NOTE. english is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistake.
ISAGI YOICHI
You don’t even mean to be seductive — you just excitedly grab him because he scored in a match, hugging his head right into your boobs.
Immediate brain shutdown.
You hear a muffled “h-hold on– wait–” but his hands are already on your waist, holding you like he’s bracing for death.
He’s frozen like a statue. Respiration? Gone. Vocabulary? Deleted.
Eventually he just accepts his fate and very slowly snuggles closer like “…if this is a dream don’t wake me up.”
Afterwards he tries to act normal but his face is still red ten minutes later. Bachira sees him and just starts howling with laughter.
ITOSHI RIN
He’s sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. You casually walk up behind him and pull him into your chest like “mine now.”
Instant stiffening. Like a cat forcibly picked up.
“…What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he says with a voice muffled by boob.
But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Doesn’t breathe.
His hands hover awkwardly, unsure whether to push you away or worship you. Eventually they just settle vaguely on your thighs like he's not trying to touch you but is absolutely touching you.
He pretends to be annoyed — “Are you done?” — but his ears are fire engine red.
Later that night he falls asleep on your chest voluntarily.
ITOSHI SAE
You do it knowing full well he’s cocky and shameless — expecting him to tease you.
You press his face in and go, “Do you like it?”
He inhales. Deeply.
“Better than I imagined.”
HE LOOKS UP AT YOU FROM YOUR CHEST WITH THAT SMUG HALF LIDDED GAZE.
You are now flustered. You have lost control of the situation.
He rests his head there like a pillow, completely relaxed. “I think I’ll stay here for a while.”
When you try to pull away, he tightens his grip on your waist.
“Nope. You started this.”
NAGI SEISHIRO
You don’t even hug him — you just sit on the bed and tell him your chest is a pillow now.
He doesn't question it. He just falls face first into you like a fainting goat.
“…soft.”
He immediately uses your entire torso as a mattress, arms around your waist, legs tangled with yours.
If you try to move? “No. Stay. Warm.”
You are now trapped for 2-6 hours. He might fall asleep. You might die. Worth it.
MIKAGE REO
You do it dramatically. Arms wide. “Come here, baby.”
He runs into you at full speed like a golden retriever.
His face in your boobs? Immediate delighted laughter.
“Oh my god, I’m never leaving. This is peak existence. This is nirvana.”
He wiggles his head like he’s trying to engrave his face into them.
Fully motorboats you unprompted.
If anyone walks in, he proudly shouts “This is MY natural habitat!”
Later he orders you both matching shirts that say “Property of THESE” with arrows pointing to your boobs.
BACHIRA MEGURU
You don’t even get the chance to initiate.
You think about hugging his head into your chest and suddenly he’s already there.
Like a psychic puppy.
“Hehe~ I knew you wanted me here.”
He makes it ten times more scandalous by nuzzling like a cat claiming territory.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.” (He says this into your cleavage like it’s a prayer.)
If you try to let go, he tightens his arms and wraps his legs around you.
You are now a Bachira backpack.
He hums happily like he’s listening to your heartbeat like it’s his favorite song.
SHIDOU RYUSEI
You grab him by the face and shove him into your boobs just to shut him up.
Big mistake.
He bites.
Not hard (yet), but enough to make you squeak.
He pulls back with the most shameless grin.
“Oh? You feeding me now, baby?”
Then he smashes himself right back in, hands on your ass, lifting you up like a trophy.
“This is the best religion. I’m converted. Praise be.”
You were trying to be cute but now he’s dry humping you against a wall.
do not repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on any platforms. thank you for reading :)
Kaiser always liked messing with you, but you didn't think he’d take things so far.
(Warnings: noncon kissing, noncon touching, threats, power imbalances, yandere)
Working for Bastard München was a dream come true.
You’d been a soccer fan all throughout your life. You even played a bit in high school, though your talent never got you far. Nevertheless, your passion for the game lasted all throughout middle school, high school, and college. It was how you got to work for one of the greatest teams across the globe.
Seeing Noel Noa in person nearly made you faint, but your fellow managers kindly assured you it was a pretty common feeling. That was another thing you enjoyed about the league: everyone was so nice and friendly.
Except for one person.
The coach blew out the final whistle just as the ball flew into the net. The practice game was over, and there was one clear winner. Kaiser’s grin was feral as his team crowded around him, celebrating his amazing shot. It was an incredible play; you could hardly believe he pulled it off. Despite your reservations about the guy, he was incredible on the field.
You wish he could just stay on it forever.
The team gathers on the sidelines to take their much-deserved breaks. You’re quick to get to work, trailing behind the other managers as they begin to pass out towels and water bottles to the players. You make a beeline to Ali. He’s the biggest talker on the team; everyone hates being near him once he gets going. Maybe if you can get Ali to ramble about birds or something, he might not be too keen on bothering you.
He steps in front of you. You nearly collide with his chest. He’s so tall, you have to crane your neck up just to look him in the eyes. You think that he especially enjoys that. His blue eyes sharpen with delight.
Kaiser tilts his head. “Got anything for me?”
You look down at the water bottle and towel in your hands. Accepting defeat, you hand them over. His fingers brush over yours deliberately. As always, Kaiser makes a show of it. He languidly wipes at his neck and face. He downs the water like it’s liquid gold. Just when you’re about to attend to the next player, he snaps his fingers.
Reluctantly, you look back at him.
“Thanks.” He tosses you the towel. You barely manage to catch it.
He pats your shoulder just before he passes you. “What would I do without our sweet little manager.”
His tone is so condescending that you feel yourself heat up from embarrassment. Out of all the team managers, you’re the only one he calls that.
Players aren’t supposed to return towels to managers; they’re supposed to put them in the bin. Kaiser, however, treats you more like his servant than as your actual job title suggests. You have to ball up your anger as you trek to the rag bin.
One of your fellow managers gives you a sympathetic smile. You toss the dirty rag and grab another water bottle.
“That bad, hm?” She asks.
“No, just the usual amount of shitty.” You mutter.
“He’ll get better,” she tries to assure. “He just needs a bit more time, since you’re new and all.”
Yeah, more time.
They’ve been saying that for the past year and a half.
You’re not sure why Kaiser has a hyperfixation on you. You’re pretty average, all things considered. Despite your normalcy, Kaiser has made it his personal mission to whittle you down.
Everyone has acknowledged his behavior as abnormal. He’s never picked on any of the non-players of the team. He used to pretend they never existed until you came along.
He’d make jabs at your clothes, ghost touches that lingered on inappropriate if he was any slower, and that dreaded title: ‘sweet, little manager’.
“Ignore it.” Another fellow manager comes up to tell you. “He’ll stop eventually.”
You shrug. You glance out the corner of your eye.
Kaiser’s already staring at you. His grin is infuriating.
“Yeah,” you say, “eventually.”
~
You’ve talked to Noel Noa twice in your life.
First: the day you got hired.
Second: the day you turned in your resignation.
He’s still staring long after you stopped rambling. His stare is so heavy, practically crushing you, and yet you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Even as he studies you from his chair, he still feels bigger than you.
He’d stepped down from playing a couple years ago, but even as head coach of the team, he’s yet to lose his intimidating stature.
“Are you sure about this?” He finally asks,
Noa has yet to glance at the slip you dropped on his desk. You drafted your resignation letter with a bold black pen and the neatest handwriting you could. He barely acknowledged it.
“I am.” You tell him. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll forever be grateful for all the experience I learned from this team.”
It sounds rehearsed because it is rehearsed. You practiced in the mirror, mouthing the words over and over so you wouldn’t flail in front of Noel Noa.
He only tilts his head, scanning you up and down. You wonder what he’s searching for.
“Did anything particular happen that made you want to resign?” He prompts.
You think of blonde hair with bright blue tips. A blue rose.
“No.” You smile with tight lips. “Nothing at all.”
He doesn’t believe you. You can tell.
“It’s a shame to see you go.” He says anyway, standing up and reaching out his hand. “You were a wonderful asset for this team.”
“Thank you so much, Sir.”
You shake his hand with all the confidence you can muster. You loved this team. You really did.
But it wasn’t worth it.
He wasn’t worth it.
~
When you leave the office, you aren’t surprised to find Kaiser waiting for you.
He’s leaned against the wall, watching with sharp eyes as you continue to stare at the ground. Stupidly, you hope that if you continue to ignore him, he might not try to start anything.
If anything, that makes him more eager.
“Hey hey.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to stop. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Your lips curl into a sneer, but you’re forcing it back down.
“Kaiser, I have work.” Your voice is quiet even to your own ears. It prompts Kaiser to lean down closer to your face.
“Hm? What’d you say?” His grin is even wider.
You try to pull away, but he’s crowding you against the wall, lightly pushing at you. You're forced to take a step back, then another, then another until your back hits the tile.
“I don’t have time for this.” You say, just as quiet. The bite in your words is mute. He relishes this. Kaiser grins, showing white teeth that glint.
“Aw, C’mon.” He mockingly pouts and you bite your lip. “You were in the coach's office for a while. I was getting worried.” He cocks his head, assessing you.
“You didn’t get in trouble or anything, did you?”
“No,” you say firmly, “Stop it. I need to go–”
“Go where?” He prods, and you feel his hand rest on your upper thigh, daring to creep up.
You freeze.
He’s saying something else, but all you can think of is his fingers drifting over your thigh. He gives a firm squeeze.
“Get the fuck off me.”
You push him away. He stumbles back. It’s not strength that gets him off of you. Your burst of anger just surprised him. He’s used to your meekness, willingness to be pushed around. You use it to your advantage, immediately turning away before he can say anything else.
He doesn’t follow. You don’t hear the second echo of footsteps as you walk off. Relief singes at your fingers.
Just for a moment, just for a peek, you glance back.
He’s still standing right where you left him.
His smile is gone.
~
For the next few days, things are strangely peaceful.
There’s no more beratement from Kaiser. You never suffered any more unwanted touches or annoying quips. It was like you were completely erased from his world.
You weren’t complaining. For the first time in a while, you actually looked forward to working with the entire soccer team, rather than just huddling with the other non-players. It was a nice change of pace.
It’s a shame the change only happened right when you were leaving.
A few days before you officially left, your little team of managers promised you a farewell party. You were looking forward to it. One last hurrah with your co-workers before you move into a new section of your life.
Things were finally looking up.
After hours, the club is pretty quiet. Most players just want to shower and go right home. You know, some like to stay behind to do a little more practice, but this is mostly when staff use the time to reorganize locker rooms and such.
You like working alone. Someone else was with you earlier, but you’d kindly waved her off, insisting you could handle it. It was less than an official storage room and more of a closet. You stood in front of the equipment, your trusty clipboard in hand. Someone mentioned that the team was running low on some items. You might have to edit some orders if they were true.
Loud footsteps echo behind you. You pay them no mind. Probably a coach. A player who’d forgotten their bag.
They stop right behind you. You don’t even bother to look.
“I’ll be just a second.” You tell them, assuming they wanted to set up some cones for last-minute drills.
“You’re leaving?”
Your fingers tighten on the clipboard.
Slowly, you turn to look at Kaiser. He’s still in his uniform. The smell of sweat and rubber is faint in the air. His breaths are slow as he glares down at you. Your eyes trail to his hand.
Your resignation letter is crumpled in his hand.
Something keeps strumming through your arms and legs. You want to fidget: shake your leg, flex your fingers. You feel nervous, though you aren’t sure why.
“Yes.” You respond as curtly as you can. “But that’s none of your business–”
“The fuck it is.” He crowds you, forcing you to back up into the storage room.
You’ve seen Kaiser angry before. On the field, or with his teammates. Never at you. There’s no reason to be angry at you. In his world, you barely exist.
Kaiser wasn’t angry.
That’d be too tame a word to describe him.
His blue eyes almost glow with the way he looks at you. Kaiser has always forced you to feel many things: embarrassment, discomfort, anger, and frustration.
Not fear. Never fear.
Until now, at least.
“You think you can just run from me?” He asks, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. His voice sounds rampant, unfocused. “You think there’s somewhere you can escape to? That I’d just let you walk away from me?”
The way he speaks makes something awful grow into the pit of your stomach. His tone is vile, possessive, and something else you’d rather not name. You feel small, like you’re a toy a child is no longer allowed to play with anymore.
You open your mouth, and then his lips are on yours.
There’s no softness, no gentleness. Kaiser is nothing but harsh and full of teeth. By the time you’re able to pull away, your lips are sore and bitten.
He lets you stumble back, reaching up to wipe your blood off his lips.
You should’ve taken that time to run, but you can’t. Your feet feel like they’re cemented into the ground as you continue to stare at him. Your lips sting. Something burns across your face as he advances forward.
You should’ve run. Even as he shut the door behind you two with a final thud, you knew that.
The tiny sliver of light barely gives you a glimpse of his figure before you feel him against your chest, shoving you against the wall.
“What are you doing?” It’s all you can say, all you can think. “Kaiser–what–what are you doing–”
“It’s my fault,” he says, but it sounds more like he’s talking to himself than talking to you, listening to the words form in his mouth. “I was too lenient on you. Everyone else saw it, and I thought that was enough.”
There’s a click of his tongue. “It’s clear you need to have some things spelled out for you.”
Fingers crudely snap in your face. You flinch, trying to back up against the wall, but there’s nowhere to run. Maybe that was the case from the first moment he saw you.
“Here’s how things are gonna go: You aren’t leaving. You are never leaving me. The minute you try, I’m dragging you right back kicking and screaming.”
You wordlessly stare back at him. Kaiser isn’t finished.
“If you want to try, I’ll make you understand just how hard things will get for you.”
The threat is clear and laced with venom that stings. You stop breathing, but your timid fear isn’t enough for Kaiser.
He leans into your space, lips right at your ear.
“Do you understand?”
Something about his tone makes your body snap up at attention. You close your eyes and nod, pressing yourself further up against the wall.
“Okay.” You find yourself saying. “I–I won’t….okay.”
You keep your eyes closed until you no longer feel him breathing down your neck. Even then, he doesn’t let up on his closeness. Strangely, his presence feels smaller, like he’s slowly calming down. You can still feel the rage emanating from his body, but the heat is a bit more bearable.
“Better.” He tells you. You flinch as he lightly pats your cheek, like you were some rowdy mutt.
“There’s this new restaurant that just opened up. It's too Americanized for me, but the food’s pretty good. Wanna go?”
You blink at him. He’s back to how he acted just hours ago, slightly leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, casual with the slightest hint of a playful tease.
How was he so casual about this? Why was he so unafraid? The minute you got out of here you planned on reporting him until he got arrested. You should have done that weeks ago, but why was he so confident you wouldn’t.
You glance down at his shoes. Yours were cheap, but you took care of them as much as you could. You wanted them to last. His were rugged and muddy and barely held together, but the brand was expensive. It probably cost an entire month of your salary. He’d easily buy another pair.
Ah, that was why.
That’s why the other managers brushed off his harsh words even though they edged on harassment. That’s why you still hesitate to say anything even though you desperately want to. You’re just a Pawn on the chessboard.
Kaiser is the King.
When you give a wordless nod, Kaiser preens, satisfied. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, jostling you to his side as he drags you out of the suffocating closet. You shrink under his hold, reluctantly following along as his head dips into the crook of your neck.
“Should’ve done this sooner. Everything's so much easier now that you understand,” he says, his voice muffled by your neck.
“After all, what would I do without my sweet, little manager.”
yanderes who drug your drinks when you go out — not to harm or take advantage of you, but to show you just how dangerous it is out there. they do it to strike fear in you, to prove to you how helpless and defenseless you are without them.
i mean, imagine if they weren’t there to save you. imagine what sick things someone else could’ve done to you after you passed out. imagine how bad it would’ve been for you if they were anyone else — if it was someone who wanted to harm you, and not someone who held so much love for you.
Forsaken : Elliot, Chance, Lance, Mafioso, Two Time
Genshin : Chongyun, Diluc, Zhongli, Thoma, Lohen
Blue Lock : Ness, Sae, Isagi, Kurona, Reo + Your Faves
kaiser had broken things between you two off rather suddenly and volatilely. after a year together, he'd changed his mind, cruelly telling you that you simply weren't what he was looking for, weren't worth keeping around. with that condescending smirk you'd only ever seen used full force on the pitch, he discarded you to the side with a brush of fingers against your temple and whispered reminder that he could have anyone in the world— why would he want someone as plain as you?
you'd been shattered. you'd given him everything you had. he wasn't an easy person to love by any means, but you were determined to do it anyways, because you saw through his many masks and into the broken, beaten boy that lay beneath it all.
(and maybe that's why he left: he couldn't handle it, the way you always saw him for what he was and stayed despite it. because of it.)
your friends, the few you have, tell you it's for the better. they tell you that the relationship was making you weary, that you were hard to get ahold of, that anytime they did see you, you looked like you had just gotten all the blood and energy sucked out of you, the tired smile you wore doing nothing to hide how exhausted you were.
(because you kept smiling. you never stopped smiling, no matter what.)
and maybe they're right— maybe you were losing yourself, but it was a necessary sacrifice you were willing to make. a shard of you in exchange for a fragment of trust. a piece of yourself pulled into the darkness as a means to expose a part of him to the light.
nobody else understood, but you didn't expect them to. they hadn't seen his smile— the genuine one— in those rare moments when he was too sleepy to play off how much he appreciated your humor, your company. they didn't see the quiet trepidation, the soft tremble of his hands in yours when you kissed him, gripping onto your wrists like he didn't know whether to push you away or keep you there as you pressed your lips softly to his until he finally melted against you, slumping forward into your embrace like he was boneless, nothing more than your arms and your love holding him up and together.
but none of that matters anymore. you've been rebuilding yourself, scraping the pieces of yourself back together and cleaning them off, arranging them back into the version of yourself that hadn't poured so much of itself into another person.
it's been nearly four months, and you're finally starting to feel okay.
it's friday night. you're fresh out of the shower, cozy in your pajamas and ready to wind down by catching up on your favorite show after weeks of throwing yourself knee-deep into work to keep yourself distracted. you've just pulled some cookies out of the oven, and you're pouring yourself a cold glass of milk to go with them when there's a knock at the door.
with a raised eyebrow, you put the carton back in the fridge and shut it. strange— you're not expecting anyone, but it wouldn't be the first time one of your friends stopped by unannounced to crash your party for one.
you pad across the room from your kitchen counter to the door of your apartment, your slippers scuffing against the wood floor as you drag your feet. you peek out of the peephole— you can never be too safe.
there's a package sitting on the floor, no one in sight.
you undo the locks on the door, pulling it open. though uncommon, it's not unheard of for the front office to distribute packages in the tailend of the evening, not late enough for it to be concerning, but right around the time they'd be closing up.
you pick up the package, turning it over in your hands and inspecting it. your brows furrow. the box isn't labeled, and there's no return address— hell, your address isn't even on it.
then, there's movement in your periphery.
you look up just in time to see someone pushing themselves off one of your neighbor's doors further down the hall. your heart gives a painful lurch as the hallway lights catch familiar blonde hair that bleeds into blue, and you take a step back, positioning yourself more inside your apartment and gripping the door in a white-knuckled grip.
you swallow thickly as you meet his eyes. they're no less beautiful than the day he left you, but somehow, far more intense.
"kaiser."
his face twitches at that, pulling like an agitated muscle. something dart flits across his face before it smooths back over into perfect blankness. "liebling."
you purse your lips, retreating further into your home. "you shouldn't call me that," you say, but he just tilts his head at you in response. "what are you doing here?"
he comes closer, moving so slowly across the hallway that your brain is screaming at you that you're in some kind of danger, that you need you shut the door and lock it before it's too late.
you grip the knob tighter and move the door so you're half-hidden behind it, but don't shut it completely.
his gaze rakes over you, and the hairs on your arms stand on-end. he moves even closer— too close now. he stops when you close the door even more, leaving only a sliver of yourself visible.
"we should talk," he says in a disarming tone. it only makes the anxiety bubbling in your stomach worse.
"i'm not ready to talk to you," you answer.
he sighs at that. "i know i hurt you," he says, voice deceptively soft in a way you've never heard before. "let me make it up to you, hm?"
the door creaks under the force you hold the doorknob with. "you can't."
his eyes narrow slightly. "i can't?"
"you can't," you echo. then, before you can stop it from slipping out, "goodbye, kaiser."
you should have just shut the door.
mere centimeters before it clicks shut, there's another force pushing against the other side of the door, far stronger than you have any hope of resisting. a surprised shriek leaves you as your feet skid backward, the door pushing open more and more as kaiser forces his way inside.
with one last shove, you fly backward and drop the decoy package. kaiser steps inside, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him.
he moves toward you, and you scramble backward.
"stop," you hiss, panicked and frantically backing up like a cornered animal. your back slams into the corner of the kitchen counter and you yelp, flinching forward as the pain momentarily overrides your instincts and causes you to slump forward.
kaiser reaches you in record time. he catches you by the waist, and you gasp as his hands squeeze your sides, grasping at you with a bruising grip. a strangled noise leaves you when he hoists you onto the counter and forces himself closer to you, settling himself in between your legs as you straddle his waist.
"st—" the command dies in your throat when he presses his lips to yours.
it's gentle. he shakes with visible restraint, but it's still the softest he's ever kissed you.
it's fleeting, but you're still breathless when he pulls away.
one hand pressed flush against your back and holding you against him, he brings the other up to your chin to tilt your head upward.
his pupils are blown, the blue of his eyes little more than a thin ring around them.
your breath hitches. your hands fist into the end of his shirt as your eyes search his face, and he sighs, leaning in even closer to you, pressing your chests together.
"kais—" you start, but he quickly swoops in and bites meanly at your lower lip before pressing a few placating pecks to it.
he pulls away, and you try again. "micha."
he hums, content. he leans down, positioning himself at the junction between your neck and shoulder as he breathes you in. you whine softly as he begins mouthing at your neck, rubbing soothing circles into your back as he does.
this time, he cups your whole cheek with his hand when he drags your gaze back toward him.
he whispers your name against your lips before pressing another chaste kiss to them. then, "i'm home, meine liebe."
cw: yandere themes, lowkey bordering pet play ahgwvw
𖥔 ݁ ˖ If you thought Ness was annoyingly clingy before then, congrats, you’ve found a version of him that’s somehow even worse!!
Ness is always so sweet, always at your beck and call like a good doggy should, tail wagging eagerly behind him.
It doesn’t matter how absurd or downright torturous the demand is: want him to bring take out whilst there’s a torrential downpour outside? He’s back with the food still warm and his back completely soaked! Make him get all your groceries for you? Done and dusted, the house is spotless as a bonus for you. Mailing gifts to friends that are literally just down the street? He’ll happily play delivery boy just to see you smile, all while trying not to claw at the pretty little gift box you’ve wrapped it in.
(Your friend later remarks at the deep crescent shaped indents at the sides, which you obviously had to punish him for).
He has to be good, so very good for you. And good boys don’t ruin their owners things, right?
It’s a little hard to discipline him since he’ll simply apologise over and over again until you relent and let go of whatever you’re mad about. He sobs and cries such cute and pathetic tears, clinging to your leg and promising that he’ll never do it again and to please not leave him.
Ness doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever met someone else, so don’t even think about it. He’ll whine however many hours it takes for you to stop seeing them.
Everything he does is simply for the slightest chance you might gaze at him lovingly, give him some affection or affirm to him that he’s yours eternally.
He’ll take any form of love language he can get from you, although his least favourite would probably be gift giving… he has no need for such things anyway. You’re the best gift anyone could ask for!
On the other hand, he’s willing to give you everything of his. There’s no shortage of physical touch, quality time and whatnot for him to spare you. Be as selfish as you want!
He’s got no life outside of you. No friends or family to distract him from his true purpose as your mutt. If you go out, on the rare occasion he’s not accompanying you, he’ll simply wait for your return. Waiting and watching the door with a dull look in his eyes until the light of his life steps through.
Really, Ness is, in a word, desperate for you.
Desperate to drive everyone else away.
Desperate to keep you close and by his side at all costs.
Desperate to feel the love he feels he’s been robbed of his entire life.
And that’s what really should scare you, when his devotion begins to metamorphose into pure selfishness—eventually, the pets and kisses just aren’t enough. He wants to be the sole person you need in your life, someone you can rely on like nobody and nothing else.
Sweet, obedient Ness, who makes sure to be on his best behaviour for long enough to lull you into a false sense of security, who takes care of you when you suddenly feel feverish all the time and become bedbound. When you complain of aches and pains, he’s the one who always massages you until you feel better. Oh, what was that thing he slipped into your drink?
It’s nothing to worry about darling! Just some medicine to help you recover faster…
tws; implied sh, sh without the s, blood (obviously), uh idk hiori being a freak, dubious consent
oh, pretty boy, angel-looking hiori
he’d definitely be into, do i even gotta say it, blood
wounds? cuts? scars? yeah he's hard :/ eww what a creep (he’s so me)
so you’d be just like, y'know, hanging out with him at his room
obviously, his parents aren't home— they’re famous ex-athletes, so they’d get invited to tokyo for some random event. therefore, his house is empty, and there’s plenty of privacy for him to sneak you in…
it’s not like you’re stupid enough to hang out with his parents at home. and it’s not like they’d ever allow him to bring someone anyway— much less some ‘random’ girl like you. you’re just a distraction, an obstacle that could mean the failure of his football career.
but they don’t have to know about your existence, you’re hiori’s little secret :)
“whoa… your room is pretty cool.” you mumble. you knew hiori was rich, but this looks like the dream room of any teenager.
his setup seems expensive as hell, there’s a bookshelf filled to the brim with numerous books, and the bed is incredibly big and soft looking.
he hums in response, closing the door behind him.
you raise a brow, it’s not like there’s anyone at home…
“muscle memory.”
lol, whatever
you walk over the king-sized bed, allowing yourself to plop onto it without a care in the world. ou, it is as spongy as it looks like
hiori soon sits next to you,
“...”
“...”
“so… what are we doing?”
he looks at you with the most adorable eyes anyone has ever looked at you with.
genuinely, ethereal
with his doll eyes, huge baby blue orbs staring at you sooo sweetly,
his long lashes even flutter a couple times like he was some sort of angel
oh, whatever it is that he wants, you’re so fucked
“can we try somethin’ new?”
before you knew it, you’re laying against the mattress, your shirt lift up enough to reveal your naked torso
you’re already regretting this
“hio i don’t thi…”
he interrupts you with a soft kiss.
“shhh, it’s okay doll. close yer eyes for me, won’t ya’?”
he runs his lean fingers through your messy hair, a manipulative attempt to relax you.
you grimace as you try to keep your eyes closed
and he smiles
“yer soooo cute.”
he averts his gaze back to your exposed belly and unconsciously bites his lower lip.
and soon enough, the cold sensation of sterilized metal right on your v line sends a shiver down your spine.
you open your eyes immediately, only to be met with hiori’s focused expression
and a boxcutter on his hand
what?
“h-hey– what the fuck are you doing–?!”
he just flutters his lashes and smiles softly.
your stomach drops
“this isn’t funny— stop–e-eugh–!”
you try to move, but he already has your arms pinned up above your head with his left hand :/
on top of that, he sat squarely on your hips, thighs spreading far beyond your sides, leaving you squirming in impotence under his larger frame
you spew a couple (various) insults at him, tone getting louder with each one
spoiler: he dgaf
so you just keep thrashing your legs around in vain, shaking your head
meanwhile, the blade is already slicing through the first couple layers of your skin like butter
tbh it doesn’t even hurt, he’s not even going that deep—
well, he doesn’t think it’s that deep.
pun intended.
some are thin enough to look like papercuts
he doesnt look too convinced.
he retraces whatever shape(s) he is making, the new wounds now turning white before being filled with red dots that soon overflow the slits
the crimson begins running down, and so does a couple of tears when he presses the blade a bit deeper, the sting watering your eyes…
…okay, that’s prolly gonna be a hypertrophic scar
oops
(your body jerks)
and your breath is way too ragged
“f-fuck– n-no—ghh”
“mmm... y're doin’ sooo good f'me doll.”
the way you're looking at him right now is making him hard
(you look like you want to kill him. or die. or cry. maybe all three)
after an eternal couple minutes later, he finally seems satisfied enough with the masterpiece he created.
he smirks, his eyes shining brighter than ever, like a kid who got his favorite candy, as he drags his thumb on top of the wounds, smearing the liquid
(his fingers are calloused and rough, yet they feel so silky against your derm…)
(or maybe it's just the blood acting like lube)
then he brings it to his tongue and licks it, not breaking eye contact with you
he makes an obscene sound that you did NOT expect hiori to be able to make
you freeze
“ugh, f-fuck, my name looks so pretty on ya’, mhm”
…
…?!!!
his name—?!
your face is warm.
not from shyness or anything like that, no.
it's just rage and humiliation
and maybe a bit of horror.
mmm…
even better, he lets go of the boxcutter and uses his now free right hand to stretch your wrists apart
if you were already restrained before, imagine now
and then he slowly licks the wounds directly, making your body jerk and wince
you hiss and groan, desperately trying to break free
it's obviously futile
he only giggles at your sad attempts to do anything, his adorably sweet voice a condescending remark
“you s-son of a bitch—”
he places a kiss next to the fresh wounds, a shudder running down your spine
“i love ya’ too, sweetheart.”
you can taste your own blood when he kisses you once again, his pliant lips crimson-tinted
when he finally pulls away, there's an obscene saliva trail connecting both of your mouths that is dyed red at some point
“y-you're–” you pant, exhausted and sweating, brows pulled together, “so–gh—gross—! get off!! get off!!! i-i'm not your fucking p—!!”
the rest of the sentence dies in your throat as he takes his jersey off and tosses it to the side without sparing it a single glance, revealing his naked upper body—
—and revealing your carved name, a harsh deep scarlet with purple hues fading around, scarring under his right pectoral.
he’s blushing, hard and feverishly, an expression you never saw on him before, and you can only stare as your eyes widen in disbelief.
childhood friend yandere!sae watching you run to him with tears streaming down your face, sobbing about how your shitty boyfriend stood you up. again. his gaze follows your every step with a knowing glint in his eye, as if he’s been waiting—patiently waiting for this moment.
you sob to him—your most treasured friend that you’ve always confided in, falling into his arms when he wordlessly raised them, smearing your tears all over his shirt.
sae holds you close, cradling your head into his chest. he murmurs lowly into your ear, in a reassuring and sweet tone but his curt words are anything but. no. instead, they’re “i told you, didn’t i? did you really think he was the one for you?” and “you never listen to me because you’re so stubborn. and here we are again. you should know that i’m the only one who can treat you right.”
you look up at him with teary eyes. but your vision is so blurry that you can’t see the leering glint in his teal gaze. the devious shadow that passes over his face as his arms tighten around you. you think it’s a comforting squeeze, one filled with love and care. definitely not the sickening embrace of a predator finally capturing their prey.
“how is it that you’re always right, sae? no one sees me like you do.”
“they don’t. but it’s okay, you’ll always have me.”
“really?” you ask him, your face crumpled with helplessness.
“really. you trust me, don’t you?”
you nod, unquestioningly—vulnerably.
and you miss the way his phone vibrates in the pockets of his pants. ringing with messages from someone he paid off to distract your boyfriend.
“i’ll show you,” he affirms you, the dark intensity in his eyes increasing tenfold.
he shows you when he pulls your compliant body through the streets. he stops by your favorite ice cream store, ordering your favorite flavor without so much as a glance towards you. he brings you to your favorite store, buying you all the little knick-knacks that you’ve always mentioned to your ex boyfriend but never received. but why dwell on that, when your loving and caring friend, sae, can get them for you?
he shows you when his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, whispering sweet filth into your ear. roaming his greedy hands all over your body that arches into him. cherishing you as he peels off each layer of your clothing and rasping how good you are for him.
he shows you when he’s cooing against your hair how he’s the only one who can ever treat you how you ought to be treated—worshipped, treasured, loved. fucking into you like he has nothing to lose. filling you up over and over again with his cum that claims. licking the tears off your face as you cry out in pleasure.
sweetly urging you to say it with him, that he’s the only one for you, that you’re his and his forever.
