hello can i request a yandere oguma frim beastars^^
Author's note: I writted this one-shot two times bcs the first time I HATE how I did it soooooooo here we go.
Little lion in Rebellion Yandere! Oguma x Lion! Reader
I already lost the count of the days, the nights and obviouly the endless hours I spend in this room. Like a circus freak, waiting for an end to all the misery imposed by the pain, praying to the deities hidden among the shadows of the nights and the rays of the sun for an end to this miserable story with me, a predator locked inside a golden jail.
Originality, that phrase was talking about an animal locked in a golden jail always was a weak animal; a bird or a rodent or even an insect, but those trapped predators are twice as miserable as any tiny and weak creature could, if it so desired, dream of.
Someone like me, with the right jaw to tear open meat, and claws always sharpened by the nature of my blood finds that even their most pathetic attempts at fighting are useless before the grip of that herbivore, of that man whose blunt fingers and perfectly and coherently organized teeth seem to manipulate my figure as if it were a puppet. For many days, even Louis had more empathy for me than Oguma would ever feel for any sentient being that is not an equal to his biology.
The soft hands that I once felt proud of were now bruised, damaged and scarred without even a bandage on, all being a tiny bit of the cruelty behind that fucking deer, and in this dark, impenetrable room, even by the most specialized forces could find a house always under surveillance since the day Oguma preferred to start a suffering with a vile and sadistic end that not even the worst murderers could think of giving even to their most suffering victim was just a little playdate in comparation of what he did to me.
I had and will have the misfortune of having been born within these bars decorated with gold, accommodated in a claustrophobic and invasive environment for my nature free of chains. Even with the great misfortunes of others, even the poorest enjoy the freedom to touch the grass with their fingers, unlike me, a creature treated like a wild beast from the first day. Oh, if my ancestors saw this situation, they would be rejoicing in their already graceful graves.
The pain in my chest is present again, feeling like a torture from ancient times, just waking up on the same pillow every day of my life.
The lights were still on; apparently their presence had vanished at the sight of me sleeping so peacefully in such a limited space, and even his damn footsteps seem invisible to my bruised and damaged ears.
—Did you sleep well? —His voice resonated in my ears, echoing in the room without any natural light.
I couldn’t answer; his chair seems too comfortable outside the cage, and my entire backside begs for a soft bed to lie down on after so many nights without a good rest.
—I asked you a question. —he hissed, before one of his hands gripped the metal.
I refused to answer, just kneading the uncomfortable, lumpy pillow in a rough attempt to stretch my muscles, like a jaguar cub learning to use its claws.
—Idiot —he whispered. —, aren’t you going to answer me?
My head fell back against the little space left on the red pillow decorated with gold linen. Even the smell of fresh blood coming from his fine clothes seems to try to be a means of temptation for my hungry stomach, already abandoned by dad’s home-cooked food years ago.
—Damn predators —he panted, angrily —, all of your are the same —he took my tail in his hands —, stubborn, insufferable, and proud of all of your good things, proud of your fucking jaws, your teeth, your claws ready to tear skin like butter.
The pull I received was such that even my head jumped off the small velvet mattress. The sharp pain that runs through my backside to my hips is such that even the mere act of moving made it more and more painful.
—But it's not that hard to keep them flush —He pulled again, gripping his fingers into the fur and flesh of my tail—, is it, little lioness?
Small tears escaped from my eyes and ran down my cheeks at his aggressive tugs. The constancy of the pain was inevitably sharp and extremely unbearable.
—Now, answer me properly —He let go of my tail, returning to his initial position.
For the few seconds I remained clinging to myself, my tail twisted over my body, the marks of his fingers remaining impregnated in my fur like wood marked by varnish.
—So?
I couldn’t even whisper a moan as fear invaded me again, just like the first day I was locked in this hole of pain, just like every day of this miserable life.
My face peeked out between the golden bars, my tail tangling in my changed position; sitting on the edge of the cushion, bringing all my weight to the place where I was in the opposite location to his.
—Are you really going to make me go there?—He whined.
His footsteps echoed in the empty room, silencing my constant gasps from the pain lying in my body, small tears welling up on my face.
—Speak —He said —, now.
The sweet caress on the fur that outlines my ear is such that even my own body forgets that mistreatment foreign to my temperamental behavior, like a sedative whose action is immediate in every sense of the word. His bent posture to take that part so delicate for me was almost glorious and pious in the eyes of any family that has caused me so much pain.
—If you don't, you know it will only end worse.
With the purpose of a whim to be fulfilled, I made him release my ear by moving my body, before my eyes looked at him again. His eyes still show that coldness whose emotional emptiness is almost inexhaustible, as if all the pity that any creature can show for others was taken away from him at a young age as a method of punishment.
His hand is still extended, his posture and even the smell are still the same as the moment I remembered the monster in front of me, whose evilness crossed all the limits imposed in a society in constant internal struggle and inexhaustible passive aggressiveness, and one last time, just like every time, I decided to stop being miserable, quiet and lonely, before approaching his thin fingers, with trimmed nails and his fine palm with the fur in a harmoniously contained order, a reflection of his constant personal hygiene.
—On what day, or what week, or what fucking year, will you stop being so miserable? —I forced myself to ask—. And yeah, I know you will not answer me right now, so, allow me to answer you in the way I always longed for, dear herbivore.
With the same speed with which Mom instilled in me, my hands wrapped around his, my nails trimmed to the veins still containing dried blood, my dried blood, and I, in an attempt to return all the treatment received, surrounded his hand with my extended lips, and finally, my teeth closed, but just as the miseries continued to increase their level of gravity, I find myself with his same cold gaze, with his same cynicism hidden behind the eyes of a wealthy father incapable of conceiving a child into the world.
—Ah, I already guessed that you would do that —He whispered—. I'm surprised that you didn't notice why you only ate minced meat.
I immediately pulled his hand out of my mouth, and seeing the hand with only residue of spit on the fur, and in that moment, I fully understood how far he was willing to go.
—But I guess you're still the same as the first time you woke up here.
With that, he stood up, walking away from the same cage again.
—YOU FUCKING BASTARD! —I managed to shout.
But he ignored me, like he always did, and like he always will every time he has the damn chance to do the same damage to me, just like when he brought those heads in front of my cage, letting them rot slowly while only my uncontrolled crying could be heard in the room, giving me pain, giving me the same feeling of filth that always happens in all those moments where only my own pillow accompanies me through the pain and misfortune of being a caged circus lion for a single master and a single spectator of all the tricks I was always forced to perform.
