Y/N started working for the morningstar family the day charlie was born, now that she became her right hand woman and new mother figure. Helped her alongside the hotel for rehabilitation of sinners, however, it seemed she got more than she bargained when many beings seemed to take interest in her…
Y/N
"You really are quite the naive one aren't you?"
•Y/N is a quiet, reserved, soft spoken woman who shrouds herself in mystery of any real intentions or goals
•Is slightly OP
•A big dog f̶u̶c̶k̶e̶r̶ lover lol
•Pretty much rules over hell on behalf of Lucifer and charlie, which Lucifer willingly let's her do it after the absence of his wife, Lilith. But was kept a secret since she wanted to keep low profile, but only the more higher ranked demons knew about it. Which were also forced to be kept secret by lucifer
•Lucifer had given Y/N a bit of his power so no one in hell tried anything foolish while she took charge, which she gladly took
•Y/N met both Lucifer and lilith before their separation and got along for an unknown time at some point, becoming good friends (but the latter says otherwise)
•Which resulted her becoming charlie's right hand (wo)man/nanny for years and charlie viewed her as a mother figure more than her own, and already knew her status of being able to freely between heaven and hell, but is not aware why
•Lucifer knew about her reputation as a devil, but didn't really matter to him it as long as she didn't get in cahoots with anyone there or in hell with anyone in general, really.
•Charlie is however not yet aware of Y/N's status as a devil until she was old enough, and accepted it as a part of her because she treated her nice and well throughout the years underneath her wing
•Y/N still visits lucifer occasionally, usually hanging out, or going out on dates. Or sleeping together (as in cuddling btw) to help cope with the loss of his wife. With him now practically him now wrapped around her finger because of it.
•Y/N then convinced a contract with Lucifer at his most vulnerable moment, which is currently unknown at the moment, but now is obligated to return four favors to her (which is now three since she used one)
•Y/N had defeated many long ruling overlords and sinners while in hell, forcing them under her control and creating an army with it, all completely compliant and devoted to her and soon joining the ranks of the overlords
•Y/N and alastor then met and were used to be "partners" (nothing sexual btw weirdos 💀) before his absence for 7 years
•He doesn't know (and still) to this day that she's a dog lover
•Y/N mostly focused on scheming, manipulating, or planning, so she doesn't use her full power very often
•Is presumed to be only proficient at charming people to her desires, thus many seemed to underestimate her a lot (it didn't ended well for them)
•Bit of a sweet tooth
•Has a great high tolerance to alcohol and other strong beverages
•Dislikes indulging in drugs, but it didn't stopped her on using it on others, whether they were against it or no
•Y/N never really cared if sinners can change or not
•When vaggie met both Y/N and charlie, she immediately knew who Y/N was since they crossed paths at one point. But kept shut because charlie knew her longer and eventually left her be
•Y/N soon started helping charlie with her little hotel when first opened it
•The denizens of hell find it strange and odd that Y/N was seemingly the only creature in hell who looks entirely human in appearance weren't it for her skin color (that's your choice on that one)
•Charlie finds her appearance cute and unique, the others find it either suspicious or just odd
•Y/N's sexuality is unknown but is willing to swing with any gender (mainly to keep them in line) and uses it more as a bargaining chip than anything
(You can insert your sexuality if you like)
•Y/N was offered by vox to join the V's occasionally only to refuse the offer
•Y/N's room in the hotel is designed the be in a neat cleanly and dull colored manner and is themed around an office with a large window for a view of all in hell
•Y/N loves burgers and will buy one at any given opportunity (see the reference? 👀)
•Owns many souls of sinners and hellborns in her control and only uses them as meat shields. Usuall prefers using more capable fighters or ones that interest her
Genderbent Jotaro who sits you on her wide lap and puts your pretty face in her chest. Your mouth wraps around one of her soft nipples and your hands knead the other.
Her hat rests on your head, slightly too big, but it looks so cute on you in her eyes. She runs her thick fingers down your back and over your soft stomach, all the while cooing sweet nothings into your ear.
Her hands wander farther down, rubbing small circles on your clit. Her fingers dip into your leaking core as she plants a soft kiss on the top of your head. Her fingers speed up, chasing your orgasm with lighting speed. Moans and whimpers escape your lips and fall onto her perfect breasts as your orgasm crashes over you.
"You thought we were done, baby? No, sweet thing, now you're going to show me how good you can make me feel."
Feitan feeding you bland, a little over cooked microwave food ew
I think Barem may feed you good food but he's so weird about it you can't enjoy it, and you'll regret not enjoying it when he decides it would be fun to feed you wet dog food or something awful like that
cw yandere
feitan is hard for me to pin down because his characterization eludes me when it comes to romance. I think his ego gets in the way of his ability to connect with you, or really anyone else that isn't a troupe member.
throwing sticks at the ground and pretending i've got something here, but I think he and barem both do the "performative niceness" shtick. if you're scared shitless of feitan, he's apt to feed you microwaved rice that came from the convenience store while you're curled up in the corner shivering. it's like torture but without all the messy parts.
barem is willing to share his fast food order with you on the stipulation that you don't bite or scratch him. depending on how his day has gone (ex: was he inconvenienced in a way that he can blame on denji?), he might "encourage" you to bite him just so he can punish you. it makes for good foreplay. I think the wet dog food is for if you really got on his last nerves (trying to run away, for example).
A woman is standing on your porch, her white hair whirling in the snowy wind outside. A man was hunting her, you couldn’t just leave her out there could you?
Word count: ~1400 sry it’s not as long, I wrote this literally in one sitting with a migraine lmao anything for fem Gojo 🫡
Yandere fem! Gojo x fem reader!
Dark content! Don’t like, don’t read!
A woman stood on your porch, shaking and obviously disheveled. You thought about all the warnings in your town, never, ever, under any circumstances, let anyone in after midnight until dawn breaks over the sky. And judging by the pitch black sky, you could confidently say that warning was well in place.
You looked at her through the peephole and felt your breath tremble in your chest. She was beautiful, a beauty that would have heads whipping back around just to get another glance. You couldn’t just leave her out there, not when you knew just what some men in the town would do to have such a pretty wife. Her white hair whipped viciously in the wind as she hunched in on herself to escape the biting cold.
But your hand only steadied on the doorknob after she spoke.
“Please let me in,” Her voice quivered and you swore you could see tears in her bright blue eyes. Was it possible for eyes to be so blue?
“There was a man, I don’t know where he is,” She turned to look over her shoulder like she was terrified of what could be lurking in the snowy forest behind her. She wouldn’t survive out there in only her thin shirt and pants that didn’t even cover her ankles.
So, with a quivering breath, you unlocked and opened the door, everything in you screaming your village’s warning in your head.
Never let someone into your house after midnight, it is only pretending.
She was stepping over the threshold of your door, cold skin brushing past yours as she moved past you.
“Thank you,” She said and you felt your heartbeat jump in your throat as you locked the door back. God only knows where the man she mentioned was and you didn’t want to risk him coming across your lonely cabin unlocked.
The lock seemed to click loudly in your ears like you were the one trapped now.
“I– it’s no problem,” You forced a smile onto your face and looked now at the woman before you.
She shouldn’t be alive. Her clothes were too light for the snowstorm outside and her feet were bare. Yet she showed no signs of frostbite, she wasn’t even shivering anymore.
Dread pooled heavily in your belly but it was too late for regrets now, you’d made your bed and now you had to lie in it.
“We girls have to look out for each other right,” She nodded along, her eyes wide and unnerving as those big, blue hues seared into you.
“Yeah we do,” Her voice was quiet, like if she spoke any louder something else would come out.
“I’m Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru if you want,” And had your nerves not been such a mess, you might’ve felt something other than sick at her sweet smile.
You never gave your name, you didn’t want her to remember you once she left.
You sat in front of the fireplace with Gojo at your side, pressing her side against yours no matter how much you scooted down the couch until you were boxed between her and the armrest. You tried to tell yourself it was only to warm up, she had to be freezing from being out there, afterall, her skin was freezing where it was pressed against what was bare of your skin.
She talked on and on and it seemed you couldn’t cling to anything she said, your head felt uncharacteristically slow, like trying to grasp onto every individual thought through honey.
Even so, you were on edge, especially from how hard Gojo was trying to weedle your name from you.
“It’s only right I know the name of my savior,” She spoke close to you and you could practically feel her breath on your neck. She was too close, far too close, but your body refused to move away from her.
“Once I get back to my home, I’ll ensure you want for nothing for the rest of your life.”
Finally, through the sludge of your thoughts, you gave her a fake name. She didn’t look as happy to finally know your ‘name’ as you thought she would. Her eyes burned through you, like she could see the way your heart sped up with your lie. You clenched your hands into fists and tried to reorient yourself. You needed to lie down.
“I’m gonna head to bed, Ms. Gojo,” You said, your voice coming out breathy and you cringed at how it sounded. She grabbed your hand and on reflex on contact with her frozen fingers, you jerked away.
“You can sleep here or the spare bedroom in the back.” You muttered, your head feeling too light to think about how rude you sounded.
Despite this, she followed you to your room, your heart beating painfully in your chest and you could practically feel it in your throat.
Her eyes never looked away from you.
Nausea tried to choke its way up your throat but you swallowed it down with burning eyes.
What have you done? You should’ve just listened to your village’s warnings, you should’ve listened when your mother said your soft heart would be the death of you.
You still haven’t heard footsteps leading away from your door.
You can practically see it, that woman standing there, her silky white hair flowing down her back as she stood outside your wooden door frame. You could nearly feel her piercing gaze still burning through you.
You slid down the door and laid your head in your hands, a migraine already forming above your eyebrows. You took steady breaths, in– out. In, – out.
Your hand slid to the cold floorboards beneath you and you could’ve screamed as you felt something silky slide beneath your hand. Your stomach lurched and you scrambled from the door just in time to see right below your door where it didn’t meet the floor– was a single blue eye staring right at you.
You really did scream then, a shriek tearing itself from your throat as you watched the blue eye pull away, taking with it the white hair that crept beneath your door. Your heartbeat hammered so hard it made you sick and even now you still couldn’t hear any damn footsteps. She was still there, it was still there.
She called your name, sweet and practically mocking. Your real name.
A sob tried to choke up from your stomach as you pressed yourself against your bed, the cold floorboards biting into your skin.
Then, there was scratching. Deep and grating as she scratched at the wood that separated the two of you.
“Go away!” You screamed, ears deafening with the rush of your blood through them.
“Go away,” Your voice trailed off, weak and terrified and a horrible cooing noise came from the other side, in no way muffled by the barrier. It was spoken like she was right beside you.
“Don’t be so scared, I won’t hurt you.” Then the nails came to drag down your door once again, this time they nearly seemed frantic– desperate to reach you.
“Open the door, baby,” She called again, voice dripping with honey and anger. She didn’t want to ask again. But you wouldn’t open that door if it was the last thing you did. Everything would be over if you gave into the demon’s persuasion.
A loud thud made you nearly jump out of your skin.
Bang!
Bang!
Each hit harder everytime until you could see tiny chunks of your door flying off the hinges. You wanted to cry and with every thud, you came closer and closer as the fear made you nauseous.
Your head felt murky and you could barely sift through what you should do before there was one last, final bang.
She stood in the darkness of your hallway, the fireplace evidently having gone out to leave the house in darkness.
“I’m sorry,” You cried, your eyes screwing shut as tears burned down your face and your bottom lip shook. You were going to die and it was your own damn fault. You and your soft heart.
Hands, cold and gentle, cradled your face like you were something fragile that would fall apart at the slightest pressure. Soft lips pressed against yours, gentle at first. But the longer you stayed still and didn’t reciprocate, the harder she pressed. It was only when a cry of pain escaped you did she pull away, face flushed and a horribly warm smile on her face as she looked at you.
“Oh my love, how long I’ve waited for you to let me in.”
Notes: Please be aware this fanfiction has a lot of spoilers for the comics!
Trigger warning: yandere themes, kidnapping, description of gore, violence, abusing, dark themes, gaslighting , read at your own sake, reader gets beaten up a lot
Weak. Usless. Frail.
Those cruel words are throwed at you every single day of your god forsaken life. Ever since you were a little girl, your mother made you feel like you should never have been born. You are a Viltrumite who should have been killed as a baby, so weak were you. A shame, a living disgrace to the glorious Viltrum Empire. Your mother probably would have killed you too if it hadn't been for your father. Your father did everything in his power to oppose your mother. He begged on his knees for her mercy just so that you could live, survive. Something that, to his sorrow, quite disgusted your mother even more.
How could such a weak, useless creature like you even exist on this planet?
If you had been born on Viltrumite, they would have instantly murdered you without batting an eyelid, and yet that didn't happen here. Maybe it was because your mother liked you in her heartless way, or maybe she did it for your father's sake. Whatever it was, you were still happy to be alive. Even though it was a hard almost invincible challenge, you needed to make the best out of it - at least this was the only thing you told yourself every night before you got to sleep. Just survive, it will be better. You will get stronger, one day.
The years went by and you even gained some amount of powers, something your mother believed to be almost impossible. Deep down, you could hardly believe it yourself. You had assumed that you weren't destined for such things, after all, that's what you heard your whole childhood. Still, your mother tried her best to not tear your head off immeadiatly when she had to watch her useless daughter try to keep her balance and not fall to the ground for the fifth time. Flying was one of the first things a Viltrumite learned, and even that was hard for you? Before your mother could confront you about it, your father was there to calm her down somewhat. Even though this was rather counterproductive, you thanked him with a small smile.
From that day on, you decided to learn about your new powers on your own, your mother would only yell at you again or, worse, beat you up. That was her way of showing you how useless you really were, because a real Viltrumite would resist this small punches. With a small sigh, you stare into the bright light of the full moon that illuminates this planet with sufficient brightness. Fireflies fly around you, something that makes your worries disappear for a moment. Perhaps things would get better, they only had to!
~~~
The uneasy feeling that all eyes were on you, filled with contempt and pure hatred, could no longer be ignored. Even an idiot couldn't ignore the immense pressure around you. This planet was filled with powerful presences, something you could only dream of. But what else did you expected? Everything you knew about Viltrum was more cruel than anything your mother could ever have done to you. (M/n) was called to Viltrumite by the Grand Regent himself, and even though you would have preferred to stay on your home planet, neither of you had any choice. An order was an order, and the order was that all Viltrumites should return home as quickly as possible.
You try your best not to draw any more attention to yourself, although that's nearly impossible. It's almost as if they can smell your weakness… You lower your head as quickly as possible, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. The only logical explanation that occurred to you is to hide behind all the other Viltrumites who had also gathered in a huge hall. Anything to avoid standing out. You have no other choice, not if you value your dear life.
Fortunately, it doesn't take too long before the heavy door is opened.. Immediately, everyone shuts their mouth as no one dares to make a single sound. Instead, everyone kneels down and bows. You don't have to think twice and follow suit. The powerful steps of the Grand Regent make the already tense situation seem even worse. Even though the silence is worse than any training session with your mother, it didn't take all too long for the man to speak. “Rise.” The Viltrumites around you immediately rise from the ground, all assuming an almost stiff posture. You immediately follow suit, even though you don't really know what to do, but as long as you don't draw attention to yourself, you're doing everything right, at least according to your mother.
“I called you from your planets so that we may all gather here today. As you are probably aware, the coalition of planets is becoming more dangerous every day. These tiny, litte insects think they can get away with killing our people...” His voice is commanding and filled with pure contempt, and even you can´t ignore his powerful presence which surrounded him. His speech alone could make the entire hall tremble, something that unsettles you more. Nevertheless, you must—no, you cannot let it show. Thragg gaze falls on the crowd and for a brief moment of time, your (e/c) coloured eyes meet his. Your body starts to freeze, as your instinct acts faster than your mind could ever be.
Your gaze immediately wanders to the white ground, your eyelids close abruptly. Inside you fervently beg that he hasn't noticed anything. Fortunately, his voice echoes once more through the crowded hall as he continues his speech. “They won't get away with it. We will crush them like the maggots they are, and our glorious empire will rule over the entire universe.” A loud applause echoes through the hall, as everyone begins to cheer in agreement. You exhale once as you run your fingers through your (h/c) hair. Hopefully this meeting will end soon, you would much rather prefer to be on your lovely planet, but somehow you have the uneasy feeling that this isn´t going to happen any sooner. Just as Thragg is about to leave the hall, he whispers something to one of his closest advisors. His sharp gaze lands on you again.
Confused, you look around, wondering if your mother might be here somewhere. Maybe you could fly home again... Slowly, you push your way through the crowd, your heart starts to beat wildly. But before you can go any further, you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. “Come. Now.” The cold voice that told you this was no joke sent a chill down your spine. You wanted nothing more than get away from these people, from this creepy planet, as quickly as possible. Instead, you did nothing, just nodded slightly and followed the Viltrumite as he led you through a huge building. You would have loved to take a closer look at the corridors, but the Viltrumite didn't seem like he would be patient. To be honest, he didn't make any nice impression at all. God, what have you done? "
Unfortunately, you notice too late that the man suddenly stopped, and you accidentally bump into him—something that obviously angers him. You both stand in front of a large door, as his voice echoes thorugh your mind. “One wrong word and your blood will decorate these walls, understand?” Shocked by what he says, you don't dare to speak, instead you just nod as the door opens. You both enter the almost empty room, as a huge throne catches your eye. Above the throne, a red banner of the Viltrum Empire adorns the hall. But what worries you most is the person sitting on the throne... The Viltrumite, who was previously quite sullen, immediately bows, his voice sounding much gentler than before. “Grand Regent.” He gives you a deadly glance as you obey and bow down as well. Nodding, Thragg looks down at both of you, while the advisor leaves the room.
“You...” Slowly, the emperor rises from his seat and approaches you. You don't know exactly what to do, as your body begins to tremble again. Before you can say anything, you feel a strong, burning pain in your stomach. Immediatly, you fly into a wall. Blood pours from your lips, and the disgusting metallic taste spreads in your mouth. You let out a pain-filled cry as your hand wraps around your wound. “Weak... A child could have countered that blow.” You are about to bend over when you feel another immense pain in your hip. Immediately, you fly into a wall again, as the red liquid flowing from your body now stains the shiny floor. “Why is someone as useless as you still alive?” Gasping for breath, you close your (e/c) eyes as tears gently run down your cheeks. You never felt such pain in your entire life, even your mother was gentler than this Viltrumite. “Answer me,” Thragg commands as he stares at your weakened (b/s) shaped body. "I...I-I.."
You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself, but you couldn't. Your tears just wouldn't stop flowing, no matter how hard you tried to stay strong. Annoyed by your pitiful appearance, the man crouches down, as he suddenly grabs your (h/c) hair, and forces you to look him in the eyes. "I said you should answer me." "I...I don´t know. Please I.." Thragg doesn't take his eyes off your frightened gaze as he stands up, his hand still tugging at your hair, as another wave of pain makes you scream again. “Pathetic. I should kill you before you can damage my empire.“ With a simple movement, he throws you to the ground, causing more blood to spurt from your wounds. You don´t have enough strength to get up. Still, you couldn´t just lie here on the ground and do nothing! You need to fight back..somehow. Even if it means to die. Slowly, with all your strength, you rise. You rise up from the ground. More blood flows onto your now red-stained uniform as you face him with trembling legs. “Y-you won't do that. I´m not letting that happen.” It's almost a miracle that you can get those words out of your mouth, so overwhelmed are you.
The Grand Regent glances at your shaky body once as he suddenly appears behind you. “Oh really?” His rough hand grabs your shoulder as his presence frightens you even more. “I'm not afraid of you,” you stammer, which is an obvious lie. But you had to do something. "...Your name, woman?" "(Y/n)." For a moment that you think lasts too long, it is quiet, too quiet. You have lost so much blood that you keep swaying, which does not improve the situation. Inside, you're waiting for Thragg to deliver the final blow, but it doesn't come. Instead, his grip tightens as a small, almost sadistic smile crosses his lips. “You may be a disgrace, but you are still a Viltrumite, woman. Consider yourself lucky that you are allowed to live. You will be my new mate.” Huh??? “I-I don't think I'm suited for that,” you stammer, unable to believe what the Viltrumite just said. He can't be serious, can he? “That wasn't a request (Y/n). You will do as I say, or your pretty head will adorn my throne, understand? I will not tolerate any backtalk, especially not from my women.”
⭐: No Goggles Mark, Mohawk Mark, #17 Mark/Sinister Mark, Mentions of Invincible (requested!).
Synopsis: Variants of your childhood best friend spawn across the globe, and you find yourself in the crossfire of their previous lovers. What happens when you experience the parallel pleasure they offer?
Warnings: Power Struggles, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Morally Grey, Nipple Play, Fingering, Pussy Eating, Overstimulation, Public Sex, Squirting, Rough Sex, Switch!Reader, Switch!Invincible Variants, Plot changes for convenience, Matching Freaks, Position Changes, Porn w a Plot, etc.
Invincible Variants x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5,239 (PART TWO HERE)
“You won’t believe what just happened, oh man!” Mark exclaimed with glee; an unfamiliar look of pride swam within his irises. It was the night he received his powers; a deep crater buried itself into your driveway from his failed landing. “What?” you questioned, prying your front door open as he entered.
There were scuff marks littered across his naked upper body, battered and bruised from his knightly adventure. “It was incredible. I—I flew,” he explained, his hand gesturing excitedly. This was a dream of his; he would craft makeshift suits and detail desired escapades to save the world. However, for it to come true was another story.
“No way! This… this is a funny joke,” you sputtered. One doesn’t usually acquire powers at random, but in this dimension, who knows? “No, really. I took a huge leap off my roof, not really expecting anything,” he interrupted to soften the already ridiculous landing of his story. “You know, and I just took off.” The topic was so exhilarating; the thought of questioning him hadn’t dawned upon you. He leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as you two reminisced.
“Wait—why were you jumping from the roof anyway? What if nothing happened and you fell?” you questioned with a raised brow. “I know, I know, it’s stupid. But I was curious and decided to give it a try,” he rationalized quietly, fingers nervously scratching his nape. “Aw… I want powers now,” you feigned sadness as you sulked. It was your attempt at being amusing, but truthfully, you felt left behind.
Was it envy? Was it the need to feel important? Was it the fear of him leaving you behind to begin his journey as a hero? You didn’t know at the time. His expression became tinged slightly with guilt. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get powers soon,” he reassured you, but it was too humorous to be sincere.
“Yeah… soon. Real funny, wasn’t it?” you said to yourself as your body perched against a rooftop. It was the second day of the Mark variants ravaging Earth like their playground. The once-majestic towers now stand as skeletal frames, their glass windows shattered. Debris litters the streets, a tragic mix of shattered concrete and twisted metal, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of smoke and ash. Heroes formed makeshift shelters and sifted through rubble for survivors.
The Mark you once knew was head over heels for Atom Eve. It was no secret; he was a lost puppy whose ears would perk at the sound of his name on her tongue. Utterly devoted. Sickeningly in love.
You were the very last to discern his truth. The two were written in stone, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth that you had long since gotten over. Until now. You were late to the news of the world's destruction. A strangely familiar face appeared on the news, a version of Mark that made your chest tighten.
Within your family, a strange ability was acquired—a power bred through evolution to ensure survival in a world full of the unknown. Once in a lifetime, through a series of visions, you would discover a pivotal moment in time to peer through. That moment was now. Eighteen variants were loose internationally, each with their own tragic story and love interests. Six had dated or lost their Atom Eve, five had slain their worlds' Amber, and six had been devoted to you.
Helping where you could, you began assisting in fighting off the weaklings who figured now was the best time to attack Earth. Micro tears riddled your uniform as you tore through them mercilessly, all through a look of pity.
There were days you'd resent this “job” you'd granted yourself, the little recognition and appreciation you'd receive from the public. How selfish of them—and you. You wanted an excuse to have this world fair alone without a need to rebel when no one would notice. As luck would have it, a voice suddenly dawned behind you, his body floating midair and adorned with the appearance of your dearest friend.
Mohawk Mark
“Oh, shit… I know you,” he rasped, his expression twisted into a cocky grin. His stature and pose were that of confidence—and a man who caused insurmountable damage to those he met. “You look just like her,” he continued, his feet finding purchase on the ground as his stride increased. “Sorry, you've got the wrong one—try finding her—” Just as you spoke, static buzzed in your skull—a low crackling hum that drowned out the edges of the memory before it fully formed. It was there—just beyond reach—shrouded in white noise.
The harder you focused, the more the static swelled, but for a moment, the interference cleared. A voice—the ghost of a feeling—and just as quickly, it was swallowed again. You understood the gist; he was indeed one you would find yourself tangled with. “Looks like you’ve been through some tough shit—mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, he lunged forward, grappling you in a powerful embrace. His intent wasn't one of danger but instead of safekeeping despite his demeanor. Reflexes took over as you slammed against his cranium with the strength you could muster, effectively knocking him back.
"Fuck, you're a feisty one," Mohawk Mark growled, his breath hot against your ear. "I like that shit. Let's see how you handle this." His chuckle was condescending—yet a thrill shot through you. “‘Won't be handling shit,” you quipped before biting into his neck—just rigid enough to draw blood. He groaned, his flight knocking you two back into an alleyway.
Similarly to your Mark, he seemed attracted to strength, his veins pumping with lust rather than adrenaline. Holding a firm grasp of your jaw, his lips collided with yours in a searing and blood-stained kiss. The muscle of his tongue forcefully parted your lips as he sought to taste you against his own. Finding yourself against the wall, your legs wrapped around the width of his waist, your ass snugly hovering over his pelvis.
He pulled away every few seconds to watch your expression succumb to your selfish wants. Sex with the enemy was enticing and you weren’t letting him escape any time soon. “You planned this?” you murmured between the saliva-ridden kisses. “That would be telling. You know enough if you’re agreeing to this.” His voice grew to tease as he licked his lips—mirroring his satisfaction before peppering kisses down your exposed neck.
His version of sex was rough, with small increments of romance—only reserved for the best prize. With muffled groans, his teeth harshly nipped their way lower, his fingers tearing through the fabric of your suit. As he continued down your now-exposed cleavage, his tongue ran along the scantily clad lace of your bra. Staring up at you, he let out a mischievous snicker before his teeth snagged the cup and tore it from your chest—leaving it discarded on the ground.
“Shit… was fucking not enough? Had to ruin my clothes too,” you complained as your hips bucked against his pointedly. This earned a guttural grunt from the flesh of your breasts, as he heaved out a response. “You’ll forget about them anyway,” he dismissed as he continued until your panties were the last to be removed. The cool air dusted your wet cunt—its arousal seeping through your folds like honey. Its chill made you shiver and like bees to nectar, his tongue feasted before his eyes.
Hoisting you up, your thighs rested against his shoulders as he knelt, the angle allowing his tongue to slip inside your already spasming pussy. An unusual pink hue dusted his cheek as he stared up at you in utter bliss. Your fingers dug into his forearms, your puffy folds pressed against his lips as he devoured you. With your head resting against the wall, your hips ground themselves relentlessly against his tongue.
"Mmm, shit, already soaking wet for me," he taunted, pumping his tongue in and out of your tight cunt. His tongue—rough and textured—lashed out to lap at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His groans sent mild vibrations through you as his fingers reached up to paw at your tits, nipples stiffened in the cold air. You couldn't help but moan as he ate you out with relentless intensity, his tongue plunging deep into your folds. His calloused hands roamed your exposed flesh, pinching and kneading your breasts, twisting your sensitive nipples until they grew numb.
His hands couldn't stop their exploration—they explored what he had lost many years ago. Sparks flew as his tongue circled against your clit, flickering the bundle of nerves with a speed inexperienced before. Every time you neared the precipice of your orgasm, his tongue would flatten as he sucked your clit—ruining the rhythm. You tugged his hair with a frustrated groan, and his eyes rolled into his skull with an amused moan.
Finally pulling away, he stood to his feet. His lips parted to speak when suddenly, “Hurry the fuck up,” you said curtly with exasperated gasps. With lidded eyes, a Cheshire grin settled across his features. “Yes, ma’am.” Prying his suit off, he palmed his dampening erection. For once he fell silent as anticipation ate away at you both. As he freed his cock from the confinement of his boxers, it slapped against his lower abdomen.
It stood with a veiny girth—the tip kissed a rosy red like his many mistresses' lipsticks. With a pleased hiss, he stroked himself briefly—eyes just barely losing focus from the buildup before he plunged himself into you. Your pussy hugged him with a familiarity that felt like home, the painful stretch soon becoming one of bliss. His hips began to quicken, wanting to see your fucked-out expression like never before.
However, his greed overwhelmed him as the stimulation grew difficult to ignore. His usual grunts and growls diluted into groans and profanities. The alleyway echoed with the cacophony of moans that mingled in the air—inharmonious, yet emotion-filled as a flame flickered within your core. “I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he grunted, a grin etched into his lips. “N-None of them—no ssslut compares to this. Only pussy I need—only woman I want.” A groan interrupted his sentence as your cunt contracted around him—swallowing him at the base.
That’s right—every harem formed and woman fucked was so he could ruin the image of you that plagued his mind in its grief. The vulnerability of it all made your toes curl, even if it wasn't much.
The fingers pawing at your breasts began kneading them like stress balls, until they were red. Truthfully, he missed every inch of you—not that he would admit that, especially since you weren’t exactly his. A high-pitched moan ripped from your throat as he continued to bounce you on his dick. Pre-cum coated your insides as the sounds of arousal grew louder, his balls tightening. With every thrust, he could see the air physically leave you, the scuff marks from brick marking your skin.
He could barely tell where to focus his eyes—on your tits or face? Both were gorgeous but fuck, he should just kidnap you and take you home with him, right? “Fuuuuck, Mark… I’m g-go—” you groaned as your fingernails indented into his skin, a pain and pleasure-filled gasp crawling from his throat. “Fuck, yeah…” he said, his raspy voice cracking with the slightest whine. “Take it… s-shit, take it…!” It was a growl as his eyes fluttered shut to hide his eyes practically rolling around his skull. With a clenched jaw, his dick began to milk itself. The pleasure mounted as your impending orgasm washed your body in a sweat-breaking heat. Just as he came, your cunt spasmed, once he pulled out, something within snapped as an aroused gush squirted from you.
His groin was now coated in your scent, taste, and the result of your rough fucking. The pleasure racked your brain as tears threatened to spill over. Noticing this—and pleased with his efforts—he let out a short chortle, a hand coming up to swipe your folds and have a final taste. His expression turned into a feigned sob as he silently teased—his tip running a line between your folds and ass, resisting the temptation to fill your asshole with his seed. Once you two were settled from your high, he spoke up. “Had fun, babe.” Your eyebrow lifted at the newly coined pet name.
Suddenly, a muffled voice in his ear caught his attention. “Shit…” he muttered with an annoyed grimace at Angstrom ruining his amusement. “Go on,” you beckoned. “Not yours anyway—so no need to stick around.” It was a light jab—one he received with a satisfied smirk before taking flight. “Doesn’t matter—I’ll be back,” he replied curtly before disappearing into the horizon.
You stood there—naked—processing what just happened. "Shit, I need a new suit from my apartment.”
Variant #17 Mark (I wouldn't even keep you as a slave in my Empire!) Or Sinister Mark (personalities are similar in the comics, so imagine what you will.)
"You thought you could hide from me?" he said, peering down at you with a friendly grin for someone so domineering. Staring down at the man’s shadow, his cape billowed in the wind. Unlike the other Marks you’d caught a glimpse of, this one barely had a bruise on him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he finished before he landed softly on the ground.
As he approached, you remained still, eyebrows creasing into a frown. “I’m not—” You were abruptly cut off by a low voice as his head tilted to stare into your eyes. “Don’t play stupid. My version of you had the same power—but she resisted our cause.” His voice was tinged with pity as he frowned; he decided to take another route in his approach.
“I’ll tell you what—I’ll leave if you come with me,” he offered with an outstretched palm. You vehemently shook your head in disagreement. “I’m not going—it'll disrupt the timeline.”
“Why does that matter?” he asked.
“What makes you think I won't resist either…?” you retorted, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in thought. “I’ll change your mind—and give you what you missed out on in my world.” It was such a matter-of-fact opinion—one rooted in a determination to outclass any obstacle that might deter him.
Curiosity bested you the moment you turned to face the chaos erupting in the streets as a strong gust of wind obscured the debris. He was behind you. His fingers draped over your waist as he took flight—and to… your apartment? “I’ve been watching you for a while now… I know all about your preferences. Let’s have some fun, shall we?” His lips just barely grazed your ear.
Amongst the hands that roamed your body, a sense of longing lingered in every squeeze and grope. While being one of the strongest—and surely the most vile—his personality could be charming like your dimension’s Mark. Even if feigned for manipulation. He spun you around to face him, that polite smile etched into his face again as his body betrayed innocence. The erection forming within his costume became difficult to ignore—but he found a distraction. A touch, a handhold, and finally—a kiss.
“Let me show you what it's truly like to be satisfied.” His words were reassuring, yet they felt more directed toward his version of you rather than now. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling itself in a wet heat as he sucked the air from your lungs. The warmth of his fingers spread across your cheek as his tongue attempted to delve impossibly deep. The taste was better than you imagined—not that you expected any less. If anything, finding him in a forgiving mood proved to be favorable.
His fingers shifted from your face to the back of your costume—in his attempt to be gentle, he tore the cloth from your body like tissue paper. In an instant, his costume was discarded in the corner, leaving him in snug boxers that hugged his dick. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the bed—a hand flush against your throat as he shrugged slightly. “Didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said, an amused huff exiting his nose as you exchanged knowing glances.
The remaining hand gently pried the panties from around your hips and down the length of your legs. His eyes fell upon the wet patch that seeped through the thin fabric—as the semblance of a pleased grin stretched across his lips.
Focusing his attention once more, his fingers slowly parted your folds, watching as your velvety walls peeked through the slit. Its warm flesh was inviting—something he had yet to try since you retaliated so often against him at home. Just why couldn’t you be this welcoming? So willing to be corrupted? So… morally gray at the least.
Pressing two digits inside your warmth, he watched it conform to the size of his fingers. An obvious shiver ran through him with each moan that vibrated from your throat—as he imagined you hugging him and wrapped around his cock in plea. The sensations set your skin alight with gooseflesh—and each time you attempted to scurry away from his gift, the hold around your neck tightened ever so slightly. He was such a brat.
Your hips ground into his hand, clit colliding with his palm in gentle waves. As his fingers slowly retracted, his cock shyly peeked from the pocket of his boxers. His patience was running thin as he adjusted himself at your entrance—and slowly pushed through. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he bottomed out, his head falling backward as he quietly cursed under his breath.
Mirroring his restlessness, your foot hooked around his lower back and pressed him deeper. A drawn-out moan echoed from your throat; he was barely holding on as he gnawed at his lip to contain himself. Reflexively, his hips stuttered before setting a relentless pace—pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that hit all the right spots.
“Already so wet for me… pathetic. Fucking slut.” His words struck a nerve within—as you repulsively tightened around him, earning a whine. Your moans echoed through the room, mingling with the slap of skin against skin and Mark's grunts of pleasure. He hammered into you like a man possessed—his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he drove you toward climax.
The long thrusts stimulated every inch of his dick—the veins kissed with every grip of your cunt. “Did your version of me not do it for you?” you teased before taking a sharp breath at his relentless pace. “Y-You really don’t know when to be quiet,” he gritted. “But n-no… not like this. You're much better. I would take you to be a part of my empire.” He replied, his jaw tightening as his hips drilled into you with renewed conviction at the thought.
A second you—not the one he’s attempting to keep as a slave for disobeying—but one he could trust to blindly follow his power. His grin grew wolfish as his other hand overlapped your throat—his gaze shifting between your bouncing tits and pleasured face.
The slight closure of your windpipe didn’t allow for much noise—but no matter, Mark began to sing like you’d never imagine. It was strange—the sound was much louder due to your silence as you clawed at his skin. His voice began to crack as his tightened jaw began to slack. "F—fucking incredible," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I knew… you'd be worth every s-second of c-...chasing you down," he sputtered as his length began to twitch inside you.
Seeing someone as strong as him unravel before you was a greater sense of accomplishment than becoming a hero itself. With a closed-lip groan, he began overstimulating himself with the effort to get you off. “Haaa… I’m c-close. Ugh…!” you muttered through strangled gasps—as the deprivation of air made you lightheaded and sensitive. Every nerve ending inside your cunt doubled as you went taut beneath him. “C’mon, fucking cum for me,” he heaved.
His thrusts became sloppy as he came inside without warning—doubling over as a consequence. An unfamiliar sensation painted your insides.
You both saw stars as silence pierced the room—the slick produced coated his cock in a glaze. Through bated breaths, his fingers finally released their grip around you as you coughed out a response. “I have to admit… you’re hard to deny,” you said, momentarily spent as you lay before him. “Swee—” He was cut off by a voice in his ear.
It was Angstrom demanding his presence over the city. “What a nuisance,” were the final words you caught as he muttered under his breath.
Every version of Angstrom was a hindrance to this Mark—nonetheless, he suited up to leave. “I’ll return—and you will join me,” he said confidently, as if there was no argument to be made. You nodded absentmindedly and sighed. Just what had you done?
No Goggles Mark
“Dude…! You’re so cool—what is that? I’ve never seen any powers like that in my world,” he said with an amused expression as he snickered at your agony. You stared up at him, your heartbeat suddenly quickening when meeting his gaze.
A look of recognition flickered within his eyes. “Hey, I know you,” he said, his feet touching base on the ground as he approached you with a widening grin. “I’m not sure you know me exactly…” you replied, backing away as your eyes searched for a route to escape—his friendliness had truly taken you aback.
“Who do you work for?” he asked, words flying from his mouth without a care as he approached closer. “You're way stronger than the Guardians of the Globe dudes I fought.”
He fought who?! A sense of dread filled you as a new series of questions plagued your mind. If this one could ruin the team to filth—then just how strong was he, and what exactly did he want? “I don't want to fight you, man,” you somewhat pleaded; he frowned with disapproval. “Fight? No, man… but it seems like you’re in trouble, dude.” The topic switched again—his gaze now behind you—as a flurry of aliens attempting their takeover waltzed through a portal. You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was a failed crusade before it began.
Taking a stride forward, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around your waist as you two were propelled to a lone-standing structure where steel beams and concrete floors remained. “Put me down,” you bruised him as you backhanded him into the metal beam. While he had a smile on his face, momentary irritation settled across his features. The painful sting ran to his cock. “Aw, what's the matter?” he asked, standing to his feet as you both came face to face once more.
“It would be hot, but I don't want to fight, dude. I’ve missed you. I promise I’ll be gentle… at first.” The delivery was more seductive—dropping an octave—as he approached you, hands outstretched and finding purchase against your hips. One thing other variants wouldn’t admit—was the supple touch of the right woman could caress their soul.
“I’m not the me you want,” you replied. “You can just be the one I have anyway,” he said.
He was indeed serious—and while less terrifying than the other Marks you’d encountered, his strength was menacing nonetheless. “Then let’s see what other talents you’ve got.” Your response made his expression brighten with a new goal in mind. At that, the grin on his face widened as he leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss.
His tongue forced its way into your mouth, battling yours for dominance as he ground his hips against yours. You two stumbled around the enclosure—footsteps echoing in the empty building. Mark’s hands cupped your ass, squeezing roughly as he whispered crude compliments into your ear. "Nice ass," he growled appreciatively, his fingers caressing the soft flesh. He couldn’t articulate it well—but you were truly beautiful in every universe—and he couldn’t wait to have his share.
Your fingers traveled up his muscled back as body heat pooled across your fingertips. Eagerness unlike any other began to rise as you longed to touch every inch of him. Hero costumes were peeled from one another, and you found his groping becoming progressively obsessive. His hardened cock stood awaiting stimulation as he bit back his urges—sacrificing the time to feel you once more.
Guiding him to the floor, you seated yourself against his lap—your legs hooked over his forearms. He was always too quick to finish battles, and that even applied to sex.
Just the tip. That's what you two agreed upon.
Sinking onto his cock—its girth filled you deliciously. The wet sound of arousal followed by his restrained groans filled you with delight; it was amusing to see a Viltrumite struggle to contain himself.
1… 2… 3… 4… 5… and 6! On every sixth shallow thrust, you would contract your muscles—gripping his dick like a vice as every vein received a kiss from the gods inside your cunt. It had him crazed—wanting more of your warmth than you were willing to give. “F—fuck, babe, you’re killin’ me,” he hissed with an unforeseen weariness shaking his voice.
“Can I?” he started.
“No.”
His expression hardened at your words. “You’re ruining the—”
Before he could finish, he inhaled sharply as his head fell back.
“Am I…?” you asked with feigned curiosity.
It was undulating in a rhythm that drove him wild. He groaned beneath you—his hands digging into his palms as he fought his urges to misbehave.
The sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis filled the air—mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. Anything would be worth trading; he could watch his dick disappear within your cunt nonstop. His impending release redoubled his efforts—pounding into you with a ferocity that sent you hurtling over the edge.
The excitement overwhelmed him as he sheathed half his cock inside—the spreading warmth and moisture making his thighs quiver beneath you. His balls tightened, painfully so—that alone ripped a pornographic moan from him. If he could fuck you as desired, he wouldn’t be nearly as needy.
Your combined moans echoed through the infrastructure—and you were certain that with the windows gone, someone could hear—but the thought was out of sight and out of mind. Pre-cum beaded down his length as it was smeared each time he entered your warmth.
“M-Mark…” you muttered; he nodded fervently behind you as his jaw locked.
“Y-You ready for it, babe?" he asked with a faltering grin as sweat tickled his brows. Leaning your full body weight against him—you felt your orgasm building quickly. The pleasure reached new heights as you both milked each other dry for the sake of proving a point. Your body instinctively began to lurch forward as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.
The tip of his cock was bedecked with a foam ring of cum. Mark would’ve begun convulsing had it not been for him carrying you—instead, his body stiffened as he let out a tight-lipped groan. You could’ve sworn you saw his toes curl too—but who knows? His pale skin was flushed a hue of red as his body thrummed with an aftershock.
Once you’d come down from your high, a satisfied grin beamed at you. "Dude, that was incredible," he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. "We should do this again sometime," he said—as if this was some casual fling, not that you would mind.
Before you could respond, a message in his ear interrupted the conversation.
“Ugh… this always happens; I have fun, and then—dude…” he sounded exasperated as he hurriedly redressed—reluctantly wishing you a botched farewell. “I like you. You’re coming with me.”
FEATURING ᯓ★ Yandere! Yuji Itadori x Pop Idol! Reader
SYNOPSIS ᯓ★ Someone would have to be deranged and selfish to kidnap a popular and talented Pop Idol just so they can have them all to themselves…
CONTENT ᯓ★ 18+ (MDNI) aged up characters, plus-size! + fem!reader, manipulation, body shaming, suggestive killing, naive reader, petnames (pretty star, my love, baby), Stockholm syndrome, suggestive nsfw
Wc ᯓ★ 3.0k
PREVIOUS ★ MASTERLIST ★ NEXT
6 HOURS BEFORE…
"Yuji, my brother,"
Todo sighed as he stood beside him, watching the way Yuji’s body practically vibrated with eagerness. "Relax. You’re acting like a man who just discovered his type for the first time."
Yuji couldn’t give a damn about what Todo was saying, hell, he barely registered his words. His mind was occupied with a singular thought—you.
The venue was buzzing with energy, the air thick with excitement as fans eagerly waited in line for a chance to meet you.
Yuji still remembers when he first laid eyes on you. Months ago Todo had convinced him to go and discover more concerts and upcoming artists with him and that's when he saw you on stage. Your voice was captivating, your smile radiant and most of all, your thick sexy curves that jiggled nonstop for him, it was love and obsession at first sight. From that moment on, Yuji knew you belonged to him. He memorized every lyric of your songs, watched every interview, and analyzed every movement you made. It wasn’t just admiration—it was fate.
And today, he was finally going to be close to you.
The line was shrinking. Soon, only one fan remained between him and you. Yuji’s heart pounded as he watched you giggle sweetly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. His cheeks became flushed the moment his eyes were glued on your plush massive breasts, the cleavage making an appearance each time you changed into different poses. You looked even more beautiful up close, almost unreal.
When you finally waved goodbye to one of your fans, your gaze lifted, and for the first time, your eyes met his.
"Hiya there!" your bubbly tone slipped out of your mouth as you greeted him, his figure towering over you caused you to have to look up at him. Your warm smile that never left your face was making his stomach twist in something far deeper than admiration. His breath hitched. "Would you like a photo or an—"
Your words were cut abruptly as Yuji moved swiftly, arms wrapping and scooping you up from under your legs in one smooth motion. A gasp left your lips as he lifted you effortlessly into a bridal carry.
The room fell into stunned silence.
A deep crimson shade was growing on your cheeks, heart racing in shock and confusion. You barely had time to register his strength, his warmth, before his golden eyes locked onto yours. No one, let alone a fan, had ever gone and picked you up like this. You genuinely thought it was impossible with the way your body was. It was as if time had stopped, allowing you to take in a proper view of this fan of yours.
He had to be at least in his early twenties, especially with such a lean and strong muscular build he had as his white compression shirt tightly hugged his muscles and abs. His spiky pink candy floss hair looked so soft, wishing that you could just run your fingers through it for hours on end. And God, those golden eyes of his that were still locked onto yours. There was something intense in them, something that made your pulse quicken for an entirely different reason.
"A photo will do just fine," Yuji started smoothly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Then, without looking away from you, he called over his friend. "C’mon, Todo."
Todo, who was just as shocked as everyone else, let out a chuckle before pulling out his phone. "You sure know how to make an impression, Yuji."
Yuji? So that was his name? So strong yet so gentle when it came to holding you like you weighed nothing.
The fans behind him erupted in protests, their voices a mix of outrage and jealousy. And your security immediately tensed, ready to intervene.
But before they could, you, still flustered, raised a hand in reassurance. "N-No, It’s okay," you managed to stammer, your eyes scanning over to your security before looking up at him. "Let him take the photo."
The security hesitated before backing off slightly, though they still watched warily. Yuji’s grip on you was firm but gentle, as if he were cradling something precious. His thumb subtly traced small circles against your chubby arm, his smile never faltering. The camera clicked, capturing a moment he would cherish for until the day he dies.
As Todo handed back his phone, Yuji finally, though reluctantly, set your feet back down on the ground delicately as if you were a princess. Your legs wobbled slightly, and his hands lingered on your waist longer than necessary.
When you finally regained your balance, You looked up at him, your mind still in a clouded daze. "That was…unexpected," you admitted, a sheepish giggle escaping your lips as you rubbed the back of your neck.
Gosh, that giggle of yours. If he could, he would listen to it for hours on end and never get tired of it. And the way you was looking up at him was making him think of all sorts of things that was slowly making him grow hard. But he quickly shook those thoughts out of his mind.
Yuji tilted his head as he looked down at you, his expression soft yet unreadable. "Just wanted to hold you, even if just for a second, pretty star.” He murmured, voice low enough for only you to hear.
Something about the way his low and husky tone said that nickname, ‘pretty star’, sent shivers down your spine. He was attractive and bold, sure, but he was just another fan who you knew that you were never going to see again.
If only you knew.
The security gently urged him forward, signalling that his time was up. Yuji gave the security guards a foul look before finally stepping away, but not before taking one last lingering look at you, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
"See you soon," he whispered, and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd along with his friend. But even as the next fan stepped up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you.
PRESENT
Your hands trembled as you pressed your back against the cold wooden wall after quickly locking the door. Chest rising and falling erratically. Your breaths came in quick, panicked gasps, tears blurring your vision as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings.
This wasn’t your dressing room trailer.
It was a dimly lit bedroom, the walls an unfamiliar shade of deep brown, the only window boarded shut. The faint scent of pine and damp earth filled the air. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
A choked sob escaped your throat as you stared down at your shaking hands. Your body was still weak, your head pounding from whatever had knocked you out. But the dried blood you had seen on his face, on his hands was still vivid in your memory.
Yuji.
Your mind reeled back to the last thing you could remember. After the meet-and-greet you was escorted back to your dressing room trailer by one of the security guards you knew well. You had been alone, about to change, when you heard commotion outside. When you opened the door, the sight had frozen you in place.
Yuji, fists coated in crimson, towering over your security guard, whose face was barely recognizable from the brutal beating. Just looking at the security guard’s disfigured face made you think that he couldn’t have been alive after that brutal beating. Yuji’s chest had risen and fallen with exhilaration, golden eyes wild with something terrifyingly possessive.
Still, you wasn’t sure if you passed out or if he made you pass out in time so you didn’t react in a way to alert others.
A frantic knocking at the door jolted you from your panicked thoughts.
"Baby? You awake, right?" Yuji’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying tension to it.
"Let me in, please," he coaxed, voice softer this time. "I know you’re scared, but I swear, I would never hurt you."
Your fingers gripped the hem of your dress tightly as you fought to steady your voice. "W-Where am I?"
Yuji was silent for a moment before he sighed. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere no one can take you from me."
Your stomach twisted.
"Somewhere safe? B-But you…kidnapped me," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. The weight of the realization hit you like a truck, and suddenly, your vision swam with panic again.
The knocking became more insistent. "No, no, no. Don’t think of it like that, sweetheart," Yuji said, his voice taking on a desperate edge. "I saved you."
A sob bubbled up in your throat. "Saved me?"
Yuji let out a shaky breath. "That security guy? He…he was talkin’ shit about you." His voice darkened, filled with venom. "Said disgusting things too. Said he was gettin’ fuckin’ tired of you. That he was sick of protectin’ some ‘spoiled and fatty little pop star who prances around for attention.’"
Your heart clenched. "What?" You didnt realise it but it was as if your body moved on its own. Pushing yourself off the wall and taking baby steps towards the door until you were stood in front of it.
Yuji pressed on, sensing the hesitance in your voice. "I couldn’t let that slide, baby. I had to teach him a lesson. He didn’t deserve to be near you, let alone protect you."
Your mind swirled with confusion. Your security guard had been nothing but professional… right? He had been kind, hadn’t he?
What if Yuji was telling the truth?
What if everyone thought the same way that your security guard did? A fat, good-for-nothing pop star who had nothing good going for you.
Tears welled up in your eyes. "I… I don’t know…"
"It’s alright, baby," Yuji whispered, his tone shifting to something soothing. He could hear how broken you were and just wished he could be there to wrap his arms around you. "I know it’s a lot to take in. But I'm here now, and I'll always protect you. I love you."
Did he just say… love?
But the real question was, were you even capable of loving someone?
You and love in the same sentence just didn’t work out. You didn’t know how to love, let alone someone who was clearly an obsessed fan of yours. You had never been in a relationship and your mind was only ever occupied on making your fans happy by making music.
Your breath caught in your throat. "You… love me?"
Yuji chuckled softly. "Of course, silly. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. Every song you sing, every smile you give on stage, every sexy outfit you wear. It’s all for me, right?"
You could feel your cheeks heat up the second he listed all the little things that you did. “But I… I sing for everyone…"
There was a very long pause.
Then, a deep exhale escaped out of Yuji but there was something different in it this time. Less patience. More… restraint.
"You’re so cute when you’re confused," he murmured. Then, more insistently, "But, baby, please open the door. I don’t like being away from you."
Your fingers twitched against the lock.
Yuji had done something horrible. You knew that. And yet, his words wrapped around you like a lullaby, laced with something toxic.
He had protected you.
Hadn’t he?
You hiccuped a sob. "I… I don’t know what to do, Yuji…"
The handle jiggled slightly, and you could hear him exhale shakily. "Shh, that’s okay, baby. Just open the door. Let me hold you. I’ll make all the confusion go away."
Your body was betraying you. The loneliness, the fear, the disorientation. It made you crave comfort.
Comfort that you rarely got and needed most when you would receive disgusting comments from both people in the music industry and trolls online. But each time you expressed it to your management team, the same people you saw as a family — your feelings would get brushed off by them, and you were just told to put on a brave face.
A slow, creeping sense of dread coiled around your gut as you reached for the lock with trembling fingers.
And as the door slowly creaked open, Yuji’s warm golden eyes locked onto yours, his lips curling into a victorious, gentle smile.
"There you go, my pretty star," he murmured, stepping inside.
The door clicked shut behind Yuji, the sound final, trapping you in with him. He stood there, towering over you, golden eyes taking in your fragile form. You felt so small compared to him and deep down he loved that. Oh to see how your form would look like beneath him when he’s pounding into you only got him hard.
Yuji’s gaze softened. His hand reached out slowly, fingertips brushing your cheek, and despite yourself, you leaned into the warmth.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” His voice was low, soothing. “Tired of everythin’.”
You blinked up at him, confused. “What do you…?”
His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, his touch unbearably tender. “The constant pressure. The expectations. And people always saying the most vilest things to you…”
Yuji had been watching you, studying you for so long—long enough to know what really got to you.
It wasn’t the packed schedules.
It wasn’t the flashing lights or the screaming fans.
The ones who whispered behind your back. The ones who left cruel comments online, dissecting every little thing about you. About your size, your weight and your image…
You have an amazing voice, a voice that you thought people would get distracted by. But no, people still had to find a way to bring you down and come for your body.
And Yuji knew that.
“I see how much it hurts you, my love,” he continued, his voice thick, lingering with possessive. “How much you pretend it doesn’t.”
You swallowed hard. “I…”
“They don’t deserve you,” he murmured, cupping your face fully now. His hands were big, warm, holding you like you were something delicate. “All they do is take. They want you to be perfect for them, but yet they’re the same ones putting you down and making fun of your looks.”
Your bottom lip trembled as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I just… I don’t know anymore…”
Yuji exhaled softly, his thumbs catching your tears before they could fall further. “Thought so.”
His thumb glided over to your plump bottom lip, a shiver running down your spine as he traced over it. “Just stay here… with me.”
Your body shuddered at the way he said it.
Stay.
Yuji’s finger curled under your chin, tilting your chin up as he continued the same tracing motion on your bottom lip his eyes flickering down to your lips. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Your head felt light and dizzy. Maybe it was from crying. Perhaps it was from everything crashing down at once.
Or maybe it was him.
And when he leaned in closer to your face, your lips parted slightly, instinctively.
“Y-Yuji, I–.”
In a swift motion, his lips were on yours in the most delicate way possible, like he was trying his best not to break you more than he already done.
Soft. Warm. Possessive.
Yuji kissed you like he was claiming you, like he was sealing your fate. His hands cradled your face, holding you still as he deepened the kiss, sighing into your mouth as if he had been waiting forever for this.
You should have pulled away. But instead, you melted.
A grin from Yuji crept up and was pressed against your lips as he could see now that you were accepting your new reality. But the way how you never pulled away only excited him more.
His beefy hands that were once on your face travelled down to your waist and then underneath your dress to cup your thick ass cheeks.
Goosebumps erupted from your skin as you felt the strong hold on your rear end, causing a gasp to flee from your lips. But Yuji only took this opportunity to quickly slide his moist tongue inside so he could prevent you from protesting.
Your small hand gripped onto his shirt, trying to steady yourself as your mind was spinning constantly. Each time he squeezed your plush ass cheeks, he earned a muffled gasp and groan from you and he was loving every second of it.
When he finally parted ways with your lips, his forehead was pressed against yours again, his breath uneven. A single saliva strand connected from your agape lips to his until it snapped on its own.
His calloused hands never left your ass, gripping ever so tightly, causing you to yelp out softly.
“There,” he whispered, smiling. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
Your lips tingled, your heart hammering.
His hands slithered up to your waist, gripping you there ever so firmly before pulling you closer. The way your body felt was so soft and jiggly, your cleavage staring up at him and those gleaming eyes of yours.
His nails were beginning to dig into your chubby waist, earning a groan from you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful and you or those dickheads dont even realise it.”
His head was leaning in close again but this time towards your neck, his hot breath fanning over your neck before planting soft kisses. Your breathing became hitched. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his lips trailed up your neck and then to your ear.
“You want me to show you, huh?” A boner was approaching and soon enough it was being pressed against your chubby belly, making him curse softly to himself.
“Show you just how damn sexy and beautiful you are, that I can take real good care of you and make you feel so good about yourself?”
His golden eyes that were clouded with infatuation and lust was boring into yours. With the way your cheeks were completely flushed, your half-lidded eyes never leaving his and the way how you didn’t bother to fix your breasts that were spilling out your cleavage. He already knew what your answer was.
You were just too ashamed and embarrassed to say it. But thats all Yuji needed.
And it wouldn’t be long until his muscly arms wrapped under your thick legs, swooping you in his arms to carry you over to his bed.
TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Pet Play, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Bondage, Revoked Consent, Kidnapping, Manipulation, and Rough Sex. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
[Part One][Part Two] [Finale]
About half an hour into your first date, Suguru told you that he was an animal trainer.
He mentioned it offhandedly, filling in a blank you hadn’t thought to ask about, but anything more interesting than ‘financial manager’ or ‘digital entrepreneur’ would’ve caught your attention. “It’s nothing exciting,” he explained, smirking at your eagerness to pry. “Dogs and cats, not lions and tigers. It’s a good gig, if you’ve got the patience for it.”
About three hours later, after a main course, a round of drinks, dessert, a second round of drinks, and your waiter politely clearing his throat as he dropped an unrequested, but well-deserved check onto the corner of your table, Suguru asked if you’d like to come back to his place for a drink. You laughed, propping your chin on your fist. “I don’t know,” you started, a teasing drawl in your voice. “You’re sure you’re not one of those charming serial killers, right?”
His eyes darted to the side, his smile quirking. “…if I said I was, would you still come home with me?”
You were on your feet by the time he finished. “I guess I’ll just have to risk it.”
Ten minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Suguru’s car as he pulled into a sprawling, rustically ornate villa. You fought the urge to whistle as his headlights fell onto outermost facade. You should’ve guessed from the restaurant, but still, you would’ve been impressed by a more-or-less furnished apartment. A countryside mansion was something you hadn’t even known to hope for.
It was only as you pried open your door, one foot already on the ground, that he told you he had a dog.
“You probably won’t meet him,” he shrugged, rounding the hood of the car to your side. An arm was extended and accepted – the gravel driveway quickly proving too much for your pin-prick heels. “Satoru’s a little shy around new people.”
“Satoru,” You repeated, more to yourself than to him. What a strange name for a dog. Must’ve been a purebred. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing your training skills up close.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” He rested a hand on your elbow, squeezing gently. “You’ll get a chance to.”
Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of blood left in your head to think with, after that.
Your feet had left the ground entirely by the time you reached the porch. Suguru had no problem carrying you, and not having to worry about pesky inconveniences like putting one foot in front of the other meant you had more time to string your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair as you divided your attention between his mouth and his throat. You kept yourself occupied, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the latter as he struggled with the lock and stumbled over the threshold. Your back hit a wall before the door was shut, but you were beyond the point of caring, by then.
One of the many things you liked about Suguru was his size. Standing up, he was about a head or so taller than you, and bent over you like this, supporting you with little more than the tension of his body pressed into yours, he seemed to eclipse you entirely; dark hair cutting off your vision, large hands wrapping around your thighs, teeth that were more similar to the fangs of some great, terrible animal than anything human ghosting over the curve of your throat. You felt his chest slot against yours, pinning you against the wall as distracted fingers fumbled with the zipper of your dress, and his head dipped, mouth latching onto the slope of your shoulder in a slow, bruising love-bite. The process was painstaking and noisy, the joint sounds of his breathy moans and your whimpers enough to fill the entryway twice-over. Really, it was a wonder you managed to hear the footsteps at all.
It wasn’t that your attention drifted, just that you couldn’t stop yourself from acting on reflex. You heard padding footsteps, the metal ting, ting, ting of swinging tags, and raised your head, unconsciously searching for a dog, a pet, an animal. And, in a way, you found one. Honestly, it took you a beat too long to realize that what you were looking at wasn’t an animal – lean and pale, peering tentatively around the corner as he made his way down the staircase that led further into the villa. White leather faded into pale skin, crossing over his chest and wrapping around his thighs, supporting a pair of white thigh-high socks and matching paw-shaped mittens. The second worst part was his face; bisected by a titanium muzzle in the shape of a snout. Two white dog ears, the same color as his other accessories, framed his expression on either side, bouncing slightly as he walked.
The absolute worst part was, of course, the erect and leaking cock between his legs.
Suguru must’ve felt you go rigid. With an irritated groan, he pulled away, lowering you gently back onto your feet. He noticed the strange, naked man just as quickly, acknowledging him with a roll of his eyes. You were quickly abandoned in favor of lowering himself to one knee and cupping the naked man’s face, who panted happily in response.
“Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, carding his fingers through the man’s bone-white hair. “I thought you were going to be good and stay upstairs, for now?”
There was a non-verbal response, mostly tail wagging and clipped barks, and you stared blankly at the drooling, leaking man. At Satoru.
You might’ve said something – about a cigarette, or fresh air. You’d never know. You were on the other side of the door before the sound of your own voice could catch you, trudging stiffly to the end of the driveway.
You needed to get out of here. You wanted to get out of here. You kept one arm crossed over your chest while your free hand shot for your phone, a list of a dozen identical rideshare apps already flitting through your mind. You were cursing the lack of available drivers (why hadn’t you noticed how remote this place was earlier?) when you heard gravel crunching under rushed footsteps, Suguru’s airy laugh.
“I know, I know,” he started, while you were still glaring at your phone. “I’m an asshole.”
Colorful language, but not the type you would’ve opted to use, at the moment. “You told me you had a dog.”
“Oh, god, I did, didn’t I?” There was another laugh, a quick shake of his head, like he didn’t fully remember something he’d said all of three minutes ago. “I’m sorry – I just get into character. It’s hard not to, after a few months.”
You didn’t relax, but you didn’t bristle, either. Suguru took the opportunity to go on. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you about anything. I really am a trainer, and this really is my place. Satoru’s my client.”
You paid him a wary glance. “Client?”
“Mhm. CEOs and rich fuckers with a lot of power and a lot of money to throw around like to turn their brain off, every now and then. Since they can’t risk anyone they’ve been seen with going to the tabloids, people like me get brought in to—” He paused, shrugged. “—help them relax, I guess.”
“You expect me to believe that guy’s a CEO?”
His wry grin widened, sharpened. “Have you heard of the Gojo clan?”
Of course you had. The Gojo clan owned half of every business in Japan. The Gojo clan had enough property to build their own continent.. The Gojo clan--
You pursed your lips. Slowly, deliberately, your phone was powered off and slid back into your pocket, any other plans you might’ve had for it immediately forgotten.
“No.”
“Yes.” And then, with a note of pride in his voice, “Satoru’s the scion.”
“And he pays you to…”
“Pretend he’s a dog,” Suguru picked up, unflinchingly. “Or a cat. Or a maid. It’s pretty flexible. The costumes get a little out of hand, sometimes.”
You’d noticed. “And to lure women back to his mansion and… what? Have sex with them while he watches?”
There was another airy laugh, this one less apologetic than the first. “No, no, it’s not like that. Satoru’s not the voyeur type, and I don’t like sharing the spotlight. I let him know I was bringing someone over, but he probably thought it’d be funny to scare you – catch us both off-guard, y’know?” He flashed you a smile. “I promise, you’re here because I want you to be. That’s it.”
It was a little insulting, honestly – just how unfaltering he was. Part of you felt offended, like he’d accused you of overreacting, but another, quieter, more base faction chided you for being over-dramatic, for storming out like a child having a temper-tantrum. Because it had been childish, hadn’t it been? For as much as he’d surprised you, Satoru hadn’t seemed to be under any kind of duress, and it wasn’t like Suguru had fundamentally changed sometime in the past few minutes. Looking at him now, with his easy smile and tired eyes, it was impossible not to recognize the man who’d come up to you in your favorite coffee shop, practically tripping over your name; the man you’d spent nearly four hours talking to tonight, and enjoyed every second of it.
“…’caught off guard’ is kind of an understatement,” you mumbled, letting your shoulders slump.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten he was coming over tonight. I should’ve been more thoughtful.” His shoulders fell. “If you want to call it here, I get it. Just let me grab my keys – I don’t want you in a stranger’s car so late at night.”
It took you a few seconds to find your voice, but when you did respond, it was with a valiant effort to mirror his easy charm. Admittedly, it didn’t come as naturally to you. “And if I don’t want to call it here?”
Suguru seemed to appreciate the effort. “Then I’d ask for a couple minutes to tell Satoru to fuck off,” he started, slowly, his arm finding it way around your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and you let him. “And make sure I’m all yours.”
It was humiliating – how quickly you cracked. As soon as he finished, you sighed, shaking your head. “No, no, you shouldn’t have to do that. I really should apologize to him.” Suguru hummed curiously, and you clarified. “For running out like that, I mean. It might’ve been a little rude.”
Suguru chuckled, kissing your forehead. “If you say so, sweetheart.”
He held your hand as he led you back inside, the door left ajar from your hasty exit. Satoru was waiting in the entryway - still uncomfortable exposed, but sitting cross-legged with Suguru’s jacket draped over his shoulders. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his collarbones or above, just in case.
“’toru,” Suguru called, affection thick and honey-sweet in his tone. Immediately, Satoru perked up, ambling to his feet, and you did your best not to flinch as you noticed his height, his piercing eyes, the sculpted muscle wrapped around his arms and legs. There was no scenario wherein you would’ve been nonplussed to find out your date was engaging with niche, dubiously sexual roleplay with the heir to the largest trust fund on this side of the planet, but having a less imposing image to associate with that realization might’ve helped to soften the edge.
“I want you to meet (Y/n),” he went on, the embodiment of nonchalance. You straightened, and Satoru cocked his head to the side, evaluating you. What he was looking for, you couldn’t imagine. You wished he would take off that muzzle – at least, then, you might be able to find something a little more human in his expression. “And (Y/n),” Suguru paused, nudging your side. “This is my puppy, Satoru. The one I told you about.”
You forced yourself to smile. Satoru stared at you for a long second before bowing his head, and you took the signal – bringing your hand up to pet him the same way Suguru had, watching as he melted into your palm. It was a little too easy to let the last of your anxiety wash away, an odd sort of confidence taking its place. This wasn’t so bad, not when you knew what to expect. Maybe you’d ask Suguru if Satoru had any friends with similar interests and similar numbers in their bank accounts.
“Suguru didn’t mention how pretty you were.” You let your voice lilt up into that light, cloying sort of baby-talk. With the way they were both acting, it was a little hard to remember you weren’t talking to an actual dog. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
“Careful, now. He’ll get a big head.” He squeezed your hand gently and tugged you towards the staircase. “C’mon – I know where we can get a little privacy.”
Satoru whined, but didn’t attempt to follow you as Suguru guided you up a spiraling set of stairs and into a long, blank hallway. Suguru’s home (Satoru’s home? Their home?) was remarkable unlived in, intentional decoration sparse and the clutter of everyday life entirely absent. It might’ve been off-putting if you’d been able to focus on it, but Suguru seemed eager to distract you, pawing at your waist and stealing kisses every few steps. You counted doors half-heatedly as you passed, and somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three, Suguru pulled one open and ushered you inside.
The bedroom was less non-descript. A king-sized, four-posted bed dominated the space, the sheets a sea of red satin to contrast the black, void walls. The bare necessities were littered sporadically throughout the room – a half-empty glass of water on a bedside table, a white towel hanging from the knob of the closet door, etc. The messiness was almost calculated, things left out on purpose to feign disregard. The only thing that seemed genuinely out of place was the long, braided cord looped around the upper right bedpost, so well-used that it’d ground into and softened the wood underneath. Suguru didn’t seem to notice it, so you decided against saying anything. If you were lucky, it could be useful later on.
It wasn’t like you had much of a chance to talk, anyway. There was a specific sort of fragile, uneasy tension between you and Suguru, and it never seemed to last very long when you two were alone together. The door was shouldered closed hastily, and then, his hands were on your hips, his mouth on the side of your neck. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” And then, with an airy chuckle, a nip to the corner of your jaw, “Thought I was going to have to bend you over in that fucking coffee shop.”
The humiliating part was, had he asked, you probably would have. There was no reason he should have to know that, though. “I’d say to buy my dinner first, but—” His teeth digging into the curve of your throat, a hitch in your breath. You forced out a chirping laugh as he sucked and lapped at your neck. “—I guess you beat me to it, huh?”
Suguru’s only response was a low grown, ten fingers burrowed into your waist. You started to shrug off your jacket, but Suguru was just a little faster, just a little more eager; jerking the article down with one hand while the other wrapped around your midriff. You’d known how big he was, loved the way his body measured up to yours, and yet, you couldn’t seem to suppress the little gasp that escaped your lips as you were pulled off of your feet and thrown onto the center of his bed, to ignore the fear that knotted in your chest as he loomed at the foot of the bed – hastily dragging his shirt over his head. You watched him undress with a lazy type of indulgence, more than happy to sit back and enjoy a free show. Honestly, you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be a part of the entertainment by the time he propped a knee on the mattress and let the full weight of his attention fall onto you.
Against your better judgement, you thought about Satoru as Suguru climbed into the space between your spread legs. You couldn’t seem to imagine how he and Satoru fit together, not that you were very inclined to. It was hard to picture either one of them as very submissive; Satoru with his menacing height and bright, vigilant eyes, or Suguru with his easy smile and feline arrogance. You’d assumed it was a fetish, but you could’ve wrong, right? You’d heard of people who make paperclip chains and chew paper to relieve stress – when you weren’t actively looking at a grown man pretend to be a dog, it really didn’t seem that much stranger.
“Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?”
Suguru’s voice, deep and saccharine, brought you back to the present. You blinked up at him, smiling. “’m right here.”
“Good girl.” Muscular thighs straddled your waist, and you whined, reaching towards him. Suguru only caught your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his own. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know. You never did tell me if you were a serial killer.”
“And it didn’t stop you from coming home with me.” He squeezed gently. “Which means you do trust me – whether or not you should.”
You hummed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Your wrists were gathered in one hand while the other reached for the black cord – not as forgotten as you’d thought. Suguru worked quickly, but deftly. A snug slip-knot soon bound your wrists above your head, and you fought the temptation to test the binding’s strength and ruin the moment. It felt slack enough, and more importantly, Suguru was already shifting, moving, gliding a hand down the length of your throat, your chest, before finally cupping your breast, groping harshly.
Unable to do much of anything else, you arched into his touch, earning a breath of a laugh from Suguru. Dark hair veiled his face as he dipped his head, lips sealing around the bud of your nipple. It seemed to be less for your pleasure and more for his entertainment – the way he sucked with such a deliberate amount of force, how slowly he drew the flat of his tongue over your skin, the feather-slight pressure of his teeth against tender flesh. The stimulation was thick and aching, simmering where it should’ve sparked. You might’ve complained if his hand hadn’t wandered to your sex, two think fingers tracing over your slit and gathering the slick that’d been building up since he invited back to his place. Calling you ‘wet’ would’ve been the understatement of the century – you were soaked. Suguru seemed to know that, too.
He lifted his head, grinning as he pulled you into a deep kiss. By the time he drew back, your lungs throbbed in your chest and he’d been reduced to muttering. “And here I was, so scared that you’d try to run away.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, drawing out a moan muffled only by his proximity. “No, you were never going to leave before you got what you came for, were you?”
You shook your head, bucking into his hand, but Suguru only clicked his tongue. There was another open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your neck (his favorite spot, it seemed), then another the tender flesh just above your collarbone. “You have to tell me what you want, baby. Nicely.”
Two fingers slipped under your panties and into your tight heat, scissoring apart as you moaned and squirmed underneath him. “Please,” you managed, your voice reduced to a pitchy, wavering drawl. “Please, please fuck me, Suguru.”
“That’s my girl.” You felt his fingers curl inside of you and protested with a mewling whine. When Suguru did draw back, it was only to bring his palm down on your cunt in an open-handed spank that left your skin burning and sparks racing straight to your core. You swallowed down any lingering complaints as he fucked you open on three thick digits, focusing the brunt of his energy on thrusting into you with as much depth and as much force as possible with the occasional curl or split of his fingers, whenever you threatened to adjust to his erratic rhythm. Making you cum was a secondary goal; something to be considered, but not planned around. Judging by his brutal pace, the way his dark eyes stayed fixed on your expression, he was more interested in seeing just how long it took to take you apart.
It was a shame you couldn’t hold on longer, really. Suguru might’ve been patience incarnate, but you’d never had that level of self-control. It took less than a minute of his calloused fingers rubbing against the seizing walls of your cunt, of his palm grinding sloppily into your clit before you were clawing at the cord around your wrists, clenching your eyes shut, snapping your thighs together around his forearm as you came undone from seconds of his harsh stimulation. Of course, Suguru nursed you through your climax and of course, he waited until you were coherent enough to hear the humiliatingly wet noise of your cunt clenching around his digits as he drew back. Your reward came in the form of a moment to breathe, a lingering kiss pressed into the inside of your knee as he lowered himself into the space between your legs. His remaining clothes were dealt with hastily – pulled out of the way where they couldn’t be easily discarded – and before long, you felt the blunt tip of his cock tracing over your entrance, his arousal mixing with the aftermath of your climax. Beyond the use of words, you did your best to grind against him and pulled at your restraints, putting up a laughable imitation of a struggle. The corner of Suguru’s lips turned upward. With one hand wrapped around his base and the other planted on your hip, he eased into you, fitting his body against yours until he’d bottomed out.
Immediately, it was too much.
Suguru caught on quickly, too. “This is what you asked for.” Four fingers rapped against your side as he started to move, limiting himself to short, shallow thrusts. You clenched your eyes shut, digging your nails into your palms and muttering distant, abstract curses between moans. Suguru let out a pitying hum. “You’re not allowed to change your mind now, princess. Not after begging so prettily.”
As if you could. As if you’d have any reason to. It felt like he was trying to fuck your throat through your pussy; his hips grating against yours as he pulled out to the tip only to rut back in. It was less the friction that got to you and more the pressure – filling you entirely, battering against your walls, weighing down your body where it was pinned under his. His hands hooked the underside of your thighs and hauled your legs upward, pressing your knees closer to your chest than the mattress. The stretch was incredible, nearly enough to break you. It took everything you had just to open your eyes and stare blissfully at Suguru, his dark hair dripping over his face and pooling around his shoulders, his eyes narrowed into clever, condescending slits. You could see a smirk shining through his slack-lipped groaning, and over his shoulder, something white bobbed—
Something white.
Satoru.
Against your will, your attention slipped away from Suguru and onto him. You could only make out his upper body, but even that was more than you wanted to see. The bedroom door had been nudged open, and Satoru leaned against the frame, head cocked to the side and glassy blue eyes fixed on the bed. One of his arms was angled strangely, reaching for something below his navel, and you swore, even with the sound of Suguru’s skin crashing into yours, you could hear him panting. You’d assume that the muzzle would’ve done more to muffle it, but guess not.
You didn’t say anything, but the horror written across your expression was obvious. Suguru slowed, then stopped entirely, scowling as he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. His reaction was reserved, minimal. A sigh of a scoff, a slight shake of his head. You waited for him to get angry, to tell Satoru to leave, or better yet, to panic, to throw a sheet over your body and do anything but let his pervert of an employer keep jerking off to your exposed, vulnerable form. Instead, he only straightened, pulling to the side as if to show that much more of you off. “Your turn already, puppy?”
Satoru didn’t nod, didn’t respond, and Suguru didn’t wait for him to. Whatever mutual understanding they had between them didn’t need to be spoken aloud; it was enough for Satoru to step forward and Suguru, half-swallowing a moan, to pull out of your cunt. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, your point of connection having abruptly gone cold.
That relief was quickly replaced by stiff, frigid dread as Satoru shuffled forward, into your direct line of sight. Most of his get-up had been abandoned, leaving only his ears, pawed gloves, and of course, that terrible muzzle. Somehow, the subtractions seemed to make him less human – like he’d gone from a man pretending to be a dog to a dog pretending to be a man. Suguru didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. There was one more squeeze to your thigh, and then Satoru was pulling himself to the headboard, positioning himself beside you. Unceremoniously, you were turned onto your stomach, your bound wrists positioned awkwardly above your head and your elbow prodding into the mattress. Your ass was dragged upward, your knees forced underneath you. Unsure of whether trying to kick out would salvage what was left of your remaining dignity or humiliate you further, you held the position.
This time, the way you jerked and thrashed against your restraints wasn’t playful. The knot had been loose enough to slip a few minutes ago, but as soon as you exerted any real amount of force, it seemed to constrict; soft rope digging into your wrists, cutting off your circulation. You felt the mattress dip behind you, heard Satoru’s rhythmic panting through the metal of his mask. Desperately, you looked to Suguru.
“R-red,” you stammered, hoping the edge in your voice would make up for the lack of an established safe-word. “Black. Pineapple. Stop. I’m not good with this, Suguru.”
Satoru’s knees on either side of yours, the dull head of drooling cock against your ass. You felt Satoru’s tip drag over the curve of your ass, streaking your skin with arousal. Suguru hummed. “But, you’ll grin and bear it, won’t you? ‘toru’s been looking forward to this all day.”
It was awful, how little his tone had changed. If it hadn’t been for the spare man now looming over you, the terror forming knots in your chest, you would’ve thought he was still making mindless dirty talk.
“I never—” Your voice caught in your throat as Satoru whined, needy and keening. Animalistic. “I don’t want to do this.”
His attention flitted between you and Satoru, never quite landing on either. “You’ll come around,” he decided, eventually. “Just like Satoru did.”
Something cold and stiff stabbed into the center of your back. At first, you wondered if that was what fear – true fear – always felt like, made more vivid by tangible betrayal and the sudden awareness of your own stupidity, but then, you realized it was only the lower edge of Satoru’s muzzle digging into your skin as he laid himself over you, and that made more sense.
Satoru was not like his owner. Suguru hadn’t been gentle, but Satoru seemed to operate on something deeper, something baser, something that didn’t give him time to breathe between forcing his cock into your sensitive cunt and his first thrust. Actually, calling it a thrust at all might’ve been too generous – he never seemed to want to pull away from you, only rut deeper, only grinding against your ass as he moaned and whined and drooled against your neck. Eventually, his chest pressed into your back, his head falling over your shoulder. You tried not to look at him, to disassociate where you couldn’t physically separate, but it would’ve been impossible to block out the way his prying eyes seared into your skin. “So pretty.” The metal distorted the exact shape of his tone, but something cloying made it through the fog. “Been waiting forever for Suguru to pick. Knew it had to be you, though. It was always gonna be you.”
You didn’t respond, but Suguru did – laughing brightly. While Satoru did his best to beat your pussy into the shape of his cock, Suguru swung his legs off the side of the bed, turning away from you as he fetched something out of the nearest bedside table. “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening back up. “I knew Satoru needed someone to keep him company while I was away, but I couldn’t bring home just any stray – he’d tear them to pieces. You were perfect, but holding ‘toru off for the months it took to prepare…” He trailed off, smiling fondly. “He’s overeager at the best of times. You can imagine what it was like – trying to tell him he had to wait to meet his kitten.”
He was lying. He was lying and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. You hadn’t known Suguru for months, you’d known him for days. There’d been a meet-cute and everything – you’d stayed at your favorite café for an hour longer than you could really afford to just to catch his eye, and he’d stuttered the first time he’d said your---
Your name.
He’d known your name.
The stabbing sensation was back. You didn’t think it was Satoru, this time.
You opened your mouth – maybe to sob, maybe to scream – but all that came out was a fractured, airy squeak. Satoru’s dick twitched inside of you, and suddenly, you were aware of just how erratic his pace had grown, just how stifling the heat rolling off of him had gotten. You clenched your eyes shut a moment before it happened, keeping them that way as something too terrible to name was pumped into you in hot, smoldering strokes. When the last spark of his climax faded, Satoru went limp against you, cuddling into your back, but Suguru was quick to chide him with a click of his tongue.
“Bad puppy.” You saw him reach for Satoru’s head, hear something metallic and taut click out of place. “Clean up your mess. Then, we’ll have you meet your kitten properly.”
Satoru grumbled, but didn’t disobey. Dragging your unresponsive body onto its side, he nestled his head between your thighs and dragged the flat of his tongue over your slit, lapping up the remnants just beginning to drip down your thighs with a tired sort of enthusiasm. Suguru shook his head wistfully. “He can be such a brat, but he means well. Ah – can you pick your head up for me, baby?”
When you failed to so much as try, Suguru cooed. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” And then, cupping your cheek, “You’re going to be a delicate little thing, aren’t you?”
“…I’m not a thing,” you spat, but it didn’t matter. He was already fitting something onto your head – a headband, the weight balanced by two off-set ears near the rounded peak. The collar was next, heavy and decorated with bows and ribbons that scratched at your throat. You were struck with the inexplicable and irresistible urge to try to claw it off, but your bound hands saved you from the humiliation.
It took you a few seconds to put a name to the last item. Made of a pale pink leather, it had an odd shape – like a cup someone had accidently made wider than it was tall. Studded straps stretched from each corner of the opening, and Suguru’s hand fell away from your cheek as he fitted it to your lower face, The upper strap was pulled tight, then the lower, until the leather pressed snugly into your skin. You started to open your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.
You should never have bothered to wonder. There was only ever one thing it could possibly be.
𝓨𝒖𝒕𝒂 was obsessed with you. not in the way you'd expect. not in the demanding, or the aggressive or even the outwardly possessive way. it was persistent. dedicated. and worst of all?
loving.
he never quite got over you after the breakup. a year after the shinjuku showdown. you said he changed. he insisted he grew.
“i miss my sweet boy,” you'd said.
“aren't I sweet?” he still smiled like it.
you shook your head. turned away. told him there was something else in his smile. something shifted. an innocence you mourned.
he never quite let you grieve his absence, though. your coffee would be on your desk in the morning. your favourite flowers delivered every other week. you'd find him on your doorstep with takeout and a smile. find him in your apartment cooking, cleaning, making your bed, making things easier for you.
“what're you doing here?” you confronted him. got up in his face. looked at him like he was an irritable nightmare.
and yuta? he just smiled. never a threat. never a warning. looking at you like you were the sweetest dream.
“we're friends, aren't we?” he tilted his head. “that's what you said we were.”
“yeah well—”
“friends take care of each other, don't they?” his head tilted. that flicker of innocence that you lost shimmered in his eyes. ached your heart. flared your mind. because he knew what he was doing.
this wasn't first, nor second year. okkotsu yuta knew how to get under your skin, and he did so with the same smile that stuttered your chest.
he was insistent. promising he'd wait for you. assuring that you just needed time. but then another year went by, then another, and another— and before you knew it? he was twenty three and still delivering your favourite flowers.
it was overwhelming. he claimed love should feel like that. said love should be something that you chased for.
what scared you the most? the way his cursed energy crackled whenever he said it. like it really was his curse onto you.
“you can't chase me forever, okkotsu.” you'd hissed, as he stood in your kitchen. using your ingredients. cooking you dinner.
he didn't even look up. “that's what you think.”
then he turned to you with a spoonful of soup and the flat of his hand brushing beneath your chin to raise it. just slightly. delicately.
he smiled. “now. . . say ah.”
he frustrated you. with his kind smile. with his shifted outlook on life. with the maturity he'd developed when you just weren't looking.
finding someone else was impossible.
going back to him felt like a sentence.
so when you'd snapped, who could blame you?
when you snatched his sword from his very sheath and swiped it through the air. bladed it to his throat. a threat, a shaky promise. with your trembling hands and your snarling lips.
he didn't flinch.
and that's what frustrated you more.
a special grade sorcerer like himself, what could you possibly do?
you saw it in his eyes. he asked the question without even uttering a word. a calm confidence that eased from him in the arch of his brow and the unfaltering look on his face.
he was sure of himself. and even worse: unafraid of death.
truly, not your sweet boy anymore.
no sweetness in the way he stepped closer. no sweetness in his shadow that loomed over you. in the paleness of his neck that pushed closer to his blade.
“you want to kill me?” he asked. drawled, simple. as if asking about the weather, and not his life that was held in hands he clearly still wanted to kiss.
his hand shifted. long fingers curling around the blade. tight. unflinching. he yanked it closer. shoved his neck further. till the steel bit into his skin. into his fingers.
and even while you shook. while you gaped and hesitance faltered your grip— he stood there.
staring into your eyes. into your very soul.
he spoke clear. crystal. calm.
“do it properly, then.”
his face pressed further. digging deeper into the blade if it only meant to be closer to you.
not a blink. not a breath.
just brutal. bloody. devotion.
“kill me,” he breathed. cold lips brushing yours. his own blood dripping from his fingers. “just make sure to curse me a little.”
ik I'm gonna sound whiny but I am SICK AND TIRED of all the fmcs in 'x reader' fanfics being docile, innocent, naive bimbos.
This sounds harsh but it's incredibly common especially in dark fanfics which grinds my gears even more. They make dumb decisions, don't understand consequences and whine about their situations, just stay silent and obedient, just whimpering in fear and not DOING anything. They don't act like human beings, they act like vessels for hot smut concepts.
I understand exploring a concept, but I find it so tiring when all she does is cry and whimper as the man manhandles her.
If you are wondering, I eat dark/yandere fics up! It just feels gross and victim-blaming to always turn a woman's traumatising experience (which it was advertised to be!) into something that she enjoys. It's not in a 'this is how basic biology way', it's in a 'ohh this man taking advantage of me is so hot'. Yes, the man is hot! But that doesn't mean she isn't traumatised and doesn't mean him being attractive cancels out the fact that she can fight back!
There are very few fics (mostly short fics) where fmcs are standing up for themselves or actively fighting the other person in the dark fic. Like girl where is your rage and your fear!
(In my opinion, the FMC actually fighting and actively running from the other person makes for a way more interesting reading experience)
I'm not hating on people writing these fics. If I see something I'm not comfortable with, I scroll away. But I just wanted to say something because this is an increasingly common trend within these types of fics and I feel like we can bring in some diversity on our fmc's personalities.
Thinking about Yandere Nanami who brought you home (read kidnapped you) months ago. He is gentle and patient, has never tied you up. He just put an irremovable anklet on you containing a tracking device that would alert him immediately if you stepped off the property.
He doesn't force himself on you. Only refused to budge on you sharing a bed with him though as far as you know has never touched you. Doesn't yell at you or berate you for not accepting him. Speaks to you as respectfully and gently as your mother always said a gentleman should. He doesn't punish you or hurt you, bringing you here was his only act of violence.
You know that's worse. There's only so long a lonely mind can hold up a fortress against this unrelenting yet gentle adoration. The only way out is either to kill him or to get him to remove that anklet himself. You were beginning to believe what he told you about his world and his role in it so you didn't think killing him was an option which meant you'd have to convince him to take that anklet off. You could only hope that your own mental barriers didn't come down before his did.
Wordcount: 5k+
Notes: Yandere behaviour, secretly perverted Nanami, him jerking it due to that perversion, kidnapping, confinement
You roused from your sleep slowly, becoming aware of the silky duvet that weighed you down, the soft mattress beneath you and the rhythmic, steady breathing of the man laying next to you. The words spoken in his quiet, deep voice returning to you then. This must be the civic holiday he had been talking about that would give him the long weekend with you.
If your math was correct, that marked a full 3 months of you being here trapped in this house. You'd woken in this very bed with a very hazy memory of a chemical soaked silk rag being pressed to your face as you'd slept in your apartment. Your panicked screams being hushed by a gentle voice. Hazel eyes looking down at you from within a strikingly handsome face and large hands gently smoothing back your hair the last thing you felt before you'd succumbed to the darkness.
When you'd come to you had struggled to understand his words through the pounding headache and rising panic within your chest. He'd held you tight against his chest when you seemed to loose all sense of reason as his words registered and you realized you were trapped in this home in the middle of the woods with a man you didn't know. Asking calmly for you to mimic his breathing as he took in exaggeratedly deep breaths until you could do the same.
It was the last time he had held you against your will. Since then Nanami had kept to his word. He wouldn't touch you until you asked him to, until you came into his arms of your own free will. The certainty in those sharp hazel eyes of his that you would rendering you speechless. Not even able to utter a word in response to tell him that would never happen. You would have been lying anyway.
You turned carefully, huddling in close to the warm inviting planes of his body. Lined with toned muscle as he was, there was something oddly comfortable about him. Cold and lonely as you were in this house you caught your mind slipping thinking about how it had felt that first night when he'd gathered you up in his strong arms and held you close to his chest. So warm and firm in his hold even as you writhed and struggled to get away.
That had been the first sign. Your mind was beginning to break, succumbing to the one thing even the strongest couldn't withstand, loneliness. You'd devised this plan soon after but this was the first time you were making so bold a move.
You heard his breath catch as you allowed your body to relax against his, eyes opening slowly as though afraid that this was only a dream and he didn't wish to accidentally wake himself from it. You let your own fall shut, resting your cheek against his bare shoulder.
You forced yourself to keep still as he turned slightly and a large hand was laid down on the dip of your waist, nearly just hovering above as though he couldn't believe he really got to do this.
"Are you awake?" He asked, voice husky from sleep and you were reminded again of how unfairly attractive the man that held you captive was.
You didn't think yourself shallow enough to ignore his crimes against you simply due to how beautiful he was but were not ignorant enough to deny it was a factor that would weaken your defenses. A repellant, disgusting man would be easier to turn away.
"Not ready to be." You mumbled and you could practically feel the smile you know would be curving up the corners of his pale pink lips. Hazel eyes still lidded with sleep and warmed by the adoration they held within their depths.
It was a look you received from him every time you did something he found endearing which was all too often. Three months into being here and it still caught you off guard. You'd much prefer a repellant man.
"Sleep as long as you'd like my darling." He said, and you merely adjusted the position of your head on his shoulder to one more comfortable before allowing yourself to drift back to sleep.
Nanami could almost convince himself that was you nuzzling against him affectionately. If this was a dream he never wanted to wake from it. His beloved darling, who despite being so close had always seemed so distant, so maddeningly unreachable, was really willingly in his arms. His heart seemed to have swelled to three time its size. It didn't matter if this was genuine or not.
Madly in love though he may be, Kento Nanami was no fool. He had caught the calculating look in your eyes as you tentatively began asking him about his day when he returned from work. Offering to help with chores and intentionally coming to his study while he was in there to get a book.
It didn't matter what had brought on the changes, he was simply so happy you were no longer flinching away when he so much as neared you. Avoiding his gaze, not letting him look into those pretty eyes. Giving him one word answers as though afraid to risk angering him by ignoring him but clearly having no desire to speak to him. Laying still and stiff at the very edge of the bed. Breathing uneven as you refused to let yourself sleep even into the early hours of the morning lest the horrid man who had stolen you away take advantage of your vulnerability.
He had been patient through months of all that. Swallowing down the longing that felt like it was cloying its way up his throat and blocking his airways at having you so near yet so distant. His methods may have been unorthodox but Nanami loved you and he would never hurt you. He knew you would come to realize that, open up to him on your own. Come to love him even a fraction of how much he loved you if he was just patient.
Now that you had devised this plan to let his guard down, you had unknowingly let your own guard down at well. He had worked his way into your mind, he would find a way into your heart and soul as well. Own all of you the way you owned all of him.
When you woke again you were still tucked against Nanami's side. Eyes fluttering open and your breath catching when you saw those hazel eyes fixed on you. Cheeks pinkening in embarrassment at the thought that he had been watching you all this while as you slept. You glanced down, shifting slightly as you made to turn away but the hand on your waist tightened.
"Stay, please." He breathed and you glanced up at him. So heartbreakingly sweet all sleep rumpled and flushed pink that he couldn't help himself.
Something you saw in those eyes made you tentatively rest your head down on his shoulder again. He reached up with the hand that had been on your waist, smoothing your hair back from your face, cupping your cheek reverently.
Your heart clenched at the way he was looking at you. The way you'd always secretly wanted to be looked at even as you put on a false bravado and claimed you didn't care for things like romance and love.
Had he not done what he did, not kept you here against your will, he would have been the man you always wanted. So respectful and kind, never so much as raising his voice with you and always addressing you with honorifics. Handsome and strong but with a strength that promised protection and didn't dominate. Eyes only for you.
It was too bad somewhere within that mind of his something was broken and twisted. Allowing him to lock up another and hold them captive in the name of love.
He could see the change in you, feel the way your spine stiffened and gaze closed off. Your rational mind had won out again, the sleep induced haze that quietened those troublesome thoughts that kept you from giving in and allowing yourself to be loved had lifted.
"I need to go to the bathroom." You said and he forced himself to let you go, withdrawing his hands from your soft warm skin.
It was a tight rope he was walking. He couldn't push too much. You couldn't know he was onto you, he had to let you believe he was fooled by your charade so that you would stop letting those pesky thoughts get in the way. In the act of pretending you would allow yourself to grow close to him, to open up to him. It was a matter of time before this would stop being an act and would become the truth without you even realizing it.
Nanami sat up in the bed with a sigh as the bathroom door closed behind you. Bringing the hand that had touched you up to his face, inhaling the faint scent of you left on his skin. His eyes falling shut as his other hand trailed down to the tent in his pants. Slipping under the waistband and it took only a few pumps of his painfully hard cock with the scent of you filling his senses before he was cumming. Having to bite down into the palm of the hand still fragrant with your scent to muffle his groan.
Nanami licked over his own palm, wishing desperately it was your skin he was tasting but the traces of your warmth left etched into his hand were enough to have him half hard again. Overcome by need as he was, there was still a rational part of his brain that warned him you could exit that washroom at any moment and if you caught him in the act like this, it would ruin all of his progress.
He rose from the bed, heading down the hall to the other bathroom so he could shower and change out of these cum soaked pajama bottoms. The sound of the water running telling him you were also in the shower and he let his mind drift as it pleased throughout his morning routine.
He stood under the steady on-pour of the warm shower, tugging at his hard cock at the fantasies of you being there with him instead of showering on your own in the other bathroom. His cum being washed down the drain and he had to switch the water to ice cold to ensure he wouldn't get hard again as he thought of that morning.
He hadn't been anticipating you to get so close so soon. So close he could count each of your lashes that lay against the enticing apple of your cheek. The feel of your soft curves against him. The smell of you. The way you'd fallen asleep cuddled up to him as though you fully trusted him and the thought of you putting yourself at his mercy like that had him hardening again despite the cold water.
Nanami came a third and then a fourth time at the mere memory of you willingly being so close to him, biting into the crook of his arm with his forehead pressed against the shower wall. And it was a good thing he did too for when he returned to the room showered and dressed for the day, there you were. Sitting at the end of the bed with your wet hair making your shirt stick to your skin.
The smell of your shampoo and body wash filling the room with your sweet scent. If he hadn't just jerked his cock raw in the shower, he would have gotten hard again and you would have seen the tent in his pants. He didn't want to scare you off. Not when you had just started to let yourself near him.
Nanami grabbed your discarded hair towel and came to stand before you. It seemed he couldn’t resist pushing a little to see how much he could get out of you. Your nearness from just this morning stoking the fire and making him want more.
"May I?" He asked and you glanced down to the towel in his hands. He could practically feel your reluctance but you gave him a little nod in assent.
He stood behind you, carefully pulling all your hair back. Allowing his fingers to brush the sides of your delicate neck. Your skin still slightly damp from the shower and so soft he was glad he was standing behind you for no amount of jerking off could keep him from getting hard again at that.
He brushed the towel though the ends of your hair gently, retrieving your hairbrush from the dresser and working that carefully as he could through your hair to untangle it. Swallowing dryly as droplets of water from your hair turned the white shirt you wore nearly translucent, allowing him a peak at the skin he'd never seen before.
"Do you want me to blow dry your hair?" He asked, purposely bending down low to murmur the words right against your hair. Getting a deep inhale of your sweet smell before you jumped up off the bed. Eyes locked on your figure, the dormant beast within him awakened by your proximity ready to pounce at the skittish little thing you were.
"No, I'll just let it airdry. Thanks." You muttered, quickly making your way out of the room.
Nanami raised the damp towel to his face, taking in a deep inhale. His cock leaking in his pants as your scent filled his senses. His hand trailed down to the bulge in his pants as he opened his mouth and sucked the towel in. Sucking the damp material desperately for the drops of water that had soaked in from your hair as he worked his hand over the thick line of his cock through his pants.
Breathing growing heavy and chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. So turned on he barely needed any stimulation at all. Nearly tearing through the towel as he bit down into it when he came.
He used the wet towel to clean himself up before discarding it into the laundry basket along with his pants and changed into a new pair. He couldn't wait until you let him touch you. It would be worth every painstaking ounce of patience he had shown.
He washed his hands in the adjoined bathroom and splashed some water onto his face before he went to join your downstairs. The smell of coffee telling him you had set the pot to brew before he caught sight of you in the kitchen in front of the coffee machine.
The scene so achingly domestic it made him feel as though his heart was being squeezed. How he had longed for this simple domesticity with you. Seeing you putter about the house made it feel like home.
He knew what he had done was wrong but no one, not even you could bring him to regret it.
"Coffee?" You asked as you turned with the freshly brewed pot in one hand and the mug he usually used in the other.
"Please." He answered, wandering closer. Hands twitching at his sides, wishing he could grab you by the hips and pull you back into him. Hug you as you brewed coffee for both of you. Kiss your neck and smell your hair as you poured it out.
For now all he could do was watch and want. Akin to how it had been before he brought you home. This longing was familiar to him. It was having you, even little pieces of you like you'd given to him this morning that he didn't know how to react to.
You held out his mug carefully and he allowed his fingers to subtly trail over yours as he took it from you. It was these little stolen touches and the sight of you in his home that had sustained him all these months. He felt like a ravenous beast being given mere scraps but devouring you wasn't the goal. You were something meant to be savoured. The longer you let the hunger build, the harder it would be on you to satiate it. He'd take you on every surface in this house.
He smiled at you as he thanked you, wondering what sort of face you would make if you had any idea about the thoughts that ran through his head. What you would do if you knew about the beast that lurked just beneath the surface.
"What would you like to eat?" He asked as he lifted the mug to take a sip. It was the same brew he had been drinking for years but somehow it tasted infinitely sweeter when made by you.
"Not sure, anything." You answered, sitting down in the chair across from his. He hoped he had managed to keep the wistfulness off his face. This morning had gotten his hopes up. He wished that you had taken things a step further and sat down in his lap instead.
"Does an omelet sound good?" He asked and you nodded.
He rose fluidly from his seat, donning the apron he kept folded in the bottom kitchen drawer before starting on prepping your omelets. Skin at the nape of his neck prickling with the sensation of your eyes on him.
There was no doubt you found him attractive. He'd caught that look in your eyes at times before you averted them. You particularly seemed to like it when he rolled up the sleeves on his shirts to his forearms while he cooked or loosened his tie by crooking in his finger and tugging at the loop. Both actions he tried to do around you without making it obvious they were for your benefit. Loving the way your eyes would fix on him and the way your pupils would dilate if he was lucky enough to be close enough to see.
When your omelet was ready he set it down before you. Having to resist the urge to press a kiss to your cheek as an outlet of the affection that welled up in him when you sweetly expressed your gratitude for the breakfast.
He sat down across from you with his own breakfast. The sound of your chopsticks against the plate the only sound as you both had your breakfast. Your shared meals had always been silent but now the silence was peaceful instead of tense as it had been when you had first been brought home. Your fear near palpable in the air and then there was that horrid bit of time you had refused to eat at all.
Despite being driven mad at the sight of you withering away before him, he had kept his cool. Kneeling down before you one day after returning from work with his hands concealed beneath his back as he asked whether you had eaten that day. You had shaken your head and averted your gaze until he brought his hands forward to present what he held. Revealing the nasogastric tube he had picked up on his way home and calmly asking you to please not make him resort to such extreme measures.
You had started eating again that very night. That had been your last act of rebellion. Nanami had expected more fight. He always knew you were sweet, it was part of why he’d fallen for you but he’d been prepared for screaming and violence as you adjusted. Ready to standby and let you vent your anger and outrage at his more unorthodox methods of courting.
Perhaps because you’d been so level headed and withdrawn the adjustment process was taking longer. Some aggression would have gotten the fight out of your system, now that denial was manifesting in other ways. He would be as patient as you needed, he was quite enjoying your latest scheming anyhow. It was pushing you right into his arms, where you belonged.
You finished before him, surprising him by sitting there sipping on your coffee though you'd already finished your meal. He had gotten used to you eating quickly and escaping back to your room to avoid having to spend time with him. It warmed his chest to see you sit there keeping him company as he finished eating. It had been a very long time since someone had done that for him.
When he was done, he picked up his own half-filled cup of coffee. Not quite ready to end the moment of peace between you both. You rose from the table, collecting your own plate and his and taking them to the sink.
"Darling I'll do that, don't worry about it." Nanami said, wishing you would just come sit again.
"You cooked, I can clean." You answered.
Showing kindness had to to be seen as progress. Getting close to him was difficult, it filled you with nerves and made your heart pound as though you had just run a marathon. There had to be other ways to convince him you were coming around and make him trust you so you wouldn't have to rely on contact alone.
You didn't even hear him get up but suddenly he was behind you, the hard lines of his body pressed against your back as he leant down with both arms caging you against the sink. Taking the cup you held in your hands gently as you froze.
"Let me. You don't need to lift a finger as long as I'm around." He murmured, deep voice speaking quietly against your ear making your heart take off again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut and remind yourself it was just loneliness and you didn't actually want this man.
You shifted over to the side and he moved his arm immediately. Intimidation and force weren't his way. He wasn't that kind of monster and how could he ever even convince himself let alone you that he loved you if he hurt you.
He wanted you to feel safe with him, to feel safe in this house he wanted so badly for you to call your home. It had taken him a lot of effort and patience to get you to build the sort of trust where you could pull something like you did this morning without fearing his reaction.
He watched from the corner of his eye as you returned to the table and sat down again, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. You were going out of your way to spend time with him, this was shaping up to be the best day off he had in years, maybe ever.
When he was done washing the dishes and had wiped down the counters he turned towards you.
"Should we watch some TV?" He asked and you nodded, following after him into the living room. He grabbed the remote and sat down on the couch, waiting with baited breath to see where you would sit. The usual armchair so as to ensure he couldn't sit near you or would you be so bold as to come share the couch with him.
You were caught in indecision. On one hand it would show trust and progress to sit next to him but on the other hand you doubted your heart could take much more. He just made you so nervous. You wished it wasn't a holiday and that he was at work so you could be alone.
You knew you'd been standing too long, this shouldn't be so hard. You slept in the same bed next to him every night for god's sake. Steeling your nerves, you walked over and sat down on the very end of the couch he was seated on.
You could see him look at you from the corner of your eye but kept your gaze fixed on the television where a news reporter was talking about the frustrating levels of traffic commuters were experiencing. Interviewing various professionals and hearing them complain about how much of their day was wasted simply sitting in traffic and how little time they had to themselves in the weekdays.
That had been you just a couple months ago. Working long days and getting home so late you had only enough time for a rushed dinner and some television before you were off to bed. Exhausted to the bone but somehow unable to sleep on time.
Wanting to extend those few hours of freedom to do as you wished just a little longer even if it was at the cost of not getting enough of that much needed sleep. Reading just another chapter or watching just one more episode until it was no longer possible to get a full 8 hours.
The vicious cycle continuing night after night until the weekend finally came along and you were so tired and overstimulated from your workweek, all you wanted to do was stay home and rest. Spending your precious days off sleeping in and lazing around in your pajamas. Weeks and months had passed you by just like that.
Tiring as it had been, it had been your life. You realized now when it was taken from you that you hadn't exercised that freedom to go where you wanted nearly enough. You wished you had made more of your free time, stopped by that coffee shop you always looked in on your way to work. Taken that class you never got around to signing up for. Gone out to read at a park and felt the wind and sun against your skin.
The longing for the freedom you had lost made you all the more determined to do what was necessary to gain it back. This time you wouldn't take it for granted.
You hadn't ever tried to run, it seemed futile while that anklet was on you. Nothing you had done could get it off. You'd even tried to cut it off once and ended up slashing a deep gash across your lower leg as the knife slipped in your desperation. You had tried to cover it up, staunch the blood flow with a towel you had tossed in the bathroom garbage, throwing some scrunched up tissues overtop to hide it from view. Finding some bandages and having to use multiple to cover the length of the cut.
You had tried to look inconspicuous when Nanami got home that night, trying to hide your wince as each step seemed to tug at the torn skin. But Nanami had seen the bloody towel in the garbage and confronted you. Those sharp eyes immediately noticing the way you seemed to favour one side over the other as you walked away from him and the glistening patch near the hem of your pants where the bandages had bled through.
He had blocked your path, asking where you had gotten hurt and to let him help. He may have phrased it as a question but the way he stood before you made it quite obvious refusing wasn't an option. You remembered the way his gaze had darkened and jaw had clenched when you finally relented and let him take a look at the cut.
A shiver running down your spine even now just at the memory though he had been gentle as he could possibly be while dressing your wound. In a quiet, restrained voice asking that you promise never to do something so dangerous again. The rage in those hazel eyes at seeing you hurt burned into your memory and keeping you from risking doing something like that again.
"Are you cold?" The deep voice of your captor knocked you out of your thoughts and you glanced over to see him looking at you. He must have seen you shiver and gotten the wrong idea.
"Uh- yes." You mumbled, not really wanting to have to explain what the real reason behind you shivering was.
Nanami took the throw draped over the back of the couch and carefully laid it across your lap. Smiling faintly as you thanked him and returning to his seat on the other side of the couch but your words stopped him before he sat down again.
"We can share if you'd like." You offered, holding up a corner of the throw. Clearly inviting him to sit next to you.
That longing propelling you to overcome your cowardice if doing so brought you any closer to your freedom. The freedom you couldn't ever allow yourself to stop chasing.
Nanami sat down next to you carefully, close enough that his shoulder just brushed yours and he could feel the heat emanating off your body. You draped some of the throw over him, your arm brushing against his chest and hair tickling his nose as you leant over him slightly to do so.
When you settled back again the line of your arm now pressed against his. Your hand that rested on your leg beneath the throw, mere inches from his own. He would have to move only slightly to grab onto your hand but he resisted the urge. Merely enjoying your proximity that he normally only got to experience during the few hours of night when you lay next to him. The need for sleep stealing into that little time he had you so close.
Those first few weeks when he had brought you home when you would lay at the edge of the bed unable to sleep he hadn't slept either. His reasons were very different than your own. While you lay tense and terrified of what he may do, he was relishing in how close you were. In finally having you in his bed and in his home as he had only fantasized about for so long. At that time you barely ever looked at him so you hadn't seen the dark circles forming beneath his eyes mirroring your own.
He'd only been able to keep that up so long before his body started forcing sleep on him. Little did you know though he still woke long before you and would simply watch you as you slept. Taking the chance to admire you from up close and to look his fill the way he couldn't when you were awake. You came before everything, even the base need for sleep.
To have you so close willingly was a rare treat he would savour every moment of. He had been unable to pay attention to a single thing that news reporter was droning on about from the moment you had sat down on the couch. Every sense of his completely focused on your being.
He would do anything and everything necessary to keep you with him, to bring you ever closer. No amount of nearness would ever be enough, it was impossible for him to ever get his fill but he would gratefully take everything you gave. Patiently collecting every crumb and morsel of you that was offered for as long as you both lived and he would never let you go.
Plot: You knew, better then anyone else in the palace, that Jafar was a treacherous, two-faced, power hungry scoundrel. You saw it. But being the daughter of the Sultans runaway mistress, the one who used him for riches then left you both- you knew you wouldn't be believed.
But your mother left you, inadvertently maybe, with at least one piece of advice for surviving court; Your beauty can be a powerful tool.
Warnings: Age difference (Reader is in her early-mid 20's), an illicit affair or two, sexual themes, smut, etc.
It didn't matter how good you were growing up, how honest or how helpful or how good in your studies- there always would be a shame following you. A dark cloud not too far behind. The memory the city had of your mother; the woman who charmed the sultan, took everything the sweet, generous, albeit naive older man would give her, and then disappeared in the night. That scandal would always follow you. Your father loved you, your sister loved you, but the people would always be expecting you to do something terrible. They would be waiting to say 'I always knew the girl had a darkness in her. Just like her mother', until you died.
So when you clocked Jafar as the deceitful, ambitious man he is- you were afraid to tell your father. He always treated you well, just like he did his legitimate daughter Jasmine, so it would have killed you to see him doubt you. And you knew he would. You told your little sister, she always trusted you, but what good did that do? No one was going to listen to the child princess, either.
But you couldn't allow Jafar to hurt your father, or the city. You had to do something. Which is how you came to the plan you had. The worst part is it came directly out of your mother's play book. So you suppose, in the end, you did exactly what the people thought you would. In the end you are, like her. At least they'll never know.
At least it's for them. At least, thats what you tell yourself.
~
Amidst a comforting, orgasmic fog, you can admit there are a couple things about Jafar that you like. Genuinly. Even if he is a fowl, wicked, manipulative crook. Which he is, he so very much is, but...
Still. He has nice fingers. Very, very nice, indeed.
And, admittedly, you don't find him unnattractive. He's handsome, in a strict, dramatic kind of way. Very powerful eyes, and a sharp jaw he loved you to touch; graze your knuckles, or lips along gently in a way that coaxes him to relax.
And, conveniently, makes him putty in your hands.
... you wonder only a little bit, if your mother ever felt this way. Even a fleeting softness for your father, once. But quickly put away the thought. You're not like her- mostly.
In an attempt to push that thought even further away from you, you slip out from under the imported silks and climb into Jafar's lap. He was reading a scroll, using a quill to make sharp, inky corrections here and there, but you and your thighs on either side of his hips distract him immediately. Shame, he's handsome focused on actual work.
Oh well. These things must be done- that's why you're here, at all. And the terrible, lascivious smirk that brightens up his face is good too, anyway.
"My dear... "
You slide your arms over his shoulders and around the back of his neck, leaning your naked chest against his. "Jafar," You drawl, leaning close, tilting your head to the side, feeling his breath on your lips. "... pay attention."
Because he's a cruel man, he doesn't put the scroll away immediately. Merely smirks; a heady dose of mischief in the look now. "What ever can I do for you, kitten?"
At this, you have to fight against a genuine grin. "My wish is your command, is it?" He certainly is attentive.
"Of course, princess~ I live to serve the... royal family."
"Oh I do believe we've established that fact." With warm, half lidded eyes, your lips just a breath away from his and your fingertips drawing soft hearts on his back you lower your voice to him. "... actually, there is one thing I was hoping you would do for me."
He loves it when you ask him for things, as if you're a helpless girl and you need him. Its cute he thinks that, honestly. For gods sake you're a bastard- you've been in and out of the palace since you were 16. Still, if feeding his ego is what works then you'll happily play the part. "Hmmm? Oh? What could I possibly do for you, my dear?"
Your lips give a pretty pout. And you know this part will make him think, so you tactfully glide your fingers down his chest... over his belly, even further. "... new garnet encrusted shoes, from that village near the pyramids?"
He narrows his eyes at you. His brain works so fast. "Thats almost 2 months travel."
The moment of clarity does not last long, not with your hand slowly stroking his heated cock; throbbing now against your fingers. With just a little attention to the soft underside, his brain turns into lustful mush. "Please, darling?.. Father has forbid me from leaving the palace now, and I know I can trust you... So intelligent and well-travelled... I couldn't trust anyone else."
A throaty groan escapes him and you almost lose concentration. He's so ravishing. "-fine, fine, whatever." For a second, you're forlorn about him being gone for so long- but thats the point, you have to remind yourself. Get him away from court and from your sweet naive father as often and for as long as you can until Jasmine becomes Sultana. Then she'll... banish him... and if that thought makes your heart sink, you ignore it. Suddenly he captures your wrist in his tight grip, you give a gasp, and direct your attention back to his sharp gaze and his filthy smirk. "But my dear, if I'm going to be away from you for so long, you'll have to make it worth my effort. Hm?.. Little princess?"
You both know you aren't a princess. Not unless your father legitimises you which is unlikely- but that doesnt stop Jafar from calling you that.
A little smirk slips across your mouth directed back at him. "... of course. I think it's time for me to show my appreciation. Hmmm?"
If it's even possible, Jafar's smirk seems to grows larger. More intrigued. His eyes which are an apt wine red, bigger and even more heated on you. "... how so?"
With a final, boiling hot glance into those dark claret eyes, you wordlessly get to work. While one hand oh so gently grazes his jaw, smelling of the expensive pomegranate lotions and oils you fill your dresser with for no other reason then to make him travel for weeks and weeks on end, your other traces down over his shoulder... his chest... further again. Your lips and your tongue connect with his throat, too, kissing and sucking marks into his skin that no one will ever bare witness to and if they did, would never know it was you who had your hot mouth on him. Your tongue. Your teeth.
When his breathing becomes heavy from your ministrations; your lips and your tongue on his skin, your hand slowly pumping his throbbing cock, you slip your hand away and replace it with your dripping heat. You sink down carefully on him, pressing your lips to his so you don't whine or whimper at the feeling. You accept his greedy tongue without hesitation.
... you are more like your mother then you ever wanted to be.
A woman is standing on your porch, her white hair whirling in the snowy wind outside. A man was hunting her, you couldn’t just leave her out there could you?
Word count: ~1400 sry it’s not as long, I wrote this literally in one sitting with a migraine lmao anything for fem Gojo 🫡
Yandere fem! Gojo x fem reader!
Dark content! Don’t like, don’t read!
A woman stood on your porch, shaking and obviously disheveled. You thought about all the warnings in your town, never, ever, under any circumstances, let anyone in after midnight until dawn breaks over the sky. And judging by the pitch black sky, you could confidently say that warning was well in place.
You looked at her through the peephole and felt your breath tremble in your chest. She was beautiful, a beauty that would have heads whipping back around just to get another glance. You couldn’t just leave her out there, not when you knew just what some men in the town would do to have such a pretty wife. Her white hair whipped viciously in the wind as she hunched in on herself to escape the biting cold.
But your hand only steadied on the doorknob after she spoke.
“Please let me in,” Her voice quivered and you swore you could see tears in her bright blue eyes. Was it possible for eyes to be so blue?
“There was a man, I don’t know where he is,” She turned to look over her shoulder like she was terrified of what could be lurking in the snowy forest behind her. She wouldn’t survive out there in only her thin shirt and pants that didn’t even cover her ankles.
So, with a quivering breath, you unlocked and opened the door, everything in you screaming your village’s warning in your head.
Never let someone into your house after midnight, it is only pretending.
She was stepping over the threshold of your door, cold skin brushing past yours as she moved past you.
“Thank you,” She said and you felt your heartbeat jump in your throat as you locked the door back. God only knows where the man she mentioned was and you didn’t want to risk him coming across your lonely cabin unlocked.
The lock seemed to click loudly in your ears like you were the one trapped now.
“I– it’s no problem,” You forced a smile onto your face and looked now at the woman before you.
She shouldn’t be alive. Her clothes were too light for the snowstorm outside and her feet were bare. Yet she showed no signs of frostbite, she wasn’t even shivering anymore.
Dread pooled heavily in your belly but it was too late for regrets now, you’d made your bed and now you had to lie in it.
“We girls have to look out for each other right,” She nodded along, her eyes wide and unnerving as those big, blue hues seared into you.
“Yeah we do,” Her voice was quiet, like if she spoke any louder something else would come out.
“I’m Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru if you want,” And had your nerves not been such a mess, you might’ve felt something other than sick at her sweet smile.
You never gave your name, you didn’t want her to remember you once she left.
You sat in front of the fireplace with Gojo at your side, pressing her side against yours no matter how much you scooted down the couch until you were boxed between her and the armrest. You tried to tell yourself it was only to warm up, she had to be freezing from being out there, afterall, her skin was freezing where it was pressed against what was bare of your skin.
She talked on and on and it seemed you couldn’t cling to anything she said, your head felt uncharacteristically slow, like trying to grasp onto every individual thought through honey.
Even so, you were on edge, especially from how hard Gojo was trying to weedle your name from you.
“It’s only right I know the name of my savior,” She spoke close to you and you could practically feel her breath on your neck. She was too close, far too close, but your body refused to move away from her.
“Once I get back to my home, I’ll ensure you want for nothing for the rest of your life.”
Finally, through the sludge of your thoughts, you gave her a fake name. She didn’t look as happy to finally know your ‘name’ as you thought she would. Her eyes burned through you, like she could see the way your heart sped up with your lie. You clenched your hands into fists and tried to reorient yourself. You needed to lie down.
“I’m gonna head to bed, Ms. Gojo,” You said, your voice coming out breathy and you cringed at how it sounded. She grabbed your hand and on reflex on contact with her frozen fingers, you jerked away.
“You can sleep here or the spare bedroom in the back.” You muttered, your head feeling too light to think about how rude you sounded.
Despite this, she followed you to your room, your heart beating painfully in your chest and you could practically feel it in your throat.
Her eyes never looked away from you.
Nausea tried to choke its way up your throat but you swallowed it down with burning eyes.
What have you done? You should’ve just listened to your village’s warnings, you should’ve listened when your mother said your soft heart would be the death of you.
You still haven’t heard footsteps leading away from your door.
You can practically see it, that woman standing there, her silky white hair flowing down her back as she stood outside your wooden door frame. You could nearly feel her piercing gaze still burning through you.
You slid down the door and laid your head in your hands, a migraine already forming above your eyebrows. You took steady breaths, in– out. In, – out.
Your hand slid to the cold floorboards beneath you and you could’ve screamed as you felt something silky slide beneath your hand. Your stomach lurched and you scrambled from the door just in time to see right below your door where it didn’t meet the floor– was a single blue eye staring right at you.
You really did scream then, a shriek tearing itself from your throat as you watched the blue eye pull away, taking with it the white hair that crept beneath your door. Your heartbeat hammered so hard it made you sick and even now you still couldn’t hear any damn footsteps. She was still there, it was still there.
She called your name, sweet and practically mocking. Your real name.
A sob tried to choke up from your stomach as you pressed yourself against your bed, the cold floorboards biting into your skin.
Then, there was scratching. Deep and grating as she scratched at the wood that separated the two of you.
“Go away!” You screamed, ears deafening with the rush of your blood through them.
“Go away,” Your voice trailed off, weak and terrified and a horrible cooing noise came from the other side, in no way muffled by the barrier. It was spoken like she was right beside you.
“Don’t be so scared, I won’t hurt you.” Then the nails came to drag down your door once again, this time they nearly seemed frantic– desperate to reach you.
“Open the door, baby,” She called again, voice dripping with honey and anger. She didn’t want to ask again. But you wouldn’t open that door if it was the last thing you did. Everything would be over if you gave into the demon’s persuasion.
A loud thud made you nearly jump out of your skin.
Bang!
Bang!
Each hit harder everytime until you could see tiny chunks of your door flying off the hinges. You wanted to cry and with every thud, you came closer and closer as the fear made you nauseous.
Your head felt murky and you could barely sift through what you should do before there was one last, final bang.
She stood in the darkness of your hallway, the fireplace evidently having gone out to leave the house in darkness.
“I’m sorry,” You cried, your eyes screwing shut as tears burned down your face and your bottom lip shook. You were going to die and it was your own damn fault. You and your soft heart.
Hands, cold and gentle, cradled your face like you were something fragile that would fall apart at the slightest pressure. Soft lips pressed against yours, gentle at first. But the longer you stayed still and didn’t reciprocate, the harder she pressed. It was only when a cry of pain escaped you did she pull away, face flushed and a horribly warm smile on her face as she looked at you.
“Oh my love, how long I’ve waited for you to let me in.”
inspired from that one scene from the film The House That Jack Built (tho reader gets a better outcome, all things considered)
Kishibe x female!reader
Warnings: noncon, smut, fingering, groping, kidnapping, captivity, sexual harassment, mentions of gore, mentions of death
Word Count: 13.9k
The bar that you worked at just so happened to be situated close to the main office of the devil hunters, and as a result, a fair amount of your clientele were those same people who worked in Public Safety, usually the ones that were just getting off work and were in desperate need of a drink after spending a work shift witnessing countless horrors.
Despite your job as a bartender not coming close in terms of what they went through, you saw a lot just from witnessing the state they were in when you served them: the exhaustion that had seeped into their bones after they would sit down and the far-off gazes as they relived whatever fresh hell they'd been through before downing the rest of their drinks before calling you for another. Sometimes there were even entrails that covered them which you needed to clean up; it was only possible to do so once you held a spare rag up to your mouth and nose while keeping the dustpan as far away from you as possible before you deposited the remains in the dumpster at the back, after which you would quickly scurry away, eager to escape the awful smell.
It'd be easy to be annoyed with them for things like that, but you kept yourself in line by reminding yourself that they were the ones killing the devils so people like you could live in relative safety. If the price for that was sometimes needing to clean up something gross, you could live with that.
And certainly the last thing the exhausted hunters needed was someone nagging at them about a mess.
You got used to the changing faces, of those who either left or those who had died in the line of duty. More often than not, they simply stopped coming in with no explanation, which was a good indication that they were dead, as the ones who would quit usually ended up telling you their life story: why they got into devil hunting, what had happened since that point and why they now wanted to leave. You would listen – they didn't really want much engagement from you, just for someone to hear them out. At the end of it, the hunter would usually slam down their glass and declare that they were going to quit before heading out the door and you never saw them again.
Though there were often times when they would softly put down their empty glass and decide that they needed to keep with it despite the hardship. The irony that followed was that sometimes those hunters who decided to keep going didn't come in after that.
Even though you could make a good guess as to what had likely happened, you preferred to tell yourself that they had changed their mind immediately after and decided to quit after all. Even if it was a lie you were telling yourself, it was nicer to imagine a happy outcome for them, a future that they could – and should – have had.
And the faces at the bar continued to change.
Except for one.
Kishibe.
During the entirety of your year and a half of working at the bar, the biggest constant was the man who called himself the strongest devil hunter and who always, always came in for a drink once his shift had finally ended.
He was an odd one, to say the least. In terms of looks, he stood out almost immediately from the other devils hunters in large part due to his blonde hair and the recognizable scar that ran from the corner of his mouth and across his left cheek. And in terms of what he was like as a person, from what you could see, his monotone way of speaking and his quiet demeanor was deemed to be unsettling to most who interacted with him. He was also constantly drinking, as on more than one occasion you saw him take a swig of that flask he always carried around right as he entered the bar and then again when he left. That, combined with how much he drank at what became his designated seat at the bar, left you thinking that the fact that his liver was still functioning at his age was nothing short of a miracle.
Speaking to him had been weird at first. You had assumed that he would be like the other hunters who came in on their own, the ones who were in a bad place and were trying to drown out the turbulent feelings inside of them by way of harsh liquor. Those ones didn't want to talk; they just wanted a drink and for you to leave them alone until they needed a refill. With your experience with other hunters and the general vibe that surrounded Kishibe, it seemed like the safest choice to keep your distance from him.
But despite your attempts at creating that space, Kishibe turned out to be eager for a chat whenever you were around.
Though the topics the two of you could discuss were limited, you slowly found yourself warming up to the veteran hunter the more you spoke with him. While it was hard to tell what Kishibe was feeling in general, the fact that he continued to seek out your company told you that, at the very least, he found you to be tolerable. Tolerable enough to ask you questions that were guaranteed to get him boring answers. You doubted that he cared much about what your day had been like before you arrived for your shift or what the results of your off-day shopping trips were; he must have just wanted to hear something about how the average person's normal day went, one that was free of hunting and killing.
Until he told you to stop or he didn't bother to ask anymore, you were happy to oblige.
At that moment, Kishibe was on his third drink, staring down at the dark liquid within the glass with the same blank expression that was always on his face. Just like the other devil hunters that were currently in the bar, he was finished for the day and was getting a few drinks before he'd head home. Though with Kishibe it definitely wouldn't be just a few, and it wouldn't end with whatever he got at the bar.
It was relatively quiet at the moment with the small bits of chatter throughout the room being contained to the tables where the other patrons sat, so there was no need to raise your voice when you spoke to him.
“Kill a lot of devils today?” you asked.
Kishibe glanced up at you before returning his gaze to the glass.
“No, nothing like that today,” he said.
“Oh? Then were you training new recruits again?”
“Some of that,” he answered plainly, “but today I was mostly dealing with paperwork.”
“Ah.”
While you weren't inclined to say paperwork was the worst thing to deal with considering that the man killed monsters for a living, you could easily see how trudging through documents and filling out papers could be an exceptionally mind numbing experience.
“I guess it's too bad that being the best devil hunter doesn't exempt you from the boring parts of the job,” you said.
He shrugged.
“It's something that inevitably comes with any sort of job,” Kishibe told you, raising the glass to his lips after.
You leaned your elbow on the surface of the bar as you asked “did the training with your students go well at least?”
“No,” he answered bluntly.
“Oh. Why not?”
Kishibe waited to reply as he took another swig of his drink before saying “they're motivated by money, which is the worst reason to join Public Safety. Not only that, but they're hopelessly weak as well, which makes training them even more of a waste of time.”
“But the point of training them is to make them stronger, right?” you asked.
“There's no point because they're not cut out for it.”
“Is that you saying that they're not crazy enough?”
“It is.”
“Ah.”
You'd heard him say that before. About how the only people who can make it as devil hunters are the crazy ones and anyone who was too sane was little more than cannon fodder. His words.
Whether or not what he was saying was correct wasn't something you could really judge, but considering how long he'd been at that job, it was possible that there just might be some truth to what he was saying, though you doubted anyone else at Public Safety would be willing to agree with his statement out loud.
“Well,” you began, “maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe they just need a bit more time.”
“Doubtful. You either are cut out for devil hunting or you aren't. And these ones aren't,” said Kishibe.
He took a cursory glance across the room before he added “they'd be more suitable for a job like this one.”
Then he looked back to you as he asked “you need any new workers?”
You shook your head.
“Unfortunately we're all good on staff, so I don't think we can take any of them,” you answered jokingly.
“I see.”
He brought the glass back up to his lips as he said “then I guess they'll be dead soon enough.”
Kishibe spoke those words in that same monotone voice, while part of you wanted to believe that he was just a fan of dark humor, you knew him well enough by now to know that he meant what he said. Whoever these students were, they must have been massively under-performing for his opinion of them to be so low.
“Have you tried talking to them about that?” you then asked.
“I have. They just see it as motivation to prove me wrong,” he said, “I'm not going to bother if all it does it encourage stupid behavior.”
“And you can't speak to anyone higher up about your concerns?”
“Very few apply to work at Public Safety in general, so they'll accept anyone without question.”
“They're that desperate for hunters?”
Kishibe nodded.
You smiled, taking the opportunity to joke as you said “maybe I should apply then, especially if they don't care much about someone's background. It'd probably pay better than what I get from this place.”
In response to that, Kishibe gave you a long, hard look, his glass held in midair as he stared at you. Though his expression remained neutral, you got the sense that he wasn't amused.
“…. I was joking,” you said, “I know that I'm not up for killing devils.”
Just like that, the slight bit of tension that had fallen on the two of you dissipated. and the air felt light once again.
“That's good,” he told you, bringing the glass to his lips before saying “you're smart in knowing your limits.”
“Unlike your students?”
“Yeah.”
With one last swig, he drained what was in the glass. The veteran devil hunter then set it down closer to you, silently asking you for a refill. You obliged, grabbing the nearby bottle you had opened for him earlier and filling up the glass until it reached the brim.
As you put the bottle back on the shelf and while he lifted the glass to his lips once again, you commented “it is nice that you're trying to look out for them.”
He stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Even though what you're saying doesn't seem all that kind, you must really be worried about them if you're that insistent that they need to quit,” you clarified, “I can only imagine how tired you are of seeing those white grave markers multiplying every time you go to that graveyard.”
The expression on his face remained blank after you said that, which, of course, made it hard to read just how he felt about your statement. But when he averted his gaze and took that sip of his newly poured drink, you took it to mean that you were correct.
Kishibe was pretty open, after all. If you were wrong, he would have said so. You felt certain of that.
“But maybe don't give up on them just yet,” you added, “like I said, they might surprise you.”
“….. I'll consider it.”
You smiled at that. That was as big of a win that you could get when it came to Kishibe, who no doubt had an issue of being stubborn due to age.
You really hoped those students would be able to prove him wrong.
There wasn't any more time to dwell on the matter, however, as a few more men walked in at that moment and took their seats at the bar, waiting to be served. The small moment that you had to chat with your most regular customer had come to a close, at least for now. Even if Kishibe spent a lot when he visited the bar, you would get in trouble if you ignored other customers in favor of speaking with him.
Even if this wasn't the greatest job in the world, you didn't want to face the terror of unemployment.
…. Was there such a thing as an unemployment devil? You'd need to ask Kishibe later, if you remembered.
It picked up quite a bit after that, with a more steady stream of patrons filling the seats and orders for drinks flowing in. As such, you were too busy to continue any form of conversation with Kishibe; the most words that were shared between the two of you were your affirmations when he called you over to refill his glass. And the hours would manage to pass in that way.
It was the same way it usually went. Another busy night where your feet would definitely be aching by the time you got back home.
It was near the end of your shift when Kishibe called you over to ask for his bill, settling up before he headed out for the night, presumably to wherever it was he called 'home'. The time he did so was as usual, as was the rather high bill he had racked up during the hours he'd spent chugging down drinks. He barely reacted to the high amount you had printed out for him, his face staying as blank as always as he fished out the amount needed from his wallet.
“Heading home?” you asked him.
“In a bit,” he said, “need to take care of something first.”
“I hope it's not work related; I doubt you'd be in any condition for late night devil murdering.”
“Even if it was, I'd be fine.”
You raised your eyebrows at that, but otherwise said nothing to disagree with him. If he noticed that reaction of yours, he chose not to comment on it as he handed you what he owed.
“You get off soon, don't you?” he then asked.
“Yeah, why?” you asked back absentmindedly as you placed the money in the register.
“Did you walk or drive here?”
“Oh, I usually walk,” you answered, “my place isn't too far away.”
“Will you be alright heading home by yourself at this hour?”
You smiled as you nodded at him, answering “I'll be fine. I've walked that route dozens of times and I've never had any issues. Plus, there's hardly anyone around this time of night.”
Kishibe nodded slowly once you answered, and while he spoke again just to say “that's good, then”, he said it more to himself than to you.
Shutting the register, you looked back to him as you asked “but what about you? Are you walking? I feel like it'd be dangerous if you got behind the wheel of a car right now.”
“I usually walk, too,” he told you, “both the business I need to take care of and my place are close enough.”
“I see. Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”
“Same to you.”
With nothing else to be said, Kishibe began to make his way out of the bar, remaining surprisingly steady as he walked to the door. You weren't sure if his tolerance for alcohol was something else, or if he was just really really good at pretending to be sober.
As he walked out, you noted the reactions of the other devil hunters as he passed them by. A majority of the ones who were still present stiffened when he did so, conversations turning quiet until he was out of earshot. Some were clearly nervous with him being so close. And then there were others who looked at him, trying to make eye contact so they could have some small bit of a good interaction in wishing him well for the night by way of a brief farewell.
Kishibe didn't pay attention to any of them, and when the door shut behind him, the visible tension in the nervous hunters lessened instantly, a collective sigh of relief hitting them.
Seeing that sort of reaction was another thing that had felt weird at first.
Despite the fact that he was constantly drinking, none of the other devil hunters regarded Kishibe as being an old drunken fool as you might have expected. Conversations would quiet down once he walked through the doors, anyone who had begun to get a little too rowdy cutting it out the moment they realized he was there. Kishibe wasn't interested in interacting with any of them, however. Once he had sat down, his only focus was on downing the many drinks he would order while he made conversation with you.
Those sorts of reactions were probably due to the respect that the other devil hunters felt for him. But it was respect mixed with something else:
Fear.
As you only ever saw Kishibe within the small space of the bar, you had no idea what he was truly like when he was out hunting devils. While you could make a guess of how strong he was based on his general aura and the way the others regarded him, you were limited to him when he was in that seat chugging down drinks like no tomorrow.
There was only time where you had gotten an inkling as to what he was capable of, and you hadn't even been around to witness it.
A while back and on a rare night where Kishibe was absent, a devil hunter who was relatively new to the job and had only recently started going to the bar with his colleagues made an impulsive decision when he was tipsy and had smacked you on the ass as you were walking by his table. The hit had been so hard and unexpected that you ended up dropping a tray full of drinks, and the glasses you'd been carrying shattered on the floor alongside the spilled liquor.
When you told the guy to get out he scoffed at you, and at that moment there wasn't much you could do other than clean up the mess while one of your coworkers got a refill for the orders that had spilled. By the time all of that was done, the group the guy had been with had left, one of the others paying for their bill while the guy snickered at you. That, along with the way your boss had berated you after for spilling the drinks despite your explanation, had caused that night to be a bad one for you. It was bad enough that it was still affecting you the next day, leaving you somber through your shift.
Kishibe noticed your mood almost immediately, and after some prying on his part, you told him what had happened. After getting the full story, his expression stayed level as it always did, and it made you sad as you thought that he didn't care about what had happened to you.
But then he asked you for a description of the man who had hit you as well as the ones who had accompanied him. That had surprised you, but you still gave him the information he wanted. Kishibe left soon after and much earlier in the night than he usually did.
Truthfully, you hadn't expected much to come from any of it. Maybe at most the bar owner would receive a letter of apology and some small bit of compensation for the spilled drinks as well as the group promising to be on better behavior. And even then, you weren't really interested in any of that. All you had really wanted was for someone to agree that the entire situation was unfair for you. Kishibe hadn't even done that, so your somber mood remained even after your shift ended.
You weren't expecting to see the guy who'd hit you so soon after that.
A few days later, shortly after you had come in, the devil hunter who had so brazenly smacked you entered the bar and gave you a formal apology, promising that he would never bother you again. The entire thing was very short, as he didn't bother making any excuses or tried to blame his actions on the alcohol. He simply apologized, left an envelope full of money as compensation for what you had dropped and then exited the bar.
Despite his apology to you, he couldn't look you in the face, and there was a distinct haunted look in his gaze as he stared at anything other than you, as though he was terrified of making direct eye contact with you.
Neither that man or the group he had been with ever entered the bar again, and when Kishibe came in that same evening, he didn't mention anything. You didn't ask about it, either. Whatever it was that he had done to get that result, you decided that you didn't want to know just in case the answer was something that would keep you up at night. Even if it wasn't something gruesome or morally questionable, it was simply easier to pretend that the incident hadn't happened.
At least those previously rowdy devil hunters were a bit more well-behaved from that point onward.
Late on the next Tuesday night, you found yourself alone as you were the last one clocking out, and therefore the one who needed to do the final clean up and shutting down of the bar. Luckily for you, Tuesdays were always slow and there was never much of a mess to take care of, so despite the late hour you were in good spirits as you exited the building, locking the door at the back while you thought of what you were going to do from here.
Your thoughts went to a new video game you had bought, having only had enough time to play a little bit before you had started your shift that day. While normally you may have felt the current time was too late for something like that, you had tomorrow off, so it didn't feel like a horrible idea to stay up late on your computer. It was very likely that all of your day off would be dedicated to playing the game.
But you were jumping too far ahead. You hadn't even gotten to tomorrow yet, you told yourself. Focus on getting home right now.
You walked along quiet streets as you did just that, at one point zipping your hoodie fully up as the chill of the night air was more uncomfortable than you were expecting. At least you wouldn't need to be out here long, though you still bemoaned the fact that you had forgotten to bring your gloves with you. The only solution you had was stuffing your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep them warm.
As was expected for how late it was, the street you were walking on was virtually abandoned. Any people that you did catch sight of could only be seen on adjacent streets that you passed, all of whom were minding their own business as they hastily made their way to wherever they needed to be. You were in the same camp as they were, and your pace increased as all you wanted in that moment was to get home where you'd be able to relax and unwind.
One walkway you passed by was particularly loud, and you caught sight of a group of businessmen who were chatting with one another. From what you could see, they had been out drinking. Socializing for work, more than likely.
So it wasn't a surprise when you rounded the corner of a turn you needed to make and you saw what at first appeared to be another businessman in the distance, moving about oddly as he walked towards you. With the distance between the two of you and the fact that you had only spared him a brief glance at first, you assumed that he was one with that group, making his way back for one reason or another.
But as the person was walking in your direction, you were compelled to look up at him as he came closer.
It wasn't a businessman at all.
And as the picture before you became clearer as the person continued walking towards you, your pace slowed before you came to a stop as recognition turned to confusion upon realizing just who it was on the path before you.
Your most loyal regular at the bar, Kishibe, was out on the sidewalk by himself. His height, hair and the scar on his face made it easy to identify him. That he was out at night wasn't much of a surprise, but what made you confused was the fact that he was stumbling, barely able to keep himself upright as he went forward. The only explanation for him to move in such a way was that he was drunk.
You were in disbelief. How was that even possible? You'd seen that man consume enough alcohol that it should've been fatal and it had never affected him, yet now he wasn't even able to walk in a straight line – just how fucking much did he have to drink to get that way?
When he nearly fell to the pavement was when you snapped out of your stupor.
Holy fuck
“Kishibe!”
You ran over to where he was leaning against an adjacent wall, lightly placing your hand on his back as a way to help steady him while you asked “are you alright?”
He turned his head to look at you, and after a moment, he shook his head.
“Let me lean on you,” he mumbled.
Taking hold of one of his arms, you did your best to keep him standing as he got his feet firmly beneath him.
“Do you need to go to the hospital? I can call an ambulance,” you said.
“Hospital? No,” he answered, “just get me back to my apartment.”
“I don't know where that is.”
By that point he had his arm over your shoulder, though he was swaying far more than you were comfortable with. Still shaken by how he had nearly fallen moments ago and worried that he could still end up tumbling onto the pavement, you ended up grabbing ahold of his waist in an attempt to keep him steady. Although if he was really going to fall, you had a bad feeling that he would just end up taking you down with him.
You really hoped that wouldn't happen; ending your night by having one or both of you getting a concussion was something you wanted to avoid.
Kishibe had reached a hand into his pocket and had pulled out his cellphone, his fingers seemingly not cooperating when he attempted to put in his passcode. After a few failed attempts at unlocking it, the screen turned brighter as he got in and within a few moments, he had typed in an address and held it in front you.
Your mind blanked before you took the phone from him with an “okay.”
Looking at the screen, you found that the location put in was only fifteen minutes away from where you currently stood. That wasn't too bad, but as you glanced over again to Kishibe and the state he was in, you worried that the short walk would be too much for him right now. If he lost his balance again you didn't think you had the strength to keep him up on your own, and if he passed out there was no way you'd be able to drag him to his apartment. Plus if he hurt himself you'd probably need to call an ambulance, which would be a whole other mess that would likely see you waiting in the hospital for hours.
“Are you sure you want to walk there? With how you're doing right now, I think it might be better if we call a ride for you,” you told him.
“No.”
“But the idea of you walking seems dangerous.”
“You really think anyone will let me into their car with how I am now?” he countered.
Ah. That was true. Kishibe was only still standing up right now because you were supporting him. And not only was he unsteady, but he also reeked of alcohol. Any driver would see him and refuse to let him in out of fear that they'd need to clean his vomit out of their car afterwards.
So the only option was to walk him back?
….. This sucks.
It was late, you'd been on your feet for hours, your fingers were still numb from the cold and you were tired. You'd been looking forward to your plans for when you got back and yet you needed to be the one to deal with this?
Despite saying none of that out loud, Kishibe seemed perceptive to what you were thinking as he said “I know it's inconvenient, but I'd appreciate it if you would help me out.”
“…..”
…. Well now you felt like an asshole.
Kishibe needed help and you were trying to get out of it, and now he was aware that you were trying to get out of it. The fact that he needed to push to get you to help him wasn't good at all. And all of it was just so you could go home and play a video game?
Why were you like this?
With that, you forced a smile onto your face as you said “of course. It's only a short walk, right?”
He nodded.
Readjusting the hold you had on him, you kept the smile on your face as you continued with “plus, maybe the walking will help you feel better.”
“Maybe.”
As the you began to walk him back, heading in the direction that was directly opposite of your apartment, you told yourself that this could always be worse. Kishibe wasn't being loud or aggressive, which you appreciated. While you were stuck with his arm around you and the pace at which you traveled was painfully slow, it would have been a lot worse if he'd insisted that you help him while also being belligerent about it.
At least he was a pretty chill drunk, even if the way he wobbled in your grip still made your stress levels rise every time it felt like he was about to lose his balance.
“If you need to stop to rest a little, we can do that. Just let me know, okay?”
He nodded after you told him that, but with the vacant stare in his eye, you wondered how much he had really heard.
Oh well.
As the two of you went by the path you had passed previously which was full of the businessmen, you found that it was empty now. Either they were getting more drinks somewhere else or they were going home. Though as you took one last glance in that general area, you caught sight of a tiny bit of movement at the base of the building, your eyebrows furrowing until you realized what you were looking at.
“Gross,” you commented.
“Hm?”
“Cockroach.”
Kishibe hummed in response.
“I'm surprised it's still alive in this weather,” you said, “I would've thought the cold would have gotten to it.”
“They're good at finding ways to survive.”
It was good that he was speaking to you. As you were still worried at the thought of him passing out while in the middle of the way home, you figured that continuing to speak would probably be best; whatever you could think of as long as he stayed lucid enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
With the sight of the bug from moments ago, at least there was an easy topic of conversation to have.
“Is there a cockroach devil?” you asked.
He closed his eyes as he nodded slowly.
“We don't have control of it, though,” he then told you.
“Good thing I'm not afraid of cockroaches, then. Wouldn't want to make your enemies stronger,” you said.
You paused as you readjusted the grip you had around his waist before you added “I am pretty scared of spiders, though. Is that an issue?”
“Public Safety has control of the spider devil. If anything, I would encourage you to be more afraid of spiders. That way she'll be stronger,” answered Kishibe.
“Okay,” you answered, laughing a little as you said “though maybe I don't want to be too afraid of them. It'd be a different kind of issue if she became too tough and decided to run off to do her own thing, right?”
He shook his head.
“That's impossible.”
“Why's that?”
“Because if she tried that, I'd hunt her down and take her out,” he said simply.
“You're sure you'd be successful with that?” you asked.
“Of course. I'm the strongest devil hunter there is,” Kishibe told you.
“That might be true,” you said, “but if a devil were to come for you as you are right now, I'm worried you wouldn't be able to do much.”
“I'd handle it.”
“…. You can't even walk on your own.”
“I'd handle it,” he insisted.
Despite his tone, you were skeptical. After all, you were the only one keeping him upright at that moment. Still, it was better to let it go. Just treat it like you're at work, you told yourself. Work that you wouldn't be getting paid for, but work nonetheless. Even though this wasn't the way you wanted your night to end, reminding yourself that you had the day off tomorrow helped in making you feel better about it.
Walking to Kishibe's apartment took about an extra eight minutes due to his slow pace, and there was only so much you could do to get him to move faster while still being polite about it. If only you had the strength to pick him up and carry him, it could've gone so much faster.
At the very least it would have made for a funny scene, at least from an outsider's perspective.
You did your best to stay positive, and you continued to ask him questions as a way to make sure he was still conscious as you escorted him back home. Though after your conversation about the spider devil, Kishibe only answered in grunts or hums, but at least he was still able to answer you. That was a good thing, at least. As long as he was conscious and able to continue walking, that was good.
When you caught sight of Kishibe's apartment building and noted the tall flights of stairs that decorated the sides, you frowned. And when you asked him which floor you needed to get him too, you groaned internally when he answered that his unit was on the fourth floor.
Of course you needed to get him up several flights of stairs.
You didn't want to think about just how long it took the two of you to get up the stairs, nor did you want to think about the times you needed to help him lift up his own feet so he could ascend those stairs with you. By the time you reached the door of his unit, you felt well and truly exhausted from the ordeal, and you wanted nothing more than for him to unlock the door and go inside so you could go back home.
Except Kishibe handed you the key to his door.
Of course it couldn't be that simple.
You couldn't even get him to go in on his own, as when you turned the handle and opened the door to his unit, his weight suddenly bore down on you, pushing you into the darkened apartment with him following after and only managing to regain his footing once he was inside. Even then he stumbled backwards after, his arm hitting the open door and forcing it back shut when he fell against it.
“Are you okay?!”
All you heard in response to your worried question was a grunt that seemed like he was trying to indicate 'yes', which lessened your panic a little, though it'd be nicer to be able to see him. In the pitch dark of the apartment, you reached for a nearby wall as you searched for a light switch. After several moments of blindly pressing your hand all over the surface of the wall, you found it, and you needed to shut your eyes once the overhead light turned on as you needed to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Once you were able to see, what greeted you was what appeared to be a sparsely decorated apartment that only seemed rather ominous as the rest of the lights within the space had also been left off. From what you were able to see in your current position, you caught sight of a darkened living room area, and beyond that, a sliding door that opened up to small balcony. There was a couch in the living room, right? You could just leave him there, couldn't you?
Please let me leave now, you silently begged.
“Could you get me to the bedroom?”
Despite how he mumbled his words, you heard him clearly. Looking back to where you'd left him, you were dismayed to find that he was still drunk out of his mind. He still had his back leaning against the surface of the door, and it seemed that was all that was keeping him upright. With the way he was blocking the way out, it meant you'd need to move him, and more than likely you'd need to escort him further, this time to his bedroom.
Once you saw him at your next shift at the bar, you'd need to ask what exactly he'd done to get himself that fucked up. That, or maybe he could just give you a really nice tip for all of the effort spent getting him home safe.
But you made yourself smile at him as you said “sure. Just hang on for a second, okay? I'm gonna turn on some lights so the two of us aren't stumbling around in the dark. I'll be right back.”
A pair of hazy looking dark eyes glanced in your direction after you spoke, and he nodded in understanding. With that, you placed both his phone and the keys to the apartment on a small table that sat in the small hallway before slipping off your shoes and making your way further into his unit. It took a few tries, more than a few moments of turning on light switches before you hastily turned them off once you saw that you had entered a room that you didn't need, but not long after you found what you were looking for: the bed Kishibe needed to pass out on top of.
The bedroom matched the apartment in that it looked rather plain, almost like Kishibe didn't spend a lot of time here. It made sense; with how much he must have on his plate as a devil hunter he probably didn't have the time to decorate his living space. He just needed some place where he could eat, clean himself and then sleep soundly at the end of each day before he returned to his work.
The queen sized bed did look – and feel – rather nice, you felt compelled to note. He must have spent a lot on that to have a good night's sleep.
With your goal of finding where you needed to take him achieved, you returned to the main hallway to retrieve Kishibe. He was where you left him, once more looking dazed as he stared down at the floor beneath his feet. Your gaze traveled down as well, and when you saw the tied up laces of his shoes, you came to a realization.
“Are you going to be able to untie those?” you asked, pointing down at them.
“Probably not.”
At this point you weren't able to be annoyed; it wasn't entirely unexpected given his current state. Just another thing you needed to take care of for him, but at least it wouldn't be as difficult as helping him stumble his way up the stairs.
Do a few things more to help him and then you can go home.
Kneeling down on the surface of the entryway, you reached for the laces of one of his shoes. He didn't say anything as you undid the knots. When you asked him to lift his foot up once they were loosened, he did as you told him and you pulled the shoe off of him, placing it down and out of the way before repeating the process with the other. Again, he said nothing, but you felt those blank brown eyes staring down at you the entire time.
After getting his shoes off, you gently grabbed him by his shoulder and moved him away from the door. Immediately he was back to leaning on you, this time with his nose in your hair. You could feel his breath on your head, followed by the sound of his voice as he let out a content hum.
This was so fucking awkward. He definitely owed you after this.
“Kishibe,” you began, “just a little more walking and then you can rest, okay?”
He grunted again as you once again led him while his weight bore down on you.
With his face still in your hair, you heard the moment when, in the middle of making your way to the bedroom, he inhaled deeply. The sound of that and the feeling forced you to come to a stop.
And after letting out a short breath, you continued to walk with him.
He's drunk, you told yourself. Extremely shit-faced, over the top blackout drunk. He probably wouldn't remember any of this come tomorrow, and while you weren't enjoying this, it'd be better to keep your relationship with him positive. You didn't need to mention any of the creepy parts; just how much you had done to help him.
He'd better be appreciative.
A feeling relief washed over you when you finally got him into the bedroom, the bed only a few feet away.
Pulling forward, you saw this as the final hurdle. Just get him onto the bed. That was all you needed to do, and then you could go home and collapse onto your own not-as-comfortable mattress that had been all you could afford.
You tried to move him so he would lay down on his back, and then you could gently let him go. You didn't really want to bother trying to get him actually into the bed; that seemed like it would take even more time and would be even more of a hassle. No, just getting him on there was enough.
“Alright, here we go.”
Kishibe was supposed to let go as you maneuvered him in front of you. Once he felt the edge of the mattress against the back of his legs, he should've understood that he was safe to fall backwards and that he needed to let you go.
But the arm he had wrapped around your back stayed in place, and when gravity finally won the battle and began to pull him down, you were brought down with him.
A short cry escaped your lips as you ended up on the bed with him, pressed tightly to his chest with your lower half hanging off the mattress.
Goddammit
“I'm sorry,” you began, “I didn't mean for that to happen.”
“Hm.”
You weren't sure of what to make of the way he hummed when you said that, largely because all you wanted in that moment was to get off of him. Bracing your arm on the mattress, you pushed your weight onto it as you tried to get off of him and escape the awkward situation.
Only the arm he had around you wasn't budging.
When a few moments passed with you desperately trying to leave the bed only to have your efforts thwarted by the surprisingly strong grip he had on you, you looked back to him as you asked “Kishibe, could you let me go? I can't get up.”
“Why do you want to get up?” he asked.
“Um, because I need to go home?” you said, surprised that you even needed to clarify that.
“It's late; you should spend the night here.”
“That's okay. I'm sure your couch is comfortable, but I'd really rather sleep in my own bed,” you told him.
“Who said anything about you sleeping on the couch?”
His question made you blink.
“I…. Where else would I…..”
Your question trailed off as you glanced at the mattress you were currently on top of, and a sick feeling began to form in your stomach. A feeling that grew stronger with every moment that passed with his arm still wrapped around you.
“Kishibe, please let go of me,” you said.
“Why?”
“Because I don't like this and I want to go home.”
Again you tried to pull yourself up, and again, Kishibe kept you pressed to his chest.
“Please,” you said again, “I don't want to spend the night-”
You were cut off when you felt his other hand move. Instead of joining the one wrapped around your back, his free hand went down to cup your ass as he blatantly groped you.
Shock and revulsion shot through you and when you struggled again against the grip he had on you, it was with far more force and desperation.
“Let go of me,” you said, “now!”
Again, he only hummed in response.
But that time he actually did let you go, removing his arms and letting them fall to the mattress.
You pulled off immediately, getting to your feet and taking a few steps back in record time, breathing heavily as the brief burst of adrenaline was still running through you. Kishibe remained splayed out on the bed with his legs still hanging off the side. He was still staring at you, however.
After taking in another deep breath, you spoke.
“Rest up and get sober,” you began, “and then when we see each other next, I'd appreciate it if you could come to the bar with an apology.”
You then turned and walked out the door, deciding to leave it at that. Though you noted to yourself that he may very well not remember what you had said or what had happened. As you had told yourself earlier, he was drunk. But even then you didn't intend to back down on this. Even if he didn't remember, at the very least you deserved some form of the word 'sorry' for how he had held you down and tried to coerce you into sleeping with him. Regardless of if his actions were caused by the alcohol, you needed that after he had ignored you the first few times you had told him to let you go.
As long as you could get that, you'd be happy to go back to how your relationship was before, with him as a customer and with the solid surface of the bar separating the two of you.
Returning to the entryway, you quickly collected your shoes and slipped them back on before you prepared yourself for the walk back home. It was late, but you'd probably be okay as long as you hurried back. You probably didn't have the energy for your game, as you'd thought before, so it'd be straight to bed for you once you returned.
As long as you could get a good night's sleep, that was enough.
With that thought in mind, you stood before the front door as you reached for the handle, turned and then pulled it.
The door didn't budge.
“Huh?”
You tried again, turning it again and pulling, just to have the same thing happen.
Maybe I'm turning the handle wrong, you briefly thought, only for your brows to furrow when your attempts to turn the handle upwards resulted in nothing. That wasn't right. Clearly the way you had been trying was correct.
So why wasn't the door opening?
Taking your gaze away from the handle, you noticed something that you had missed earlier: in place of a bolt or a chain on the upper part of the door, there was instead a lock which required a key to open it. Was that really what was keeping you in here?
… It's okay, you told yourself. You left the keys on the table right behind you. One of those would open it.
Your attempts to quell the bad feeling brewing within you were unsuccessful, as when you turned to reach for the keys that you had placed only minutes earlier, you found that they were gone.
….. Were they still there when you had gone back to get Kishibe after turning on the lights? You couldn't remember.
Speaking of Kishibe, he would be the reason why they were gone, right? Thinking back to when you had been searching for the bedroom, that would have given him more than enough time to take the keys and then lock the door. When else would he have been able to do that?
But why would he do that?
“What exactly am I supposed to apologize for?”
Hearing his voice made you jump, and you turned your gaze towards where Kishibe had emerged from as he strolled out into the hallway at a leisurely pace, ending with him leaning against the wall. His large black coat was gone, leaving him clad in his white shirt, black pants and his tie that he had loosened during the time that you had left him alone. In one hand he held his flask, and he unscrewed it to take a long gulp of whatever was in there before he looked back to you, those same blank eyes staring straight at you as he waited for an answer to his question.
He didn't seem quite so inebriated now. He was walking just fine and his gaze was zeroed in on you.
“…. Kishibe, why is the door locked?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you stood still within the entryway.
“Because I locked it,” he answered plainly.
“Wh-why?”
“Because I don't want you going out.”
The veteran hunter took another swig from his flask before adding “it's dangerous out there, especially at night. You're much safer inside with me.”
“That's….. That's nice, but I'd really rather go home,” you said.
“Why? Is your cheap apartment really that great?”
His comment made you blink in surprise – you'd never mentioned it, so how in the world did he know anything about your apartment?
“I'd feel a lot more comfortable if I could go back there, yeah,” you told him, “so could you please unlock the door? I don't want to be here any longer.”
Kishibe hummed.
“That's too bad. Because I've decided that you'll be staying here from now on,” he declared.
“….. You can't do that.”
“I just did.”
Kishibe stood to his full height, and that was enough to make you back away until you found yourself pressed against the door, holding your hands to your chest as your heart rate increased. What was happening? Why was this happening? He seemed fine now, despite the state he'd been in – had all of that been a ruse just to get you into his apartment?
Why?
“I don't understand.”
Your words came out hushed, barely able to come out around the blockage in your throat.
“You don't? I would've thought understanding it would be pretty simple,” he said.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between you swiftly and with ease as he told you “you're not leaving. I'm keeping you here so you'll be safe.”
“Safe? From what?”
“Everything.”
Kishibe was standing directly before you now, looming over you as he continued with “humans, devils and whatever else; you won't need to fear them anymore. Nothing will come for you as long as you have me.”
He reached a hand up in a move that looked as though he intended to cup your cheek as he said “all I ask in return is that you do as I say.”
The rough skin of his hands made contact with your cheek as you said nothing in response.
You needed this to be a joke.
You needed to him to take a few more moments for comedic effect before he revealed that he wasn't being serious, be that in the form of the words “just kidding” or “gotcha” or something that told you that the reality of the situation wasn't what you thought it was. Even though this entire scenario was completely abnormal for Kishibe, a man who always seemed serious, you needed him to tell you that it was just a fucked up prank, that he just wanted to mess with you.
It didn't feel in line with the man you had grown to know, but you needed that to be the case.
Except Kishibe never said such a thing to you, instead keeping his hand on your cheek and softly rubbing against your skin, his calloused touch feeling surprisingly gentle.
His thumb then moved across your bottom lip and that sent a jolt down your spine.
You pushed his hand away as you said “this isn't funny.”
“It's not supposed to be,” he told you.
You shook your head.
“You're being weird and you're playing a prank or something stupid like that, but I don't like this and I want to leave.”
Kishibe only hummed at that, which only left you feeling worse.
“Stop this, please,” you said, desperation tinting your voice as you said “the joke has gone on long enough and I want you to let me out.”
But he still didn't say anything further. All he did was stare down at you with a look on his face that you couldn't read while his presence was quickly becoming overwhelming.
Seconds were ticking by and nothing was happening. Kishibe was still standing over you. He wasn't backing away like you wanted. He wasn't agreeing with your assessment that this entire thing was a joke, like you wanted. And he wasn't producing the key and letting you out of what had become a deeply uncomfortable and unsettling scene with him.
The longer it went on, the harder it became for you to breathe, all the while the sick feeling that surrounded you only grew more intense as you were slowly forced to accept the reality of the situation:
He wasn't joking.
And you were helpless.
How long of a period had passed before he spoke again, you had no idea. Too wrapped up in your thoughts and growing fear, it easily could have been minutes or seconds. But you were snapped out of your thoughts instantly when you heard his low voice once more.
“You didn't answer my question earlier: what am I supposed to apologize for?” he asked again.
“For…… For touching me. Grabbing me like you did in the bedroom,” you hesitantly answered.
“I don't see why I should apologize for that.”
Kishibe tilted his head slightly as he continued with “you belong to me now. Why shouldn't I be able to do whatever I want with you?”
His words settled in your mind, your pulse beating rapidly as your mind raced.
Then you screamed.
As loud and as hard as your vocal chords were capable of, you screamed for help as he continued to loom over you. It wasn't brave or noble, but there was nothing else you could do to fight him off. You were too weak for anything like that.
Screaming was all you could do.
The screams for help that tore out of your throat come out with such ferocity that you managed to be surprised initially. Never in your life could you remember the volume of your own voice reaching such levels, but you'd also never been in a situation like this one. You turned away from him in order to pound at the door as you continue to call for help, hoping that the extra noise will help to get someone's attention – be it of one of his neighbors or a passerby on the street – just as long as it's someone who'll call the police. If you can just get one person to inform the authorities that something's wrong, then you'll get out of this.
Just one person with a phone and an idea of where you were. And maybe, just maybe, a group of well-intentioned people who might be brave enough to burst down the door to get to you. Even if Kishibe was strong, he could only take so many opponents at once, right?
Your throat was aching and the way you slammed your hand against the door was became weaker as the pain that shot through your hand was beginning to become too much, but you kept up with it. You needed help. You needed someone to know what was happening before Kishibe shut you up.
…. Before he shut you up?
It hit you then: through all that time of you desperately making a racket and being as loud as possible, Kishibe hadn't once made any effort to keep you quiet.
He still wasn't.
With tears still rolling down your cheeks and your hand still balled up in a fist on the door, the cries that had so forcefully come from your mouth came to an end as you glanced back at him.
He was taking another swig from that flask. Completely at ease and unbothered at your desperate attempt to seek help. You watched in disbelief as his Adam's apple bobbed as the harsh liquor ran down his throat before he pulled the flask away from his lips, just as leisurely screwing the cap back on before the metal container once again disappeared into his pocket.
Kishibe looked at you.
Then he glanced up at the ceiling.
You followed his gaze, and while you didn't see anything odd with the plain white surface above you two, you noticed that something was amiss:
Someone above you was blasting music loud enough that you could almost make out the lyrics of the song that was playing.
…. It hadn't been that way when you first entered the apartment. Nor had it been the case when you had first tried to leave. You would have heard that, would have noted something like that immediately. Which only meant…..
The realization sank in as you looked up to the ceiling in horror, coming to the conclusion that in the middle of your screaming and banging, the person directly above you had heard, and made the decision to play the loud music in an attempt to drown you out so they didn't need to listen anymore.
They didn't want to help you.
“It doesn't sound like they're going to do anything,” Kishibe said to you, drawing your attention back to him.
“Doesn't seem like anyone else is going to bother, either,” he added, reaching back up with his hand so he could place it on the door by your head as he leaned in closer.
“You're alone in this.”
The cold words he spoke sent a shudder through you, and you shook your head as if denying what he had just told you would somehow change the way things were going.
“Why?” you asked, your voice wavering as you continued “why won't anyone help me?”
“Because nothing bad is happening to them, so they don't care,” he answered plainly, “maybe if they knew you, it might bother them. But bad things happen to complete strangers everyday; just because this time it's a bit closer in proximity doesn't make them care any more or any less.”
His other hand reached up to play with your hair, almost absentmindedly running his fingers through the strands as he continued to speak.
“As long as they're in the clear at the end of the day, that's all that matters to them,” he said.
“That's…. That's not true,” you sniffled, “someone out there wants to help me. They need to.”
Kishibe shrugged.
“Maybe some would,” he said, “but clearly those people aren't in earshot right now.”
The callousness of his words sent your emotions into a frenzy once again. Tears began running down your cheeks again while you sobbed. Only you weren't screaming this time, nor were you banging against the door. What was the point? If no one would help you even after hearing that, then why bother?
All you could do was cry about it like the pathetic weakling you were.
With your forehead pressed against the door, you weren't able to see any of what Kishibe was doing. You knew he was still behind you – it was hard to ignore how closely he was looming over you – but he had yet to do anything to you.
Would he even do anything?
As soon as you thought that, you remembered how he had groped you in the bedroom, how he had held you down against him even when you told him to let you go. In that same moment, you felt one of his hands around your waist and his fingers slipping beneath the layers of your hoodie and shirt so he could caress your skin directly. His other hand found its way to your jaw so he could direct your attention towards him once again.
Of course he'd do something further. Why had you even considered that he might not?
The blank brown eyes you had grown to know met yours, and despite the futility of the situation, you still made yourself put out one last plea. Even if he was odd, he was still human at the end of the day, and therefore, he needed to have some sort of empathy, right?
“I won't go to the police – I won't say anything about this to anyone,” you told him, “so please, reconsider.”
“No.”
His answer to your request was swift; he didn't think twice about it nor was he moved in any way.
Kishibe had made up his mind and there was no changing it.
Just as swiftly as his answer, he then angled your jaw upward so he could claim your lips in a kiss.
The taste on his tongue was harsh, a cocktail of the liquor he'd consumed over the course of the evening. The strongest remnant of alcohol that flooded your senses was most likely whatever he had just gulped down from his flask. The stubble around his lips brushed against your skin and the sensation made you jump, though with the hand he still had on your jaw, you again were unable to escape his grasp. There was nowhere for you to go; he had you pressed firmly between the front door and himself. The only bit of freedom he allowed you were the ways in which you trembled beneath his grasp, how you shook and shivered while his free hand continued to caress the skin beneath your shirt.
The whimpers you made in response to his touch were swallowed up by his mouth as he prolonged what was certainly a show of mockery for an action that was meant to be tender.
Did he really need to torment you in this way?
When he pulled away from the kiss he did so with a clear plan in mind, as his hands immediately went to the zipper of your hoodie and forced it down before pulling the entire piece of clothing off of you, taking your bag with it. Both items were tossed behind him and he quickly placed his hands on you once again, moving them all over as he explored your body through your clothes. Even through your clothing at acted as a sort of barrier, the feeling of his calloused palms stroking up your sides and down your spine were enough to make you jolt in place and force whimpers out of your mouth.
He moved in closer, pressing up directly behind you which allowed you to feel the growing bulge in his pants.
When he shifted his focus in order to grope your breasts through the material of your shirt, you placed your head so it was pressed against the door again, still sobbing. All you wanted in that moment was to become one with the door; merge into it so he couldn't do this to you anymore. You didn't care what happened to you, just as long as this would stop.
Instead of that mercy, Kishibe continued to toy with your chest. Then he began to speak.
“I'm a bit surprised you let it get as far as what happened in the bedroom,” he told you, “you really had no issue going into a man's apartment that you'd never been to before? There was nothing that raised any alarm for you until I had you on top of me?”
You whimpered.
“You're too naive; that's why you won't be leaving. If I don't step in you'll get yourself killed.”
His thumb and pointer finger found your nipple through your clothes, and when he began to focus on that by pinching it between his fingers, a strangled noise emerged from your throat.
Kishibe felt the need to comment on that.
“Do you like being played with from behind? You're more responsive to this than I was expecting,” he said.
“N-no….”
Your shirt remained as it was only for a few more moments before he decided that he wanted to feel your bare skin, resulting in him ripping your shirt down the neckline and pulling your bra down with it. With skin now on skin, it was instantly noticeable when the shrieks that left your mouth as his fingers tweaked your nipples sounded less horrified and more wanton.
“You really do like this,” Kishibe said, a hint of pleasure in his voice.
“No,” you said again.
Instead of acknowledging your denial, his hot breath hit your ear as he said “I was thinking it'd probably take a little bit to get you wet enough so fucking you would be a bit more comfortable, but I probably don't need to wait all that long, do I? If those noises of yours are any indication, I bet I could slide into you right now.”
“No!”
Even with you raising your voice, he still wasn't listening.
His hands crept around your waist again before they found the zipper of your pants. The sound of it zipping open seemed loud within the space of your head, but it didn't compare to the feeling of his thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before he shoved your panties down past your thighs, taking your pants with them.
With your most intimate area now exposed, you shuddered as the chill air attacked your flesh. When Kishibe began to palm and knead your ass, you whimpered. Your lower half was then pulled away from the door and he moved his knee between your thighs so he could spread your legs wider. You could feel how heavy his gaze was on your cunt. Heat filled your cheeks while you bit down on your lip, the tears that were still flowing now a bit more angry.
It was humiliating. He had you pressed against the surface of the door, your palms laying flat against it while your ass was sticking out. You didn't want to merge with the door anymore; you wanted to curl up and die.
But even that wasn't an option for you.
A pair of thick fingers found their way to your cunt, caressing your folds in a way that felt experimental before his middle finger slipped between them, the tip shallowly ghosting along your heated entrance which caused you to shudder. The wetness that was beginning to drip out of you easily coated his fingertip, much to his amusement.
“Thought so,” he said.
“No.”
It wasn't true. You weren't enjoying this; just because he forced such a reaction out of you didn't mean that you wanted it. He knew that but he was just insisting on being as horrible as possible. How could you have not realized what he was really like until now?
“Hard to argue when I have the evidence smeared on my fingers, don't you think?” Kishibe asked you. He pushed his digits into your folds for emphasis, and the squelching sounds of him dipping into your wet heat only made you more ashamed. His free hand then returned to your chest while he fingered your cunt.
His fingers were sliding along your walls easier than you would have liked, and the feeling of his blunt nails inside of you as he stretched you out caused several shudders to run through your body, becoming intense enough that you needed to bite down hard on your lip to try and keep down the shameful whining noises that wanted to emerge because of it.
He must have noticed the way you were trying to keep it in as he way he was fingering you suddenly became rougher, with him curling his fingers while searching for the sensitive spots inside of you. He moved in closer as well, breathing huskily into your ear as he spoke to you.
“I wish I'd done this sooner,” Kishibe whispered, “if I had known how eager you would be for me, I wouldn't have wasted so much time before.”
No insults or retorts left your mouth that time; you were too busy trying to be as quiet as possible as all you could focus on was the awful affect he was having on you while his fingers continued to slide in and out. He was being rougher now because he wanted to humiliate you even more – that was the only explanation. To have you moan like you were enjoying this as a way to torment you further. As if the way your wetness was dripping down the inside of your thighs wasn't enough, turning cold once it hit the open air and sending more shudders running through you.
When his other hand came down to toy with your clit, you ended up biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You hated how it felt good. How the feeling of his fingers rubbing hard circles against that nub had your legs shaking and your insides burning. Kishibe intended for you to cum on his fingers, and you hated that he would more than likely be successful in that goal.
Why aren't you stopping him?
…..It hit you that you hadn't really tried much to get away from him. Aside from the way you ordered him to let go and how you pushed his hand away, there was very little in terms of actual resistance on your part.
But what could you even do? How would a civilian fight off an expert devil hunter?
Even though you couldn't imagine any scenario where you on your own managed to get away from him, maybe the way you had done nothing other than cry through your assault had been enough to reaffirm in his mind that you needed to be kept away from the world. For your safety, he said.
You wondered if he was actually delusional enough to believe that excuse.
That train of thought was derailed completely when you felt Kishibe's fingers brush against a spot within you in tandem with the fingers on your clit, and your vision whited out as he forced out the reaction he'd been looking for.
You came on his fingers.
Your face and ears were burning and you could taste iron from your bleeding lip as you tried your hardest to keep in those awful moans.
Mercifully, he didn't continue fingering you when you came. Instead he seemed to savor the way you were clenching down around him as you heard him let out a breathy sigh into your ear. When you had finished, he stayed like that, his chest pressed against your back and the fingers on your clit giving you one last stroke before he pulled away.
After another moment, he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands finally leaving those sensitive, intimate areas. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you had a horrible idea of what was going to follow.
You heard his belt being undone. And then his zipper, which was hastily followed by the sound of his pants being shoved down.
And then his hands were back around your waist, pulling you back into the position he had forced you into earlier that you had unconsciously moved from as your body unintentionally moved back to press against the door, still trying to escape him even though you knew there was no point.
He spread open the lips of your pussy, guiding his cock to your entrance after. Your breath hitched when you felt him rub the tip against your folds, gathering up your wetness on the end of his length just as he'd done with his fingers earlier.
He shoved himself in.
And once he was inside of you, he only took a brief moment to savor it, letting out a small sigh of contentment as he finally got to experience the feeling of the walls of your cunt clamping down on his dick.
“Good girl,” Kishibe mumbled.
Your heart was in your throat, however, as despite knowing where things would be heading once he had begun kissing and groping you earlier, the feeling of his dick being sheathed halfway into you just cemented that this was real: he'd locked you in his apartment and claimed you as his own. And if he continued to get his way from this point, then this would be the rest of your life, one spent as a plaything to Kishibe's whims.
Only for a moment was that thought able to run through your head, however, because soon after he began to fuck you in earnest. Despite your successful resistance before, you weren't able to keep quiet once you felt him moving against you, his cock plugging up your hole again and again as his hips thrust hard against your ass. The sobs that were mixed with your moans bounced against the surface of the door, filling up the small, empty space of the entryway.
If only you were loud enough to drown out the noises Kishibe was making.
For a man who was normally so quiet, there was no attempt on his part to keep in his own groans and grunts. Still positioned with his mouth by your ear as he kept you close to him, you heard everything. His own harsh breathing mixed with small curses that left his lips in time with the cock that was slamming into you. Swears that were changed out for praise of you when his fingers returned to your clit to stimulate you further, causing your sensitive walls to quiver around him.
The words “good girl” were said to you many times during that period.
Your back quickly became sticky with sweat, your own body heat combined with that of Kishibe making it get to the point that it was becoming too much. The feeling of cold from when you had been outside was forgotten as it felt like every part of you was burning up while his body was engulfing your own as he used you to chase his pleasure. You wanted him away from you, just a little bit.
With a shaking hand, you pressed it against his chest as best you could with the awkward position, silently trying to communicate that want of yours.
Kishibe grabbed your wrist and forced it back against the doorway, keeping his hand gripped firmly around your arm and refusing to let go even when you tried to wiggle out of it. Eventually you were forced to give up on getting what you wanted.
Just like everything else tonight.
With the brute strength he was displaying as he pounded into your pussy and how sensitive you still were from your previous orgasm, you found yourself cumming much faster the second time. Your pussy walls clenched hard around him once again, but this time Kishibe made the choice to fuck you through it.
That only prolonged your orgasm, and the longer it went on, the more strained your moans became as your throat was thoroughly raw by that point.
Once your pleasure faded, you were left waiting for Kishibe to finish. Something you didn't need to wait long for as soon enough you felt him stiffen within you, and then his swollen cock erupted, long white streams of cum painting your insides as he kept himself pressed close, wanting to be as deep within you as possible. He groaned loudly as he did so, and his hand returned to your breast to knead the soft flesh once more as his own orgasm began to ebb away, his cock still twitching in the aftermath.
The entryway was now filled with the breathless gasps of the both of you and the scent of sweat and sex.
Once his cock had softened, Kishibe released the grip he had on you and pulled his dick out of your pussy, and finally, he stepped away from you.
Immediately you slumped down, exhausted, your front half still pressed against the door while you sat in the entryway, your pants still around your ankles and Kishibe's cum and your own release dripping down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. You still had tears to shed, apparently, as the sight had you going back to sobbing. Your throat hurt and your nose was stuffy, but all you could think about was how you wished you hadn't made the choice to help Kishibe earlier.
If only you had decided to go with your own selfish instincts, you wouldn't be here right now. By now you probably would've been asleep, safe and sound in your own bed in your own apartment, and the only danger you would be facing would be the possibility of your next door neighbor's children running wild again and slamming doors so hard that the walls would shake.
Being reminded of your day off that you had planned out had you crying harder as you realized you couldn't ever go back to days like that.
God how you wished you could redo your actions from tonight.
You were reminded of Kishibe's presence when you felt his hand run down your back, his knuckles grazing you lightly and with a touch so soft that it felt out of place when you thought of what you had just experienced at his hands.
He wasn't trying to comfort you, was he?
With robotic movements, you turned your head once again so you could see him, see the face of the man who had hurt you so horribly. Unsurprisingly, there was no real emotion to be gleaned from his expression as it was as blank as it always was. Though when you looked at his eyes, you found that there was a hint of something there. Something more intense and obsessive than you had ever witnessed from anyone, much less Kishibe.
“You did good,” he told you.
“Fuck you,” you weakly hissed in response.
“Mm, not right now. Maybe in the morning.”
He moved his hand to your upper arm, squeezing you in what seemed to be an encouraging manner as he said “it's late now. We should get some rest.”
“Can you walk, or should I carry you?” Kishibe then asked.
You didn't respond. Instead you shrugged off his hand and turned your head to face the door, not wanting to look at him any longer.
“Alright then.”
Within a moment, you were scooped up off of the floor and into his arms with surprising ease, and while you were feeling disoriented from the way you were moved about like that, Kishibe had turned and walked away from the door with you held firmly against his chest.
It shouldn't have been too much of a shock that it was this easy for him to pick you up, and yet…..
“You could have just forcibly taken me if you wanted,” you mumbled.
“I could have,” he said.
The way he so readily agreed with you turned your emotions to anger once again.
“So why bother with all that bullshit?” you snapped.
“Because I thought the way you doted on me was nice,” Kishibe said.
“You're a scumbag.”
“Hm.”
Kishibe neither agreed nor disagreed with you, as he stepped into the bedroom with you, taking care to make sure your feet didn't hit the door frame as he carried you in. Once the two of you were fully inside, he stopped and then looked at you.
Having his gaze fully on you once again had that bit of anger die out, as suddenly you felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt in your life before this point. Your shirt was torn and the majority your legs were still bare as he hadn't bothered to readjust your pants before he'd grabbed you, so you were in his arms with your pants around your ankles.
Not just humiliating, but awkward as well, especially when you moved to cover yourself back up as the way he stared at you had those intense feelings of shame and helplessness running through you once again. Though you knew it wouldn't accomplish much of anything, and especially not when you were at the mercy of Kishibe's whims.
“Did I say you could cover up?”
The sound of his voice made you freeze, and then when you processed his words, you began to shake in his grip. While it seemed that you were out of tears to shed, you were still able to sniffle softly in despair.
That got him to react, and Kishibe leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead before he buried his face into your hair again.
“It'll be hard for now, but it will get better,” he told you.
You only shook harder in his grip.
With a hum against your hair, he spoke again.
“You should be happy. In this world where people's priorities are on themselves and themselves alone, you have someone who's willing to do anything to look out for you.”
And with that, Kishibe used his foot to close the bedroom door firmly behind the both of you.
Hello! This week has been pretty busy, and I haven’t been able to answer as many questions yet. I’m currently working on a few things and will be sharing more about them soon!
The moderators and I are also taking note of questions that come up very frequently, and we’ll be making posts to answer some of them, so don’t worry!
Now, a quick update about the shop. It is temporarily on hold while I sort out some legal matters. Recently, some major creators in the fandom started making mass production plans to sell products without my authorization, so I had to take certain measures to protect my work. To have enough time to handle this properly, I’ve paused shop activities until everything is resolved and documented.
In the meantime, I’ll continue working on the script and AMAs so you can enjoy yourselves until I begin programming the next update!
Português
Olá! Essa semana foi bem agitada e não consegui responder tantas perguntas ainda, estou trabalhando em algumas coisas e logo falarei um pouco mais sobre!
Também eu e os moderadores estamos tomando nota de algumas perguntas que aparecem com muita frequencia e faremos posts respondendo algumas delas, então não se preocupe!
Agora um comunicado rápido sobre a loja. Ela está temporariamente pausada enquanto resolvo algumas questões legais. Recentemente, alguns criadores grandes do fandom começaram a vender produtos sem minha autorização, então precisei tomar certas medidas para proteger meu trabalho. Para ter tempo suficiente para lidar com isso adequadamente, pausei as atividades da loja até que tudo esteja resolvido e documentado.
Enquanto isso sigo trabalhando no roteiro e nos AMAs para que vocês possam se divertir até eu começar a programar a atualização!
TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Tentacles, Curse!Satoru, Mentions of Major Character Death, Stalking, Mentions of Kidnapping, Slight Overstimulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Body Horror.
Gojo Satoru died one year, eight months, and twenty-nine days ago.
You knew it was that length of time exactly because you considered each day, each week, each month to be its own little miracle, all worth tracking with a stomach-knotting sort of wonder, and you knew he was dead because you’d been the one to kill him. It sounded more dramatic than it was, really. He was determined to keep you, and you didn’t want to be kept. He’d been off his game, distracted, and you’d stabbed him so many times, it’d hardly made a difference when the blade of your knife broke off in his rib cage. He did what he wanted to, and you did what you had to. Anything to know he wouldn’t always be around the next corner, eyes locked onto you like he was never going to look away.
There was more fallout with the higher-ups. The idea of executing you was floated, but quickly abandoned. No one liked the idea of letting it get out that a civilian had been the end of their strongest sorcerer – a civilian he was keeping as a live-in hostage, at that. In the end, you were given a house in the countryside, an annual stipend, and strict orders to keep to yourself. You weren’t sure what story they made up about Satoru, but you weren’t sure you cared, either. You knew he was dead. That was really all you needed – to know he was dead.
And you did know. At least, you had.
It was a lot harder to be so sure when Gojo Satoru, less than entirely dead, was standing in your living room.
Except, it wasn’t Satoru. It looked like him, but in the way that a scarecrow looked human, in the way that an office cubicle looked like a house. He was too tall, head nearly scraping against your low ceiling. His silhouette was defined by absence – pitch-black, tar-like void forming the shadow that still haunted your worst dreams and dripping onto your carpet at the fingertips. Two additional pairs of arms jutted out from his sides, hanging limply where they had been grafted on. Not being able to see his face might’ve been a relief, but he’d never been so kind. Blue eyes, too bright and too focused and too many, circled what should have been his head, forming halos of voyeuristic intent. Watching. Waiting. Taking.
You dropped the paper bag in your arms, groceries scattering across the floor of your entryway. Your mind was caught in the same loop, attempting to weigh what was happening in front of you against how it could be happening at all, but your body was more reactive. Hand planted on the doorframe, you moved to sprint in whatever direction took you away, but Satoru was faster, just like he’d always been. Something damp and cold wrapped around your elbow, jerking you back and to the ground. Another tendril reached out, shutting the door you’d left ajar. That made sense. Satoru had always made it a point to corner you when he was alive, too.
The entity, the shadow didn’t move. You stayed where you were, staring up at him, trying to think of an impossible next move. There were knives in the kitchen. Would stabbing a dead man work? You couldn’t scream, the nearest neighbor was twenty minutes down the road. Maybe you were dreaming. If you hurt yourself, you might—
“My love,” he rasped, voice emerging from too many places all at once. He cocked his head to the side. “My love?”
You knew you were supposed to respond, but you just couldn’t seem you. The shadow seemed to take your silence as answer enough, ambling towards you on legs that never seemed to move. “(Y/n)?”
You forced yourself to swallow. “I’m here, Satoru.”
“That’s not what you call me.”
“Sorry, ‘toru.”
A deep purr sparked somewhere deep in his chest. He raised an arm, fingertips melding into one long, black tendril as he brought them together. This time, he didn’t grab or pull. The tendril made contact with your wrist, slipping around your forearm and winding up your bicep. It felt warmer than you’d expected. There was a strange, static buzz where he touched you – electricity playing just underneath the skin. Like the fibers of your being couldn’t decide whether or not to tear themselves apart.
“Waited for you, wanted—” Another tendril found your waist, slipping underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched as it circled upward, running over your chest. “It was dark. I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m sorry, ‘toru.” You straighten your back, doing your best to ignore the tapered point now idly circling one of your nipples. “If you let me go, I can explain what—”
“No.” His right hand – one of his real hands – lashed out. This time, his fingers kept their shape as they curled around your throat and shoved you back to the ground, cutting off your airway. You tried to gasp, regardless, clawing at his wrist, and Satoru’s grip loosened immediately. Monster or otherwise, he still didn’t seem to like the idea of hurting you. Not so directly, at least. “Not yet. Missed you.”
Your heart dropped. It wasn’t hard to guess what he meant, but the tendril now slipping off of your arm and down to your waist cleared up and ambiguities there might have been.
You made the mistake of trying to resist, of grabbing for the snaking limb slipping underneath your waistband. There was a surprising ruthlessness to the way he dealt with you – a single hand spared to gather up your hands and haul them above your head, spreading you out for his evaluation. You kicked at his body as he explored lower, but your foot only sunk into darkness. It took more effort to pull out again than it should have, like you were fighting a secondary gravitational force. Like you were skirting along the edge of a black hole.
Satoru didn’t seem to notice. All of his many, many eyes were focused on your body, the length of midriff exposed as your shirt rode up, the curve of your waist, your hips as his tendril nudged your skirt low on your thighs, taking your panties in the same motion. There was no pretense of teasing, of foreplay. A limb snaked around your thigh, squeezing gently as its tapered end found your clit. The texture was smooth, slick, wrong. The feeling of Satoru’s eyes burning into you, even more so.
His tendril drew slow, curious patterns into your clit. At the same time, another fell to run over your slit, easing itself as your body relented to his invasive touch. That was the worst part, really – how quickly you gave in. This wasn’t alien, as unnatural as it felt. You knew Satoru. You recognized him. And your body, however stubbornly your mind refused to, recognized this.
“I was gone for too long.” He trailed off, his remaining hand coming up to cup your cheek. The tendril inside of you bucked shallowly, experimentally, savoring the way you spread open around him. Your cunt clenched and above you, Satoru seemed to shutter, to lean closer. “You were alone. I left you alone.”
“I—” Your breath hitched as he fell into a steady rhythm, pushing himself that much deeper with every thrust. You could feel it curling against your walls, searching for something that made you shake and moan underneath him the same way you used to. Acting on habit, you guessed, and it was working. Despite yourself, pleasure sparked in your core, your body twitching in his hold. It reminded you a little of the first night Satoru spent with you, of the day your life ended. He’d held you just as tightly, albeit with fewer hands. “I wanted to be alone, you—”
“But you weren’t supposed to be.” The tendril coiled around your chest tightened. There would be bruises for weeks, if you survived this at all. Again, your nipple was his main area of concentration – circling it, swiping over it. For a moment, it almost seemed like his tendril split apart again, forming something not unlike a hand to palm at the curve of your breast, to dig his fingertips into plush flesh. That awful, beating buzz only made things worse, forcing your back to arch and your breath to hitch whenever he made contact with something more sensitive than skin. “I’m going to take care of you, I—”
His many arms went still.
“I remember, now. I love you.”
Whatever reprieve he might’ve offered you was brief. When he started moving again, it was with intention; pounding into your cunt with the same writhing force, bullying your clit, groping your chest. You tried to scream, but the head of yet another tendril forced its way past your lips and to the back of your throat, settling there as something hot and bitter seeped onto your trapped tongue. Your climax – because this was always going to end with your involuntary submission – was abrupt, strained, and prolonged. Your mouth fell open, but any protests were muffled into senseless noise by his makeshift gag, and your legs could only spread that much wide, to welcome him that much deeper. Satoru’s constant purr deepened into a full-throated rumble, the reverberations pulsing into your clit, your core. That was enough to tip you over the edge a second time, then a third. Satoru nursed you through the worst of it, then his pace slow.
It was more out of necessity than kindness. Even a monster had to know more so quickly would’ve broken you. The tendril inside of you drew back, curling your thigh, while the arm teasing your chest settled around your midriff. He hauled you up like that, keeping your arms above his head and your body limp in his hold. One of your hands was allowed to slip out of his grasp, and you made a desperate attempt to reach his eyes, to claw them out before he could—
A void-black hand caught yours by the wrist, drawing it close to his chest. The darkness seemed to slip apart, pull to either side, uncovering a heart – red and beating and fractured. White light spilled from the cracks, swallowed up almost immediately by his shadows. Even then, it was too bright. Even then, you knew it was going to burn through you.
Satoru cupped your hand against it, the atrophied muscle pulsing against your palm. “I love you.” And then, again, “I love you.”
It was astonishing, really.
Somehow, even with your hand pressed against his beating heart and obsessions puppetting what should’ve been his rotting corpse, you still couldn’t make yourself believe him.
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