TW: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic, one sided pining, stalking, uncomfortable themes, this man is a pathetic creep, delusional man, yearning, and a dynamic that should not be romanticized in real life
Michael had a favorite route in his delivery. A perfect, little neighborhood with matching picket fences and delicately arranged landscaping. That quaint suburbia dream was peaceful, the yards were well kept, and the customers paid well, but that wasn’t what made him guard this route with his life. No… it was you, a beautiful housewife. You were magnificent. Truly, his dream girl… a shame you had a husband.
Now Michael had always been a smooth operator before getting to know you. Yet you knocked his socks off with how you never indulged his flirtatious commentary. Why didn’t you like him? He knew he was a decent looking guy with a head full of brown curls all the lonely ladies wanted to run their hands through. Did you not like his rich brown eyes or his dimples? What was there not to like?!
Michael openly pined for you so much so, that the neighborhood busy buddies began to squawk and screech to one another about it.
Michael overheard one of the busy buddies’ conversations that day. and it seems it was an open discussion on how you were often flirted with. “Of course that dreamboat who brings our milk falls for her. I swear she has every man on the block wrapped around her pinky. Have you seen her husband? How greedy can one girl be?”
Michael paused. He didn’t know you had a husband… he’s never seen the man when he came by. Yet that didn’t deter him from you. No. If anything, it made him ever more determined to steal you away. Sure, he didn’t make as much as your bank branch manager husband, but he made more than the average salary of most families! Michael could be a good provider too plus he’d be home more often so you’d never get lonely!
Despite how obvious it was that you were a happy housewife, Michael believed you were a lonely housewife just like your neighbors. You were often cooped up at home and your only interactions were with him or the occasional neighborly encounter. How could you not be lonely and depressed when you hardly had any interaction? Michael would be sure to amp up his efforts to peacock himself to you.
He’d give you extra bottles of milk, take your trash cans out and bring them back, and he’d even fetch your mail for you. See? He could make your life easier! Leave your workaholic husband for him!
You would always politely tell him no, but he knew you were just being polite. Michael knew you had the hots for him! Everyone did because he was the milkman! He was a lonely housewife’s ultimate fantasy. And he’d keep pursuing you until you said yes… because after all, Michael Davidson wanted to be your milkman.
Pairing: Yandere!Farmer x City Girl!Reader
Description: Isaiah, a farmer with a quiet intensity, becomes an unsettling presence in your life after a chance encounter. What starts as neighborly kindness spirals into a chilling tale of control and obsession, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.
Warning/s: Yandere | Psychological Manipulation | Obsession | Emotional Coercion | Stalking | Non-consensual Confinement | Forced Domesticity | Dubious Consent | Threats | Intimidation | Mild Physical Violence | Implied Babytrapping
Note: I tried to make the reader bratty in the drafts but it doesn't feel right T^T I don't know if the anon who requested this is still lurking here or not, but enjoy! Also, join the taglist by clicking this link! (My interview ended few minutes ago. My brain is toasted af. T^T)
Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast 50% off
You’d only been in town for five days, and already you were part of the scenery at Gracie’s Diner.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work. You didn’t mind the grease that clung to your skin, the clatter of dishes, or the sting in your legs after double shifts. What mattered was that you were earning your keep—paying your bills, fixing up the wreck of a farmhouse your mother left behind, and doing it all without help.
You weren’t here to be rescued.
“You sure you’re not overworking yourself, sweetheart?” Gracie asked as you refilled the sugar jars. She was a woman who wore her sarcasm and worry with the same ease as her eyeliner.
“I’m fine,” you said with a smile, rolling your sleeves up higher. “Gotta pay for a new water heater somehow. Thing practically screamed when I tried to shower this morning.”
“Thought your neighbor offered to help with all that?”
You stiffened.
You remembered him well. Isaiah. The farmer with shoulders like barn doors and calloused hands that looked like they could crush rock. He came to welcome you on your first day with a crate of eggs and a bashful smile. In return, you gave him a plate of spaghetti you made that night, more out of politeness than interest.
You hadn't realized the way his eyes lingered as you handed him that plate.
That in his mind, that gesture sealed a bond deeper than you’d ever intended.
“I told him I had it under control,” you said simply.
Gracie gave you a look. “I know you city girls are all about that independence. Just be careful. Some men ‘round here get ideas.”
You laughed softly. “I can take care of myself.”
⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅
Your shifts were long. The tips were modest. And the farmhouse was stubborn in its disrepair. But you were managing.
Until your truck died.
You were halfway down the lonely road toward your house after closing the diner when the engine sputtered and gave out. No signal. No cars. Nothing but the humming of bugs and the distant rustle of trees.
You grabbed your backpack and kicked the tire, muttering curses.
Then headlights pierced the dark.
Isaiah pulled up beside you, leaned out the window with a smile that looked just a bit too pleased.
“Well, now. Looks like you need a hand.”
You blinked. “Yeah… my truck just—stopped. No warning. Can I get a lift home?”
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Was just headin’ back from drinks with the boys.”
You got in.
The silence stretched as you talked. You were tired, but adrenaline kept you going. You talked about the renovations, your job at the diner, your plans to eventually turn the farmhouse into something self-sustaining. You didn’t notice the silence behind the wheel. Not really.
“I just think women shouldn’t have to rely on anyone,” you said, stretching. “It’s freeing, you know? To build something yourself.”
His hands clenched the steering wheel.
You didn't notice.
But he did.
⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅
Three days later, the farmhouse was broken into.
You came home after your shift and found everything ransacked. Nothing stolen—just destruction. Dishes shattered. Curtains torn. Couch cushions ripped open like animals had clawed them apart. Your knees gave out. You screamed.
Isaiah arrived before the sheriff.
“Jesus,” he said, crouching beside you. “You alright? You’re shaking.”
“I—yeah—I think—” You gasped. “They didn’t take anything. Just trashed it.”
“No way you’re sleeping here tonight,” he said. “Door’s broken. You’re vulnerable.”
“I’ll go to a motel—”
“They’re all booked for the rodeo this week,” he interrupted gently. “Look, I’ve got a guest room. Just for a night or two.”
You didn’t want to. But your nerves were shot, and there was nowhere else to go.
“Just a night,” you agreed, voice hollow.
⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅
Isaiah’s house was too perfect.
Pristine. Polished floors. Dishes stacked in neat rows. A faint floral scent lingered—lavender, maybe.
“Bathroom’s down the hall. Towels are clean. I’ll get the bed ready,” he said, walking away with your overnight bag like it already belonged there.
You spotted a mug on the counter with your name on it. Painted in soft pastel blue.
“You… had this?”
He smiled. “Felt right. Made it when I heard you took the old place.”
You tried to joke. “That’s… thoughtful.”
He smiled wider.
⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅
You tried to offer him money the next morning, after breakfast. Scrambled eggs. Homemade biscuits. Too good.
“Don’t insult me,” he said quietly. “Just help out around the house, alright? You’re already doing so much.”
So you did. You swept. Cleaned. Cooked dinner once or twice. Anything to repay him for the roof over your head while you called contractors and scraped together the funds for repairs.
But the contractors never called back.
Your calls went unanswered.
The mechanic said your truck was totaled.
You didn’t realize someone else had made sure of that.
⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅
It was a week later when you heard Isaiah on the phone.
The kettle had just started to scream when his voice reached you from down the hall, muffled but distinct. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—not really—but something in his tone made your body freeze.
“…No, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Sweet thing still thinks this is charity.”
A low chuckle.
“I’ve been teaching her… slowly. She’s adjusting.”
A pause. His voice dropped lower.
“Not yet. But soon.”
You stood there for a second too long. Long enough for the kettle to whistle sharply, loud enough to cover the sound of the ceramic mug slipping from your hands and smashing against the floor.
The tea scalded your bare feet. You barely felt it.
Your breath hitched in your throat as his voice stopped mid-sentence. The sudden silence on his end was deafening.
You moved.
Bolted.
You didn’t think—just acted. Your legs carried you on instinct, slipping on the wet floor, catching yourself against the wall, fingers fumbling for balance. The hallway felt longer than usual. Your vision tunneled, the walls squeezing closer with every second.
You reached the back door.
Unlatched.
Unlocked.
Hope surged in your chest so violently it made you gasp.
You wrenched it open.
Cool air hit your face, the smell of soil and pine and freedom burning in your lungs. You were halfway out—one foot in the grass, fingers scraping the edge of the doorway—
And then a hand, large and brutal, slammed the door shut.
With you halfway through it.
You screamed.
The edge of the frame cracked against your ribs as Isaiah yanked you backward, one arm wrapping tight across your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You kicked, flailed, clawed at his skin, but he held you firm—an immovable wall of muscle and determination.
“I knew you’d run,” he muttered, breath hot against your ear. His voice had lost the syrupy sweetness he wore like a mask. Now it was raw, cracked, and furious. “Ungrateful little thing.”
He turned, carrying you effortlessly despite your thrashing.
“I’ve done everything for you. Gave you safety. Gave you warmth. A home.”
He slammed the door behind you both with his boot, the echo like a gunshot.
You fought harder.
“I was gonna ease you into it,” he snarled, dragging you past the kitchen. “Let you feel like you chose this. But you just had to snoop, didn’t you?”
He didn’t take you to the guest room.
He took you down the hall, past the door you’d never seen open. The one that was always locked.
He kicked it in.
And there it was.
The cradle. A handmade wooden crib, nestled in the center of a room painted in soft yellows and sage green. The mobile above it spun slowly, creaking on its hinges, casting distorted shadows across the walls.
Everything smelled like baby powder and lavender and something far too clean.
Your stomach turned.
“No—no, let me go—!”
“You’re mine,” Isaiah hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. He twisted the lock before pressing you against it, pinning you there with the full weight of his body. “You fed me that day. You smiled. You looked at me like I mattered. What the hell did you think that meant, huh?”
You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “It was just dinner—it didn’t mean anything—”
“It meant everything,” he growled, gripping your chin so hard it ached. “It was a promise. A bond. You gave yourself to me when you fed me. You just didn’t know it yet.”
You whimpered as his hand dropped to your hip, then your wrist, guiding you toward the crib with terrifying tenderness.
“You’ll see. You don’t need that diner. You don’t need money or dreams or whatever garbage you believe in. You need me. You need this.”
He pressed your palm flat against the cradle’s wooden edge.
“You need to understand your place, wife.”
You sobbed, body trembling, but there was no more strength left to fight.
His voice dipped lower, reverent and sickeningly soft.
“…And maybe it’s time you give me what I’ve waited for.”
" i just can't leave you alone "
synopsis . . . choso is so infatuated with the shy girl from his forensics class. his hobbies outside of school make it so easy to get to know more about her but he just wants to get closer to her.
warnings . . . college au, ghostface!choso, reader is very sick in the head, dubcon, dark content, reader has longish hair but the texture can be in whatever way you want, breeding, slapping, hair pulling, bdsm (not with reader), choking, breaking n entering, stalking, porn, choso is a huge creep, voyeurism
notes . . . 2.7k words, 10 minute read, a little longer than usual. this is not not sum light but iykyk. so proceed with caution if you're concerned.
his eyes are attached to every movement you make. it could be anything. you clicked your pen, your head slightly tilting to the left, your sigh after glancing at the clock. he noticed it all. he loved it. it was the way he passed his time at 10 in the morning. unfortunately, this was the only avaliable time for this class but fortunately for choso, it was the same time you picked.
you were a dream; pouty lips and doe eyes fit your soft face. then he could drag his eyes down to your chest, admire your waist, and fantasize about your hips. he had an hour of time with you, albeit a table away from you, but still. for an hour, he memorized every feature he could to save later for his sketchbook.
he would arrive early just to see you walk in, and sometimes you would walk past his seat. on those days, he would catch a whiff of your delicate perfume. it was sweet vanilla, soft. you'd think it would fit you. you looked very sweet, with your hair styled with bows and a large collection of skirts. your voice rose in pitch whenever your existence was acknowledged by others.
but choso's seen you. he's really seen you — in such a raw state that no one had the faintest clue about it. you're very forgetful, leaving your curtains open like you wanted him to watch. you were such a tease. your room was true to your aesthetic. he watched you open up your sanrio decorated laptop and settle into your lush bed. from his angle, he could see the screen with you.
you leaned against your pillows as your fingertips moved naturally to a website. the sight excited him to the core and he started spinning his various rings around his fingers. he wasn't dumb, he knew you would get lonely. but he wasn't sure what site you were on. nevertheless, he was so interested in what softcore video caught your eye. you weren't into the dirty stuff. you liked it clean, amateur for sure.
to his surprise, your video was nothing of the sort. a masked man pulled on the bare girl's chain. her skin was red and dripping. a grin spread across her lips as the huge man slapped his cock on her face. your hand was already between your legs. your pajama top had the first few buttons popped open while your other hand palmed your tit.
choso's cock hardened at the view. your lips parted as you played with yourself. he was eager to join you, but he stopped himself — forced himself to burn the moment into his memory. the priceless sight needed to stay with him forever.
the woman and the video was tossed onto the bed. the camera propped in front of her face but a majority of the man was visible. his upper body towered over her as a large hand left bright marks onto her ass. her face contorted in pleasure. choso wondered how your face really looked now. he wanted to hear your sounds.
your thighs clenched together around your hand. your shoulders caved in and your entire body shook. choso's breath quickened. the man in the video wrapped his hand around her neck. he yanked her against his chest while keeping her pinned by the waist.
you quickly pressed a hand over your mouth while your eyes shut. chills racked through choso's spine. he wasn't sure he blinked until you were settled in your bed again and your laptop was shut. his hand clutched the neck of his shirt, now feeling warmer than before.
he took a moment to gather himself. his legs felt like jelly. he sank down to the grass outside your window but stared at your windowsill. the small window of light shining on the grass suddenly snapped off. you finally shut the curtains and he knew it was time to go. standing up, he felt an odd warm feeling in his pants.
looking down, he could barely see the faint glistening on his dark pants.
"fuck..."
that was months ago. over time, he's felt closer to you. you've shared so many intimate moments together, unknowingly. in his mind, you've consummated your love on numerous occasions. but it still wasn't enough. he wanted to really touch you.
he wanted to kiss you and caress your hips. in the same thought, he imagined his knuckles rubbing against your scalp as he pulled your hair back. he knew you would love that. your dirty searches told him many secrets. they helped him collect so much information about you.
there were a few attributes those videos shared. they were nasty, dirty, spit and cum covered those girls entirely. those girls were treated like a personal pets to serve those men. but the one that was in every single video, no matter the genre...those men were always masked.
even the nights you decided to take a softer route, the man's identity was unknown. it seemed you had a strong taste for the mystery. he's never seen you take a second glance at any video with a man's face.
he was so proud to know this about you. he watched you walk past him every day and all he could think about was how you would feel if he was the man and you were his to use. you'd be a toy he could never get tired of. he's felt a cord attach the two of you ever since. it was made of the secrets you shared.
the videos started getting more intense, more bloody and brutal, and your orgasms became harsher. this video had the man forcing himself into the unsuspecting girl's room. the man covered her mouth to stop what choso assumed were her loud moans.
choso watched your heaving chest. you're such a sick freak, he thought but he wondered...if watching it made you cum so hard, then would experiencing it be even better? an unknown and unexpected man having his way with you. he cock ached with the desire to climb through your window and test your theory.
you were much earlier today, choso had barely arrived and settled in to wait for you when you walked in. he was sliding his rings on his fingers again when he heard your footsteps. you looked so adorable. you wore a white tank top with a cute bow decorating your cleavage and a brown skirt. you were so effortlessly pretty in his eyes.
your perfume was different today too. you must've run out of your vanilla pearl. he loved the scent so much he went a bought a bottle to remind him of you. he'd spray it on his shirts every night. this new scent was fresh, floral. it was so light and refreshing. the charming mixture of flowers was irresistible. it lingered around him.
"excuse me, choso, would it be alright if i moved to sit with you? i'm sorry, i just wanted to see better."
you nervously tugged on the strap of your bag. your index and thumb toyed with the cat pin on it. the smile forced itself onto his face. he hoped it wasn't scaring you. there was no stopping the joy of hearing you say his name.
"yeah, that's alright." he even pulled the chair out for you to sit with him. the table had enough space for the both of you yet he scooted it a little closer to his side.
minutes of silence passed. choso had decided to entertain himself with your his sketchbook. it was his but the only thing he could bring himself to draw was you. it didn't look like that at first glance but it was you. he could draw you from his pure memory. there was you sleeping, playing in makeup, changing. one of you sitting in class caught your eye. you admired the faceless drawing.
"you're really good."
choso stopped, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. he even tried to cover some of the drawing with his palm. he could see part of your smile from the corner of his eye.
"thank you...do you wanna see more?" he offered, feeling his nerves tingling.
now you scooted closer to him. your shoulder pressed against his now. he slid the sketchbook over to the middle of you. his mind wandered and he could no longer completely focus on giving you a tour of his drawings — not when your tits were so close to him. he could ever see a little of your bra peeking out in a gap.
your nail ended up pointing to the one of you changing shirts. it was the one time you faced the window. he remembered you didn't even bother to put on a shirt again that night.
"this is the same girl, isn't it? why don't you draw her face?" you asked.
"she's too pretty, i'd never be able to do her justice."
your eyes widened, for a second you wished he was saying it about you. still, it was romantic. oh. it also meant choso had a girlfriend.
"she must be beautiful then."
you were so clueless to his affections if one could even call them that. you stared at him with what looked like stars in your eyes. he couldn't bring himself to look any further. instead, he pulled the sketchbook closer to himself and smiled at your portraits.
"incredibly."
every time choso set up outside of your bedroom window was more exhilarating than the last. it was his favorite part of the evening. it was your time together. tonight he would be doing you a favor. he felt significantly better about it knowing you'd appreciate it. he knew you better than anyone and tonight he'd proof it.
he wanted to get to you before you were ready for bed. you were in the shower for twenty minutes so when you grabbed your towel and left the room, he pushed open the window. he was careful not to dirty your clean floor as he tiptoed towards your door. he stood and waited for the water to stop running.
choso's heart raced, blood and adrenaline pumping a thousand times faster. his fingers twitched at the touch of sinking into your flesh, especially the clean skin after your shower. he ran his fingers over the textured metal and pressed against them. he was finally going to make you his even if you didn't know it was him.
time couldn't have gone by any faster. the water shut off and within minutes your footsteps came padding down the hall. he adjusted his mask in your mirror, the white ghost mask identical to the man's in the videos.
the door opened and his hand smacked over your mouth. he shoved your back to his chest and pinned you against him. he held you close, inhaling this new strawberry scent of your soap. his hand caressed the side of your hip.
"calm down," his chilling voice demanded. your breathing slowed and he relaxed as well. you stared at your reflection. this form towered over you. the towel you clutched to your chest began slipping out of your grasp.
choso steadily removed his hand from your mouth, ready to clasp it again if needed. "good girl, you can be a good girl for me. yeah, get on the bed." he patted your side and let you walk towards your bed. he stalked behind you. you turned around to face him with teary eyes. he tucked your chin between his thumb and index.
he moved your hands away from the towel and let it pool around your hips now. your soft breast filled his palm nicely. he felt like such a virgin looking at your body. it's like even when he's so close you can't help but be a little tease.
"spread, now."
you were so obedient. you followed every command like a well trained puppy. he kneeled between your spread legs, shifting the towel completely off of your thighs. your body was everything he ever dreamed of and more. he wanted a taste but this stupid mask was in his way.
he hovered over you, trapping you between him and the wall. you slapped your hand over your mouth when he snatched your neck. the mesh couldn't hide the beautiful panic on your face. your breathing quickened. he forced you to look into the droopy eyes of the mask while he unzipped his pants.
what he really wanted to do was kiss you. then, he wanted to hear his name. next time.
he didn't give you a warning when he shoved two fingers into your cunt. you squealed against your own palm — the most heavenly noise he's ever heard and it was his doing. you were at his mercy. the cold metal sent chills through your walls. he twisted and curled his fingers inside of you, pulling you closer to your finish.
he squeezed your neck enough to make your eyes cross and you go dizzy. a smile planted on your lips behind your hand. your walls contracted around his fingers and stayed tight.
he admired the strings of slick between his fingers. he needed it. he was so desperate to taste you. so he slipped his fingers underneath his mask and into his mouth where he sucked every last intoxicating drop. it seemed everything about you was sweet except that fucked up head of yours.
he yanked your legs around his waist, lining your hole up perfectly with his hard cock. the tip swept against your clit. your sensitive body reacted to every touch. he wanted you to beg for him to do something. he didn't care what it was just, beg.
he planted his hands on your waist. you clawed at his forearms while writhing. "please," you whimpered. "please, sir, i wanna feel you."
"my dirty girl." taking your breath away, he buried himself into your hole. you were so full of him it felt impossible. he gathered your wrists in one hand while slamming his cock into you.
drool dripped out the corner of your mouth stuffed with choso's thumb. you loved grabbing onto nothing and digging your nails into your own palm. you sank your teeth into your quivering bottom lip. choso laid a slap on your cheek and you moaned.
"oh! please! f-feels so good!" you gasped. moans continued to interrupt any word you could think to say. you just gave up trying to speak. he kept reminding himself that next time you'll be crying his name.
the need to feel you tighten around his cock powered him. he frantically drove himself into your hole working towards that blissful release for both of you.
he forced you further into the mattress by the neck. it was like his strength tripled when with you. it was like he was fucking a message into you. a message he wouldn't leave until he knew it was engraved in your mind.
"you're all fucking mine. all mine. say it."
"aha! yes!" you grinned. "i'm all yours!"
he dropped your bruised hands and you gripped his shoulders. your eyes crossed and rolled back into your head. your body convulsed as you tried to steady yourself with his shoulders. you felt your legs go weak and slip from his waist.
he flipped you over to your knees, his thick hands grabbed onto your waist while pushing you into the bed. it was pure instinct at this point. he brought his hand deep into the strands of your hair. using this, he made you squeal when he yanked your head back. tears fell from your doe eyes.
every signal in body told him he needed to fill you and he wasn't going to stop until he did. he let out a heavy growl with his head throw back as his cum spilled into you. he stayed inside you, forcing his seed to stay inside you.
"thank you," you breathed. choso rubbed your bruised hips and other darker spots littered across your body. he inhaled your scent again before pushing himself off of you. he watched you roll onto your side and close your eyes.
the next school day, you took your seat next to choso. you bounced into class with a bright smile. today your perfume was new. it was a sweet strawberry scent that filled his nose. he is cheeks heated up, remembering your smell that night.
"good morning choso," you smiled as you began unpacking your bag.
"good morning y/n."
choso shut his sketchbook and spread his palm over it. something you dropped clattered on the desk. looking back down, he saw one of his rings spinning around. he swept it up and slid it back on his finger.
"i knew it looked familiar but i think there was one more. could you come get it tonight?"
of course you knew. you shared every sick fantasy with him. "i'll be there tonight."
Warnings: Implied stalking, unstable grip on reality, bombing threat, abandonment issues, non consensual touching (basically a strip search, not in a sexy way)
A/N: Finally working through my drafts.
Status: edited
Where. The fuck. Are you?
Roland glowered at the digital clock on the wall the numbers 7:30 glowing into the dim room. Usually you'd have been here by now, tactical terminal in one hand and coffee in the other, but you're late.
Everything was already a drag when you weren't around to tease or observe, even more so since he had to sneak onto Babylonia and absolutely can't be found out so he's forced to stay within a more abandoned area of Babylonia.
He already fears that he may have alerted Lee on accident when he was exiting your room earlier this morning. What the hell was that bastard doing outside your room so early anyway? Did Lee also have a habit of watching his Commandant sleep, or was he suspicious of his presence? Roland heaved a sigh, honestly, you should be honored by his presence here, he wouldn't endure Babylonia and their lackeys just for anyone. The only thing that makes all his efforts worth it is you. Being able to hear you, touch you, watch you, see you, being able to confirm that you're real. That he's not lost himself to an insanity so intense he's hallucinating everything, that a camera crew won't jump out somewhere.
"Roland, Roland, Roland...how naive you are." Roland tenses at the familiar voice. Of all things, he doesn't want to have this talk now.
"Whatever do you mean, my dear Hermano?" Roland responds with a languidness that they all know is merely performative as he slowly leans onto the wall behind him and casts a side glance at the door. Just come here already, what's taking you so long? Did you sleep late? Are you in a meeting? Are you...
Hermano bursts into a small fit of laughter. The sound irritates the edges of his M.I.N.D. "Of course they'd sell you out! Why wouldn't they? You're enemies after all, they were always going to abandon you in the end."
Roland's fists clench, anger coming over him so strongly it's almost shocking to him. No, no, no, no! You can't, you wouldn't! You would never do such a thing! You were too loyal to those morals of yours to back stab him like this, but... if you did, would it truly be such a surprise? Would it be that shocking if you did? After all, capturing him would give you a great amount of fame and power in Babylonia. Slowly, his hand reaches down to his coat pocket, the familiar square shape of that small remote in his palm as the room starts to feel almost suffocating.
Roland stills suddenly and he smiles, a chilling clarity surging through his M.I.N.D. like a tidal wave clearing away the filth. Well, then...if you're going to betray him like this, he slowly brings the remote out of his pocket and holds it to his face as his smile widens. Then no one will be opposed to him setting off the bomb he put in Babylonia's engine systems, no? To be fair, he has warned you a number of times to not betray him. Whether you understood them or not, well, that's not his problem now is it?
His thumb brushes over the detonation button in contemplation. Yes, he may as well before he gets caught and used for Babylonia's-
Click.
His breath hitches and his eyes immediately stare at the door, pointedly ignoring Hermano's scoff. Could it be that you've finally returned to him? His mechanical heart thrums at the thought, his grip on the remote becoming shaky and weak as seconds turn into hours. Would the door open to you, or an army? Will you betray him like everyone else, or will you stay? He hated to admit it, but he was desperate that it was the latter, he was desperate for something- someone that wouldn't abandon him and leave him floundering in an endless sea of regrets.
If fate was listening, grant him this one thing and let it please be you, please be you, please be-
The door opens to you, with your tactical terminal in one hand and fresh coffee in the other, just like how you look every morning, you're too busy studying your terminal to notice how your entrance has shifted every star in the universe back to their place and made everything right again. You're here, you're here at last in this little side room you've made your temporary office, you're here with him where you belong and you're real...you're real, right?
His body starts moving before he can stop himself, his breath lodged in his throat. He has to know, he has to confirm you are what you say you are and not just a cheap copy made by some invisible puppeteer. He yanks the terminal out of your hand, knocks your coffee away and drags you to him, terminal clattering to the floor and the mug shattering just after it, spreading coffee and ceramic everywhere as you voice your confusion. He wraps his arms around you tightly, too tightly, his hands moving all over your body, needing to confirm that you are made of flesh and bone as you claim. He slips his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your ribs, pushing just enough at the bone to feel it give slightly as it should, he buries his face in your hair and neck to make sure you smell the same way you should, he pries your mouth open to shove his fingers inside and thoroughly check your mouth for anything that might feel synthetic or mechanical, he shoves you against a wall so he can put his ear against your chest to count your heart beats, all these checks and more he conducts not even so much as responding to your cries for him to stop, opting to clamp a hand over your mouth when you become noisy enough to distract him.
After an hour of invasive and painful poking, he finally feels certain that you're human and real, with a sigh he lets you go and relaxes. Roland stares at you for a moment, observing your disheveled appearance, emotion absent from his face. Your commandant attire has been thoroughly picked apart. Your navy blue turtleneck is wrinkled and pulled unnaturally in several directions, the beige coat having been discarded long ago, your buckle is probably somewhere on the floor behind him, the fly of your pants hanging open. If he wasn't so upset with you he'd help put you together again. "Don't be late like this again." He mutters coldly before turning to stand at his usual spot beside your makeshift desk, leaving your dumbfounded and agitated expression behind.
For a few seconds, there's silence. The anger radiating from you is palpable in the air. "What the fuck are you talking about? Late? It's 6 AM? If anything I'm late because of you and your freakish strip search." Roland freezes in his place. Six? But that would mean when you arrived it was five.
Seeing his confusion you grumble and walk up to him, shoving your watch in his face with a look of disdain. The LED numbers stare back at him coldly.
6:04 AM.
Your expression remains unimpressed at his stunned countenance. Dropping your wrist you glance at the clock on the wall. "The clock in here is broken, that's why I started wearing my watch again."
You were indeed, not late. For the first time in a very long while, Roland feels humiliated. He even almost apologizes to you before stopping himself. If a simple misunderstanding is enough to break him, then he might as well give you another warning. A wide grin quickly replaces whatever apology he was going to say before.
"Well then, little rabbit of mine," Roland leans down towards you, his tone was taunting but a glance at his eyes would tell you the true weight of his words. "You'd better make sure you don't keep the wolf waiting for too long. Who knows what might happen if you leave a hungry wolf unattended."
"You're incredibly brave..." | Rafael Barba x GN!Reader 🩹🌸
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Rafael Barba x GN!Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Random attack, Reader gets beat up, Hospital stay, Carisi & Benson around for a sec
Summary:You are in the hospital after a random attack on the streets, and at the same time of your emergency contact (Boyfriend Rafael) being called, the detectives come to talk to you.
I POSTED THIS ON MY SECOND ACCOUNT ON ACCIDENT. HERE IS THE LINK TO THE ACTUAL FIC ON MY MAIN FANFICTION ACCOUNT.
Gojo is pretty emotionally disconnected from most, refuses to let himself get attached most of the time after everything thats happened to him.
And then you show up
He doesn’t want to slip up. He doesnt want to form another bond like that. But its like he can’t stop it. Maybe you just remind him of what he’s lost, maybe it’s the way you see him as him rather than “the strongest,” an annoyance, or something shallow. It happens slow, so slow he barely even picks it up, but the feelings bloom. You just enrapture him. And he remembers everything that happened last time he got so close to another person, and he’s terrified to accept it but terrified to turn it away and loose the last chance he might have at a relationship like that.
so he takes it, tries to claim you in every sense of the word. You’re weaker than him, possibly even an underling, so there’s definitely a power dynamic that makes it easier for him to keep control. Maybe he tries to keep you hidden, but maybe he likes to drag you around like a dog, only loaning you off to somebody else when it gets too dangerous. Either way, it’s not like you can run because he’d definitely find you. He is absolutely NOT going to lose something so important to him, not again. He’d do whatever it takes, even if it meant making himself look like the bad guy in your eyes because you understand him so well, so he’s sure he can turn your relationship back to the positive side with just a little explanation and coercion
(idk if this may be a bit ooc but… its been rotting in my brain ty for letting me dump it here)
trigger warnings/content: yandere, stalking, power dynamics, obsession, Gojo is a few years older than reader, no smut, just word vomit
It starts off small. You’re a budding sorcerer, a few years Gojo’s junior, and also a new teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, trying to adjust to your new job. Gojo takes it upon himself to mentor you. You don’t think anything of it, other than the fact that it’s a little intimidating to have the strongest sorcerer of the era to serve as your guide.
You’re strong, he can see. You’re hardened by a few rough years of working in the field, but even despite barely meeting you, your facade cracks and he can see the goodness underneath.
Gojo’s impenetrable most days. To a lot of people, he might be a loud, annoying nuisance, but to you, you see a broken man who tries to keep everyone at arm’s length at the expense of his pride and reputation as a formidable sorcerer.
Gojo’s extremely intelligent, and uses it to play his cards wisely. It took him years to build a persona that’ll prevent outsiders from ever looking in. You manage to unravel him day by day, and it almost frustrates him.
Almost.
Until he realizes there’s no point in fighting the inevitable— he’ll have to let you in eventually.
There’s a fear in Gojo’s eyes when he sees you. It’s like all tomorrows appear in a blink. Your entire essence, so good, so innocent about the cruelty of the world. It reminds him of innocence he once had in his youth. Something about you is so magnetizing, and no matter how much Gojo wants to fight it, he can’t help but be pulled in.
He wants you. And he wants you to want him. Need him. Desire him carnally in the way he does you.
Slowly, he lets you see parts of him that no one else has ever seen. His love is so overwhelming, and because it’s Satoru— with his sweet words and seemingly good intentions— he manages to have you fall for him too. And when he finally, officially has you (because let’s face it, he decided you were his long before that point), he manages to keep you under lock and key.
For your safety, he reasons.
After all— is he really the strongest if he doesn’t do what he can to keep you safe?
The rose colored glasses seem to wear off over time, and you start to see Gojo for the monster he really is.
It takes a few months of garnering courage to even attempt to begin planning your escape from him. You do it slowly, but carefully, calculating every step to make sure you don’t leave a trail behind.
You get one of the auxiliary managers to buy you a back up phone, set up a whole new bank account overseas, and eventually *secretly* book a ticket to a whole different country— one far from the grasp of Satoru Gojo.
Fate, by some miracle, seems to be on your side. Yaga calls both of you in for an emergency meeting. Gojo is being sent away on a week long mission abroad to snuff out a new curse user group that has connections to one here in Japan. You— a local mission to check out disappearances in a nearby town.
You can feel the hostility radiating from the man standing next to you. You dare to take a peek, and you see nothing but an airy smile. “Yaga, I’ll take care of their mission. It should be quick for me—“
“No, Satoru. They haven’t been on a mission in months, thanks to you being greedy and taking on everything. Being a good mentor means letting them take calculated risks.”
With that, both of you sign off on paperwork and begin to prepare for your respective missions. The atmosphere is tense in Gojo’s home— the same one he made you move into just a few months prior (“So you don’t have to worry about commuting so far. ‘Sides, there’s a lot of creeps lurking around out there, and I’m not talking about curses.”)
Gojo refuses to leave you until he makes sure that you’ll be safe. Borderline threatens Ijichi to keep a close eye on you, and the poor man is nothing short of pissing his pants.
He pulls you aside before Ijichi starts preparing the veil. One hand rests on your waist, squeezing almost a little bit too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go, while the other tilts your chin up so you can meet his gaze.
He has his blindfold on, but you know all of his attention is on you. “I know you won’t have service inside the veil, but the second it gets lifted you’re going to call me.”
You nod, and listen like the good girl he likes you to be. With that, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before he leaves.
You manage to locate the missing victims and exorcise the curse in less than 48 hours. You do as you’re told and call Gojo. He picks up after the first ring, and you think you can hear a shuddered sigh of relief on the other line upon hearing your voice. He tells you he has to go, only because duty calls, and that he’ll talk to you soon. Be good. Update him. Don’t leave without permission.
As usual, you appease him.
You make it back home in record time, tell Ijichi to wait outside because you need him to take you somewhere.
You leave your phone behind— the one that Gojo has the location of— and shut the door with nothing but a small suitcase in tow.
Ijichi stammers, you want to go where? Alone? Does Gojo know about this?
You tell him there’s no time for questions and to start driving.
He drops you off at Narita, in the international terminal. He’s visibly sweating, no doubt fearing for both his life and yours once a certain white haired sorcerer gets back from his mission. You give him an easy smile and thank him, and he speeds off, probably to go into hiding as well.
Your hands are shaky as you hand the boarding pass to the flight crew, and the tremors don’t stop even as you take a seat inside the plane. Even when you arrive at your destination, lay down in your bed in what’s going to be your temporary home for who knows how long, does your anxiety fail to cease.
Gojo knows something is off. He’s blown up your phone with endless calls and texts, called Ijichi countless times, and even asked Yaga about your whereabouts. Nothing. Your radio silence confirms his intuition. He finishes up his mission quickly, before the one week allotment is up. The first thing he does when he steps foot in Japan is immediately teleport back home.
He’s met with silence, and hardly any trace of your cursed energy residuals to be seen. You’ve been gone for a few days, he deduces.
Anxiety starts to prickle the back of his neck, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this much concern for anyone. Are you hurt? He tries calling you again, until he hears it. The slight buzzing sound emanating from your shared bedroom.
He picks up the device and sees the log of notifications. You really were gone.
Satoru looks through your phone— messages, emails, camera roll, bank statements— anything, anything to give him a hint as to what you were up to. Nothing. That’s okay, onto the next plan, which is honestly what he should’ve done first.
Being the strongest sorcerer had its perks, but none of them were greater than his privilege to investigate into people’s background history.
You know deep down there really was no escape from Satoru Gojo. That no matter the distance, he’d find a way back to you.
So when you see Gojo sitting on your bed in your hotel room, a part of you isn’t that surprised. The rest of you is paralyzed with anxiety of what comes next. You want to run, but you can’t. Your eyes begin to shift towards the still open door, trying to assess your options, but you’re hardly given a chance to finish your thought before Gojo is in front of you, closing the door. Effectively shut away from the outside world.
He’s not wearing his blindfold, you noticed. Which means he’s probably been tracking the flow of your cursed energy the moment you stepped foot into the lobby.
His stormy gaze meets yours, and he smiles. Your stomach drops.
“So…” he starts, voice sinfully low, “thought you could get away, hm?” He’s backed you up against the door, his strong frame pressed against yours.
Words bubble up your throat but die as they reach the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to set him off. You’ve only been given small glimpses into Gojo’s more sadistic, domineering side, which he does on purpose to serve as warning. You’re not like anyone else, so I’ll be good to you. In return, you must be good for me.
You start to tremble, legs beginning to fail you— but Satoru’s there to hold you steady. He uses one hand to grip your face, squishing both of your cheeks until your lips are pursed. He watches with deep adoration and fascination at how pliant the flesh is between his fingers. It’s like you were made for him.
“I’m willing to forget that you did this,” he hums, placing a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he presses his forehead against yours. “If you promise to get in that bed with me until I’ve decided you’re forgiven.”
Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, recommend, or translate my writing on TikTok or Twitter.
Babe I don't know if you ever thought about Yandere!Yuuta I think there's a lot of potential in that dude
i have thought about him and i do enjoy a yandere!yuuta.... he's a weirdo though...
like i think he's got your schedule memorized before y'all even start dating and it's a MAJOR reason why you even do in the first place. he's very unassuming (cursed energy aside), but he's planned the whole thing out and it goes exactly as he thought it would. n the first time he touches you, he has this timid little expression on his face that doesn't QUITE reach his eyes because he's been waiting to get close to you like this since you first introduced yourself.
i think he tracks your cycle too LMFAOOO. not necessarily for kink or breeding purposes, but because i think yuuta is super weirdly obsessed with making sure You Are So Comfortable. tracks your cycle and gets odd about it, fixes you meals that he'd researched depending on where you are in it. notices the slightest fluctuations in your sex drive and your behavior and logs it mentally into his brain. gently finger fucks you on your period because he read that it's good for cramps and then licks the blood off of his fingers because he feels closer to you that way (and it IS about the blood specifically).
like he's just overbearing and he'd keep you cooped up and all to himself if he could, but i think it's all for the purpose of pleasing you. i think that's probably the crux of his yandere tendencies. "anything for you" except it's taken to the absolute extreme and it's a little scary but the way he looks at you.. man.. it's romantic... it's obsessive... it's admiring...
i also think he says the most fucked up things like with his sweet little smile like OHHH YOU'RE SCARY...
note: COLLEGE teacher nanami, mind you; not proofread
Nanami Kento was the best teacher! He was stern, smart, understanding, and so so patient and kind that it almost made you feel bad interrupting his class with your dreamy sigh. It made him pause for a beat, making you jolt in embarrassment when you make eye contact before he returns to the lesson. You could watch him for eons; forever focusing on his thick, heavy hands that were calloused somewhat while he wrote on the board. Your eyes continued to wander to his shoulders, lingering to his arms, his waist, his hips, oh, he's making you sigh again.
He was so strong and took care of himself. You knew this when peaking at his schedule after class while he was occupied elsewhere. On his workout days, you'd swoon at his back when he jogged on the treadmill, watching him do his sets through the windows from the shop across the street. Then, the grocery, this time for that salmon recipe he wants to try, too busy searching for the ingredients to spot you as approaching check out. Or his favorite bake shop he frequented. Granted, the shops coffee cups and snack wrappers were usually found in his garbage, anyways. But what bugged you out of all were the one-on-one tutoring sessions throughout the weeks. So smart, so determined, so patient, so kind for his students, you should have their slots instead.
It's not like you had to be better or worse than your fellow classmates, you only needed to be potential and that's why you had to have these sessions with Mr. Kento about your recent failing marks. You had to look up at him with a pout and threatening tearful eyes as you just couldn't get a handle on this one issue. You needed your teacher's support more than ever as you huffed and got frustrated at seeing your grade lower even more when you were trying youre dearest.. All he could do is look down at you softly, his sympathetic smile that makes your stomach flip, and gentle tone as he goes over the reading again. But that just wasn't enough, you growled and silently glared at your classmate each time he dismissed you for tutoring. Didn't he see you need him most?!
It wasn't your fault that it had come to you pressuring your classmate to seek other tutors and resources, you were just glad they were stupid enough to belive those nasty comments you made about Mr. Kento, even they were true. They weren't good enough to be tutored by Mr. Kento, assuring them that Mr. Satoru would benefit them more. Yes, Mr. Kento's low grunts and vibrating groans of frustration at poor skills not being able to handle such a intellectually low student did give lovely daydreams late at night, but now that his students were drifting to his least favorite coworker, he needed you most! He needed to prove himself and to you he was a worthy teacher, that he needed to be there for you.
"So, why meet at the same typical classroom?" you suggested cheerily, blushing when he raised his brow at you. but instead somewhere with less backrooms aura and more comfortable seating, and warm with comforting lighting, and sweet treats. "What is 'backrooms aura'?" His somewhat amused sigh runs chills through you. He rubs his eyes, quiet for a moment when he leaning beated weight on the table. He looked so tired, the stress was getting to him. He must be doing something utterly wrong if his students are drifting towards his coworker, or his potential student keeps needing his tutoring despite it all, or whatever this growing paranoia that someone has been following him.
You chuckle awkwardly at the moment of silence, bringing him back to reality to look at you for another moment. You smile. He use the excuse of external stresses get ti him now, not during this session that is meant for you. He could not fail you and the fact that you didn't give up on him and seek other resources...He let's out another pity sigh that could almost go unheard. "Mr. Kento?"
"I'm sorry." Your body warms at his tense brows. "Let's continue." his lips pressed tight, his nose flared, and jaw tense.
"I can tell you're struggling..." you begin, his eyes immediately go soft at your words, he's staring at you, patiently waiting, saying words he desperately needed to hear. "I want you to know I care about you, Mr. Kento... I want you to know that... I want to support you just like you've done for me all this time." Another sigh leaves him but it's different, he's relieved that's you've assure him..His eyes flicker and hus brows tense and his new thoughts.
