Yandere AIB Boys - Captive s/o
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
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Female reader
Summary: A small glimpse into your unfortunate life as the beloved captive of the AIB characters. (Normal AU)
[Arisu, Banda; Chishiya, Niragi]
WARNINGS: (Normal AU) Implied Kidnapping; Captivity; Manipulation; Violence.
AN: Seeing as I received aib asks, decided to dig this from the drafts. Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊 Hope you guys like it as well!
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Arisu
Arisu feels bad about it, he really does.
He doesn’t enjoy keeping you locked up like a savage animal, so ferocious that it needs to be contained. It’s unnecessarily cruel and it breaks his heart every time you cry or scream, begging him to let you go.
He wishes he could, but that’s not an option. Not anymore. Not when there’s so much confusion and reluctance in your mind regarding him.
Arisu can’t possibly allow you to leave, to let you go and live your own life when there’s no absolute certainty that you’ll always come back to him every day.
He can’t let you go when the small, but imposing voice in the back of his mind insinuates that you won’t ever come back. That you’ll run away. Go away from him. That you’ll find someone better than him. That he’ll never see you again.
Arisu can’t let you go - he won’t let you go. He needs you, more than anything in his life. He can’t function properly without you. You’re the beacon that guides him through life, you’re the one person that gives his life a meaning - a reason for him to live.
How can Arisu let that slip away from his fingers like sand?
The answer: he can’t.
“Can you…Can you please open the door?” Arisu tries again. “I haven’t seen you in hours. Just wanna make sure you’re okay in there.”
He keeps going.
“I just…I wanna talk to you, face to face. I miss you.” Arisu feels the words slipping out like water, effortless and pure, but they have no impact over you.
“Are you okay?”
Only silence replies to his question.
You haven’t left the bathroom for what it feels like an eternity even though it’s only been five hours, your little sanctuary of peace - the only room in the house with a functioning lock.
He gently knocks on the door, resting his forehead against the wood with a little sigh. There’s not a single sound coming from inside, but he’s certain that you must be listening even if you remain silent.
“I’m sorry.” he repeats with a low voice, barely audible. “I’m only doing this to protect you. I hope you can understand that one day. That I’m not a monster. I’m not crazy.”
He sighs again. “All I want is to protect you. Keep you safe. That’s all I want.”
Banda
Banda is a calm, collected individual.
Unbothered by whatever tantrums you throw.
Uncaring of whether you hysterically cry yourself to sleep.
Unrelenting despite the food that you throw back at him in a rebellion display.
For him, it’s a game. An entertaining game of patience, of endurance, of power. How much can you fight back, how far can you resist him until you reach your breaking point.
Many are the words that can be used to describe Banda, but delusional isn’t one of them. He’s not a fool. He is not seeking love. He is not seeking the happily ever after.
What he desires is something far more powerful, a million times more effective in binding you to him.
Fear. Respect. Obedience. Submission.
Breaking you - mind and soul - till there’s not a single rebellious bone left in your body. Soft. Pliant. Quiet. Not a single stray thought lingering around, poisoning you against him. To melt and reshape you in the way he wants to, leaving no detail behind.
The red dot of the cameras never stops blinking, the undeniable evidence that Banda is always monitoring you - day and night.
The ropes around your limbs never loosen up, painfully digging into the irritated skin.
The duct tape never leaves your lips, keeping you just like he wants to - quiet like a little mouse.
Banda contemplates you, gaze dark and somber. Eyes never straying away from your face, deeply focused. Studying. Analyzing. Mapping every feature of your face with an eerie intensity that has your skin crawling with discomfort.
For the first hours, not a single word came out of his lips - nothing but quiet silence that loomed over the room as Banda remained seated across you.
He just stares. Like a doctor analysing a fascinating illness. Like a predator studying a prey before the attack.
The silence breaks with the faint rumble of your stomach and only then does Banda finally speak, breaking the stillness that reigned inside the small, sterile room that has become your own.
“You’re hungry.” he calmly says. Voice cold and impassive, just like his face. Nothing about his posture hints at the slightest pity, remorse, nothing.
There’s no way for you to answer him back, not with the tape that shuts your lips together. Even if you could speak freely, there’s nothing you could say.
Nothing that Banda would listen to anyways.
His head lowers down for a moment, wrist with an analog watch rising mid air - his first movements since he entered the room with the sole purpose of intently observing you.
“Almost time for dinner.” he looks back at you, the corner of his lip curving appreciatively. “Your body is adapting to the meal schedule. That’s positive.”
He speaks of you as if you’ve achieved something great, a prize in a competition. Your body’s reaction to the conditioning imposed by Banda isn’t positive. Far from it. It’s a nightmare.
Does it mean you’ll stop hating him, eventually? That your body will stop resisting him, losing every inch of strength?
That makes you wonder how long until it’s your mind turn to succumb to this new life controlled by Banda.
Chishiya
Chishiya is intelligent and that means he obviously has a plan. He has a plan, then he has a back-up plan as well as a precautionary plan in case the back-up plan fails.
No one is as prepared as Chishiya is. Unfortunately for you, that means your chances of escaping him become fairly limited, so slim that are almost nonexistent.
Restraining measures and safeguarding precautions are thoroughly assessed and evaluated, taking into consideration various scenarios.
Plans are designed accounting factors such as your mental health, the level of physical strength you possess, your current levels of IQ and EQ, amongst innumerous variables. Every single detail, every minuscule characteristic about you is factored in.
His apartment is sound-proofed as well as baby-proofed. Locked down in a way that ridiculed high-security prisons. There’s simply no way out.
Chishiya isn’t a man with a propensity for violence, far from it. He doesn’t lay a single hand on you to break your spirits. He prefers to play psychological games with you, toying with your vulnerabilities, your feelings and emotions manipulated relentlessly.
Chishiya feeds you lie after lie. Your family never cared about you the way they should. Your so-called friends weren’t as trustworthy as you believed them to be. The job you had was nothing but a dead-end.
He isolates you, becoming your only source of human interaction. Tears, screams, violence - none of that works to persuade him to release you.
You’re his now.
Chishiya finds you laying in bed - not like you could be in any other place with the chain circling your ankle.
The cotton blanket has been thrown over your head, hiding you entirely under the covers and only a small tuft of hair peeking from underneath the blanket reveals your presence. You resemble a bratty, whiny child that didn’t get her way.
He stays by the wall, catching up on the barely perceptible tearful sniffing.
“Is your plan to spend all afternoon crying?”
His question receives no answer, not that he expected any.
Silent treatment has been your most recent defense mechanism, an attempt to make him give in to your whims - a pathetic strategy if you asked him though. Silence doesn’t bother him as much as you believe it does.
“I’ll be leaving for the hospital soon. Might be home later than usual.” he informs you. “Do you need anything before I leave?”
The silence prolongs itself and Chishiya nods, more to himself than to you.
You’ll break the silence vow. Eventually. Sooner or later. Chishiya is patient enough to wait for it.
Niragi
There’s no remorse, no regret, no pity.
The only thing Niragi feels when watching you cry and beg, heavy unbreakable chains keeping you within the basement, is raw satisfaction.
The greedy beast in his chest rumbling with contentment each and every time he watches you unsuccessfully fight back - getting nowhere near freedom.
A little bird that can’t fly away. Wings clipped down. You are caged. Trapped. Chained down.
Exactly how Niragi likes you.
He’s quite cruel with you. How else is he supposed to teach you that actions have consequences? That you can try as hard as you can but in the end, your place is beside him. You’re his. The sooner you learn that, the better.
Talk down to him? You’re going to see stars with how hard he slaps you.
Throw your food at him? Get ready to eat burnt meals and moldy bread.
Try to escape? Leather belt is in his hand already, ready to mark your skin.
Pretending to be good? Niragi isn’t a fool, he can see very well through whatever lying facade you put up.
With a man such as Niragi, you really have to tiptoe around him. To plan exactly what you’re going to do, to think and rethink whatever you want to say. Otherwise you find yourself on the receiving end of a major chaos, violence and harsh words used against you.
Niragi desires to break you, to transform you into nothing but a weak, fragile shell of who you used to be.
To punish you, to hurt you, to control you. With Niragi, pain is the only thing you'll get.
“That’s it then, you’re not gonna eat?”
Irritation drips from Niragi’s voice, but you stubbornly keep your eyes to the floor, fixed on the thin white line between the tiles.
You ignore him and the plastic plate of food that sits across from you - a greasy fast-food hamburger and oily fries. They look harmless enough for you to believe that nothing about the food has been contaminated with whatever idea that could’ve crossed Niragi’s mind, but at this point it doesn’t even matter anymore.
Your appetite is long lost, despite the dull ache in your stomach. You blatantly refuse to eat anything that has been touched by Niragi, who is currently getting angrier by the moment.
“I’m speaking to you. Are you freaking deaf or sum?” he strides closer, getting up in your face.
Your gaze shakes, the furious warmth emanating from Niragi making your guts twist with uneasiness, cheek twitching with the anticipation of the slap you’re certain to receive.
Just as on cue, the predicted punishment is delivered, leaving behind a burning sting on your cheek. Niragi grabs you by the hair, pulling on the roots to yank your face up.
Forcing you to face him.
“Eat. Now.” he growls. “Before I start messing up with that pretty face of yours.”
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