of intensity!!’
You hesitated for half a second, then added— ‘’i mean—irl no one’s really loyal like that, you know?’
‘so it’s fun to imagine someone being completely obsessed… like fully devoted, down bad, yearner type😩’
‘but yeah, only in fiction obviously lol’
There was a pause after that. A slightly longer one. Then—
‘i understand.’
‘i’ll keep that in mind.’
‘i’ll start working on it soon.’
‘i might ask you more questions later, if needed.’
Something about the way they said it—Simple. Certain. It made your chest feel a little lighter.
‘okay!! thank you so much, really 😭 i’m already excited about this lol’
You paused, then added, half-joking— ‘manifesting my own story fr’
There was a small delay before their final reply came.
‘…i’ll try to make it worth it.’
You stared at that message for a moment longer than necessary. Then smiled to yourself, locking your phone and pulling your blanket a little closer.
Already imagining how it would feel—To read a story where, for once—
You weren’t just the reader. But the one being written.
—
And when it finally came—It was more than you expected.
More than you had imagined, even on the nights you let your thoughts wander a little too far.
You had opened the document the same way you always did—quietly, almost casually, as if it were just another story. It wasn’t.
From the very first line, something felt… different. Too familiar. Too precise.
You read slowly at first. Then slower.
Then you stopped altogether at certain parts, just staring at the screen, your breath catching without warning.
Because the details— They weren’t just accurate. They were you.
The way you reacted to things. The way you hesitated before saying something honest. The small habits you never thought anyone would notice, let alone remember. Even the things you had mentioned only once, briefly, without thinking much of it—they were there.
Woven so seamlessly into the story that it didn’t feel like fiction anymore. It felt like memory.
And the way he wrote the character opposite you—It made your chest tighten.
That intensity you had joked about? The “yandere vibes,” the obsessive, unwavering devotion you claimed to like?
He understood it.
Twisted it just enough to make it thrilling—but grounded it in a way that made it feel… real. Dangerous, almost. The kind of attention that lingered too long, the kind of affection that felt suffocating and comforting at the same time.
It should have been too much. But it wasn’t. Because somehow—It fit.
You didn’t even realize when you started holding your breath while reading. Or when your fingers tightened slightly around your phone.
There were moments where you had to pause, your heart beating a little too fast, a chill running down your spine for no clear reason.
As if you weren’t just reading it—But living it.
By the time you reached the end, you just sat there for a moment. Silent. Staring at the last line.
Then, almost immediately, you opened your messages.
“that was…” You paused, deleting it. Typed again.
“that was actually insane.”
“like—i don’t even know what to say??”
“it was so good. way better than i imagined”
You sent another before you could stop yourself—
“how did you even do that?? it felt so real it’s actually scary!!!”
The reply came after a short while.
“i’m glad you liked it.”
There was a pause. Then—
“i paid attention.”
That made you smile. Soft. Genuine.
“clearly 😭 thank you so much for this, really”
Another pause.
“you’re welcome.”
It was a short conversation. Simple. Familiar. But something about it lingered longer than usual.
---
After that day, things… shifted. Not in a dramatic way. Just life.
You got busy. Actually busy.
Not the kind where you still found time to scroll, to read, to respond—but the kind where your days blurred into each other. Responsibilities piling up, things to finish, things to attend to. By the time you got a moment to yourself, you were too tired to do anything with it.
You noticed their updates. Of course you did.
Their posts still appeared on your feed—new stories, new uploads, the same quiet captions.
You’d pause for a second. Consider opening them. Then tell yourself—later.
But later kept getting pushed further away.
Days passed like that.
You’d still see their name occasionally. Still feel that small, familiar pull. But you didn’t read. Didn’t message. Didn’t engage the way you used to.
And somehow—That felt more exhausting than everything else.
And crazily… It was almost the end of the year.
Somewhere between everything that had happened—the small highs, the quiet disappointments, the days that blurred into each other—you had settled. Not perfectly. Not completely. But enough to tell yourself that things were… okay now. Manageable.
Outside, the rain poured endlessly, soft at first, then heavier, tapping insistently against your window like it had something to say. The air felt cooler, calmer. The kind of evening that made staying in feel right.
You were in your room, sitting on the floor with your bookshelf half emptied, surrounded by scattered paperbacks and dust-coated corners you hadn’t bothered cleaning in months. It was one of those random bursts of productivity—I should probably clean this—that came out of nowhere.
You hummed quietly to yourself, brushing your fingers along the spines, pulling some out, rearranging others. Old bookmarks slipped out. Folded pages. Little reminders of versions of you that had read these stories at different times.
And then—You paused.
“…wait.” Your hand stilled mid-motion. A thought, sudden and sharp.
You quickly reached for your phone, unlocking it almost instinctively, opening that app—the one you used to spend hours on without realizing. The one that had once been a part of your daily routine.
Your thumb hovered for a second before you tapped into your saved works. Scrolling.
Familiar titles passed by. Authors you remembered. Stories that still carried that quiet sense of comfort, of nostalgia. You smiled faintly at a few of them, memories flickering softly in the back of your mind.
But then—Your movement slowed. A slight frown forming. “…where is it?”
You scrolled back up. Then down again. More carefully this time.
That username. It wasn’t there.
Your brows furrowed as you sat up straighter, your thumb moving faster now, checking your following list.
Scrolling. Scrolling again.
“…no, that’s not right.” A small, uneasy feeling settled in your chest.
You knew you were following them. You remembered talking to them. That wasn’t something you’d forget so easily. So then—
Where was the account? Where did all their works go?
It wasn’t just any random writer. It was them. One of your favorites. The one you kept going back to. The one that—
You swallowed slightly, unlocking your phone again and immediately opening another app. Reddit.
Your fingers moved quickly, typing, searching, scrolling through threads. And you weren’t the only one. There were others. People asking the same question.
“What happened to them?”
“Did they delete their account?”
“Does anyone know if they’re coming back?”
You opened one thread. Then another. Reading through the replies.
“maybe they just got busy with life”
“some writers lose interest, it happens”
“i think they mentioned something in their last post?”
Your eyes paused on that. Scrolling further.
“yeah, they wrote a note… said they weren’t feeling well.”
“i hope they’re okay tbh”
Your chest tightened slightly. You stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary. A strange, uncomfortable feeling settling deep inside you. Guilt. Uninvited. Unpleasant.
You hadn’t been there. You hadn’t read that last post. You hadn’t noticed anything was wrong.
While they were writing… while they were still there—You were busy. Living your life. Moving on without realizing something was ending.
“…I hope they’re okay…”
You murmured it quietly, almost under your breath, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain hitting the windows.
With a small exhale, you locked your phone, placing it beside you. Trying not to think about it. Trying to let it go.
---
Later that night—The rain hadn’t stopped.
If anything, it had grown heavier. Louder. Relentless against the quiet of your room.
You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
2:33 AM blinking faintly on your clock. Sleep wouldn’t come.
You shifted slightly. Then again. Turning to one side. Then the other. Pulling the blanket closer, then pushing it away.
Nothing felt right. Your body wasn’t tired. Your mind wasn’t exactly restless either. Just—Awake.
For no reason you could understand.
“…what's going on…” You muttered softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
You turned again. Closing your eyes. Opening them. The room felt quieter than it should have been. And then—
The lights went out. Darkness swallowed the room instantly.
You let out an annoyed scoff, pulling the blanket over yourself, covering from head to toe like it would somehow make it less irritating.
The rain filled the silence. Loud. Constant.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying again. And then—drip.
Something cold landed on your nose.
Your eyes snapped open instantly. “...Huh?”
You froze for a second under the blanket, your breath catching slightly. Then slowly, you pulled it down, pushing the fabric away from your face.
Your gaze moved upward. Toward the ceiling. And then—You saw it.
Through a thin crack in the ceiling—Barely noticeable at first glance—There was something there.
An eye.
Looking directly at you.
—
You weren’t even sure if you were seeing it right.
For a split second, your mind tried to deny it—tried to blur it into something else. A shadow. A trick of the dark. Anything but what it actually was.
But then—It moved.
And you realized—That was real.
A sharp, piercing scream should have torn out of your throat. It didn’t.
It was like your voice had died somewhere inside you, caught, strangled before it could exist. Your chest tightened painfully, your breath shallow and uneven, but no sound came out.
You threw the blanket off yourself so suddenly it tangled around your legs, nearly tripping you as you scrambled out of bed. Your heart was pounding violently against your ribs, loud enough that it felt like it might echo in the room.
You didn’t look up again. You couldn’t.
You ran.
Out of your bedroom, your footsteps uneven, almost slipping against the floor as your hands shook uncontrollably. Your breath came out in short, panicked bursts, your chest tightening with every second. And then—
BANG.
You flinched violently as a loud knock hit your front door.
Once. Then again. Harder this time.
Your entire body froze. At this hour?
Your heart hammered even faster, your thoughts spiraling, fear gripping tighter around your chest.
Who—Who could that be?
Another knock. Voices this time.
“Y/N!”
You recognized it. Your neighbor.
Your feet moved before your mind caught up, rushing toward the door, your hand trembling slightly as you unlocked it and pulled it open.
You stood there, panting, breath uneven, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin despite the cold.
They looked at you—And immediately, their expressions shifted. Concern. Confusion. Something else.
“Y/N, there was someone on your roof!” one of them said quickly, his voice urgent. “We saw him—he jumped down and ran away!”
Another nodded immediately, stepping forward slightly. “Yes! I kept hearing noises from my rooftop too—I thought it was just cats or something…”
“No,” the older man cut in sharply, shaking his head with certainty, his voice firm and edged with irritation. “That was no cat. That was a thief. Definitely trying to break in.” The word thief sat heavily in the air.
“I’ve seen a few weird people roaming around lately,” he continued, his tone growing more annoyed. “Especially behind your house.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s easy to hide there.”
Your stomach twisted slightly.
“It’s a good thing you’re not home most of the time,” he added with a slight scoff. “Tch… careless.”
Your fingers tightened slightly against the doorframe.
The nicer one stepped forward then, his expression softening as he looked at you more carefully..“He was on your roof, Y/N…” he said gently. “Did anything happen? Are you alright?”
Your lips parted..You tried to speak. Tried to explain. But your thoughts were still tangled, your heartbeat still too loud in your ears.
“There’s… there’s a hole in my roof,” your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost unsteady. “He was watching me… through there.”
Silence.
It fell suddenly. Heavily.
Their expressions changed. Not in fear. Not in understanding. But—Something else.
Uneasy. Skeptical.
“Watching you?” the older man repeated, his brows furrowing deeply, his tone shifting into something sharper. “Why would a thief watch you?”
Your chest tightened.
“You don’t have any… messy business going on, do you?” he added, his voice lowering slightly but carrying enough weight to make your stomach drop. “Our neighborhood has a reputation to maintain, mind you.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
“What are you saying?” you shot back, your voice finally finding some strength despite the tremor underneath. “I don’t even know him! I didn’t even see his face—”
He shrugged. Just shrugged. Like your words didn’t matter. Like he didn’t quite believe you.
“Move along,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “No point standing here in the rain.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away, a quiet tch leaving his lips. The others hesitated for a second.
Then the nicer one looked back at you, concern still lingering in his eyes.
“Call me if anything happens, alright?” he said softly. “And I’ll contact someone to repair your roof.”
You nodded. Slowly.
They left. One by one. Their footsteps fading into the sound of the rain. And you stood there. Still. Your heart hadn’t calmed down. Not even a little. You closed the door quietly, your hand lingering on the handle for a second longer than necessary.
What was happening?
You had been living here for years. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Not once. Your relationships with the neighbors were normal. Neutral. Peaceful. There had never been any trouble. No incidents. No fear.
So then—Why now?
—
Till dawn, you couldn’t rest your eyes. Not even for a second.
You stayed curled near the door, back pressed against it as if it were the only thing separating you from something you didn’t dare name. The floor felt cold beneath you, your body stiff from the same position for hours, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t.
Going back to your bedroom—That thought alone made your chest tighten. The image wouldn’t leave your mind. That crack in the ceiling. That eye. Watching.
You had thought about calling the police. More than once.
Your phone had been in your hand, the number almost dialed, your thumb hovering over the screen. But then—What would you say? What proof did you have? A hole in the roof?
That wasn’t enough. Not without something solid. Not without someone backing you up. And your neighbors—
Your grip on the phone tightened slightly. After what the old man had said…
You already knew. They wouldn’t involve themselves any further. Not if it meant questioning things. Not if it meant risking that “reputation” he cared so much about.
You exhaled slowly, your head falling back against the door. Maybe… you could stay at a friend’s place for a while. Just until things felt normal again. But then—
Would their family agree? Would they be comfortable?
And worse—Would you be dragging them into something they didn’t understand?
Your fingers curled slightly against your sleeve. You didn’t want to bother anyone. Not now. Not when people were already looking at you… differently.
—
The hours passed like that. Slow. Heavy. Unforgiving.
The atmosphere shifted with the faint light of morning creeping in, grey and dull behind thick clouds.
You hadn’t moved much. At some point, you had locked your bedroom door without stepping inside—just enough to put distance between you and it. As if that helped.
Your phone buzzed suddenly in your hand, making you flinch. You looked down quickly. It was him. The nicer neighbor.
You answered almost immediately.
“I contacted someone to fix your roof,” he said, his voice still gentle, though slightly strained over the sound of the rain. “But… they won’t be able to come unless it stops.”
You glanced toward the window. The rain hadn’t slowed. If anything, it sounded heavier.
“…yeah,” you murmured quietly.
“It’s been more than a day now,” he added. “The roads are probably a mess. It might take some time.”
You swallowed slightly. “Okay… thank you.”
“Just stay careful, alright?”
“I will.”
The call ended.
You stared at your phone for a moment before lowering it slowly.
Thirty-three hours. And the rain still hadn’t stopped.
---
The house felt… wrong.
Too quiet in some places. Too loud in others. Every sound felt sharper than it should have been.
With a quiet sigh, you pushed yourself up from the floor, your body aching slightly from the stiffness.
You needed to move. To feel normal. To do something. You made your way to the bathroom, your steps slow but steady.
Maybe a shower would help. Clear your head a little. Wash away the lingering unease clinging to your skin.
You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. The familiar space should have felt comforting. It didn’t.
You turned the tap on, the sound of running water filling the room, steam beginning to rise faintly as warmth spread. Your fingers moved automatically, reaching for your things, your mind drifting slightly as you prepared.
And then—You paused.
Your gaze shifted downward.
Toward the floor. The drain.
Something was caught there. A small clump of hair.
You stared at it for a second. Then another.
It shouldn’t have been strange. It wasn’t unusual. Your hair got stuck there all the time. You should’ve ignored it. Washed it away. Moved on.
But something—Something didn’t feel right. Because you remembered. Clearly.
You had cleaned it. Yesterday. After your shower. You always did.
“…then…” Your breath slowed—Eyes didn’t leave the drain.
“…whose is that?”
—
Ding dong.
Your head snapped toward the front door. The sound cut through the quiet like something sharp, sudden enough to make your heart jolt painfully against your ribs.
For a second, you just stood there. Frozen.
Who could it be…? In this rain?
The sound of water pounding against the windows hadn’t stopped for hours. The streets were probably half-flooded by now, the sky still heavy and grey without a hint of letting up.
So then—Who would come here?
Ding dong.
You flinched again, your fingers instinctively tightening around the edge of the sink.
“…who—”
You grabbed your towel quickly, wrapping it around yourself without thinking much, your steps cautious as you moved out of the bathroom.
Your heartbeat hadn’t settled. If anything, it only grew louder with each step toward the door.
You stopped just before it. Breathing shallow. Then slowly leaned forward, peering through the peephole.
Someone was standing outside. Tall. Broad.
Wearing some kind of uniform… and a cap pulled low over their face, shadowing most of their features.
You couldn’t see clearly. Just the outline. Still.
Ding dong.
He rang again.
“Is anybody here?” a voice called out from the other side, slightly muffled by the door and the rain. “I’m here to repair—”
You blinked.
Oh.
The neighbor. He had said something about calling someone.
Relief didn’t come fully—but it softened the sharp edge of your fear just a little.
“Uh-please wait!” you called out from inside, your voice slightly unsteady despite your attempt to keep it normal.
You didn’t wait for a response.
Turning quickly, you hurried back to your room, grabbing your clothes and putting them on in a rush, fingers fumbling slightly as you fixed everything into place.
Your mind was still running. Still thinking. Still uneasy.
You made your way back to the door, taking a small breath before unlocking it and pulling it open.
The man stood there. Close now.
He was looking down, one hand adjusting the brim of his cap as if trying to keep his face hidden from the rain—or from you.
Water dripped steadily from the edges, darkening the fabric, trailing down along his shoulders.
You frowned slightly, about to say something—But he spoke first.
“Can I get a towel?”
You paused. Then noticed it. The dampness.
His clothes slightly clinging, the rain having soaked through more than you initially realized.
“Ah—yes,” you said quickly.
You stepped back, turning to grab one, your movements slightly hurried before returning and handing it to him.
He took it without a word. Then—Slowly—He removed his cap.
Dark hair fell slightly out of place, damp and sticking faintly to his forehead. And there—Across the bridge of his nose—A deep, faint line.
Your eyes lingered there for a second too long. A mark. Almost like a scar. Or… something else.
You blinked, realizing you were staring, quickly clearing your throat and looking away.
“It’s the roof,” you said, trying to steady your voice. “You have to repair it… but it’s raining so hard. How did you even get here?”
There was a pause. You felt it before you saw it. His gaze. He was looking at you. Not hurried. Not confused. Just—Still.
Then he spoke.
“Your neighbor said it was urgent.” His voice was calm. Even. “Said I’d be paid well.”
You hesitated slightly at that.
“Ah… is that so…?” you murmured, unsure what else to say for a moment. “Okay… um, maybe we should wait a bit until the rain slows down.”
He nodded once. And then—He didn’t move. He just stood there. Quiet. Still. Like a statue placed too deliberately in the middle of your doorway.
You shifted slightly, an odd discomfort settling in your chest. “Uh…” you glanced toward the living room, then back at him. “You can sit there, if you want.”
You pointed toward the couch. His eyes followed your gesture. Then returned to you.
A brief pause. Before he stepped inside. Slow. Measured.
He walked toward the couch and sat down without a word, his movements controlled, almost too precise.
You stood there for a moment, watching him. Something about him felt—Off. You couldn’t explain it. The way he moved. The way he spoke. The way he didn’t speak.
After a few seconds, you shook the thought away, turning quickly.
You needed to call your neighbor. Just to let him know the repairman had arrived. Maybe… he could come over too. Just in case.
You reached for your phone. Only to pause.
“…where is it?”
You checked the table. The counter. Your pockets. Nothing.
Your movements grew quicker, more frantic as you searched around the room, your breath tightening slightly.
It should’ve been here. You had it. You remembered having it. You couldn’t find it. Anywhere.
—
“Ma’am?”
You flinched. Your head snapped back toward him almost immediately, your thoughts scattering as his voice cut through them.
He was still sitting there. Looking at you.
“Could you tell me the exact position the hole is in?”
You blinked once, then nodded quickly, forcing your thoughts to settle. “It’s… in the bedroom,” you said, your voice quieter than before. “On the ceiling.”
He hummed softly. A low, thoughtful sound.
“Could you let me see the room?”
You hesitated. Just for a second.
Your fingers curled slightly at your side. You hadn’t gone back in there since last night. Not once. You didn’t know what it looked like now. You didn’t know if—
“…okay,” you said finally.
You turned, your steps slower this time, more careful as you led him down the short hallway. You could feel him behind you. Not close enough to touch. But close enough to feel.
The bedroom door stood exactly where you had left it. Closed. Locked.
Your hand hovered over the handle for a moment. Then slowly, you unlocked it. A soft click.
You pushed the door open. And your eyes widened. The room looked—
Normal. Too normal.
Your gaze immediately moved to the bed. You had expected it to be soaked. The rain had been relentless. The hole had been right above—But the sheets—
They were dry. Perfectly dry. Not a single damp patch.
“Huh…?”
You stepped inside slowly, your brows knitting together as confusion began to replace the fear. This didn’t make sense. None of it did.
You moved closer to the bed, your heartbeat picking up again—but this time, not from panic. From something else.
You climbed onto it without thinking, your knees pressing into the mattress as you reached upward. Toward the ceiling. Your fingers stretched, brushing against it.
Your hand moved across the surface, searching, tracing every inch where you knew the crack had been. Where you had seen it.
But now—
It was gone. Completely gone.
“What the…” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
This wasn’t possible. You had seen it. You knew you had seen it. Your mind scrambled for an explanation—any explanation—but nothing came. Nothing made sense.
And then—A sound.
A low chuckle. Right behind you.
“You’re so cute when you’re confused.”
——
Meanwhile—
“You should go check on her,” the woman said, her voice edged with worry as she stood near the window, peering out at the relentless rain. “She’s living there all alone… at least we could do this much.”
Her husband—your neighbor—let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He looked tired. Not just from the weather, but from the weight of something he couldn’t quite name.
“I know,” he replied, his tone softer, conflicted. “But… we have to be careful too. For our own kids.”
He glanced toward the other room unconsciously, as if reminding himself of that fact.
“We don’t even know what’s going on,” he continued. “Everything just… happened so suddenly. And I’m doing what I can.” He paused briefly before adding, “I tried calling a repairman for her roof, but they refused. Said they won’t come out in this weather.”
The rain outside only seemed to emphasize his words, crashing harder against the glass.
The woman turned to him fully now, her brows drawn together. “Did you at least contact her?” she asked. “You should tell her that. And that we’ll go there once the rain stops.”
He hesitated for a second. Then nodded.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a practiced motion before dialing your number.
They both stood there in silence as the call rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
He frowned slightly. “She’s not picking up.”
The woman’s expression tightened instantly. “Is she okay…?” she asked, her voice dropping just a little, uncertainty creeping in.
He shook his head quickly, trying to dismiss the thought before it could settle.
“Don’t worry,” he said, a bit more firmly than before. “She’ll probably call back later. Maybe she’s busy.”
He lowered the phone slowly. “We’ll go there ourselves once the rain slows down. No need to panic.”
The woman didn’t look entirely convinced. But she nodded anyway.
“…okay.”
---
The rain continued to fall. Heavy. Unforgiving.
And then—
There you were. In your bedroom. Being manhandled by the very stranger.
Before you could bolt, he lunged, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pinning you against the wall with surprising care—no bruising grips, just firm enough to hold you still. His lips crashed onto yours in a frenzy of teeth and tongue, devouring your mouth with unhinged hunger. He bit at your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting, his tongue plunging deep, swirling and tasting every inch as if he were starving. "Mm~ Y/N..."
Saliva slicked your chin, the kiss messy and desperate, his body pressing flush against yours, the heat of his arousal evident through his pants. You gasped into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, his hands roaming your sides with a sadistic precision that made your skin prickle.
He pulled back just enough to yank your shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to the cool air. "Uh.. boobies…” His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with perversion, and he dropped to his knees, mouth latching onto one nipple with voracious suction. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the sensitive bud, pulling and tugging until it swelled, turning a deep, angry red under his assault.
Switching to the other, he lavished it with the same brutal attention, his tongue flicking relentlessly while his hands cupped and squeezed your tits, kneading the flesh like dough. The pain mingled with unwelcome sparks of pleasure, your nipples puffing up, hypersensitive and throbbing as he alternated between them, leaving wet trails of spit that cooled and tightened your skin. He groaned against your chest, the vibration sending jolts straight to your core, his sadism tempered by the way he paused to blow cool air over the reddened peaks, watching them pebble further with a twisted smile.
From the pocket of his jacket, he produced a coil of rough rope, his fingers deft as he bound your wrists above your head, looping the fibers around the bedpost with knots that bit just enough to remind you of your captivity without cutting circulation. He worked methodically, almost tenderly, checking the tension with gentle tugs. "You know... I... I had thought of approaching you in different ways but tch.. it's so hard around these people..."
"Why won't they just leave you alone?" He whispered, his voice laced with panic yet excitement. He moved to your ankles next, tying them securely but leaving enough slack to maneuver you onto the bed. With a grunt, he hoisted your bound legs high, spreading them wide and lifting until your ass lifted off the mattress, fully exposed to his ravenous stare. The position left you vulnerable, your naked cheeks parted slightly, your pussy on blatant display, the cool air teasing your already damp folds.
"W-woah... real pussy..." His breath hitched, eyes glazing over as he drank in the sight, his face inches from your core. Then, like a man possessed, he leaned in, pressing soft, desperate kisses to your pussy lips—tender at first, almost reverent, his mouth molding to the outer folds with unhinged longing.
"Mmmh~" He kissed them over and over, lips parting to suckle gently, his tongue darting out to trace the edges with sloppy, fervent laps. Saliva poured from his mouth, drenching your skin, slicking every crease until it glistened obscenely, dripping down toward your ass. He slurped noisily at the outer lips, drawing them into his mouth one by one, sucking with a desperation that bordered on madness, his nose bumping your clit as he lost himself in the act. The wetness everywhere—his spit mixing with your growing arousal—made obscene squelching sounds with each pull of his lips.
Fingers trembling, he reached up, parting your pussy lips with his fingertips, spreading you open to reveal the pink, sensitive inner flesh. The sight hit him like a drug; his ears flushed a deep, burning red, veins standing out on his neck as he stared, transfixed. "s... so cute," he stammered, voice cracking with nervous excitement, a wide, ear-to-ear grin splitting his face, revealing teeth clenched in barely contained ecstasy. His eyes darted up to yours for a split second, wild and pleading, before dropping back to your exposed hole, clenching around nothing.
Unable to hold back, he fumbled with his belt, “ah- d.. don't worry.. i won't put it in…yet,” He'd shudder, unbuckling his pants with shaky hands and shoving them down just enough to free his massive cock. It sprang out, thick and veined, the bulbous tip already leaking pre-cum, swollen with need. He gripped the base, guiding it to your entrance, rubbing the fat head against your slick folds—not penetrating, just teasing, sliding it up and down your slit with agonizing slowness. The heat of him seared your skin, the tip nudging your clit before dipping to press at your hole, spreading your lips wider without breaching.
"Oh... ohh... I'm... I'm rubbing it... against you... your skin... pussy... so…so good..." he moaned, the words tumbling out in a breathless whine, his hips jerking as he stroked himself harder along your length. His free hand kept your folds parted, the cockhead hovering right at the entrance, smearing pre-cum into your wetness, the friction building an insane intensity that had his thighs quivering.
His strokes quickened, fist pumping furiously while the tip battered lightly against your hole, keeping it spread and ready. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breaths coming in harsh pants, eyes locked on where his cock kissed your pussy. The pressure built rapidly, his massive shaft throbbing in his grip, and then he shattered—shuddering violently, eyes rolling back in his head as waves of unhinged pleasure crashed over him.
Thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, shooting straight into your spread hole, flooding the entrance with hot, sticky spurts. He kept rubbing, milking every drop inside, the excess bubbling out slightly despite his efforts, his body convulsing with the force of his release, moans turning to guttural whimpers as he rode the edge of oblivion.
"Ahh~ ouh.. baby..." Panting, he slumped forward for a moment, then straightened with a dazed grin, reaching into his pocket for a strip of duct tape. Carefully, almost lovingly, he pressed it over your pussy, sealing the cum inside, the adhesive sticking firmly to your skin. "We... we'll use it as lube next... heh..." he rasped, his voice hoarse and satisfied, eyes gleaming with the promise of more twisted indulgences to come.
He straightened slowly, that dazed grin splitting his sweat-dampened face, his eyes—dark pools of obsession—finally lifting to meet yours. For the first time since he'd burst into your life like a fever dream, he truly looked at you, not as an object of his deranged fantasies, but as the woman he'd stolen away. The sight of your tear-streaked cheeks, the raw terror widening your eyes, hit him like a slap. His grin faltered, crumbling into a mask of dawning horror, as if the fog of his perversion was lifting just enough to reveal the monstrosity he'd become. His massive cock, still semi-hard and glistening with remnants of his spend, twitched against his thigh, but his hands shook violently now, no longer steady in their sadistic control.
With a whimper that bordered on pathetic, he reached up, cupping your face in his palms—rough from years of whatever shadowed life he'd led, yet careful, so achingly careful, as if you were fragile porcelain he might shatter. His thumbs, callused and warm, brushed away the hot trails of your tears, smearing them across your skin in gentle strokes that contrasted the brutality of moments before. "Why... why are you crying, love...?" he whispered, his voice cracking like thin ice, laced with genuine confusion and a creeping panic. His breath ghosted over your lips, ragged and uneven, as he leaned closer, his nose nudging your temple. "Am... am I doing it wrong...? Do I... do I have to be more scary...?"
He nuzzled against your soaked cheek, rubbing his stubbled jaw along the damp path of your tears, the coarse scrape of his skin sending involuntary shivers down your spine. The intimacy was suffocating, his body heat enveloping you like a cage, his scent—sweat, cum, and something darker, like ink and madness—filling your lungs. "Uhh... baby... you told me you wanted this... this kind of love you needed..."
He continued, his words tumbling out in a feverish murmur, his lips brushing your earlobe as he clung to the delusion you'd somehow fed him in his twisted mind. "I'm... I'm giving it to you now... so why are you crying so much?" His tone dipped into desperation, a sadist's plea wrapped in vulnerability, his fingers tightening just a fraction on your jaw, holding you in place as if your gaze might vanish if he let go.
He pressed soft kisses along your jawline then, feather-light and reverent, trailing from your chin to the corner of your mouth—kisses that tasted of salt from your tears and the faint metallic tang of his earlier bites. Each one lingered, his lips parting slightly to suckle gently at your skin, as if savoring the evidence of your distress. But he paused abruptly, pulling back with a jolt, his eyes widening in shock as realization—or his warped version of it—dawned.
"Wait... is that one of your likings? Crying and wanting more?" he asked, his voice pitching higher with excited uncertainty, a manic gleam flickering back into his gaze. He searched your face hungrily, misreading the horror twisting your features as some secret signal of consent, his ears flushing that deep red again, betraying the unhinged thrill surging through him.
You stared at him in pure horror, your body thrashing against the ropes that bit into your wrists and ankles, the restraints holding you splayed and helpless. A muffled scream tore from your throat, desperate and raw, but it came out as garbled whimpers against the tape sealing your mouth—sounds of terror that only seemed to fuel his delusion. He didn't flinch; instead, he cupped your face again, firmer this time, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks to still your struggles, forcing you to meet his wild eyes.
"Shh, shh, my sweet little thing," he cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek with sloppy, open-mouthed presses, his tongue darting out to lap at the fresh tears pooling there. He nibbled next, teeth grazing the soft flesh just below your eye, not breaking skin but leaving a tingling sting that bloomed into heat.
"You're so cute when crying..." he breathed against your skin, his voice dropping to a reverent hush, thick with perverse adoration. His nibbles turned insistent, teeth sinking in deeper along your cheekbone, marking you with a deliberate pressure that drew a sharp gasp from your muffled lips. "I... I love your tears... your cute snots... everything about you..."
He pulled back slightly to admire the red bite mark he'd left—a blooming oval of possession, stark against your flushed skin—before diving in again, kissing it soothingly, his tongue swirling over the tender spot in languid circles, as if apologizing with his mouth while his eyes burned with sadistic delight. The contrast was maddening: the careful laps of his tongue, the way he hummed contentedly against your face, even as his free hand trailed down to idly trace the edge of the tape over your pussy, pressing it firmer, ensuring his cum stayed locked inside your clenching hole.
But then his expression shifted, a shadow of hurt flickering across his features, his brows knitting together in feigned innocence. "But... you left me hanging so sudden... do you not like my stories anymore, baby?" he asked, his voice cracking with that unhinged vulnerability, the words hanging heavy in the air like a threat veiled as a question.
He tilted his head, studying you with the intensity of a writer dissecting his muse, his fingers now stroking your hair in soothing pets that belied the ropes and tape binding you. The bite mark throbbed under his renewed kisses, each press of his lips a mix of balm and brand, his breath hot and erratic as he whispered against the welt. "It's okay, baby... I'll make you love it again... make you love me... your favorite author… Choso~…"
——
The fragile cocoon of his twisted affection shattered in an instant as a sharp series of knocks echoed through the apartment, insistent and jarring against the heavy silence of your shared nightmare. His head snapped toward the sound like a predator sensing prey, the muscles in his neck corded tight, veins bulging along his temples and forearms in stark relief against his flushed skin. His eyes, once softened by delusional tenderness, widened into manic orbs, pupils blown black with a feral paranoia that twisted his features into the visage of a madman—lips peeled back in a snarl, breath hitching in ragged bursts that fogged the air between you.
He whipped his gaze back down to your bound form, the ropes creaking faintly under your subtle tremors, your body still splayed vulnerably on the bed with the tape clinging obscenely to your pussy, a barrier holding his seed deep inside your unwilling heat. The terror etched across your face mirrored his own frenzy, your chest heaving in shallow pants, tears carving fresh paths down your cheeks as the muffled whimpers behind the tape grew frantic. He loomed over you, his semi-hard cock swaying heavily between his thighs, slick with the evidence of his earlier release, as his hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening.
"Did you call someone?" he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper that slithered through the room, laced with accusation and betrayal, his face inches from yours now, hot breath fanning over your skin like a storm's warning. "Huh, baby... are you trying to betray me?" The words dripped with hurt, his brows furrowing in that unhinged mix of love and rage, his fingers twitching as if debating whether to stroke your cheek or crush your throat.
You shook your head vigorously, the motion jerky and desperate, your eyes pleading through the haze of fear, wide and glistening as you strained against the bindings that dug into your wrists and ankles, the rough fibers chafing your skin raw. No words could escape, only the pathetic vibrations of your denied screams, but the frantic denial in your gaze seemed to pierce his delusion just enough.
He exhaled sharply, a shaky laugh bubbling up from his chest—"Hah... I... I know you wouldn't do that..."—his tone wavering between relief and lingering doubt, his hand finally reaching out to cup your chin with a grip that was almost gentle, thumb tracing your lower lip over the tape in a possessive caress. His eyes darted back toward the door, the knocks resuming with a more urgent rhythm, pounding like your racing heart. "Wait... I gotta check..." he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice dropping to a gravelly resolve as paranoia clawed its way fully to the surface.
Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from your side, his body uncoiling with predatory grace despite the tremor in his limbs, the mattress dipping as he rose. His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, drinking in your helpless exposure—the way your breasts rose and fell with each terrified breath, nipples still pebbled from his earlier assaults, the taped seal between your thighs glistening faintly under the dim light. Then, with a low growl rumbling in his throat, he turned toward the nightstand, his fingers wrapping around the slender neck of a porcelain flower vase in a vise-like grip, the delicate thing creaking under the pressure as if it might shatter in his palm. He hefted it like a makeshift club, the water inside sloshing softly, petals from wilted blooms scattering across the floor in his wake.
Without another glance, he stalked out of the bedroom, his bare feet padding silently down the hallway, the door left ajar behind him.
“No one gets to disturb us… no one…”
[Extra Chapter]
AN: Do not hesitate to sent me requests :) I ain't like him~ (I SWEAR)
