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Why do toxic fanfics keep popping up on my fyp, like no I don't want Gojo cheating on me, fucking me as an apology and me actually FORGIVING him???. I need a man who is OBSESSED with me and wouldn't even think of looking at another woman. The only fanfics that truly still my hunger are yander fics.

Tongue Tied

starring tattoo artist!choso x reader (rec!)

summary: you’re left alone with your best friend’s quiet, mysterious roommate. What could possibly go wrong?

content: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, tattoo artist!choso, alt!choso, pierced!choso, stóner!choso, plug(?)!choso, hair-down choso, no use of “y/n”, pórn no plot, maybe some plot, high séx, elements of dubcon, oral (f!receiving), sqúírting, dumbification, piv, size k!nk, CHOSO IS LOWK POSSESSIVEE, dare i say yandere?, brééding, etc.

word count: 5.1k

author's note: picture credits from left to right: einruji07 on X, b___ashui on X, einruji07 on X | divider credits go to @strangergraphics | this was inspired by an anon rec from a couple months ago! i tweaked it a little bit, so plz forgive me (ó﹏ò｡) 🩶 also, MDNI 18+ if you are not 18+ i will block you.

choso's aux: dreams, fairytales, fantasies - a$ap ferg, sativa - jhene aiko, girl with the tattoo enter.lewd - miguel, nights like this - the kid laroi, swim - chase atlantic, right here - chase atlantic , chokehold - sleep token

(warnings: yandere, other stuff??? i rlly wanna make this a longshot but i dont have time rn so short blurb it is;-;)

Post Apocalypse AU with Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, and Choso all reluctantly working together in a settlement.

The dynamic is so interesting cuz on paper it should not work….yet it does??? Choso is gathering food and equipment. Sukuna is the weapons expert and is usually the one leading the raids on other settlements. Geto is the pseudo-leader and mostly holds things together. Gojo also helps in with raids and whatever else.

They aren't a found family at all. Choso barely speaks and acts more animal than human somedays. Sukuna mostly keeps to himself. Gojo and Geto are the ones who act the most friendly towards one another but everyone is constantly on edge. Peace on the settlement is nothing more than a fragile truce, but it works. On the settlement, everyone earns their keep.

And then you come along, stumbling in the sand, desperate for any type of relief from the blistering hot sun. Sukuna and Gojo are the ones who find you. They haul you on their truck with barely a fight before rushing back to the settlement. Geto and Choso expect them to come back with more supplies and food, but they are far more pleased when they discover you in the truck.

It's been awhile since any of the men have touched something soft. They all thought whatever softness the world had left had blown away in the airy desert wind, but you proved them wrong.

Choso falls first. Being with you reminds him of those green summer days before the downfall of humanity, back when he was a good big brother and loved his family. You're his family now, and he'd shred everything who comes between the two of you.

Sukuna will never admit it, but he'll sit by your cot when youre asleep. He'll keep vigil, paranoid something may take you away when the others aren't watching. Somedays, you being here really feels like a dream and he doesn't ever want to wake up.

Suguru acts the most normal. He converses with you and laughs with you. He makes himself seem the most safe. He doesn't want to stir any turmoil within the settlement, but it would be nice if you preferred him over the others.

Satoru is the least overbearing, but that doesn't say much. He never had much faith in god, but after they found you, only good things have happened. things are finally turning up in his miserable life. he calls you his lucky star, though you never discover how serious he means it.

For years, they just survived, but now they're finally living.

Meanwhile, you are so grateful the men found you when they did. You truly are. No amount of thanking them will ever be enough repayment. Still, you can never find yourself truly comfortable in the settlement. The way they stare at you is always so intense, like they're daring you to run, just so they'd have the excuse to chase you. Anytime you even mention leaving, one of the men are quick to change topics.

You aren't an idiot. You see the changes they're making here. Choso keeps building the surrounding fences higher and higher, like hes trying to keep something in. Satoru keeps installing more locks and bolts. You caught Sukuna smuggling in a ragged nursery book a while back. There's something in Suguru's room that eerily resembles a bassinet.

On the settlement, everyone earns their keep.

It wont be long before they expect you to earn yours.

CHOSO who's a perverted stalker... with a gift for you.

Part One, Part Two

When a soft brown teddy bear showed up at your door, Choso figured you’d throw it away immediately.

‘Probably from some creep.’ He thought you’d say, tossing in over your bare shoulder as you proceed back into the depths of your house. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead you picked it up, looked at its beady eyes and soft fur for a while, and hugged it close to your chest. It’s tuffs of it’s beige coat tickled at your neck.

The look of glee was evident on your face as you tossed your head left and right to look for the secret admirer that left this cutie on your doorstep.

You had coincidentally placed the teddy on your bed, not even realizing the camera hidden deep in its plastic eye zoom into your cleavage once you started to fix the little bow tie beneath its muzzle.

It was just too cute. And one rare piece of your collection you hadn’t yet found— your admirer knows you too well!

Well, imagine Choso’s shock once he checks in to the live feed, fully imagining you on your phone or picking an outfit for tomorrow, only to see you knuckle deep in your pussy.

Well that’s what he thought. The tiny camera only caught the look of utter bliss as you dug the thing deeper into you. Maybe you were using a dildo, or a vibrator, or better yet something multipurpose.

That look of utter relief filling your face, putting sweat along the lines of your brow and your mouth wide open to let your pretty moans out, made Choso reach a hand into his drawer.

Out he pulled a fleshlight. One that he could only imagine felt as soft as your skin.

He rubbed the slit over his tip, eyes clenched and teeth grinding together at the sensation. Before plunging his lengthy cock into the pocket.

Choso yelped, bucking his hips as he began to steady the pace of the up and down motion he offered— one that he thought you’d might enjoy.

Oh he was nasty for doing this. He knew this feeling all too well. But, at least he knew he was gross, so maybe that makes him a little less gross?

He peaked an eye open, watching the monitor as you began to tear up. Whatever you were doing must’ve felt good. Really good. Hopefully he can live up to it on your third date.

Third date. Goodness, he could already imagine.

Choso had it all planned out, the life he imagined was perfect. Not too fast, not too slow, just the sweet spot he’d know you’d comply with. You would first make love on the third date, because Choso doesn’t just mindlessly fuck— not with someone like you.

Then, he would breed you. Your ass stuck in the air as his tip knocked against your walls. You’d be so blissed out you wouldn’t even feel the cum filling you up. Oh, that would be amazing.

Then you’d have no one else to turn to! You’d have to marry him. The diamond ring he had stashed away in his other desk drawer would look beautiful on you— he already knows! If he got anything else but your panties away from that sneak in last night, it would be the early sight of the ring on your finger.

Choso’s sure you’ll be happy, but that isn’t his top priority. As long as you’re together forever, you better be happy!

The thought of you, round and fulfilled with a baby in your stomach and a rock on your finger made him twitch. Once, twice, three times before cum shot out and deep into his pocket pussy.

Perfect timing too, considering he rolled his heavy head back to the live footage and saw you with your eyes in the back of your skull and drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. You two came at the same time.

You’re already in sync.

Yeah, your life will be perfect with him.

Js a lazy post 2nite ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

yandere!choso who can't take his eyes off of you, whether it be during a lecture you two share or at one of sukuna's frat parties. he just wants you to be safe who could blame him?

yandere!choso who makes sure no one gets too comfortable around you, they could never get you the way he does after all. he threatens any guy who'd dare get close with you.

yandere!choso who watches and follows from afar, making sure you get back to your dorm unharmed. for "safety" reasons, he installs cameras throughout your dorm when you forget to lock your door one night, monitoring them frequently.

yandere!choso who admires you through these cameras he's set up, who thinks you look absolutely gorgeous even on your bad days. he notices everything about you, hes completely devoted to you.

yandere!choso who jerks off while he watches you shower through the cameras, sliding his cock up and down the pair of underwear he stole from you while he was in your dorm. he can't help himself, you look so good from this camera angle.

yandere!choso who builds up the courage to ask you out on a date to a nice restaurant after getting teased nonstop from geto and sukuna, to which you happily agree.

yandere!choso who becomes extra overprotective of you, snaking his arm around you at frat parties and pulling you closer to him anytime a guy shows interest in you. he takes you outside with him during his smoke breaks and lets you straddle his lap as he admires you.

yandere!choso who eats your pussy mean. "that's it, atta girl," he manages to get out while making a mess with his tongue on your puffy clit while he fingers you deep, looking up at you as you snake your hands through his hair.

yandere!choso who isn't afraid to fuck. hes got you bent over, thighs spread wide as he mercilessly bullies into your womb over and over. "fuckk.. pussy's so tight.. squeezing me so good," he moans in your ear as he goes impossibly deeper, drilling his fat mushroom tip to the hilt.

yandere!choso who wants to make you his, "shit.. im gonna knock you up- make you a mommy, bet you'd like that huh? wan' me to fill your womb up with my load?" he whispers in your ear as he continues to slide his fat cock in and out of your slick pussy, groaning in satisfaction as he snakes his arm around your stomach to press on the belly bulge his cock is giving you.

yandere!choso who uses his other hand to slide two fingers into your mouth, sliding them all around your tongue as a lubricant before he moves them in circles around your puffy clit, "you're close aren't you? come on, ngh.. cum around my cock.. i'll fill you up so good," he moans in your ear as your pussy flutters around his twitching cock, spasming and squeezing it.

yandere!choso who fills his cock to the hilt, hips stuttering and head thrown back as he fills your womb to the brim with his warm, sticky cum, "nghh.. oh fuck! that's it- take it alll, im gonna make sure this takes," he swears as he stays put deep in your womb, leaning forward and panting heavily as his cock continues to let out spurts of cum deep inside you.

yandere!choso who runs you a hot bath afterwards, cleaning your body gently and running his fingers through your scalp with your favorite shampoo. he gets in with you afterwards, letting you cockwarm him as you return the favor of washing his hair.

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Yanderes Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, Okkutsu Yuta, Fushiguro Toji and Kamo Choso - female reader.

Synopsis: what would each one call you?

TWs: possessive behavior, obsession, coercive dynamics, captivity themes, violence, implied physical abuse, dehumanization, gore imagery, blood, cannibalistic implications, toxic relationships, manipulation, religious/saintly devotion imagery, emotional dependency, threats of harm, mental instability, body injury mentions, dark romance themes.

Gojo Satoru:

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞 / 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭 / 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫.

Satoru loves sweet things- you included. He sees you with an eye of cherubic allure and flowing adoration: every atom of you -to him- was a jar filled with candies and sprinkles, colorful and arrayed in the beauty of a Louis Wain tableau. it plays on the harp of his ribs to see the joy in your eyes whenever he spoils and cossets you, clouding his affection above your head and raining it as gifts: sweets, expensive clothes, dates in places you remember from vintage movies— kisses and fondles and dreams on a ninth cloud.

𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐔𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

(yandere! choso x Reader, psychological thriller/romance series)

fanart: dekazeze on twitter

summary ; in which after a terrible accident you lost all of your memories. when you lose them you wake up in the hospital.. where a handsome man awaits for you claiming to be your husband.

previous chapter

✧˖° ⚠️ c/w ˖°✧ this series contains dark yandere themes — obsession, manipulation, gaslighting, captivity, stalking, blood play, and identity corruption. expect dubcon, breeding kink, rough intimacy, praise/degradation, and explicit sexual content. also includes violence, emotional coercion, and toxic romance. read at your own risk ♡ (one shot posted on tumblr, series will be on wattpad! follow @yanderslutt)

White. That was the first thing you noticed. It was not a place, not a sound, just color. Endless and unforgiving, stretching above you like it had swallowed the sky whole. Your eyes fluttered, burning as they tried to open fully. The light stabbed behind your forehead, sending a dull ache through your skull. You shut them again instinctively, breathing shallow, waiting for the pain to settle. Something beeped.

Slow. Steady. Repetitive.

The sound felt important, like it was keeping time for something fragile. When you opened your eyes again, the white sharpened into shapes. Rectangles. Lines. A ceiling tiled in neat squares, too clean to belong anywhere familiar. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic—sharp and cold in your lungs.

You tried to move. Your body didn’t respond the way you expected it to. Limbs felt heavy, distant, like they were resting a few seconds behind your thoughts. When you focused hard enough, your fingers twitched, just barely, a delayed reaction that sent a flicker of panic through your chest.

Why can’t I move?

The question formed easily. The answer did not. You searched your mind for context—for a before, for something that explained why you were here—but there was nothing to grab onto. No memory of falling asleep. No memory of waking up. No memory of anything that led to this moment. Your name hovered just out of reach. You knew you had one. The certainty of it sat somewhere deep in your bones. But when you tried to say it—even silently—it slipped away, dissolving into nothing.

A pressure built behind your eyes. You weren’t empty. Not completely. There were… pieces. Shards. A flash of pink—soft and drifting. The feeling of warm sunlight on your face. Laughter—yours or someone else’s, you couldn’t tell. They came without warning and vanished just as quickly, leaving no explanation behind. No faces. No voices. Just sensations without anchors, like fragments of a dream you woke up from too late.

Your heart began to beat faster. This isn’t right. You tried to take a deeper breath and felt a tightness in your chest, a subtle resistance that made you aware of your body all over again. Something tugged at your arm when you shifted—a gentle pull that stopped you from moving too far. You turned your head slightly. Clear tubing. A needle taped carefully to your skin. A bag of fluid hanging beside the bed.

Hospital. The word surfaced unbidden, settling into place with unsettling ease. You didn’t remember learning it. You just knew.

That realization made your stomach drop. If you could know that without remembering how… what else had been taken from you? Your gaze drifted, slow and unfocused, taking in the unfamiliar room. Pale curtains drawn halfway. A small table beside the bed. Machines you couldn’t name but somehow understood were watching you, measuring you, waiting for you to do something wrong.

You felt exposed. Not physically—covered, warm—but internally. Like someone had reached into your mind and wiped it clean, leaving you awake inside a body you didn’t recognize as your own. Who am I? The question echoed, unanswered. You searched harder this time, pushing past the fog, demanding something—anything—to hold onto. Childhood. A face. A place. A voice calling your name. Nothing came. Just more fragments. Dark hair brushing your cheek. The scent of rain on concrete. The feeling of being watched…

Your breath hitched at that last one, though you didn’t know why. Fear crept in slowly, like cold water rising around your ankles. You tried to speak—to call for help—but your throat burned when you opened your mouth, the sound that escaped barely more than a whisper. It startled you enough that your heart leapt. The beeping beside you sped up in response. You froze, suddenly hyperaware of the room again, of how loud your breathing sounded, of how alone you felt despite not knowing who you were supposed to be.

You stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears you didn’t remember earning, and the thought pressed itself into your mind with quiet, devastating clarity: You had lost your past. And whatever waited for you next…would define who you became.

The door opened with a quiet hiss. You didn’t notice it at first—only the change in the air. The subtle shift of presence. Footsteps, light and practiced, crossed the room. “Oh—good,” a woman’s voice said gently. “You’re awake.” You turned your head toward the sound. A nurse stood near the foot of your bed, clipboard tucked under one arm. She smiled, professional and calm, the kind of smile meant to reassure without promising too much. “I’m glad to see you,” she continued, moving closer. “We heard some activity on your monitor.” Your mouth opened, then closed again. Your throat still felt raw, but you forced the words out anyway.

“Where… am I?” The nurse’s smile softened. “You’re in the hospital,” she said, like she’d expected the question. “You’ve been here for a little while now.” A little while. Your fingers curled into the sheet. “How long?” you asked. She hesitated just enough for you to notice.

“About three weeks,” she said carefully. The number landed like a weight in your chest. Three weeks of your life—gone. Unaccounted for. Existing somewhere you couldn’t reach.

The nurse pulled a chair closer and sat, bringing herself down to your level. “You had a severe head injury,” she explained. “A traumatic brain injury. You were unconscious when you were brought in.” Your gaze drifted to the bandage wrapped around your head, suddenly very aware of it. “There was swelling,” she continued. “Some bleeding. We were concerned about pressure on the brain, but you’ve stabilized nicely. Waking up today is a very good sign.” She flipped a page on her clipboard, then looked back at you. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay?”

You nodded. “How do you feel?” she asked. You searched for the answer. “I feel…” Your voice faltered. “Empty.” The nurse didn’t flinch.

“That’s okay,” she said. “That’s actually very common.” She paused. “Do you know your name?” You tried. Nothing came. You shook your head slowly. “Do you recognize where you are?” she asked. “Hospital,” you said, unsure how you knew. She made a small note. “Good. That’s something.”

Then, gently: “Can you tell me what you remember?” You stared at the ceiling again, jaw tightening as you sifted through the fog.

“I don’t remember… things,” you said slowly. “Not clearly. Just pieces. Like… flashes.”

“Can you describe them?” You closed your eyes. “Pink.. No.. Red? I.. don’t know,” you whispered. “Like petals. And… sunlight. Someone laughing.” Your brow furrowed. “I don’t know who. I can’t see faces.” The nurse nodded, scribbling something down. “That’s consistent with post-traumatic amnesia,” she explained. “Your brain is still healing. It’s normal to have fragmented recall—sensory impressions without context.” She looked at you kindly. “Right now, your memories are like a puzzle that’s been shaken up. Some pieces are there. They just don’t fit together yet.”

Your chest tightened. “Will they come back?” She didn’t answer right away. “We don’t know,” she said honestly. “Some patients regain most of their memories. Some only regain parts. Others form new memories moving forward, and the past stays… incomplete.”Incomplete. You swallowed. “You took a nasty fall,” she continued gently. “Hit your head pretty badly. When you were found, you were completely unconscious.” “Found by who?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

The nurse glanced toward the door, then back to you. “Your husband,” she said. The word sent a ripple through you. “Husband?” She smiled, as if this part was meant to be comforting. “Yes. He found you and called emergency services immediately. He’s been here every day since.” Your heart stuttered. “I… I’m married?” you asked. “Yes,” she said. “For a few years now.” The room felt suddenly too small.

“You don’t remember him?” the nurse asked gently, though she already knew the answer. You shook your head. “That can be overwhelming,” she said softly. “But it’s okay. He understands. We’ve talked extensively.” Something about that made your stomach twist.

The nurse stood, tucking the clipboard under her arm again. “Try not to push yourself too hard,” she said. “Your brain needs rest. Confusion is expected at this stage.” Her voice faded slightly, like it was moving further away even though she was still standing there.

“I’ll let him know you’re awake,” she added. “Take your time.” The door opened again. Light spilled in. And then.. Everything blurred. Voices became muffled. Shapes softened at the edges. The ceiling above you seemed to stretch and tilt, like it was drifting away. The beeping slowed, warped, echoing strangely in your ears. The last thing you registered before slipping back into the fog was a single thought, heavy and uncertain: You had a husband. And you didn’t remember loving him at all.

You tried to sit up. The effort alone sent a dull wave of pressure through your skull, not sharp enough to scream, but heavy—like your thoughts were moving through water. The blinds were drawn tight, thin strips of light leaking through the edges but never quite touching you, as if the room itself was trying to keep you cocooned. Your eyes adjusted slowly.

White walls. A chair tucked neatly into the corner. A mirror mounted across from the bed, angled just enough that you hadn’t noticed it before. You lifted your hand to rub your eyes—and froze. Your fingers brushed against fabric instead of skin. A soft cloth. Gauze. Carefully wrapped and secured above your head. Oh.

This is where it happened. The realization didn’t come with pain. It came with emptiness. A hollow understanding that something had gone wrong here—something bad enough that strangers had wrapped you up and monitored you while you slept through weeks of your own life. Your hand drifted down instinctively, following the length of your arm, grounding yourself in the familiar weight of your own body. When you reached your left hand, your breath caught.

A faint pale band circled your finger. Not jewelry—absence. The skin there was lighter than the rest, smooth where something had clearly rested for a long time. A ring. You stared at it, heart pounding. Someone had taken it off. Probably to admit you. To keep it safe. That made sense. It had to make sense. Still, the sight made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain. Married.

The word echoed without meaning, without memory, without emotion—yet your body reacted anyway. A strange grief stirred, detached from any face or feeling, like mourning a stranger you were told you once loved. You swallowed hard. The mirror across the room caught your attention again. Slowly, carefully, you swung your legs over the side of the bed. The floor felt colder than you expected.

You stood, unsteady, and took a step closer to the mirror. The woman staring back at you felt… wrong. She was thinner than you thought you should be. Shoulders sloped inward, posture exhausted. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, her complexion pale and drawn like she hadn’t seen sunlight in too long. Bandages crowned the top of her head, stark white against tangled hair. Scratches traced her arms and collarbone—thin, healing lines, some pink, some already fading. Evidence of something violent. Something you couldn’t remember surviving. You reached out, touching the glass like it might answer you.

“Is that me?” you whispered. The reflection didn’t respond. Your legs trembled. You tried to step back—And the room tilted. The floor rushed up far too fast, your balance slipping completely as panic flared sharp and sudden in your chest. You gasped, arms flailing uselessly as your knees buckled. Before you hit the ground—Strong arms wrapped around you.

You barely had time to register it before you were lifted, weightless, the world shifting abruptly as you were scooped up against a solid chest. The scent of him hit you first—clean, faintly metallic, something grounding and overwhelming all at once. You let out a startled sound, fingers clutching instinctively at the fabric of his shirt. “Hey—hey, I’ve got you,” a voice murmured close to your ear. Too close.

Your heart slammed violently against your ribs as you realized you were being held—carried—bridal style, cradled like something fragile. His grip was firm but careful, arms locked securely beneath your knees and behind your back, like he’d done this before. Your head spun.

“I shouldn’t—” you breathed, words tangling as dizziness swelled. “I didn’t mean to—” “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You stood up too fast.” You looked at him then. Up close, his face was overwhelming. Familiar in a way that made your skin prickle. Dark eyes fixed entirely on you, wide with concern, searching your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked.

This was him. Your husband. Your mind screamed questions your mouth couldn’t form. Who are you? Why do you feel like this? Why does my body react before my thoughts do? He adjusted his hold slightly, pulling you closer without asking, as if your weight belonged there. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest—strong, unwavering—so different from the chaos spiraling inside your own. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly. The words hit you harder than they should have. “I’m sorry,” you whispered automatically, though you didn’t know what you were apologizing for.

He carried you back toward the bed, movements smooth and practiced, and lowered you carefully onto the mattress like you were made of glass. His hands lingered a moment too long—one steadying your shoulder, the other brushing your arm as if to reassure himself you were still real. You stared up at him, breath uneven, mind unraveling. Everything felt like too much.

The room. The mirror. The bandages. The missing ring. The man who held you like he already knew every inch of you.

Your chest tightened, tears burning unexpectedly behind your eyes. “I don’t… I don’t remember anything,” you whispered. His expression softened instantly. “That’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to. Not yet.” But the way he said it—so certain, so calm—made your stomach twist. Because while you didn’t remember him at all… He remembered everything about you. The nurse returned not long after, pushing a small rolling tray into the room. The scent of warm food drifted in with her, soft and grounding—broth, bread, something mild meant for healing bodies. “Alright,” she said brightly, adjusting the tray near your bed. “We’re going to start slow. Small portions, easy chewing. You’ll probably feel weak for a while, so don’t push yourself.” You nodded, though even that made your neck ache faintly. When you reached for the bed rail to sit up, your arm shook. The movement felt wrong—like your muscles weren’t quite listening yet, delayed and unreliable. A wave of dizziness followed, light enough not to send you spiraling, but enough to remind you how fragile you still were.

“I can help her,” a low voice said calmly. You looked up. Choso had stepped closer, his presence filling the space beside the bed. He offered the nurse a polite smile—soft, practiced—already reaching for the tray. “I brought something she likes,” he added. “If that’s alright.” The nurse blinked, then laughed lightly. “Of course. That’s… very thoughtful.” She glanced at him again, slower this time. Her cheeks warmed just slightly before she caught herself and nodded. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Just make sure she eats slowly.” “I will,” Choso said. The nurse gave you an encouraging smile, then slipped out, closing the door gently behind her. The room felt quieter after that. Too quiet. It was only then—really then—that you noticed him. Standing there in the muted hospital light, Choso looked… unreal.

Tall—far taller than you’d realized before. He had to be at least six-foot-four, his broad frame impossible to ignore even when he stood still. His hair fell loose around his shoulders, dark and unkempt, like he hadn’t bothered to tame it in days. Strands brushed his jaw, his neck. Your gaze drifted lower before you could stop it.

A thick tattoo curved up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his tight black compression shirt. Ink spilled down over his chest and along his left arm, dark and deliberate, peeking from beneath the short sleeve that strained slightly around his bicep. Your throat went dry. He was wearing gray sweatpants, worn and casual, sitting low on his hips. The kind of outfit that looked harmless on most men—but on him, it only emphasized how solid he was. How dangerous. If you didn’t know better—if you didn’t know he was yours—you might’ve thought he was something else entirely. A mafioso. A hitman. Someone you shouldn’t trust.

And yet— He turned back to the tray, focused, methodical as he unpacked the containers. Gentle hands. Careful movements. He laid everything out neatly, like this was something he’d done many times before. You realized you were staring. Your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed by how openly you’d been gawking. Your heart beat strangely fast—not from fear, not entirely. From something else. You shifted, trying again to sit up on your own. The effort made your arms tremble, breath catching as your body resisted you like it didn’t quite belong to you yet.

Immediately, Choso noticed. “Easy,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Let me.” He slid an arm behind your back, firm and warm, helping you upright without lifting you this time. His touch was steady, grounding. You leaned into it before you realized you were doing it.“I’ve got you,” he murmured. You nodded, suddenly shy. Timid in a way you didn’t recognize but couldn’t stop. Your guard—what little of it you had—lowered without permission.

He adjusted your pillows, then picked up the tray, settling it gently in front of you. “I brought your favorite,” he said quietly. You looked down. Something warm. Familiar. Comforting. Your chest tightened, emotion rising too fast for you to name. “I don’t… remember,” you admitted softly. “But it smells nice.” “That’s okay,” he replied immediately. “You don’t have to remember yet.” He pulled the chair closer and sat, his knees almost brushing the side of the bed. Up close, he was overwhelming—too much presence, too much intensity wrapped in gentleness. “I’m Choso,” he said then, voice low and careful, like he was choosing each word with intention. “I’m your husband.” The word still made your stomach flutter uncomfortably—but this time, not entirely from fear. “We’ve been married for a while,” he continued. “You don’t need to feel pressured to believe anything I say. Just… take things at your pace.”

His eyes searched your face, not demanding—waiting. “I’ll help you,” he added. “With whatever you need. Eating. Walking. Remembering. Or not remembering.” You swallowed, fingers curling lightly around the edge of the tray. “Okay,” you whispered. The word surprised you as much as it seemed to please him. Choso’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, a breath easing from his chest. “That’s all I ask,” he said. “For now.” And as you lifted the spoon with shaky fingers, feeling his eyes never leave you—not possessive yet, not overtly—you couldn’t ignore the strange truth settling deep in your chest: You didn’t remember loving this man. But something in you didn’t feel afraid of him either. And that, somehow, felt even more dangerous.

You didn’t say much after that. Neither did he. The silence that settled between you wasn’t awkward—it was almost… peaceful. The kind that didn’t demand anything. The kind that let your thoughts drift without pressure. You focused on eating slowly, the spoon feeling heavier than it should have in your trembling hand.

Across from you, Choso watched quietly. Not staring. Just present. You found yourself looking at him again anyway. His face, this time—really looking. Strong jaw. Dark lashes casting shadows beneath tired eyes. There was a faint cut near his cheekbone, already healing, and when your gaze drifted lower you noticed more—scratches along his forearm, a fading bruise near his wrist, yellowed at the edges like it wasn’t fresh.

Your brows knit slightly. He caught you staring. A small huff of amusement left him. “I box.” The words startled you. “Box?” you repeated. He nodded once, rolling his shoulder casually. “Been doing it for years. Comes with the territory.”

You swallowed. “I get roughed up sometimes,” he added, almost dismissive. “It’s nothing.” You nodded slowly, eyes dropping back to the tray. A boxer. Of all things.

The thought felt strange—unexpected—yet it slipped into place too easily, like it belonged there. Who knew you’d end up married to someone like that? Someone with bruised knuckles and inked skin and a presence that felt too big for a hospital room.

Something tugged at the back of your mind then. A pressure. A flicker. His hands wrapped in tape.The sound of leather hitting flesh. Blood—not yours. Your breath hitched. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold onto it—but the memory dissolved before it could form into anything solid. Just like the others. Just fragments, slipping through your grasp the moment you noticed them.

You exhaled shakily. Choso noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked softly. “I—yeah,” you said, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I thought I remembered something. But… it’s gone.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened. “That’s normal,” he said. “Don’t push it. You nodded again, resigned. You tried to lift the spoon once more. Your arm shook halfway up, muscles protesting sharply this time. The effort drained you faster than you expected, your grip loosening. Before you could get frustrated, Choso leaned forward.

“Here,” he said gently. He took the spoon from your hand without a word, dipping it back into the food. You tensed instantly, shoulders pulling in slightly as he brought it toward you. Not fear. Just instinct. He noticed.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured. “Only if that’s okay.” You hesitated, then nodded. The spoon touched your lips. You opened them, letting him feed you carefully, his hand steady where yours had trembled. It felt… intimate. Too intimate. Your face warmed, heart beating faster for reasons you didn’t understand.

After a few bites, your body relaxed despite yourself. It was easier this way. You hated how comforting that realization felt. As he lowered the spoon again, his free hand reached out and closed gently around yours. Your breath caught.

Your muscles went taut for a split second, instinct screaming at the unfamiliar contact—but it faded almost immediately. Something about his touch felt… known. Familiar in a way that bypassed your thoughts entirely. Warm. Grounding. Your fingers didn’t pull away.

You looked down at where his hand held yours—firm but gentle, thumb resting lightly against your knuckles like it belonged there. “I’ve got you,” he said quietly, almost to himself. You didn’t know why the words made your chest ache. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember loving him. But your body—traitorous, confusing—didn’t feel like this was wrong. And that scared you more than anything else so far.

taglist:

@b-is-obsessed ; @tojifushiguroszaddyzar ; @supernatrualqueen ; @evelynn666m ; @sarabat85 ; @mr-crawlings-wife

next chapter

YANDERE MASTERLIST (part 1)

a/n: please do not steal my works, translate in another language, or share it in another platform, especially, to AI. i work hard in writing everything i post, and i don't get paid for it. the only reason i post them is because i love writing and sharing what's on my mind.

once i see my works get stolen, i will not post anymore stories. it has happened to me before in wattpad so please, i beg of you, don't ruin this for me.

part 2 coming soon!