hey ghostsy! love your works, they're so amazing i swear!
in particular your sukuna works, gosh, they make me drool it's amazing (especially the drug dealer hehe). Pls write more about yandere sukuna, you do it so well.
And also, have you ever considered writing for gojo or geto? you'd write wonders about them, i feel it
ahh thank you so much, i’m glad you enjoy them bby!
i actually have a long heian era sukuna fic that’s been in the wips for a while. i’m actually excited for y’all to read it whenever it ends up finished lol
i have! there’s a couple in the drafts for gojo. def need to add geto to the list too!
WARNINGS: yandere, implied imprisonment, a lil angsty
read at your own discretion.
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“Don’t leave me.”
The arm wrapped around her middle tightened, squeezing the remaining air from her lungs. But she stifled her discomfort; he would only ever reprimand the feeling.
“I won’t.”
It had been like this for a while now; where he crawled into bed at night, oftentimes after he made sure to thoroughly bed her, and wrapped himself around her like a child–an overgrown child with strength that could snap her in half if he so chose. But a child nonetheless.
The whining was new, though.
“I’m serious,” He rasped, breath tickling against her hair, “Don’t you ever leave me.”
As if it were her choice. She was silent for a moment; what response could she give that would assuage his paranoia, or more pertinently, spare her the consequence of his rage?
“I’d die,” He continued, lips brushing her ear, “I’d kill everyone, and then I’d die.”
“You won’t die,” She sighed out the words, trying and failing to stamp down her building annoyance, but self-preservation won out in the battle against her own emotions, “I’m here, so you won’t die.”
She felt his heartbeat speed where his chest pressed against her, “No,” He curled deeper into her if it were even possible, face pressed to the crook of her neck, “But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?”
Before she could respond, she felt wetness on her skin. Was he crying? “Bet you dream about it,” She’d never seen him cry before, never seen a chink in the armor, “Leaving me here to rot.” She didn’t like the uncomfortable burn in her chest as she listened to the shuddering breaths behind her. It had to be pity. Of course, it was pity.
“That’s okay, you can dream,” The rasp of his voice made even deeper with the cracks in his words, “You can dream all you want, so long as you’re here with me when you wake,” Before she could even consider her actions, she was turning in his arms. Or struggling to, only succeeding as he lessened his iron grip when he was sure she wasn’t trying to leave.
His eyes were wide when she was face to face with him, no doubt surprised she’d chosen to be closer to him of her own free will. He was handsome, with a devastating kind of beauty to the lines of his face. She always thought it cruel, a handsome monster she was chained to forever.
“I don’t,” She breathed, lips uncomfortably close to his own, “Want you to die, I mean. I don’t want it.” She wasn’t sure if she was lying, but the words had the opposite effect she’d intended.
His brows furrowed in the way they usually did before red hot anger took control, but the night was full of surprises, it seemed, because this heat was only directed at himself.
“You should,” He spat, the arm at her waist squeezing so harshly she couldn’t help but wince. He weakened his grip immediately upon notice, "You should hate me," And she saw what she could only call self-disgust swimming in his eyes.
“Yes, I should,” The words spilled out before she could stop them, but this moment between them felt it was owed honesty, promised safety.
“I’d still love you if you did,” It was a breathless confession, and he pressed his forehead against her own, eyes closed, “No matter what, I would still love you,” He made it sound like an apology, like he knew his love was a torture he’d inflicted on her without reprieve.
“That’s stupid.” She sighed out the words, but her hand came to rest at his cheek, nearly admiring. Admiring the unbelievability of his vulnerability.
“Yeah,” He huffed out a low laugh between the unsteady breaths, and turned to press a kiss to her palm, “It is kind of stupid.”
There was a sort of finality to the words. Because in the end, his cruelty masked as love, stupid as it was, was not something either of them could escape. It was a painful realization that he hadn’t just trapped her in a cage, but locked her into his own.
Her fingers traced patterns along his jaw, and their eyes met in the low light of the early morning hours. Maybe when the sun rose he’d return to the monster she knew, and she would only have this moment as a memory with a man she thinks she could have loved. She’d take a moment.
Slowly she inched forward, and his breath hitched, fingers flexing where they rested against her skin. Before she could connect them she froze, considering, hesitating, rethinking. But he took the opportunity, and pressed forward, lips uncharacteristically soft against her own, before retreating nearly as quickly. A stolen kiss. Unbearably cruel in its deceptive innocence.
“Just tell me,” He whispered it like a secret, “Tell me you’ll stay with me.”
“I will.”
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Couldn't pick just one character, but had a few in mind:
now he knows that he can't trust her around other man cause girl is a slut for anyone that can give her weed. bet that gave him a reality check 😭
turning the girl you’re obsessed with into an addict rlly is a double edged sword, huh? on one hand she’s totally dependent on him. on the other, the second someone else waves drugs in her face she’s ready to risk it all.
best believe she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. if his threats weren’t enough to scare her into submission, he’s more than happy to bring locks and chains into the equation.
i’m glad u liked it bby, yandere sukuna potential is limitless 👀
A/N: honestly just needed to rid myself of the writer’s block lol, hope it’s alright ^^
read at your own discretion.
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Thinking about dirtbag drug dealer Sukuna corrupting some uptight good girl, spiraling into the most toxic codependent bullshit, and becoming addicted to her.
He doesn’t think much of it at first, some pretty little overachiever come looking for a little leg up on the competition. He’s seen it all before. Just for one test, she’ll tell him. And he barks out a laugh, right in her face, shameless as he looks her up and down, smoke curling out from under his cheshire grin.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Just this once.”
The simpering look on his face will tell her he’s mocking her, but he knows her type; she’ll still take what he gives her. Sliding the adderall into perfectly manicured fingers, he’ll wave her off without so much as a second glance. He only laces a little insurance in with those pills because he could use the extra clientele, and not because something in those bright innocent eyes makes his chest and cock itch.
She’ll come back; he knows she will. Tail between her legs, and hands just a bit too jittery when she begs for a little something more. Embarrassed as the words stumble out, shifting eyes darting anywhere but that condescending crimson.
It all kind of spirals after that.
Once a month turns to once a week, and then it's barely a day or two goes by before she comes crawling back for another fix. The first time her pockets come up empty, he’s oh so kind enough to offer an alternative form of payment. She’s a bit hesitant, but that nervous, sunken eye look that’s come to live on her face, so pathetically sexy, is easily convinced.
He’ll shove her over the ratty old couch in his flat with a giddy amount of force, and bury himself between her thighs, fingers prying her pretty jaw open, letting the drool drip from her lips to her chin as he slips a tab on her glossy tongue.
“Fuck yeah, open your mouth–open that fucking mouth–pussy gets tighter with a little X.”
It becomes a sort of animalistic routine, where the pitiful thing lets him use her and abuse her like a grade-A sex toy, any and every hole open and eager to take him. He’s almost embarrassed for her, how quickly she abandoned dignity for a moment of bliss.
Though, he supposes, he gives her more than a moment. And it’s convenient for him, he thinks. A tight pussy and perky ass wrapped around his fingers; it’s easy, there whenever he wants to fuck. And that’s all it is. That’s all she is. Holes to fuck.
“Want another hit, sugar?”
He’ll try to convince himself it’s just an easy way to test new product when he lets her have more than she’d earned. But he finds that he likes the far away glassy glaze in her eyes when she slips away to somewhere hazy, all cloudy and cottony. A taste of heaven that only he can give her.
And she gets a little giggly, a cutesy tilt in her empty head as she lays herself over him, shotgunning the smoke from his lips. Where when the two of them drift off together to nirvana on the couch, he ignores the warm, content feeling of waking up to her snugly wrapped around him.
And really, it’s her own fault the illusion shatters.
Dipped her feet in too far, and fell face first into the deep end when she’s sat on his lap in the back corner of his favorite seedy bar only half listening to one of his under-the-counter meetings, and finds herself lured in by the flash of a little white bag in the hands of a passing stranger.
It couldn’t have been more than five minutes of distraction, of finalizing his business dealings when he notices she’s wandered off and broken his one rule not to leave his fucking sight. And it takes him all of two minutes to spot her halfway across the room, bent over a table snorting a goddamn line.
And he can’t focus on how fucking sexy it is that she sniffs it down without so much as blinking. He can’t focus on that because there’s some ugly freak leering over her, arm wrapped around her waist, and eyes shamelessly wandering her body up and down like he fucking owned her. Like the nameless fucking loser owned something that belonged to him.
He doesn’t really remember what happened after that when he’s standing over the bloodied corpse of the lowlife creep in the dimly lit back alley, except for the fact that sticky red was staining his fists and face and her tears were really starting to piss him off.
“You spread your dirty fucking legs for any dude who's got a line?”
He mocks her when he’s got her shoved against the wall bent and spread, face scratching against the stone, fucking into her with a force hard enough to make her bleed. There’s a twinge of satisfaction that she’s crying, voice wet and pathetic and submissive when she begs his forgiveness, prays for mercy. The hair that’s not caught in his fist sticks to her cheeks and neck, and he feels the sudden urge to bite.
“Keep screamin’, sugar. Maybe that dead pig’ll come and save you from the big bad wolf, huh?”
He delivers a sharp slap to her ass, and hauls her back by her hair, other hand palming and squeezing just a bit too harshly at her breasts. And she squeals, something sort of squirrel-like but adorable nonetheless. Something just for him.
And when all is said and done, with his mark, his claim, leaking out of her and onto the cold pavement, mixing with the pooling blood of a stranger, he leans in real close. He twists her around to face him, and he can see the hollow, vacant look in her eyes. Empty. Empty because she’s nothing. Nothing unless he says otherwise.
And with a sadistically giddy laugh, and his hot breath raising the hairs on her neck, he’ll seal one final warning with a searing kiss.
“You’re my bitch, my whore, forget it again, and see what happens.”
ohh i loved those thoughts about them becomina future family.
idk why but i def see reader (still in the everything is fine universe) putting that cute photo of her and bakugou in the nursery and then sometimes getting a bit teary-eyed at what her life has become.
i also see bakugou being very over-protective when she's pregnant. he'd probably try to spend as much time as he can in the house, to be with her her.
fun question: do you think bakugou would be a bit misogynistic in the way that he'd want a son, or what would he feel if it was a girl?
btw, i hope i'm not bothering you, i just really loved everything is fine soo much 😍
bby you will never bother me with theory/lore questions; that’s my shit.
soft moments are few and far between, so when she catches photos or memories of simpler times it goes one of two ways. smashing a frame or two in hysterical rage is not unheard of given how absolutely suffocating being the glorified housebound sex slave of a top pro hero can be.
but there’s also times when fond memories give her a fuzzy sort of nostalgia feeling, something just barely warm enough to keep her going, keep her pretending.
lol my yanderes do always end up a bit misogynistic, don’t they? the way i see it, he may be a sexist asshole when it comes to his darling, but he’s also bakugou; he’s the best. at everything. all the time. so son, daughter, whatever kind of kid he ends up having is going to be the best too. he’s a top pro, you best believe that little shit is following his footsteps; he’s got a reputation to uphold after all.
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