drugdealer bf! yuma who coerces you into trying a new drug
trigger warning : dead dove, noncon, dubcon, coercion, drugs, drugged sex, first time anal, pain, gaslighting/manipulative. implied somno. you have been warned!! also slight angst.
the both of you are in your dim bedroom, only lit by led lights, sitting on the bed. his spotify playlist playing softly in the background. the smell of marijuana and cigarette smoke lingers in the air, cloying yet intoxicating.
"c'mon babe... trust me, it's mild stuff," he eggs you on. your eyes narrow, and you give him a judging look.
he holds up the small ziploc baggie. there's some japanese words written on it, but you can't read japanese. it's filled with tiny, pink pills. so innocent looking and sweet, like strawberry candy you'd eat when you were a child.
"it's new stuff, straight from japan. can't get it here, you know," he boasts, smirking at you. you catch an evil glint in his eyes.
"but you know i've been trying to stay clean..." you reason with him. he rolls his eyes, blowing vape smoke right in your face. he shakes the baggie infront of your face, taunting you.
"booooring. heard it's popular with girls. you sure you don't wanna try it?" he eggs you on again. that piqued your interest.
"popular with girls? why?" you ask, tilting your head curiously. he shrugs his shoulders.
"dunno. maybe because it's pink or something, i guess". you hum in thought. hmm.... work has indeed been tough recently... a little bit won't hurt, right? you roll your eyes, huffing. he watches you reconsider your decision.
"hey, not forcing you. like i said, it's a popular drug with girls. if you don't want it, i can find a buyer for it," he smirks mischievously. he knows mentioning other girls will piss you off, purposefully riling you up. you felt your heart drop to your stomach. you glare at him, feeling challenged.
"f-fine! give me one!" you put your palm out towards him, defiantly. caught you. he smirks as you fell right into his trap, opening the ziploc and placing two in your palm.
"that's more like it. you're supposed to take two. i know you've been stressed by work," he says thoughtfully. you give him a questioning look.
"are you gonna take it?" you frown at him. he shrugs.
"already did when you were taking a shower," a blatant lie. you don't know that, though. you didn't question it, trusting him, like you always do. you think about your job, how much work has been piling up recently. you think about the deadlines, the stress, and how your bones feel heavy. you're warm and safe here with yuma..... right? you always trust him. you place the pink pills in your mouth as he watches you with narrow, impatient eyes.
"good girl," he whispers to you. you let the pill sit on your tongue for a few seconds. your saliva slightly dissolves the top layer, tasting the sweet, artificial candy flavour for a second, and then that synthetic, chemical taste that you're familiar with. it takes over your tastebuds. you quickly swallow it down. bleh. you always hated that bitter after taste.
he leans in to kiss your lips, his saliva mixing in with the bitter, chemical aftertaste. he tastes nice, as always. his hands already in your hair. he strokes your hair lovingly, already pulling you closer to him on the bed. the drugs haven't hit yet.
"not bad, right? told you they were mild," he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. you nod, observing how the led lights paint his face blue one second, then purple. then, all of a sudden, it hits you like a truck. you can feel the drugs taking effect, starting from your gut, spreading like pins and needles to your arms, your legs, your throat.
"feels weird, yuma.. hate it..." you try to retaliate, but your words come out weak and slurred. he just laughs, manhandling you around on the bed, pushing you underneath him and putting all of his weight on you. you can feel it, the all too familiar feeling of a bad trip. you try to hit at him.
"you liar-..!" you try to scold him, looking at how unaffected and sober he is. the words came out less threatening than you'd wanted, sounding more like a light complaint. you realize that he probably didn't take it like he said he did. he laughs mockingly.
he roughly pulls off your soft cotton sleep shorts and your underwear, whistling when he sees how aroused you already are thanks to the drug's aphrodisiac effect. "someone's excited, huh?" his teasing voice mocks you, that infuriating smirk adorning his face like as if it's permanently stuck on his face.
"you know, there's something i wanna do, but you always say, no, yuma, i'm not ready~," he mocks your words in a fake high pitched, girly voice. your head spins and your skin burns. what is he talking about?
"it's popular with girls? well... i might have lied," he gathers the slick and wetness seeping out of you. god, you were so wet. you didn't know why though, you weren't expecting this. it was like as though your body was making decisions on it's own. you try to swat his hand away, annoyed, but you find yourself unable to move.
"the buyers are guys, but the users are girls.. pretty girls like you," he pushes a slick finger into your hole. a sharp pain shot up your spine. oh. oh. so this is what this is all about. ever since the start of your relationship, he's been asking you to do anal, but every time, you push him away. you rejected him many times, sometimes shyly, playfully pushing him away, your hands lightly pushing his chest away. bashful, embarrassed, pink cheeks. sometimes rolling your eyes, annoyed for being asked so many times. he'll pout and give you a dejected look, trying to convince you. you feel guilty, but you're afraid, you've never done it before. you've tried on your own with your fingers, but could never get past the painful first stretch.
his fingers don't stop moving, roughly seeking out the spot deep inside of you that he knows you're gonna love. "makes them all weak and soft, and so fuckin' desperate..." against their will, he leaves that point out conveniently. he punctuates each word with a flick of his wrist, painfully stabbing and stretching the walls inside of you with this bony fingers. he almost sounds annoyed, angry even. you'd be afraid if it weren't for the fact that you're so out of your mind. tears started to flow at the painful stretch, more painful than you had ever felt before.
"i had to do this, you wouldn't let me otherwise.." he pulls out his fingers, impatiently pulling down his pants and boxers. panicking, you tried to kick him away. but you couldn't lift a single muscle. you couldn't control yourself, it no longer felt like you were in your own body. you lay limply on his bed, like a doll.
he slicks himself up with the arousal dripping out of you and buries himself fully, ripping you apart. he groans at the way your virgin hole is clenching so desperately around him. it feels like your first time all over again. finally. he thinks.
"so fuckin' tight...." he thrusts in deeply, tightly gripping your hips to the point of leaving bruises. you tried to scream, but the sound comes out weak, more like a desperate whimper, burning your throat. you feel like you're being torn apart at the seams. you look up at him. your eyes are glassy and your mind is unable to think, slipping in and out of consciousness. your eyes focus on his bleached blonde hair... the piercings on his ear glinting in the dim light... the mole underneath his left eye... the way the led light is changing in the background... the room feels like it's spinning.
"hey, wake up. don't pass out on me," you feel his rough hand tapping your cheek painfully. your head lolls weakly, saliva dripping onto the pillow below you. he laughs, speeding up his thrusts, fucking in and out rapidly and brutally. your heart is palpating painfully and you're on the brink of passing out. the pain had spread out throughout your whole body to the point of turning you numb all over. your body feels like tv static. eventually, you closed your eyes, the drugs taking over your mind and body fully.
"baby, i'm coming.." yuma couldn't hold on longer. you felt too good, much better than usual. tighter, wetter, warmer than usual. he was too absorbed in his pleasure, that he didn't notice you had passed out, much less notice the fact that you didn't finish. he finishes inside of your ass, letting out a groan of relief. phew. after coming down from the high of his orgasm, he notices that you're passed out. he puts a finger on your neck to check your pulse. you're fine, you're still alive. luckily. he pulls out, mesmerised by his thick cum trickling down. an evil thought pops in his head.
a few more rounds wouldn't hurt, right?
-
you wake up the next morning with a splitting headache. the lower half of your body felt like it was on fire, aching and painful. you looked down. at least he had the decency to clean you up and put on your clothes. your head turns to the night stand and you see the tiny ziploc bag of the pink pills. it looks harmless, innocent and sweet. レイプドラック. those japanese words you didn't know before, but you can probably guess what it means now. mocking you. you suddenly have the urge to throw up, snatching the ziploc bag and tossing it across the room, not caring where it lands. you don't want to even look at it.
you dragged yourself out of the bed, feeling a pain spread throughout your lower half. you wince, holding onto the wall for support, slowly walking out of the bedroom. you don't even want to look at yourself as you walk past the full length mirror by the door.
he's in the kitchen, holding a kettle and brewing coffee grounds. he's wearing that soft, slightly oversized gray tee shirt that you bought for him last year. the bigger fit makes him look cute, younger, like the teenager you remember when you had first met him, instead of the man you remember from last night, the man who had....
"coffee?" his voice interrupts your thoughts. you don't say anything, just nodding numbly, like a puppet. you slowly walk to the table with trembling, shaking feet and a throbbing pain in your abdomen. you wince as you feel his cum leak out of you with every shaky step you take towards him. he smiles, handing you the warm mug. your soft hands brush against his.
he doesn't say anything, doesn't bring up last night. he doesn't offer an apology. he smiles like everything is normal.
"i love you," he says.
i love you too. you don't say it back. you nod, taking a slow sip of your coffee with trembling hands. tastes sweet, just the way you like it. just like the pink pills from last night.
last night wasn't too bad. you tell yourself. he's not a monster. he's just... he's still, yuma. yuma who kisses you goodbye every morning, wishes you a good day at work, picks you up without fail, waiting in the parking lot without a complaint. yuma who knows your exact coffee order and the way you like your ramen. who curls up next to you every night like a cat, warm and soft and refusing to let you go. you look at his face, the way the sunlight filtering through the window shines on his handsome face, his blonde hair that you helped to bleach, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled in happiness as he looks at you. your heart clenched painfully in your chest, teetering between that line of love and betrayal. every single happy memory you had with him flashes in your head, dulling out the burning pain in your body from last night. he loves you. you tell yourself.
so you tell yourself that you'll trust him this time. and the next, and the next.
thank you for all the follows, as well likes and messages from my previous fic ^_^ i was a little bit nervous since it was my first time posting a fic on tumblr. i was watching euphoria recently and had the inspiration to write drug dealer boyfr...
i am working on a few more fics.. stepbro!fuma.. also a few ideas i wanna write colleague/neighbour/host club/gun play but idk who yet :3 also i'm pretty bad at titles so i'll leave my works untitled for now ...
trigger warnings dead dove do not eat pseudo sibling incest, smut, humiliation, corruption kink, noncon/dubcon, sub euijoo
⋆˚🐾˖°
euijoo was the perfect stepson. your mother remarried his father, and the four of you started living together. your mother always praised how perfect, and kind, reliable he is. he was the image of a perfect child that every asian parent wanted. he had a good job, was filial and helpful, and didn't cause problems. it suddenly felt that you had competition at this ripe adult age. and it got under your skin, feeling threatened by him.
really, it's odd. you're all adults here, yet your mother is praising him like he's a little child. or rather— a son she always wanted but never had.
"euijoo did the dishes without being told" or "euijoo's so hardworking and sweet"
you hated it. how his usually wide, bright eyes would crinkle when he smiled. how he would bow his head shyly. how he would let out that ingratiating, humble laugh when your mother complimented him. you hated your mother for giving attention to him instead of to you.
"not at all, mom…" he would reply with blushed cheeks.
who the hell does he think he is?
you wanted to destroy him.
.
you watched him for days, then weeks, months… never being cordial to him, much less friendly. his attempts to get closer to you were in vain. every 'good morning' went unanswered, and every chore he did for you, for example, ironing your clothes, or carrying your groceries, was met with coldness and a no 'thank you' at all (which led to your mother reprimanding you for being rude). euijoo didn't mind, bowing his head meekly. he thought you just needed time to warm up to him.
he catches you, staring at him sometimes. at dinner when you would wrap a tongue around the fork, licking it for a second longer than a normal person would, your tongue darting and wetting the utensil. how obscene. he averts his eyes quickly, turning back to the conversation between your mother, your stepfather and him. you stopped caring about these mundane things a long time ago. his ears turning red betraying his calm exterior.
you notice the way he would stutter when speaking to you, and the way he would bow his head when walking past you, averting his eyes. his voice was always meek, and soft, trying to appease to you and not anger you. oh so respectful, and gentlemanly; it made you want to roll your eyes. perhaps he was.. intimidated by you.
good.
.
until one day . . .
your parents were away on a trip somewhere… you couldn't remember where. you weren't paying attention. but the fact is, the both of you were at home, alone.
the inevitable happens.
he resists, it's cute, almost.
"we shouldn't—" he tries to push you off. he's stronger, isn't he? he could've easily pushed you to the ground, but he didn't, holding back his strength. "this is wrong.. i'm your—"
"you are not. my. brother." you spit out the words venomously, pushing your body up against him.
you kiss him, but he doesn't kiss back. his hands trembling at his sides, as you pull off his spectacles and tossed it aside. your tongue pries his lips open, licking sloppily in his mouth, the clash of the enamel of teeth loud in the otherwise silent house.
you push him to the couch, the same one your stepfather would sit at and watch television, or the one your mother would gather with her friends to sip tea and gossip.
clothes are off, your impatient hands, but him barely resisting at all. he wanted this too, doesn't he? you removed his boxers. he was hard, leaking precum. he wanted this.
you climbed ontop of him and sank down, quickly taking him.
he laid underneath you, his cheeks and eyes wet with tears streaming. his chest heaved, and his lips were swollen and his hair messed. he tried to muffle the sounds from his mouth, his hands grabbing at the couch. he looked nothing like the perfect stepson your mother adored.
"you're not very good, aren't you," your voice whispered mockingly as you moved up, and down, fucking yourself on him like as though he was just an object for your pleasure. like this is all he's good for.
he shook his head, seemingly unable to respond. he didn't know what you were referring to, but it didn't really matter. he cried and tried to resist like he didn't want it, but his body betrayed him. please... stop—-…. he whispered weakly, but the way his cock throbbed inside of you, hot, thick, sticky where the both of you were connected, said otherwise. subconciously, rutting upwards; desperate, and needy. like a dog.
you already know he's a goner.
it didn't take much for him to finish quickly.
"pathetic virgin," you mocked him once again. "you liked it, didn't you? cumming inside? gross…"
he looked away in embarassment, trying to catch his breath. his face burned in shame. but he made no attempt to move away or push you, instead, it almost felt he leaned even more into your touch, heating up from your bare skin; docile, and timid. it excited you.
"i... s…sorry—…"
you smiled. this was just the beginning.
.
the four of you are seated at the dining table, having dinner. your parents are talking about some business thing, and euijoo is nodding along quietly, sitting opposite you. the chopsticks in his hand neatly picking up small, precise amount of rice, not even a single grain dropping. his posture was perfect, his back straight and his head attentively nodding. not even a strand of hair out of place. the trained image of a perfect son. but, there was something behind his eyes. maybe guilt. . . or fear.
you watch him, like you always do.
you slide your foot out of your home slippers.
your toes brush his ankle. soft, yet sudden, making him jolt subtly. you watched as he tensed up. you trail your foot up his calf, painstakingly slow and torturing him. the fabric of his lounge pants is thin, and you could feel the warmth of his skin radiating.
"how are you these days, sweetie?" your mother asked, just checking in. you hummed. same old, same old. you pressed into his knee and he shifts slightly, suddenly looking down at his plate like as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.
"you know, you should really be a little bit more like euijoo…" your mother nags. "he's a good boy." you rolled your eyes patronizingly. there she goes again. good boy? more like a good dog, perhaps. euijoo shakes his head in embarassment.
your eyes narrow onto him in annoyance, foot pressing into his crotch to retaliate, punishing him for something he didn't do. your hand slips into the pocket of your pants and your fingers grab onto a tiny remote control. you click on a button.
euijoo's body immediately goes rigid, his hands suddenly trembling. the chopsticks in his hand accidentally clacking against the bowl, dropping a piece of meat onto the table. a small whimper escapes him.
nobody noticed. your mother continued chattering on whilst your stepfather chimes in occassionally, agreeing and laughing along with her. beads of sweat fell down euijoo's temple as he tries to compose himself and remain still. nobody notices, but you did. the way he squirmed in the wooden dining chair. you watch as he bites the inside of his cheek. a soft vibration from the cock ring underneath your foot, the quiet buzzing sound masked by the sounds of conversation. his clothed cock twitches and hardens even more. .
you leaned back in the dining chair, a satisfied smirk on your face.
trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, use of safeword but it is ignored, pain, gaslighting, violence (slight? not too extreme i think...) , double penetration, use of toys
purple.
your safeword with yuma.
"say the safeword and i'll stop," you recall his promise to you at the start of your relationship when you first started to get intimate with him. "no questions asked," he pecks the top of your head reassuringly.
during the course of your relationship, you've used it before. the first time when you weren't feeling it because you were having a fever, and the second time was when he got too rough. both times, he stopped immediately the moment you said the safeword. both times, he would softly kiss the top of your forehead, stroke your hair and comfort you. you believed him. well, at least you did.
there were times when you caught small moments of his that felt off, things that you can't quite put a finger on what to name it. maybe you'd say no to something he wanted. maybe you weren't in a mood to sleep with him. maybe you told him to slow down. you'd catch a tinge of something dark flash in his eyes, and his jaw would clench, a vein visibly popping in his neck. but you brushed it off. he would never hurt you. he has never hurt you before.
but tonight... you're not so sure. he had wanted to try out double penetration with a vibrator, pleading you with those eyes. you were hesitant at first. you've never done anything like that before. it seemed... painful. you could barely even take him on normal days, but you figured you'd try. worse case scenario, you told yourself that you'd use the safeword.
"yuma-" you whisper out, trying to get his attention. he's slowly pushing at your entrance, the stretch starting to get uncomfortable. the vibrator's already inside of you, buzzing. he had already prepped you earlier with his fingers, pouring enough lube just in case.
"just relax..." he coaxes, almost sleazily. the initial stretch was unbearable, painful. you'd never felt anything like this before. his finger just weren't enough compared to this. you feel like you're being torn apart at the seams. your body tries to push him out, clenching painfully around him.
"purple," you whisper out the word to the best of your ability, tapping out early. you feel your breath being knocked out of your lungs.
he stills for a moment. it's over, you feel a wave of relief. you wait for him to pull out, to comfort you. to say "it's okay" and stroke your hair like he always does, and always has.
he doesn't.
"you're fine," it's a sharp statement, not a question. one that's challenging you, as if asking you if you dare to go against him. you feel his fingers grip into your hip tighter, digging into your hipbones as he continues to push in. he's supposed to stop, you said the safeword. but he doesn't. a dreadful, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, like heavy lead being dropped onto you.
"yuma-.. purple-" your voice cracks, louder this time. you try to push his chest away, but it's futile. he doesn't move, not even an inch. he's too strong, almost like a wall of well built muscle from all those gymming sessions. a part of you always knew that physically, you're no match for him.
"always like this..." an annoyed tch leaves his lips. "always gotta listen to your bitching..."
your throat tightens. you've never heard him speak to you like that. so bitter, so venomous... like resentment that has been quietly brewing beneath the surface.
"please-.. baby.. purple-" you desperately try to push his arms away, but your defiance only spurs him on. the more you try to fight him, the more he pushes in, and the more you feel like you are being split open. a burning, scraping sensation against your walls. it's overwhelming, the buzzing from the vibrator inside your body only getting stronger, and stronger, the sound filling your ears. you could feel the static-like pain all the way in your toes, like stepping into a pile of needles. you feel like you're about to die.
"i. said. you're. fine." he repeats, more like a snarl this time, each word harshly punctuated with a thrust. his voice is annoyed, like he's dealing with a child throwing a tantrum. "you're dripping. you like it, don't you?"
you shake your head. no, i don't like it. it's not me, it's the lube, you try to say, but your tongue feels heavy and can't form the sentence. tears start to form in your eyes, blurring your vision. you don't know if it's from the pain of being ripped apart or from the way he's treating you. "no- purple- please, purple-"
he's all the way in. a sharp pain, like as if you were stabbed, shoots up your spine, emitting a scream from your lips. he's not gentle at all. rough and impatient, like he's tired of waiting, tired of you.
"see? told you, you like it," his hand grips your jaw, tilting your face up, as if to prove his point. his fingers press into the soft skin right underneath your jawbone. he can feel your veins pulsating, your heart rate spiking from fear and pain, but he doesn't care. his eyes are cold, empty, his pupils black. you don't recognize this man infront of you anymore. your manicured nails try to claw at his arms, desperately trying to make him stop. red scratch marks start to raise on his arms. he hisses at the sharp sting and roughly releases your jaw, letting your head drop back onto the pillows. you catch his left eye twitching in anger. the darkness inside of him that you were never able to name. his hand slides down to your thigh, roughly pushing your legs further open and starting to move quicker.
"purple," you whisper again, a sixth time. the word comes out like a pathetic whimper, barely audible, your voice breaking. "please- purple- yuma- purple... pur-"
his hand slams onto your mouth, clamping it shut. his palm presses so hard that you can feel your teeth digging into your lip, a metallic taste blooming in your mouth from your lip being split. you can feel his cold metal rings, grinding into your facial bones.
"just shut up for once," he doesn't even look at you. he just keeps on thrusting in, and out, the sickening sound of skin slapping filling the room. putting all of his weight onto you, crushing you into the mattress.
you can't breathe. your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen and the tears streaming down your face drowns what little oxygen you could receive inbetween the gaps of his fingers. you can't open your mouth anymore. you lost count of how many times you said 'purple'. the safeword dies in your throat, swallowed down with the rest of the words you couldn't say to him.
it was never meant to keep you safe.
thanks for all the likes/reblogs/follows/comments/messages i really appreciate every single one (;´ - `;)♡ i'm kinda having brain fog recently hhhh....... it takes me like a week to write one fic
trigger warning : gunplay, kidnapping, psychological, threat of death, loss of bodily control (pissing), coercion, dead dove do not eat (no smut but heavily implied dubcon/noncon)
gangster nicholas x kidnapped reader
you woke up tied to a chair, your head throbbing painfully. you recall walking home back from work, before a black van suddenly pulled up next to you along the quiet street. you were knocked out with a blunt object across the back of your head and dragged into the van. you don't know where you are right now. it's cold, dingy, suffocating. the lightbulb above your head blinks omniously.
the man standing opposite you clears his throat. he's intimidating, towering over you. his hair bleached blonde and a large scar on his forearm. your wrists and legs sting from where you are bound to the chair with rope. you try to tug at the binds, but it’s tight. the chair creaks from your movement, but it doesn’t move even a little bit.
"awake? finally."
"where am i..? what-...?" your voice was hoarse.
"oh, where are my manners?" he steps closer towards you.
"my name is nicholas. your father owes my old man money. alot of money," he tilts your head, examining your face. "didn't know he had such a pretty daughter"
"my parents are divorced! i- i haven't seen him in years!" you try to defend yourself. nicholas shrugs. he doesn't care. the feeling of dread grows deeper in your stomach.
"how about this.." he takes out a revolver, and spins the barrel. "russian roulette. there's one bullet. if you win, the debt is gone.. if you lose..." your eyes widen in panic and you shake your head at the implication. no. no. no.
the revolver glints under the lightbulb. your throat goes dry. you have never seen a gun in real life before.
"i don't take no for an answer, by the way."
he frees your wrists from the binds. his calloused, rough fingers softly running against the raw, red marks, chafed by the rope. a tenderness that is so contradicting, so out of place.
"don't try anything funny," he warns. the blood rushes back into your hands, feeling numb. you couldn’t try anything even if you wanted to, your legs are still tightly bound to the chair.
"i'll go first."
he brings the muzzle of the revolver to his temple with a practiced ease and quickness, like as if he's done this a million times before. he probably has. you try to look away, afraid and shivering. cold sweat pours down your back.
click.
it's empty. he smiles calmly at you.
"see? easy. your turn" he instructs, positioning the gun in your hands, his hands forcefully placing your fingers curled around the trigger. he guides the revolver to your temple, helping you to hold it up. the cold metal is almost painful as it digs against your heated skin. you squeeze your eyes shut, quivering like a leaf. your legs tremble against the chair that you're tied to, the tight ropes digging even more into your flesh. he's pressed up close against you. you could smell the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes. you could almost feel his heartbeat against your body. he's too close...
he pushes down on your finger.
click.
empty.
you let out a wrecked sob, gasping for air. your abdomen clenches from fear.
"beginner's luck," he smirks.
your hand drops from the revolver, a slight, temporary relief washing over you. he brings the gun back to his temple. slower this time, dragging things out like as if he's savouring it.
"third time's the charm," he says, almost charismatically. you can't stop trembling. he smirks, enjoying seeing you cower and panic.
click.
empty.
"oh? guess i'm lucky too," he cheerfully exclaims. the resonating sound of his laughter echoes in the room and in your head, and you just want to cover your ears to block out the sound and cry. but you can't move your hands at all. in a second, he shoves the gun back in your hands and roughly lifts it to your temple. you can feel your stomach twisting in agony and your legs shaking so hard that the chair is rattling against the floor beneath you.
as you close your eyes, you recall the last time you saw your father. the slam of the door in the apartment where you once lived with your parents. the bills on the dining table, the debts, the arguments your parents had over money and his gambling addiction. your mother's tears and the way she hugged you, her hands in your hair, comforting you. the years where your father had gone no contact, almost as though he disappeared off the face of the earth. no phone calls, no wishing you happy birthday, nothing. and now, leaving you with the burden of this debt.
you don’t even have the strength to lift your hands to hold to gun, practically being propped up by his hands. he pushes your finger against the trigger.
click.
empty.
you're sobbing hysterically at this point, hot tears streaming down your face. but he doesn't stop. he won't let you off.
nicholas watches you, an unreadable emotion on his face. he takes the gun back from you, putting it to his forehead.
"if this one goes off, you'll win.. although my blood'll probably stain your clothes," he teases without even a hint of seriousness, like this is all just a game to him. a sick game.
click.
it's empty.
he lets out a shrill, maniacal laugh. his three shots are over, he has technically won. he's safe. he points the muzzle of the revolver back to you. he does it slowly, almost mockingly, like how an animal would toy with it’s prey first before devouring them.
this is the sixth shot, the final shot. this is it... you're going to die.
"no... no... please-," you beg him for your life, your final chance at redemption. your body is full on shaking at this point, the adrenaline rushing in your veins making your heart race painfully.
he lets out a sigh, like this is still just a game for him. he steps even closer now, aiming the muzzle right in the middle of your forehead, like a target on your head. he does it for you this time, your hands immobilized from fear. his finger rests dangerously on the trigger. the metal of the gun is warm now, from the body heat of the both of you.
"bang" his voice is soft, almost tender and kind.
click.
the sound of the final shot is loud, ringing in your ear. but, it's.... empty. you're still alive. your chest heaves in rapid, hyperventilated breathes. the building, painful pressure in your bladder bursts, your body convulsing. a warmth floods down your thighs, soaking your skirt. it trickles down your legs, wetting your socks, and dripping onto the cold concrete floor beneath you. you notice it, but your head is spinning, you don’t even have the strength to be ashamed. you slump against the chair, your sweat, tears, and your piss mixes and run down your twitching body. your vision blurs.
nicholas lowers the gun and opens the chamber. he tilts it forward to show to you.
there was no bullet. this whole time, the revolver was empty. you stare at the hollow circles.
"no bullets," he says, smiling. "i just wanted to mess with you."
he crouches to look at you, his face levelling with yours. his hand rests on your thigh, rough and burning hot. the wet fabric of your skirt has cooled by now, sticking onto your skin. you flinch at the difference in temperature. but he doesn't move away.
"you know... there's another way you could pay off the debt. less dangerous," he suggests.
"but you said- ... if i won, the debt would be gone...?" you manage to gather your words, shock re-entering your system. he tilts his head in fake confusion for a second.
"oh, right. i did say that," he shrugs. "yeah, the debt is paid. but there's still the interest, silly!"
your stomach drops. of course, you should have seen this coming. there's always a catch.
"your father's been in debt for a few years, so... and the interest compounds like, monthly?" he's smiling widely at you, like as if he's explaining a joke to you.
you think of your father again. the way he never answered your calls or messages, begging him to be responsible and clean up his mess. the way you and your mother had to work hard and scrape together money to clear the remaining legal debts he left tied to your mother's name. you had thought that the worst of it was over... you thought wrong.
"there's two ways you can pay it off..." nicholas leans closer, his lips soft against your ear. you shudder. you can feel his sharp eyes on you, like a predator eyeing his prey.
"you're a smart girl, aren't you? you know what i mean... you have a pretty face, you'd be popular, wouldn't you-?" his thumb caresses your cheek. of course you know what he's implying. you know what kind of illegal crime that the gangsters run.
"or..." his voice becomes lower, softer. "you could sleep with me, just me." he offers. he makes it sound like he's being generous. the lesser of two evils. you weigh both options, both rotten. he says it like as if you had the freedom of choice, but you know that you don't have that luxury. his earlier words rang in your ears. i don't take no for an answer.
"so, what's it going to be?" you look at the floor, unable to look at him. you feel disgusting as you sit in the puddle of your own piss, already cold by now. the sickening way the fabric clings onto you, just like the sins of your father that you had to carry. you feel disgusted with yourself as you open your mouth to answer.
"okay," you didn't specify which option you've chosen, but he breaks into a wide grin. you don't need to say it, he already knows.
"good choice," he pats your head, gently, almost affectionately. rewarding you like you're a new little pet who has quickly learnt a new trick. his hands lift your face again, wiping away at the fresh tears that have started to fall down your cheeks again. he crashes his lips onto yours, harshly kissing you.
"don't cry, i'll be gentle."
i was putting off writing for a week because i had covid urgh (╯_╰) thanks for all the requests/likes/reblogs/comments/messages!
the perfect boyfriend
trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat, yandere, stalking, surveillance, invasion of privacy, voyeurism, upskirt pictures, captivity, restraint, implied noncon (no full smut this time!!! sorry >_<)
you started dating jo about a month ago. he's your classmate in university, and the sweetest, most polite boy that you've ever met in your life. he loved to read, enjoyed drawing and adored cats. you'd never seen him get angry or raise his voice, usually quiet and doesn’t talk much in class. he treated you like a princess, his soft, loving kisses on the top of your head, his warm, large hands gently holding yours. you two shared the same hobbies, and interests, reading and cats. in every sense, he's perfect. but you haven't publicly announced your relationship with him yet, wanting to respect his privacy and reserved, shy nature.
the two of you were on his bed, scrolling through netflix to watch a movie together. he stood up apologetically, having to use the bathroom, so he handed you his laptop, telling you to feel free to browse and pick whatever movie you'd like.
"pick whatever, i trust you. be right back," he smiles brightly at you, gently putting the laptop on your lap, the heat from the bottom of the laptop warming you up. your heart skipped a beat. you always felt so safe and cozy when you're with him.
scrolling through his netflix, you picked out a recently released horror movie. your fingers slipped and accidentally switched browsers, clumsily clicking on an unassuming folder on his desktop. you notice a subfolder with your initials on it. your heart skipped a beat again; but this time, not from affection.
your hand hovered over the trackpad, confused. you shouldn't be snooping around. he hadn't given you any reason to doubt him. for the past year that you've known him, he has been nothing short of a gentleman. reserved, quiet and shy. always polite, and even moreso, loving and sweet to you. but, you suddenly felt your mouth go dry and your pulse quickening. something felt…. off. curiosity got the better of you and you clicked on the folder anyway. jo is a really sweet, good-natured boy. the type of person that couldn't even hurt a fly. in fact, you hadn't even gone past second base with him. he wouldn't mind, right?
2024.2025.2026.
your eyebrows knitted in confusion. what could these be? you clicked the oldest folder.
2024 - your eyes widened at the tiny square icons that suddenly filled the laptop screen. it seemed to be... images of you from when you were in high school. you looked younger in the photos than you were now, your hair slightly shorter. you at your high school graduation, smiling, laughing with your friends. your class photo. pictures of the apartment building that you lived in at that time. your blood ran cold. there was no logical explanation for this. but for some reason... you couldn’t seem to click on the ‘x’ at the corner of the screen. your fingers subconsciously moved to the other folders.
2025 - the year you started university. the year that you had met him and became friends. hundreds of screenshots of your conversations with him. screenshots of your instagram stories. a picture of your student id. a screenshot of your class schedule. endless pictures of you doing mundane tasks, shopping in a grocery store, walking home, sitting in a cafe. the pictures all look like they were stealthily taken, some shaky and out of focus. but, it was without a doubt, pictures of you that were taken without your knowledge. your palms started to sweat, your fingers trembling as it moved over the trackpad. you couldn't stop yourself now.
2026 - this year. the year you started dating him. this time, the pictures of you were more clearer... closer. more intimate. pictures of you in class, deep in thought and concentration. pictures of you while you were in his room, napping innocently on his bed. another of your back while you were on a escalator. even though you couldn't see a face, it was unmistakably you. the same build and hair length.. the familiar black purse and light blue cardigan. who else could it be, if not you? the camera angle got closer, and closer, and lower. until it centered on the hem of your skirt, the edge resting against the back of your thighs. then the angle moved upwards, capturing the image of your inner thighs, slightly parted, and then up your skirt. multiple upskirt photos. your eyes widen. you recognize the pastel blue underwear, trimmed with white lace. you really liked that pair, but recently, it went missing. you remember digging through your drawer, looking through your laundry, but somehow, it seemed like it vanished into thin air. you gasped.
the images in the folder stared back at you. the file names weren’t just a random mix of letters and numbers. each and every image were neatly dated and organized. you noticed the names. “escalator_0410”... “cafe_0219”... “classroom_0407”. the images were categorised by place and date. for months... years… he had been watching you. observing you, cataloguing you as though you were a specimen. like a test subject underneath a microscope.
everything started to click in place. how could you be so incredibly blind and stupid? the way jo somehow knew all of your likes and dislikes. the both of you having so many shared interests. the same taste in food... in movies… similar hobbies… you chalked it up to pure coincidence. meeting him must have been fate. this must be true love, a soulmate put on this earth just for you, you tell yourself. how disgustingly wrong you were. the pastel blue underwear that went missing. you now realized it went missing after the first time he came to your apartment. you recall leaving him alone in the room for a few minutes to brew tea for the both of you. when you returned with the two tea cups, he was sitting in the exact spot as when you’d left, smiling kindly at you. you never suspected him. your naivety in your infatuation was all he needed. everything was a manufactured lie.
you slammed the laptop shut, hyperventilating, face turning pale. you hurled the laptop off your lap like as if it burned. your fingers started to tremble and your stomach started to hurt. you wanted to throw up. the room started to spin around you, making you light headed. a sickening, sinking feeling.
"you found it,"
the room became silent. there's a hint of disappointment in his otherwise monotonous voice. that made you shiver in fear. you slowly turned to look at him, like a child who was caught with her hand in a cookie jar. you didn't notice when he came back to the room. you didn't know how long he had been standing there, silently watching you.
"you weren't supposed to see that..." a quiet admission. he stood at the doorway, his hands by his side, the corners of his lip twitching downwards into a frown. his once-soft features looking at you, but now, a hint of something dark surfacing in his eyes. like a mask that was slowly cracking.
you didn’t respond. your eyes darted around his room, your heart racing in your chest. suddenly, like an epiphany, you noticed things that didn't catch your eye before. things that you noticed too late.
on his desk, a copy of a book that you were reading last year. it had gone missing one day out of the blue, but you didn't think much of it, blaming it on your forgetful nature. you must've left it on a bus or something. you had forgotten all about it. but it's sitting here innocently… on his desk. like it was always meant to be here. a cat sticker that you pasted on the cover, the edges of the book bent. it's your book. you never lent him that book, neither did you ever mention it to him.
the small calendar on his table. initially, you didn't give it too much thought. a calendar on a desk didn't look out of place at all. but you squinted, and then you realized that the barely legible scribbles were all.... your initials. it wasn't his schedule. it was yours. he had been tracking you without you even knowing. leaving the evidence out in the open, it felt like he was mocking you.
"...i just wanted to make sure you're safe," he justifies, noticing that you were looking at the calender. his voice was gentle and coaxing as he patiently explained himself. like as if this was just one small misunderstanding. like as if he is the one being wronged.
he reaches over to the bedside drawer, opening it to pull out a pair of metal handcuffs. the sound of the metal clinking makes a shiver run down your spine. it's a real handcuff, like the ones the police use. not a costume prop. the thought of going through his drawers never crossed your mind before. the sunlight from the setting sun outside catches onto the metal surface of the handcuffs, glinting almost maliciously.
"you'll stay, right...?" he persuades you softly, with wet, pleading eyes. talking to you in his usual gentle voice, as though you were a wounded animal. the heavy weight from the metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as he closes it around you. he loops the other end of the handcuff onto the metal bedframe. he looks at you like you're the only person on earth.
an illusion of choice. you try to speak. you try to shake your head, try to push him off, but the words won’t come out, your body won't move. you feel paralyzed. he didn't wait for an answer, closing the metal handcuffs with a click, locking it and putting the key back in the drawer. the sound of the wooden drawer closing sharp and final, almost shrill in the quiet room.
you feel the mattress dip under his weight as he moves closer to you. the warmth radiating from his body burning into you like a fever. the warmth that you once craved, the warmth that once made you feel safe and cozy, like a fireplace on a winter’s day. you recall the first time you held his warm, large hand. you remembered how you blushed like a little school girl. now, it feels like molten lava, claws dragging against your skin. your mind races as you recall every sweet text message, every time he laughed at a joke you told, every "i love you" he said. was it all a lie? the room is filled with the sound of the soft rustle of fabric, the bedsheets, his sweatpants, your skirt being pushed up slowly. inch by inch. it all feels wrong. it is wrong.
your eyes close shut as you brace yourself for what you know will happen next.
inspiration from eroge natsu no kusari ... thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/leaving comments and messages. i appreciate it alot (⸝⸝- ̫ -⸝⸝) although i take a long time to write hhh.... my greatest worry is that my stuff are all repetitive and too focused on the y/n's inner monologue. feel free to discuss dead dove topics with me in my inbox... some ideas i have red light district worker/host club/neighbour/baby trapping...
also some requests i have -> stepbro! fuma.. somno k...
trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat, unprotected sex, stalking, obsession, murder, dubcon, yandere, creepy coworker
you first noticed him in your first week of joining the company. you saw him standing by the water dispenser, quietly filling his water bottle. you smiled politely at him, bowing your head. he didn't smile back at you.
murata fuma.
that was what the coworkers said his name was. he's two years your senior. he sat at a few desks away from you. he never speaks unless spoken to, only replying with a few words or grunts of acknowledgement. he always goes for lunch alone and doesn't interact with others. amongst hushed whispers among the female colleagues you've befriended, they call him weird, odd, intimidating. they tell you not to bother with him and to just ignore him.
you don't know what to feel. but you can feel someone, somebody, looking at you, watching, observing you. you turn to scan at the people in the office, but no one is looking at you. they're either absorbed by their computer screens or engaged in conversation. but you swore you could feel someone's gaze on you. goosebumps raise on your skin. you wonder if you are slowly going crazy.
౨ৎ
as you spent the following weeks, months, settling into your new job, you try to ignore the persistent feeling of being watched. you blame it on the newfound stress of the job, your imagination, the too early mornings and late nights, and the caffeine messing with you.
you try to focus at work, telling yourself that it's nothing, but you can't shake the feeling of something odd, being watched.
strange, odd things start to happen to you. things that seemed normal at first, but started adding up. you don't feel comfortable telling the coworkers you've become acquainted with.
you come back from lunch and noticed that your mouse had been moved just an inch to the right, off centered. the cable tugged a little differently that you last remember seeing it before you left your desk earlier. you brush it off. you must be remembering it wrong.
you reach into your pile of paperclips to clip together a stack of documents. you fingers pick one up, finding it bent into a shape of a heart. you smile, looking around. it's a cute gesture, so you thought that one of the female colleagues did that.
one morning, which happened to be white day, you find a small package on your desk. wrapped meticulously with a small ribbon. it was a box of premium chocolates, the expensive kind from the department store. there's no note, no name, no indication of who it could be from. you looked around warily and slipped it into your bag. you didn't want to ask around, not wanting to attract attention. the last thing you wanted was to be a topic of gossip in the office.
a piece of crumpled tissue that you sneezed into suddenly disappeared after you came back from lunch. you assumed that the cleaner threw it out although you've never seen them around. after all, the tiny trashcan on your table seemed to be cleared quite often. on another day, the hair tie you left on your table suddenly disappeared too. you didn't think too much of if. maybe it dropped off somewhere. then on another day, a female colleague asked to borrow a pad. you dug through your purse, knowing that you always carried a spare one. only to find it not there. maybe you had forgotten to pack it? but you were always meticulous about these things....
you stand deep in thought in the printing room alone, waiting for your documents to finish printing. the fatigue from work started to weigh on you, coupled with the odd happenings. you were making a mental note of what you could have for lunch. oh- and also to restock your favourite lipbalm. it has been finishing quicker than usual these days... might be the dry weather? the buzz of the printing machine filled the air. suddenly, you feel the atmosphere in the printing room shift. fuma appears behind you, quietly, without so much so a word or the sound of his footsteps. like a ghost.
he doesn't speak, he doesn't say 'hello' or 'excuse me'. he reaches past you to retrieve a few pieces of blank printing paper, almost pressing up against your back. he stands behind you closely as you wait for your documents to finish printing. faster, you whisper in your head, hoping the machine can somehow read your mind. the distance between you and him were close enough for you to smell him. something woody... soapy...? something familiar too... you swore you could almost feel him breathing down your neck. you took a quick peek at his face. you notice his sharp profile. the way his glasses sit on his nose bridge. the dark circles underneath his eyes. the tiny mole underneath his lip, the way his hair falls. you notice the contrast of his hands holding the white papers, veined, bony fingers. you blush. you've never been this close to him before. you never noticed how good looking he was.
he doesn't look at you, staring straight ahead at the white wall. patiently waiting for you to finish printing. your hands tremble nervously as you collect the printed papers. you give a tiny bow and walk out of the printing room. you weren't sure why you were even nervous.
you don't look back at him.
from then on, you became more hyperaware of him. you started to notice him more. you noticed how he's already at his desk by the time you arrive everyday. the way he quietly sips on his cup of coffee. the way the light of the computer screen reflects off his glasses. the way he doesn't smile or talk to anyone.
all the girls says he's strange. too cold, too quiet, too brooding. they say he's creepy and weird. but you can't seem to look away from him, neither could you get him out of your head. you don't know what to name this feeling. maybe you are indeed going crazy.
౨ৎ
in recent weeks, work has been starting to be extremely difficult and stressful for you. you've been working overtime many days in a row for a new project. you're exhausted, stretched thin from all the workload and deadlines. you haven't had a good rest even when you're at home after work, the dark circles under your eyes growing darker.
your supervisor has been giving you a hard time recently, pinpointing every single one of your mistakes, dumping more and more trivial tasks on you. earlier in the afternoon, he had shouted at you infront of everyone, about a tiny, tiny mistake in one of your proposal reports, singling you out. it was a tiny, fixable mistake. just a formatting error. he unleased his tirade on you, calling you out for being careless. saying how you've been making mistakes ever since you started, how maybe this isn't the right place for you. you could feel the eyes of your coworkers all on you, looking at you pitifully. they too have been on the receiving end of your supervisor's unfair treatment. you shifted uncomfortably, staring at the repeating patterns on the carpeted office floor. you could feel that person's eyes on you. all you could do is lower your head in embarassment and let it pass.
the airconditioning quietly hummed in the background as you stared at your computer screen. another day of working over time. you have been contemplating quitting. the past few weeks have been filled with self doubt and anxiety, and you wondered if you're really suitable to be working here. you looked around your office, thinking that you're alone. you rested your head on your desk, your weary shoulders stressed from the exhaustion.
without realizing, you find yourself crying, hot tears running down your face. you could not control the emotions that were welling up inside of you and threatening to spill. you pressed your palm against your mouth to muffle the sound of you crying. hot tears flowed down your cheeks, wetting your sleeves. you were embarassed, worried that there might be people still somewhere in the office. you didn't know how long you spent crying.
you didn't hear him approach you. you didn't hear his footsteps, neither did he say anything. but you knew who it was. the scent of his woody cologne filled your nostrils, but you didn't want to turn your head. your breath hitched and you hiccuped. you couldn't let him see you like this, eyes all red and puffy from crying, like a child.
he didn't speak, he didn't offer a tissue, or any words of comfort. time stood still in that moment.
a soft thud
you turned your head just enough to see. a white paper cup placed on your desk. you recognized the logo from a coffee shop nearby.
you looked up and turned to him. but he had already started to walk away, his figure quickly retreating. you watched him helplessly as the words 'thank you' got stuck in your throat.
you picked up the paper cup with your hands still trembling from crying. it was your exact coffee order. how did he know? you took a little sip.
you felt your anxiety and stress slowly fade away.
౨ৎ
you walked into the office the next morning, the usual tiredness and stress numbing your thoughts. you were up all night thinking about yesterday, about your job.. your supervisor.. and fuma. you placed your things on your desk, but something felt off.
you turn to look at fuma's desk. it's empty. you look at the time. 8.15am.
he's never late. everyday, he's always at his desk, already staring at the computer screen before you even reach. you've never seen him taken a off day either. you wanted to thank him for last night and treat him to a cup of coffee. but you push those thoughts aside for now, booting up your computer. sigh... another day of endless reports and paperwork. you pray you won't get picked on by your supervisor today.
by 9.30am, the office is buzzing with chatter. everyone is gathered in groups, talking, some hushed whispers, some covering their mouths in shock. you look around, confused. you catch bits and pieces of their conversations.
car accident?
died?
you freeze. your blood runs cold, the familiar goosebumps raising on your skin underneath your clothes. who....? who died in a car accident? you take your phone to try to search for the news.
a female coworker sitting next to you lightly touches your elbow. "the supervisor.. they say he got into a car crash. he passed away," her face is equally pale from the shock. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. you felt the room spin, your hands gripping to edge of your desk to steady yourself. dead?
in the midst of the chaos, fuma walks into the office. 9.50am. he looks the same as always. his white button up ironed crisply, not even a wrinkle. his tie is perfectly knotted and centered. his face is calm, blank, and unreadable as always. his eyes always empty, dark. he doesn't look at you. but you know.
at 10.30am, hr calls for a meeting in the conference room. the whole office gathers in the conference room, whispering. the tension in the air is thick. the manager speaks in a composed, low voice. the kind of voice they train hr to use in difficult situations. the supervisor passed away in a car crash. the impact killed him on the spot and based on investigations, no foul play was involved. work details will be sorted out soon, but for today, everyone can take the day easy and have some free time to grieve. the company will be providing support and counselling.
the words rang in your ears. you weren't able to pay attention during the meeting at all, your eyes flicking to where fuma was standing, at the back of the conference room. quiet, expressionless, empty. as always. your palms sweat and your heart palpitates.
as your colleagues move out of conference room and back to the office, your legs subconsciously brought you towards a stairwell at the further, deserted end of the office building.
the lights in the stairwell flicker, the faint, familiar humming of the fluorescent lights. your nose itches from the the dusty plaster walls. nobody ever uses the stairs anymore.
you hear the heavy metal door open behind you, but you don't turn around. you knew who it was. a shiver runs down your spine. the door clicks shut.
"was it you?" your voice laced with accusation. you don't know what you're even asking. was it you who have been watching me the past few months? was it you who left that chocolate and paperclip? was it you who took my trash and belongings? was it you who killed him?
you're not quite sure anymore.
he quietly takes a step towards you, not answering. he corners you, backing you up against the wall. his hand hovers over your waist but you don't push away. you're overcome with guilt, fear, an odd sense of relief... and something that you can't seem to name.
"you cried yesterday," he says matter of factly, not answering your question. his cold hand moved up and gently touched your face. the coldness seeped through your clothes.
"was it you?" your voice cracks as you repeat the question. your eyes met his cold, dark, empty eyes. you were half expecting him to laugh, to deny, to look at you like you're crazy.
"i couldn't stand him treating you like that,"
a confession to the crime. your throat tightens. you know you should run, shout for help, tell someone the truth. but your legs won't move.
"are you going to tell anyone?" he asks, his expressionless, dark eyes staring right through you. you softly shake your head, still trembling.
his hand pulls you closer, and you know you should push him away; but you can't. your soft chest meets his, and you're certain he can feel your rapid heartbeat. he holds your face and crashes his lips onto yours. you didn't retaliate. the kiss was surprisingly gentle yet insistent at the same time. your body froze up.
"i'll take care of you," he whispers against your lips. "just let me....."
an odd feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. he doesn't say it, but you know what he's talking about. he takes your silence as a sign to continue.
his hands slide down from your face, down to your neck, lower, and lower. slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons of your work blouse, gently caressing the soft, warm flesh of your chest. another hand slides up your skirt, bunching it up your waist. he slowly undresses you like a present that he's been saving for months.
"i'll make sure nothing, no one, hurts you ever again...." the promise hangs heavy in the air. he didn't ask for permission, but neither did you attempt to push him away.
you don't know why you didn't push him away. maybe it's the overwhelming stress from the past few months of work; the deadlines, the passive aggressive remarks, the nights where you would cry yourself to sleep. the exhaustion of carrying the burden alone. maybe you didn't push him away because it felt good, for once, to have someone on your side. someone who would do anything for you. someone who'd kill for you.
his hands move to the zipper of his work pants. the sound of the zipper being pulled echoed in the stairwell. he takes himself out with a sense of urgency, like he almost knows this is wrong. because it is.
you know it's wrong too, but you don't stop him. you let him pull your cotton panties off you. you let him push himself into you without preparation. the cold metal rim of his glasses dig into the side of your neck, him harshly pressing his whole body weight onto you. the pressure from his body felt almost suffocating, his breath heavy against your neck. you can smell something familiar. the scent of your lipbalm. his cold hands grasp at you desperately, seeping into your skin and flesh. like as if you'd disappear if he didn't hold onto you tightly. like as if he'd die without you.
"you feel so good... better than i imagined-....." he rambles, his calm, empty facade slowly unravelling. you can feel his cock so deep inside of you, hitting your cervix, roughly slamming in and out of you.
"i love you, y/n... i'll never make you sad... want you to be happy-.." he confesses in your hair, inhaling the scent of your floral shampoo. you can feel him grow even more inside of you, the head of his cock deliciously dragging against your walls. his pace does not slow down, not even a little bit. he fucks into you mercilessly, harder and more frantically. you try to bite back your moans, but it comes out as weak whines.
he doesn't stop. pushing you against the cold plaster wall. he sinks all the way in, before pulling all the way out, letting the head of his cock catch at your entrance. and then he slams in all the way in, till his hipbones dig into you. his mask has fully slipped, the once expressionless man moaning uncontrollably in your ear. telling you how much he loves you. with one final thrust, he finishes deep inside of you, practically cumming in your womb. you shudder at the feeling of the hot liquid inside of you, your heart clenching from overstimulation.
the both of you catch your breaths for a moment. he pulls out, gently helping you to button up your blouse and straighten up your skirt. he smooths out your hair, neatly rearranging it. like as if this is all normal. like he's rehearsed it in his head millions of times. he grips your hand painfully tight, trying to reassure you somehow.
"i'll make you happy forever....." he whispers in your ear. such sweet words were so contrary to the cold, emotionless look in his eyes. you should be terrified... but you aren't.
and for some reason.. you felt an odd sense of freedom and relief at his promise. at the fact that your supervisor is gone. you know you shouldn't feel that way, but it felt like a heavy weight was lifted of your shoulders. you don't know how he pulled off the car crash. you're not entirely sure if you want to know. but you felt... free. finally. a crooked smile adorned your lips as you nodded at his words.
maybe you were the crazy one all along.
probably one of my more milder (?) ideas...been having a hard time and super stressed with work lately. my supervisor is such a .... ugh.
also, i wanna try writing shorter fics? and focus more on writing smut... i feel like the stuff i write are too monologue-y and a little repetitive 🥲
thank you for reading!! and for all the likes and reblogs of my previous works!!! ♡
trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat blood related incest (twins), isolation, manipulation, posessive, psychological, slight angst (?) no smut
growing up, you and your twin brother, taki, were inseparable, like two peas in a pod. you were born a few minutes before taki, making you the older twin. in your childhood years, your mother would dress the both of you in matching childrens outfits, shoes, down to your school bag. the both of you were joined at the hip, yet had different personalities and didn't look similar at all. you took after your mother, and he took after your paternal grandfather. he was playful, rambunctious, more affectionate and you were quieter, and more reserved.
you would watch him play on the nintendo 3ds, his hands mashing the buttons on the device. no matter how many times he would try to teach you how to play, you could never get the hang of it. you would argue with him over using the television, snatching the remote control from him. you had wanted to watch pretty cure while he wanted to watch pokémon. your mother would stand at the kitchen doorway, in her apron, yelling at the both of you to knock it off and do your homework.
in winter, his legs would drape over yours under the kotatsu, the shared body heat keeping you warm. the thick blanket trapped the heat underneath the low table, and you could feel his thighs pressing into yours. the bones on his knees pressed into your side, but you weren't in pain, rather, a comforting weight settling on you. on the television was some soap drama that your mother liked to watch. the both of you would put on your puffercoats and boots, and go outside, running on the pure white, fallen snow. the two of you would pelt each other with snowballs. he was always better at aiming than you, thanks to his video game experience. you would scream at him as the snowball hits you, but he knows you're never actually angry. your scarf comes off loose from all the running, and before you could fix it back, his hands are already wrapping it back around your neck, clumsily tying it, his knuckles brushing against your cheeks, the snow making it slightly damp. you didn't say thank you, burying your blushing face into your soft wool.
in summer, the both of you would sit on the porch to cool off. the both of you would share a packet of chocolate flavoured papico ice cream, the faint sound of cicadas and the electric fan buzzing. taki would behave just like an annoying puppy and lay his head on your lap, his hair tickling your thighs. the ice cream in his hands would slowly melt and drip onto you. you shrieked at the cold feeling and jokingly pushed his head away. taki would sit infront of the electric fan and make weird noises at it, his voice coming out robotic and funny. the way his warm hand would absentmindedly rest on your thigh when the both of you were watching the television, drawing patterns. the way his breath would smell like your favourite strawberry milk, the one the both of you would drink right out of the same carton.
as the both of you grew older, and puberty arrived, things shifted. you each started to grow into your own identities. after all, you both were of different genders. naturally, the both of you had different interests and hobbies. he would still barge into your room without knocking, using your hairbrush without permission, like as if he owned the place. you look up from the video you were watching on your phone, throwing a pillow at him.
"you're so distant nowadays," he complains. you furrow your brows in annoyance as he dodges the pillow.
"we're not kids anymore, taki..." his jaw tightens and something flashes in his eyes, too quickly for you to catch. he forces a smile.
"yeah, you're right," he replies, a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, flashing his pearly white teeth.
summer evenings in kanagawa were sweltering hot and humid. on that particular day, the both of you attended your local natsu matsuri. you wore a beautiful light blue yukata with red flowers, and taki wore a simple dark blue one. your mother helped you braid your hair and pin a flower hair clip in your hair. taki stood at the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed, telling you to hurry up. the air at the festival was thick and cloying, filled with the scent of grilled yakitori, takoyaki, and the melted sugar from the dangos and other street snacks. the festival was crowded, people pushing from all directions.
"stay close," he grabbed onto your hand, his palm sweaty and sticky from the melted kakigori that you both shared earlier. normally, you would complain about him being unhygienic, but this time, you didn't pull away. he led you away from the crowd to a quiet slope to watch the fireworks.
he sat behind you on the grass, his arms around your waist and his legs crouched on the sides of your hips. he rested his chin on your shoulder. you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin cotton of your yukata.
"you're too close," you complained, but made no effort to move. neither did he.
"shh.. the fireworks are starting," ignoring your complaint. you didn't turn your head to scold him like you usually would, instead you focused on the fireworks that bloomed in the evening sky. you felt his smile against the nape of your neck. you could never really forget that warm, humid summer night.
and as annoyed as you were at his lack of awareness sometimes, the both of you were still close, closer than other siblings. after all, he was your twin brother. the closest person to you in the world.
˚⊱❀⊰˚
maybe things started to really, really change in high school. you and taki were in different classes in high school. on the walk home after school, you confided to taki that you had a crush on a male classmate. the sun was setting and your sweat made your uniform stick to your back. you felt giddy and light-headed, a pink blush dusting your cheeks.
"i like him…i think. we've been talking on LINE," you gushed. taki remained quiet, not saying anything.
"what about you?" you teased playfully, elbowing him. "anyone you like?"
"no," he shook his head curtly, keeping his eyes forward on the path. he quickened his steps. you pulled at the straps of his school bag.
"don't lie to me! i know you do~" you poked fun at him even though it was obvious he wanted this topic of conversation to end.
"shut up," he walks faster, leaving you a few steps behind. you tsk-ed, trying to catch up with his quick strides. what you didn't catch was his eyes becoming red and the tears threatening to fall.
in the following days, the male classmate stops messaging you on LINE and doesn't talk to you in school. he's avoiding you. you want to confront him and ask him what's wrong. was it something you said or did? did you come off too clingy? but you're too embarassed and anxious to ask him, so you don't. maybe it was all one-sided on your part. maybe you had just imagined it.
at home, you call taki over to your bedroom. you confided in him again, about how the male classmate you had a crush on won't even look your way anymore. you cried softly in taki's shoulder. he comforts you this time, oddly receptive compared to the other day.
"don't cry… he didn't deserve you anyway," his warm hands patted your back gently, soothing you. he offered you a few pieces of tissues to wipe your tears, letting you cry to your heart's content. after a few minutes, he stood up and left your room. his footsteps padded away on the wooden floorboards, and he returned after a few minutes.
"here," he shoves a kuromi plush keychain in your hands, still wrapped in the plastic packaging. it's the one you've been eyeing.
"how did you-?" you gasped in surprise. he scratches the back of his neck, looking away.
"the other day at the mall, you were looking at it," he shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. "didn't know when to give it you."
you stared at the keychain, at kuromi's smug yet cute face, and then at him, his eyes soft and expecting. you clutched the keychain into your chest and hugged him. you didn't say thank you, you didn't have to; he just understands you that well.
˚⊱❀⊰˚
one late afternoon, after school, you were walking along the school corridors to meet with taki before going home together. at the end of the hallway, you spotted taki and a female student from his class talking face to face. in her hands, she was holding a small envelope, pink with a heart sticker pasted on the flap. the kind of letters you'd give to confess to your crush. your chest tightened, an unexplainable feeling blooming underneath your ribs.
taki's back was to you, so you couldn't see his face. but you saw the expression on the girl's face fall, and she nodded dejected, looking down at the floor. you watched as she shoved the envelope in her pocket and turned away, her sleeves wiping the corners of her eyes.
you took a step back, but the heel of your shoes bumped into the wall behind you, making a dull thud sound. taki turned around, his eyes meeting yours. you didn't know why you turned and ran away. you didn't wait for him, running down the stairs and out the school gates. the soles of your black school shoes were loud as it hit the asphalt ground.
"hey! stop-!" taki shouts after you. you kept on running, your hair messy from the wind and your bagpack hanging barely on one shoulder. but you weren't able to outrun him, his long legs helping him catch up to you quick. he caught your wrists firmly, spinning you to face him.
"why are you running?" he panted, out of breathe from chasing after you. you don't know why your eyes stung and your throat felt painful, choked with unshed tears. you couldn't look at him, staring at the buttons on his gakuran, at your eye level. it seems like he's been growing taller these days. his grip on your wrist loosened, his fingers brushing against the pulse point.
"i turned her down," he explains himself before you even could you ask.
"why?" you questioned him, your voice hoarse from running. your palms angrily wiped the corners of your eyes.
he didn't answer you, and just stared at your face and took the bagpack that was sagging off your shoulders gently.
"let's go home." you didn't argue back.
˚⊱❀⊰˚
you invited your female friends over one day, friends that you had known since middle school. the four of you sat in your bedroom floor, flipping through popteen magazines, eating snacks, and talking about anything and everything that teenage girls would talk about. celebrity gossip, crushes, clothes, johnny's boy groups… you and your friends chatted and laughed all afternoon till your stomachs hurt.
taki was in his bedroom which was next to yours. you could hear his music playing faintly from the speakers through the bedroom wall.
SLAM
his bedroom door slammed with a loud, sharp bang that startled everyone.
you and your friends ignored it and continued to put makeup on each other and curling each others hair. you could hear his footsteps shuffling outside your bedroom door.
"hey, did you see the new johnny's trainee? nakakita yuma? he's so cute!"
"no way, michieda shunsuke's cuter!"
"no! hirano sho's the best!" you and your friends squealed and argued.
SLAM
he slammed his bedroom door again, louder this time. you and your friend looked at each other.
"what's wrong with taki?" you friend asked, baffled at his behaviour.
"ignore him. he's just being moody," you rolled your eyes, brushing it off. you could still hear his footsteps padding in the hallway but ignore it. soon, your friends started to discuss first kisses. the four of you were giggling and gasping. when it came to your turn, you were about to admit that you've never had your first kiss. just as you were about to answer, you were cut off.
SLAM
you were beyond annoyed at this point, picking up a shoe to throw at the wall inbetween your room and taki's.
"cut it out!" you yelled. the door stopped slamming after that.
you sent your friends off at your front door, thanking them for hanging out with you. as soon as the front door clicked shut, you stormed to taki's room, kicking the door open.
"what's wrong with you?!" you yelled at him. he doesn't look up from his phone.
"nothing," he replied, deadpan, not looking at you. you weren't in the mood to argue with him anymore, slamming his door and stomping back to your room.
later on, that night, you were talking to your friend that came over earlier.
"hey, sorry about taki…" you apologized, sheepish.
"oh it's fine. he messaged me earlier to apologize," you let out a sigh of relief. your friend paused on the other end of the line. "i think he overheard us… he mentioned another thing, about your first kiss…"
your stomach dropped. "what?"
"he said he was your first kiss, that you two practiced on each other with you were kids. i didn't know if i should believe him," you friend explained nervously. your jaw dropped, throat tightening. you couldn't find the words to reply to her. you wanted to deny it but… it was technically true. your first kiss was infact technically taki… but it didn't count, right? the both of you were just kids playing around.
"i'm not trying to blame your brother, but-…" your friend continues, her voice lower, careful not to offend. "don't you think he's a little too overprotective? it's a little weird… he doesn't seem happy when we're around, and always asking for your location when we hang out…"
"he's always been like that," you tried to defend taki.
"i know, but still-…." she sighs. "nevermind, sorry i said that. see you tomorrow?" you said goodnight and hung up the phone call. you stared up at the ceiling, replaying your friend's words in your head. your gaze falls on the kuromi keychain on top of your desk. the one he gifted you.
the next day, on the way to school, you confronted him. the tree branches were dull and the sky was gray. winter had just started. you could never get used to the cold weather. you asked him about yesterday.
"why did you tell her that?" you didn't even have to specify, but he knows. he didn't deny it, didn't even bat an eyelid.
"…i didn't mean it in a bad way," he replied, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. you were fuming at him, unhappiness written all over your face. as you were about to scold him, he turned to you, his eyes slightly red and a frown on his face. you've rarely ever seen him upset.
"why are you angry at me? i'm your brother…" his voice cracked. "are you siding with your friends over me?"
you wanted to be angry at him, you really did. but the way he looked at you, so small, dejected, hurt… he suddenly felt pitiful, like a wounded puppy. all the anger inside of you faded and was quickly replaced with guilt. he was right.
"i'm sorry," you whispered the apology.
he nodded, not saying anything. your hands reached up to his face to gently wipe the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes. you buried your face in his chest, hugging him. you smelled that familiar scent of fragrant laundry detergent your mother used. the both of you walked to school silently. you won't bring up this topic around him or your friends at all.
a week after, the rumours started on your school's online anonymous message board. you could never have predicted that you would feature on the board as a topic of gossip. you didn't see it at first, thinking the message board was just full of nonsense rumours. until taki showed it on his phone to you, concern etching on his face.
aren't y/n and taki super close? it's weird
they're twins, but its kinda suspicious that they're so close
lolol it's disgusting
you think they kissed?
ew lolol
your eyes widened in shock. those words sounded familiar. you remembered the conversation you had with your friend. how she said that the way taki was acting was 'weird'. her knowing about the kiss. it had to be your friends that started these rumours. you ran to your room, slamming door. you picked up your phone, quickly dialing to confront her.
"why did you spread rumours of me and my brother?" you yelled over the phone at her.
"what are you talking about?!" you friend yells back over the phone. you sent her the screenshots of the anonymous message board, angrily tapping at the phone screen.
"it wasn't me! i swear!" she defends herself. hot tears of frustration streamed down your face.
"but the other day-! you called him weird!" you hung up the phone, throwing it against the bed. you buried your face in the pillows, sobbing. the bedroom door opened quietly. taki walked in. he sat the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"your friends did it?" he asked. you didn't respond. you aren't 100% sure, but you think they did. he places his hand on your back; comforting and warm.
"i don't care about the rumours," he says quietly. "you shouldn't, either." he gently turns you over, softly brushing your hair away from your wet, sobbing face.
"theyr're not your real friends," his thumb wipes away a drying tear track on your cheek. "real friends wouldn't do that…."
they had implied that he was being weird the other day. why did you let that slide? they were the ones that started the rumour. it had to be them.
"you should block them," he suggested calmy. you nodded. he was right. you should, and you did. that night, you blocked your female friends on LINE, not bothering to open the unread messages that they sent. it's for the better.
the very next day, you went to school with eyes swollen from crying. you put on concealer but it was still puffy. you walked into your classroom and kept your head down but you could feel the eyes of your classmates on you, whispering and judging. you didn't look up, you couldn't.
at lunch, you refused to go to the cafeteria. you were too afraid to face the tables of students, not knowing what they will say to you. so instead, you went up to the rooftop, knowing that nobody will be there. it's in the early days of winter and the snow hasn't fallen yet, but it's already starting to get chilly, nobody in their right mind would spend their lunch up there in the cold. the heavy metal door creaked as you pushed it.
the cool early winter wind hit your face and you took a seat against the wall. it was unusually quiet. during the warmer seasons, you would be able to hear students playing in the courtyard below, but now you could only hear the occassional bird chirp. you opened the bento box that you mother had prepared, but honestly, you didn't have any appetite.
the door leading to the rooftop creaked open again. you froze. who could it be? the footsteps sounded oddly familiar…
taki appeared and sat right next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. he didn't say anything, and pushed a small carton of strawberry milk into your hands. the one that the both of you loved drinking since you were children.
you took it, your cold fingers brushing against his warm ones, lingering for a second longer than necessary, longer than you usually would. you didn't say thank you.
"the rumours will pass," he says it like a promise. you nodded, not responding. you set the milk carton and your bento box down. your hands were shivering, from the early winter cold, or from the tears. taki wrapped his arms around you without you having to ask him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck. he felt warm, so warm, just like when the both of you were still kids and could fit underneath the toasty kotatsu, curled up like kittens.
the both of you stayed there till the lunch bell rang
thankfully, the attention span of highschoolers is quite short. by the following week, the gossip and rumours surrounding you and taki had already disippated and forgotten. there was no proof anyway, and everyone was always in search of the newest, most scandalous gossip. you typed the url into your phone, hands shaking. you didn't want to see yours and taki's name.
did you hear? xx dropped out because his dad went bankrupt
lolol what
saw xx and xx kissing in the empty music room
gross
you scrolled down and it seemed that the topic of gossip had quickly shifted. the hushed whispers and subtle staring had died down over the past few days, the students turning their attention to other things. you sighed in relief. it was just about 3 or 4 months left to graduation, and you just had to make it through this final winter season. but the damage has been done, you vowed to no longer talk to your 'friends'. you truly believed that they were the ones who sent in that rumour. you believed taki's words. it felt like he was the only one left that you could trust.
˚⊱❀⊰˚
winter came and went quickly, and spring arrived. it's already the end of final year of highschool. the graduation ceremony was held in the school's gymnasium. cherry blossoms were in full bloom in late march, the peak of spring. you sat quietly amongst the sea of black and white uniforms, your hands folded over your neatly pressed uniform skirt. you weren't focusing on the speeches, eyes fixated on counting the pleats of your skirt. the ceremony passed by in a blur. you hadn't spoken to your friends- whatever little you had left, classmates, or anyone outside of your family in weeks.. months.
after the diplomas were handed out, you stood away from the crowd, your eyes scanning amongst the students and parents. the school compound was abuzz with congratulations, laughter, students and parents taking photographs to commemorate the final day at high school. the sunlight from the afternoon sun was making it hard to see.
suddenly, a body obstructed the sunlight. taki stood infront of you.
"where's mom?" you ask him, looking around.
"talking to her friends somewhere," he shrugs. "said goodbye to your friends?"
you hmm-ed a non-commital answer, looking away. you didn't want to ruin the mood.
"wanna take one last walk around the school?" he asks softly. you nod, walking right next him. you never realize how much he's grown physically over the years. he has grown taller, his shoulders are broad now, and his hair has grown a little longer, the tufts of black hair reaching past the bottom of his ears. the baby fat on his face has slightly disappeared, his features becoming more sharper and defined. when did he stop becoming the little boy that you had always remembered him as, and started becoming a young man?
the both of you stopped at the back of the school yard. it was quiet, away from the buzz of the crowd. the both of you stood underneath the large, old tree. the sturdy cherry blossoms branches spread upwards, shading the both of you. soft rays of sunlight streamed inbetween the beautiful, milky pink petals, that were falling at your feet.
taki stopped walking, and turned to face you. your feet stopped too. the afternoon sunlight shone behind him, casting a shadow on his face. you could count the number of eyelashes on his face.
"i have something for you," he says, a slight tremble in his face. you have never seen taki so.. unsure before. he is always so loud, and boisterous, and confident.
his hand went to his chest, tugging at the second button of his gakuran uniform. he uses a bit of strength to pluck it off, and held it out to you. the brass button bearing the emblem of your school gleamed under the sunlight.
"here," you stared at the small button on his fingers, a black thread still dangling.
"taki...." he purses his lips, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. you don't know what to say. the second button of a gakuran... you have seen these scene before countless times. in those cheesy highschool dramas. in the romance animes and mangas that you love. a handsome, heartthrob classmate; or the boy next door confessing his feelings on graduation day and giving his second button to the girl he has a crush on. the button the closest to the heart, signifying one's love. but… life isn't a shoujo anime. this is taki, your twin brother, born from the same womb.
"but- we're.... siblings," your voice was small. the late spring wind breezed past the both of you, your uniforms fluttering. the soft breeze rustled his hair in the wind. a falling cherry blossom petal gets caught in his hair, the soft, pale pink resting against his black locks. your heart ached painfully as you looked at him.
"i know, but..." his voice was uncharacteriscally soft, and petulant, like the voice he would use when you were kids and the both of you were fighting over the last piece of candy. his eyes dropped to the button in his hand, and then back to your face.
"i… i love you."
you look at the button, his trembling hand still outstretched, waiting for you. those three words hung in the air, feeling so wrong, yet so right at the same time. you know you shouldn't take it, you should tell him to knock it off. he's always been a mischievious child, always joking around, wasn't he? your mother would always pull at his ear and scold him whenever he tried to pull a prank. stop messing around. it's not funny, taki.
but those words never left your lips. instead.. your fingers closed around the button, brushing against his fingers. the warmth from his hands familiar, and unfamiliar, all at the same time. i love you too. you didn't say it back, but he knows. he knows you best. your heart, your feelings, everything about you. after all, the both of you were conceived together from a single cell that split.
taki smiled, not the tight-lipped, guarded smile he had been adorning on his face the whole morning throughout the graduation ceremony. but a relieved, genuine smile that you have seen hundreds, thousands of times growing up by his side. his hand reached up to cup your cheek, softly, like as if he was afraid you'd disappear. the warmth that he always is, seeping into your skin. he bent down to your face and pressed his lips onto yours, soft, hesitant, sweet. you could smell the faint scent of strawberry milk. when he pulled away, his eyes were damp, shining softly under the sunlight. your first, real kiss.
"let's go home," he reaches for your hand. you carefully place the button deep in the pocket of your skirt. you could feel the button through the fabric of the pocket, pressing against your thigh. your heartbeat pulsing, but it felt like his. you intertwined your hand in his, walking side by side. his hand in yours was warm, just like the hot summer night in your memory.
you watched the cherry blossoms petals float down the branches and fall at your feet. soon, spring will pass and summer will arrive. seasons change, you would leave behind this high school, your classmates, your teachers. you would leave this kanagawa town, where you've lived your whole life. your childhood home, your parents, the corner shop where you and taki would always go to and buy snacks. you couldn't wait to start a new chapter in university, moving to tokyo, the big city, shining neon lights and skyscrapers. to attend natsu matsuri in a new city and watch the fireworks again. but you won't be alone... taki will always be with you. the dearest person in the whole wide world, your twin brother.
author notes : thank you for the likes/reblogs/comments/messages and especially thank you to @smidare for the wonderful, beautiful fic idea, i hope i did it justice… i was initially contemplating between making it pseudo stepcest or real incest but decided okay fuck it let's go all out.. since idk how stepcest twins would work . ahhh halfway writing this i got quite attached to this piece, although i feel like it wasnt really dark enough.. i didn't know or feel where smut would fit in appropriately in this setting, which is why i left a open ending, i'm kinda thinking of writing a part two where they're slightly older and in university, i think i can fit in a smut there. also, i love to explore darker/deeper themes without smut even i'm not very confident in my smut hhhhh… sorry im just rambling. lmk if theres any interest for part two!
also does anyone listen to the few same songs whenever writing fics, then that song gets associated to that fic in your head
