An Eater.
- fem! reader.
✧ ˚ · — sophia laforteza — · ˚ ✧
-> ❝ sophia laforteza is known as the mature, responsible ‘leader’ but behind that, she’s obsessed with you, to the point she takes you and keeps you hidden away, showing how messed up she really is. ❞
- warnings : – kidnapping – dark theme – insects – dirty basement – cannibalism – toxic – act of homicide – lowk torture – obsessed sophia – victim reader – ts is lowk crazy
- notes : as u can see, its inspired by the song 😋
the public knows sophia laforteza as the steady heartbeat of katseye.
she’s the one who speaks first in interviews, voice calm and warm, always saying the right thing.
she’s the one who checks on the members when cameras are off, who remembers birthdays and favorite snacks, who smiles for every fan photo even when she’s exhausted.
she’s kind. she’s mature. she’s safe.
fans call her “mommy leader,” “big sister,” she never corrects them. she just smiles that gentle smile and keeps moving forward.
but you know a different version.
weeks ago, maybe three, maybe four—you stopped existing to the world above.
one night you were walking home from a late shift at the venue, next thing you knew there was a cloth over your mouth, the sharp smell of chemicals, then nothing.
you woke up here.
a basement room with concrete walls, single bulb hanging from the ceiling, no windows, no clock.
your shirt is torn open down the front, pants ripped at the knees and thighs, wrists chained to the wall above you with cuffs.
you can sit, but you can’t stand fully.
there’s a thin mattress on the floor, a bucket in the corner, bottled water and protein bars delivered once a day by someone you never see.
you’ve stopped screaming because no one will hear you.
you’ve stopped hoping someone will find you because no one is looking, or suspect the sophia laforteza.
you’ve almost stopped feeling anything at all.
then there’s footsteps.
you lift your head, neck stiff, eyes burning from the low light. the door at the top of the stairs opens. light spills down—clean, white, almost blinding.
then she steps in.
sophia.
she’s wearing a cream sweater and light pants, hair loose and soft, makeup natural like she just came from a casual interview.
she looks like she stepped out of a magazine. in this dark, damp place she’s luminous—perfect.
she closes the door behind her. the light dims again.
she descends the stairs slowly, carefully, like she’s walking into a church.
“hey, baby,” she says softly.
her voice is the same one that calms fans on live, the same one that thanks staff after every show.
you stare at her.
she reaches the bottom, crouches in front of you so she’s eye- evel. her knees don’t even touch the filthy floor—she balances perfectly, hands resting lightly on her thighs.
“i’m sorry i was late today,” she says. “we had a radio thing that ran long. but i brought you something.”
she pulls a small paper bag from her coat pocket. inside is a fresh croissant. your favorite. she sets them beside you on the mattress.
“i know the protein bars get boring,” she murmurs. “i know this is your favorite.”
you don’t move.
she reaches out, slow, careful, brushes a strand of matted hair from your face.
her fingers are gentle, warm. she traces your cheekbone, your jaw, like she’s memorizing you all over again.
“you look tired,” she says, voice aching. “i hate seeing you like this.”
you swallow. throat raw. “then let me go.”
she pauses. her hand stills on your cheek.
“i can’t,” she whispers. “you know that.”
she leans closer, forehead almost touching yours.
you can smell her perfume, clean laundry, everything this place isn’t.
“i know you hate me right now,” she says. “and that’s okay. i deserve it. but i need you to know something.”
she cups your face with both hands, thumbs stroking under your eyes.
“i love you. more than anything. more than the group, more than the fans, more than breathing. i’ve loved you since the first time i saw you backstage, when you handed me a water bottle and smiled like i was just another person. no one had ever looked at me like that.”
her voice cracks.
“i couldn’t let you go. i couldn’t let someone else have you. so i… kept you. here. where no one can take you away.”
tears slip down your cheeks.
“i know it’s wrong,” she continues. “i know i’m sick. but i don’t care. i’d rather you hate me forever than lose you.”
she kisses your forehead.
“i’ll take care of you. always. until you love me back.”
she pulls back, eyes shining with tears she won’t let fall.
“eat the croissant, okay? i’ll be back tomorrow. i promise.”
she stands, smooths her sweater, fixes her hair like nothing happened. she walks up the stairs, pauses at the top.
“bye, mahal. dream of me.”
the door closes and the lock clicks.
her warmth lingers on your skin.
and somewhere deep, under the fear, under the anger, a tiny, terrified part of you wonders if you’ll ever want her to stop coming back.
the next day drags slower than the ones before.
you haven’t moved much. you can’t lower your head far enough to reach the croissant sophia left yesterday.
it’s still sitting on the mattress beside you. you tried once—strained forward until your neck burned but the chains are too short, the angle impossible.
so you gave up.
by evening the ants found it. even the cockroaches.
tiny black lines marching across the floor, two insects crawling over the bag, into the pastry.
then the door opens as she walks in, heels on the stairs.
she’s wearing white today. soft cashmere sweater, tailored trousers, hair loose and shining, gold earrings catch the bulb’s glare.
she looks clean.
in this filthy basement she’s almost painful to look at.
she pauses halfway down, eyes finding you immediately.
“missed me baby?” she says, voice gentle like always.
you don’t answer.
she finishes the stairs, crouches in front of you again. the same careful distance, knees hovering above the grime.
she notices the croissant first—ants still crawling, pastry half disintegrated.
her face falls.
“oh… you didn’t eat.”
you stare down. “i couldn’t reach it,” you mutter. voice cracked from disuse.
she exhales, soft and pained. “i’m sorry. i didn’t think—”
“you didn’t think,” you cut in, sharper than you meant. “you never fucking think.”
she flinches like you slapped her.
“you keep coming down here acting like you care, like you’re saving me or some shit. you’re not. you’re a liar. you’re a fucking liar, sophia.”
her eyes fill with tears. she doesn’t let them fall.
“you don’t understand,” she whispers.
“i understand plenty,” you snap. “you kidnapped me. you chained me up. you think saying ‘i love you’ fixes that?”
she reaches out, like she’s afraid you’ll bite. like she’s trying to touch a wild animal.
her fingers brush your cheek anyway.
“i need you,” she says, voice trembling. “we have to be together. we’re perfect. you and me. we’ve always been perfect.”
you jerk your head away. “let me go.”
she doesn’t answer. instead she reaches into her coat pocket, pulls out a small paper-wrapped package.
she unwraps it carefully—thin slices of roast beef, still pink in the center, from some fancy deli probably.
she takes a piece with her fingers.
“eat,” she says quietly.
you turn your face away. “no.”
she sighs, patient. “baby. please. you have to eat.”
“fuck you.”
she pauses. then her other hand comes up, gentle but firm—grips your jaw. she turns your face back toward her. her thumb strokes your lower lip.
“open,” she whispers.
you clench your teeth.
she doesn’t force it.
“please,” she says. “i can’t watch you starve. i can’t.”
something in her voice breaks you. you open your mouth but just barely.
she slips the meat inside. you chew slowly, tears burning your eyes. the taste is rich, salty, almost too much after days of protein bars.
she wipes your cheeks every time a tear falls.
“don’t cry,” she whispers, kissing the wet tracks on your face. “don’t cry, baby. i’m here. i’m right here.”
you swallow the piece with throat tight.
her thumb brushes your lower lip, wiping away a smear of juice or grease or whatever it was. “how does it taste?”
your mouth feels foreign—thick with salt and iron and something you can’t name. you stare at the wall behind her, at the crack that runs like a scar from ceiling to floor. swallowing feels like betrayal.
she smiles anyway, soft and patient, like you’re a child refusing vegetables. “good, right? it’s jason’s.”
the name lands like a brick.
your eyes snap to hers.
she nods once, casual, like she’s commenting on the weather. “yeah. jason.”
“what the fuck did you just say?”
she unwraps the paper fully now, turns it toward you.
inside, nestled between the folds, is the rest of the finger, severed cleanly at the second knuckle, skin pale, nail still perfectly manicured.
the same hand that used to text you goodnight, that used to hold yours under tables at dinner with friends.
your stomach lurches.
“taa daa,” she says quietly, almost playful.
“no—fuck, sophia what the fuck—”
she drops the paper, hands flying up. “baby, baby, calm down—”
“calm down?!” you scream, voice raw, cracking. “you—you fucking cut his finger and fed it to me?!”
she reaches for you. you kick out weakly, legs shaking but she dodges easily and kneels closer.
“no… no no no—”
she reaches out again, slow, like she’s soothing a scared animal. “baby—”
“don’t fucking call me that!” you jerk back, wrists slamming against the cuffs, blood trickling fresh down your forearms. “you fed me his fucking finger you crazy psychopath!”
she doesn’t flinch but she watches you with her eyes steady.
“he was in our way,” she says simply. “he kept trying to find you. kept texting. kept calling the police. i had to make him stop.”
you stare at her. the girl sophia—sitting there like she didn’t just confess to mutilation and cannibalism.
“he was trying to save me,” you choke out. “he was my boyfriend. he loved me. and you—you—”
she chuckles. “yeah. i know. that’s also one of the reasons.”
the laugh snaps something inside you.
“you’re fucking crazy,” you scream, voice raw, breaking. “let me go! let me fucking go, sophia! you psycho—let me go!”
you thrash—chains clanking, body twisting, kicking at her even though your legs are weak.
the mattress slides, the bucket tips over, water spilling across the floor. ants scatter.
you don’t care.
you keep screaming.
“you killed him! you killed jason! you fed me his finger—you’re sick! you’re fucking sick!”
sophia stands up slowly, smooths her sweater, steps closer.
you tried to kick her again, but miss.
she kneels back, hands gentle on your shoulders, pinning you back against the wall without effort.
“baby, breathe…”
“don’t touch me!” you spit, turning your face away. “don’t fucking touch me! you murdered him! you cut him up—god, i’m gonna be sick—”
your stomach heaves again.
you turn your head and vomit—bile, the protein bar from before, the roast beef, sour and burning, splattering the mattress.
tears stream down your face, mixing with snot, dripping onto your torn shirt.
sophia doesn’t recoil.
she gathers your hair back with one hand, rubs your back with the other, slow circles, like she’s comforting a child.
“shh… it’s okay,” she whispers. “let it out. you’re okay.”
you retch again, but theres nothing left, body shaking so hard the chains rattle like bells.
“you’re okay,” she repeats, voice soft, soothing. “i’ve got you.”
you slump against the wall when it stops, chest heaving, tears dripping onto your lap.
sophia keeps rubbing your back.
“it didn’t taste that bad, did it?” she says quietly. “i liked the flavor of his ear better. its more… tender.”
you gag again. your whole body convulses.
she pulls you closer, arms wrapping around you, careful of the chains.
she rocks you gently, humming a soft tune under her breath.
“don’t cry,” she murmurs, kissing your temple. “i know it’s a lot. but he wasn’t good for you. he didn’t understand. he would’ve taken you away. i couldn’t let that happen. i need you.”
you’re shaking too hard to speak.
all you can do is sob, face buried in her sweater that still smells good.
she holds you tighter.
“we’ll be so perfect,” she whispers.
the bulb flickers once more. her heartbeat is steady against your cheek. and in the silence, all you can hear is her soft, gentle voice of her.
“and i’ll keep you forever, and i will feed you with better ones okay? i love you mahal.”
