yandere reader x megumi (angst, smut, fluff)
Warnings: use of mommy, toxic relationship, kidnapping, smut.
The apartment smelled like laundry detergent and simmering broth.
That was the first thing Megumi noticed every morning now.
Clean cotton. Laundry detergent. Rice steaming in the kitchen. The faint medicinal scent of bandages because you still insisted on wrapping them around Megumi’s wrists even though they’d healed months ago.
He notices the way your hands shake when you hold a spoon too long. The way you check the locks three times before bed. The way you wake up gasping from nightmares you never explain.
He notices that you always sit beside him when he sleeps.
Like if you look away for even a second, he’ll disappear.
And maybe, a year ago, he would have. But now, now he wakes up reaching for you first
Your soap in the towels. Your shampoo lingering in the bathroom steam. Your oversized shirts hanging off his frame because none of his old clothes fit the life he'd settled into anymore.
Ten months and three weeks, maybe. The exact number blurred after a while.
At first he'd counted obsessively. Scratches in the wall. Days between grocery deliveries. The changing weather through the sealed balcony windows. The rhythm of your classes. Your footsteps. Your insomnia.
Now he measured time by smaller things.
The way your hands trembled less on good days.
The nights you managed to sleep for an hour instead of sitting beside the bed staring at him like you were afraid he'd vanish if you blinked.
The way you started humming while cooking.
The way you smiled now when he ate.
The apartment smells like your soap.
Your laundry detergent. Your cooking. Your shampoo. Your skin.
Everything in this place belongs to you, and after ten months, somehow, everything belongs to him too.
Your oversized shirts hang off Megumi’s frame awkwardly, sleeves too short on his wrists now. Your toothbrush sits beside his because you bought him one after the third month.
He still uses your shampoo though.
Still sleeps in your bed.
Still eats whatever you put in front of him without complaint.
And every morning, when he wakes up and sees you in that chair beside the bed, half-asleep and staring at him like you’re making sure he’s still breathing, something ugly and soft twists in his chest.
Because nobody’s ever looked at him like that before.
Like he mattered enough to ruin yourself over.
Tonight, rain taps softly against the windows.
Megumi’s sprawled across the couch with your phone in his hand while waiting for you to come home from college.
The kitchen light was still on from when you'd rushed out earlier.
"Back by seven," you'd said, kissing his forehead absentmindedly while searching for your bag.
Like he had anywhere else to go.
He’d asked, once, months ago, if he could see the campus again.
You’d brought him printed photos the next day.
The library. The courtyard. The vending machines outside the math building.
You’d sat beside him eagerly while he flipped through them one by one, watching his reactions like they were life saving.
“I miss this bench,” he’d murmured quietly.
Two days later, you dragged the entire fucking bench cushion home because “it smelled like outside.”
You’d almost cried from happiness when he laughed.
So yeah. Maybe you’re insane.
But Megumi can’t remember the last time somebody listened when he spoke.
The front door opens, You stumble in exhausted, bag slipping off your shoulder. Megumi glances up immediately.
You stare at him for a second, then your shoulders relax.
That look again. That horrible soft look that makes his stomach ache.
“I’m gonna shower,” you mumble.
Megumi nods once. He takes your phone and scrolled lazily through it. You trusted him with it now.
At first you'd hovered nervously whenever he touched it, watching him like a cornered animal watching another one near its food. But eventually you'd started placing it directly in his hand after coming back from college.
No password, No restrictions. As if proving something.
See? I trust you. Please trust me too.
You disappear into the bathroom.
His thumb paused when a notification slid across the screen.
Unknown Number. He opens it.
hey sweetheart :)
john from mathematics
You looked good today.
Another text arrives immediately.
Something cold slides down his spine.
His jaw tightens. His fingers type before he can stop himself.
boyfriend?? she literally asked for my notes leaning all over me bro
Megumi’s face goes blank.
told me i should come over sometime too
Megumi blocks the number instantly. His breathing turns uneven.
The phone nearly slipped from his hand as he breathed hard through his nose, vision swimming with something frantic and ugly.
His eyes moved around the apartment suddenly.
Your apartment, Your dishes, Your blankets, Your sofa.
The bed you let him sleep in while you stayed awake beside him night after night because your brain “wouldn’t turn off unless you could see him breathing.”
You told him he was enough. You told him you only needed him. You sat awake every night beside his bed because you loved him so much it was making you sick.
So why, why did someone else think they could have you?
Something hot and ugly tears through his chest.
The first thing he throws is the remote.
It cracks against the wall.
By the time you walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair damp against your neck,
the living room looks wrecked, and Megumi’s standing in the middle of it breathing hard.
Your stomach drops instantly, you step closer carefully.
Your eyebrows pull together.
“He said you went up to him.”
Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“He said you were suggestive with him.”
The apartment felt too hot.
You stepped closer slowly. “Megumi.”
“Don’t.” His voice cracked. “Don’t act like I’m crazy.”
Your expression tightened immediately at that word.
You stared at him for a long moment before speaking quietly.
“He wanted to come over.”
“And?!” Megumi laughed bitterly. “You just let people think they can have you?”
You scoffed suddenly, exhausted. “Oh my god.”
Ten months of your hands feeding him soup on sleepless nights.
Ten months of you sitting beside the bed watching him breathe.
Ten months of you bringing him pieces of the outside world because he said he missed them.
And now there was some random fucking guy texting you like that?
"You let me sit here every day thinking—" his voice rose suddenly, "thinking I was all you wanted—"
"Then why is he texting you like that?!"
You stare at him for a long second before realization hits.
Megumi finally looks at you and his eyes are furious and wet all at once.
Your face changes immediately. Not guilt. Offense.
"Why were you reading my messages?"
Megumi looked genuinely stunned.
"Not to snoop through my life."
“How dare you go through my chats?”
“How dare you make me think I was enough for you?”
The room goes silent. Water still dripping from your hair.
Megumi’s chest rises sharply.
Megumi moved before thinking.
His tall frame crowded yours instantly, pushing you back against the hallway wall near the bedroom door.
“One year,” he says hoarsely. “One whole fucking year and I still don’t know what I am to you.”
You scoff bitterly and turn away.
You start walking toward the bedroom. Megumi follows instantly.
“Then why was he talking like that?!”
“Because men are fucking weird!”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe this.”
Megumi catches your wrist before you can leave again.
“Am I just furniture to you?”
"You keep me here. Dress me up in your clothes. Feed me your food."
"And meanwhile you're flirting with random fucking guys at college?"
Your breathing sharpened immediately. The words hit something rotten inside you.
The switch flipped behind your eyes so fast it made his stomach drop.
Furniture. To put your things.
Your breathing sharpens. “You think that’s what this is?”
Something in you snapped.
Megumi stumbled back in shock.
"I ruined myself for you."
“You think I ruined myself for you because you’re convenient?”
“You think I stay awake every fucking night because you’re furniture?”
Your voice rises, wild now.
“You think I dragged my entire life around you because I needed decoration?! I stopped sleeping because I thought you'd disappear."
Your voice cracked violently now.
"I bring you everything you ask for—"
"I didn't ask to be kidnapped!"
Megumi grips your towel while trying to stop you from walking away again.
The fabric slips slightly. You shove him hard.
Your face emptied completely. Megumi felt dread flood him instantly.
"…Great, you ruined my mood.”
Your voice sounds dangerously thin.
“Probably for the entire fucking year.”
Megumi goes cold. Because what if you leave?
What if this is finally the moment you get tired of him?
What if you stop looking at him like he’s precious?
Megumi grabs you from behind instantly, arms crushing around your waist.
You elbow him hard in the ribs, he doesn't budge.
He turns you toward him desperately. You shove his shoulders again.
Megumi drops to his knees.
Because for the first time in almost a year,
You looked tired of him. Not obsessed, or adoring. Just tired.
And suddenly the apartment didn't feel safe anymore.
Not without your attention. Not without your hands in his hair while he fell asleep. Not without your voice asking if he ate enough. Not without you sitting beside the bed every night watching him breathe.
The realization hit him all at once, horrifyingly clear.
his large hands wrap around your waist, forehead pressing against your stomach. entire body shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
Your breath catches slightly.
He sounds young suddenly.
His fingers clutch desperately at the towel around your waist like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.
You stare down at him silently.
“I know it’s bad, I know, but I couldn’t breathe thinking about somebody touching you.”
His voice sounded wrecked now. You looked down at him silently.
His hands clenched in the towel at your hips.
"I don't want anyone else texting you like that."
His shoulders shook once.
"I don't want you to like anyone else."
The confession sounded pathetic. His face presses harder against you.
“You smell like home. Please don't leave me alone."
Your expression softens despite yourself. Megumi’s shoulders shake once.
Slowly, reluctantly, he stood.
Your anger faded almost immediately at the sight of his teary eyes.
You lifted both hands to his face carefully. He leaned into your palms instinctively.
Your thumbs wiped beneath his eyes.
“It’s okay,” you murmured quietly.
“But don’t do that again.”
“Yes,” he answered immediately. “Yes, I won’t—”
You kissed him before he could finish.
A broken sound leaves him as he grabs your waist desperately, kissing you back like he’s starving.
His hands shake against your skin.
You kiss hard enough to silence every ugly thought in his head and Megumi chases after your mouth immediately, breathing you in like air after drowning.
You taste like warmth and home.
His fingers slid into your damp hair while his mouth moved against yours again and again and again, slower now, deeper.
“There,” he whispers shakily between kisses. “There you are.”
Your fingers slide into his hair.
He practically folds into you.
All of him bent toward your touch like something domesticated.
His lips move across your jaw slowly, tenderly now.
“I love you,” he whispers against your skin.
Like it hurts, like it heals him too.
You kiss him again before he can spiral back into apologies.
Megumi lifts you easily, hands under your thighs instinctively.
You wrap around him without thought.
His mouth stays on yours the entire walk to the bedroom.
Slow kisses, lingering ones.
The kind where he keeps pulling back only enough to look at you for a second before needing another.
The kiss deepens again, messy and needy. Megumi’s mouth trails from your lips to your jaw, then higher, licking a slow, wet stripe along your cheek like he can’t get enough of your taste.
He does it again on the other side, then presses open-mouthed kisses everywhere, your temple, the corner of your eye, the bridge of your nose, while his hands roam your bare back, holding you flush against him.
You laugh breathlessly, pushing lightly at his shoulders even as heat curls in your stomach. “Megumi… yes, yes, I just showered and now I’m sweating again. I need to go shower again.”
He shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around you, tall frame refusing to let even an inch of space form between your bodies.
“No. Don’t go. Please, baby. I don’t want to be away from you even for a minute right now.”
His voice is hoarse, still carrying that lingering sadness from the fight, eyes glassy as he nuzzles into your neck. “I was so stupid earlier. Let me stay close. I need you.”
You hum, fingers threading through his dark hair. The static in your head whispers darker thoughts.
maybe I should lock the windows tomorrow. Screw them shut. Maybe tie his wrists again at night, just for a while, to remind him.
He’s been so good for months, but that text rattled everything. You can’t risk him thinking about leaving. Not after almost a year of shaping him into this.
“Hmm. Let’s shower then,” you finally say.
He lights up, carrying you to the bathroom without setting you down.
The steam fills the bathroom quickly as you turn the shower on, warm water cascading down. It’s been nearly a month since you last washed him yourself, Megumi’s been handling his own showers lately, but after tonight’s fight and the raw need still humming between you, you want your hands on him again.
You step under the spray first, pulling him in after you by the wrist. His tall frame follows obediently, towel discarded, water immediately slickening his dark hair and running down the lean muscles you’ve kept nourished for almost a year.
You start with his hair. Your fingers slide into the wet strands, massaging shampoo through his scalp with slow, firm circles. Megumi’s eyes flutter half-closed, a soft sigh escaping him as he tilts his head into your touch.
You rinse it carefully, then let your hands roam lower, tracing soap over his neck, thumbs pressing gently along the sides, feeling the tension melt under your palms. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Your hands drift further, spreading lather across his broad shoulders and down to his pecs. You knead them slowly, feeling the firm muscle give slightly under your touch, your thumbs brushing over his nipples until they pebble. Megumi bites his lower lip, dark eyes fixed on your face with that intense, sensual focus. he doesn’t speak, but his breathing has grown heavier.
You take your time on his abs, palms gliding over the defined ridges with deliberate slowness. You trace every line, feeling the way they flex under your touch, soap making your hands slip smoothly. One hand presses flat against his stomach, rubbing in wide circles, while the other follows the V-line lower before pulling back teasingly. His cock twitches visibly, half-hard already, but he stays still, letting you explore like he’s your personal canvas.
“You’re so tense here,” you murmur, rubbing deeper into his abs. “Been taking care of yourself too much lately.”
Megumi nods, voice low and rough. “Missed your hands, mama.”
You continue downward, soaping his thighs and legs, then back up to his face. Your fingers cup his jaw, thumbs stroking his cheeks and brushing over his bitten lips. He leans into it, eyes never leaving yours, that sensual glaze deepening as water streams between you.
He suddenly leans in and kisses you, slow, deep, and full of unspoken want. His tongue brushes yours gently, reverently, as his arms hover at his sides, not grabbing, just waiting for permission. You kiss him back, tasting the water on his lips, but pull away after a moment with a soft warning.
“You should ask first, baby,” you say quietly, voice laced with that familiar possessive edge. “Don’t get greedy just because I’m touching you.”
He nods quickly, forehead resting against yours for a second, eyes heavy with love and apology. “Sorry… I just want to take care of you too. Like you do for me.”
He doesn’t voice the full depth of it.
how badly he wants to run his soapy hands over your tummy fat, tracing the soft curve there with worshiping strokes. How he craves palming your breasts, feeling their weight as he lathers them, thumbs circling your nipples.
He imagines sliding his hands along your shoulders and neck, spine, massaging gently, then down to your face and ears, cleaning every inch. He wants to wash your feet, letting you rub them against his own if you want.
Most of all, he aches to press his soapy body fully against yours, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, sliding and grinding slick and slow while you use him however you like, his hands on your back and waist.
But he keeps it locked inside, only conveying it through another soft kiss to your shoulder as you continue washing him. His hands stay respectful, lightly steadying your waist when you shift, but he doesn’t push.
You feel the tension in him, the way he trembles slightly under your hands, and a dark little thrill runs through you. Good boy. Stay mine. The thoughts of locking the windows tighter later flicker again, but for now you focus on the warmth of his skin, the way he melts under your control, completely, hopelessly in love after all these months.
After the shower, steam still curls lazily in the bathroom air. You step out first, wrapping a towel around yourself. Megumi follows, water droplets tracing down his tall, lean body. He looks heartbreakingly beautiful like this, hair damp, eyes soft and devoted, skin flushed from the heat and your earlier touches.
He goes straight to your closet, towel hanging low on his hips. He pulls out one of your shirts and tries tugging it over his broad shoulders. The fabric stretches tight across his chest and arms, the sleeves riding up awkwardly. He frowns, a sad little shadow crossing his face as he tugs at the hem.
“They’re all too tight for you now,” you say softly, watching him from the bed. “My baby’s grown so much on the food I cook for him. I’ll bring you new clothes tomorrow.”
Megumi turns to you with those dark, glassy eyes. He drops the shirt and steps closer, leaning down to kiss you, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you against his still-damp body. He tries to push further, fingers slipping under your towel, mouth moving to your neck with clear intent.
You gently catch his wrists, pushing them back. “Not tonight, baby. Be good for me.”
He whimpers softly, still a little angsty from the earlier fight. “Please… I want to eat you out. I need to taste you. Let me apologize properly with my tongue.”
You shake your head, stroking his cheek. He’s so needy. So perfect. But I can’t let him think he can push me. “Later. Be patient.”
He obeys, pulling on a random pair of your soft black shorts that cling snugly to his hips and leaving his chest bare. You slip into similar shorts and a thin spaghetti strap top.
The moment you’re both dressed, Megumi slips behind you. He reaches over and deliberately turns the AC lower, making the room colder. Then his tall frame presses against your back, arms wrapping around your waist as he snuggles in close.
He starts slowly humping against your ass, gentle, needy rolls of his hips, his cock already hard inside the shorts.
“Hmm” you sigh, half-warning.
“Please,” he begs, voice trembling against your ear. “Pleaseeeeee, darling. I’ll be a good boy. I won’t move too much. Just let me stay inside you. I need to feel you so bad.”
You exhale, torn between control and the warm pull of his desperation. “Fiiiine.”
He doesn’t waste a second. One hand slips into the front of your shorts and under your panties. His fingers find your clit, rubbing slow circles until it swells under his touch, puffy and sensitive. You swat at his arm.
“Hnnm, be good,” you warn.
“Sorry, love,” he whispers, but pinches your swollen clit lightly, teasing. “Sorry… I just love how it feels when it gets like this.” He slips two fingers lower, pushing into your pussy, pumping slowly while his thumb keeps torturing your clit. He pulls them out and licks them clean with a filthy moan right by your ear. “Taste so good already.”
Then he tugs your shorts and panties aside just enough. You feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He pulls your hips back against him, one arm wrapped soothingly around your waist as he kisses the back of your neck, your shoulder, your ear. He pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, bottoming out with a deep grunt.
You whine sharply when he hits your g-spot perfectly.
“Fuck—” he groans, voice wrecked. “So warm… so tight around me.”
In that tight, overwhelming fullness, he steadies your squirming with strong hands, kissing along your neck. “Can I move? Please? Just a little?”
You’re so stuffed full it’s dizzying. You nod frantically.
He starts moving, slow, lazy thrusts that grind right against your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You warn him breathlessly, “Don’t cum. You can do anything else, but don’t you dare cum inside me yet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes obediently, nuzzling into you. “Thank you, mommy.”
He keeps the rhythm gentle and loving at first, but his free hand finds your swollen clit again. He pinches it, slaps it lightly, making wet sounds every time his palm connects. The way it swells makes his mouth water. “God, I want it in my mouth so bad,” he mutters against your skin.
You’re moaning softly, body rocking with his slow thrusts. He angles his hips deliberately, nudging that spot over and over while kissing every inch of your neck and shoulders he can reach. The mutual edging builds until you snap and ask him to just do it properly.
His breath catches. “Thank you— thank you, princess. Thank you, mommy. I’ll make you feel so good.”
He suddenly turns you over onto your back in avery careful movement, pulling your legs over his shoulders. He spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and spits directly on your clit, watching it glisten before gliding back inside you in one smooth thrust.
You moan embarrassingly loud as he bottoms out again. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your tongue while he starts fucking you properly, hips snapping with controlled desperation. Every thrust makes you cry out louder, the angle devastating.
“Yes,” he groans, eyes wild with love and possession. “This way you won’t leave me. I’ll make sure you never leave me. You love me. I’m making you feel so good, aren’t I, baby?”
He rubs your clit while thrusting, and the it hits hard. You jerk, trying to shove him off. “Gumi— wait—”
But he doesn’t listen. One large hand pins both of yours above your head, the other still working your clit relentlessly. His thrusts never falter. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go for me.”
The pressure builds unbearably. You cum hard, clenching around him, and he follows right after with a broken moan.
“Where do I cum, mommy? Please tell me—”
“Inside,” you gasp, still riding the high. “Inside, baby.”
He buries himself deep and fills you with hot spurts, groaning your name like a prayer. The moment he finishes, he’s begging again, voice hoarse and needy.
“Please let me eat you out. Please, I need to clean you up. I need to taste us together.”
You’re dazed, overwhelmed. “Yesss—”
The moment the last shudder of your orgasm fades, Megumi is already begging, voice hoarse and desperate against your neck.
“Please, mommy… let me eat you out. I need to clean you up. I need to taste us together. Please, I’ll be so good for you.”
You’re still dazed, body buzzing, pussy throbbing from how full he made you. “Yesss…” you breathe, the word slipping out in a hazy moan.
With a low, possessive sound in his throat, Megumi grabs your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders, folding you open for him.
His eyes are wild with obsession as he stares down at your swollen, cum-filled pussy.
“Fuck… look at you,” he whispers reverently. “So messy because of me. So pretty and swollen.”
He dives in without another second of hesitation.
His mouth is hot and greedy. He starts by dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, collecting the mix of your cum and his own in one long, filthy stroke. The wet, obscene sound of him slurping fills the cold room. He moans deeply into your pussy, the vibration making your hips jerk.
You try to push him away half-heartedly, hands pressing weakly against his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His tall frame is too strong, too consumed by need as he dives in again.
“Mmm— tastes so good, princess,” he mumbles against your folds, lips shiny. “My cum leaking out of you… I did that. I filled my mommy up.”
His tongue pushes inside you, thrusting shallowly as he sucks gently, drinking everything he can reach. He’s thorough, almost worshipful, but there’s a rough edge to it, the way his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread wide even when you squirm. He sucks on your outer lips, then moves higher to your poor, abused clit.
It’s still swollen from all the pinching and slapping earlier. Megumi groans at the sight, mouth literally watering.
“God, it’s so puffy…” He flicks his tongue over it rapidly, then seals his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks hard, cheeks hollowing. The pressure is overwhelming. You cry out, back arching sharply.
But he doesn’t stop. He alternates between sucking your clit and licking broad stripes through your folds, pushing his tongue back inside you to chase more of the creamy mess. His nose grinds against your clit while his tongue works deeper. One of his hands slides up, spreading your pussy lips wider with his fingers so he can bury his face even further.
You’re so damn loud, moaning and whimpering without control, the sounds echoing in the chilly bedroom. Every wet slurp and desperate moan from him only makes you wetter.
Suddenly the pressure spikes. Your thighs start shaking violently around his head.
A clear rush of fluid hits his tongue and chin. Megumi moans like he’s the one cumming, eyes rolling back slightly as he opens his mouth wider, slurping and drinking every drop like he’s dying of thirst. He presses his tongue flat against you, letting it splash across his face while he keeps sucking on your clit through the orgasm.
“Holy shit,,” he gasps between swallows, voice wrecked with awe and love. “… so fucking perfect. I love you.”
He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he gets more intense. His hands grip your ass, lifting your hips slightly so he can devour you at a better angle. He alternates between long, slow licks that soothe your oversensitive flesh and sharp, fast flicks on your clit that make you see stars.
You shove at his head weakly, still trembling. “Where… where the fuck did you learn that?”
Megumi lifts his glistening face just enough to look at you, lips swollen, chin dripping with you. His eyes are dark, glassy, and terrifyingly devoted.
“I learned it all from watching you. I’d do anything to make you feel this good… so you’ll never want anyone else. So you’ll never leave me.”
He dives back down immediately, sucking your clit into his mouth again while sliding two fingers inside you, curling them against your g spot. The overstimulation borders on painful, but the pleasure keeps crashing over you in waves.
You’re a mess, moaning his name brokenly, fingers tangled tight in his dark hair, hips grinding against his face despite yourself. He takes every bit of it, humming happily against your pussy like this is his purpose in life.
Between filthy, wet sounds, he keeps whispering praises,
“That’s it… use my face. Cum as much as you want. I’m yours. Your good boy. Your only boy.”
Megumi keeps eating you out long after you’ve fallen apart, slow and loving now, cleaning every inch with soft kitten licks until you’re oversensitive and twitching.
Only then does he crawl up your body, face shiny with your release, and kiss you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue.
“See?” he whispers against your lips, voice thick with toxic affection. “No one else will ever love you like I do. No one else will ever worship you like this. I’m never letting you go either.”
He stays curled around you after, still licking his lips occasionally, completely, pathetically addicted to you.
Because Megumi notices things. And lately, he’s noticed you love him back.
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