#cw: yandere content
Note
imagine daemon prohibiting bastard!reader from having dragon rides and balerion almost destroying dragonstone because of it
note: TURNING THIS INTO A ONESHOT BC OMG
warnings: yandere content, daemon being petty, rhae trying to mother (name), caraxes slander (I'm so sorry), a dead knight
┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑
Dragonstone was particularly dreary today, or maybe she just saw it that way as she stood before her 'father' and his wife as he explained (or at least tried to) why she was barred from riding Balerion today. It made no sense to (Name). Did her father secretly hate her? Did he want her to suffer? Otherwise, why would he stop her from doing the only thing that made her happy?
It was obvious that Rhaenyra and Jacaerys did not agree with this, but she was Daemon's daughter, and what he said went.
"You are banned from dragon riding until further notice," Daemon says, looking at his little girl as she glares at the floor with her dark eyes. She's misty-eyed and refuses to look at him as she grips at the burgundy dress her stepmother had put her in early this morning. The fabric was being pulled at and wrinkled as she gripped in in her tiny hands, her knuckles paling as she urged her tears not to fall. She hated looking weak in front of him. It made her skin crawl. The only one she allowed herself to be vulnerable with was her dragon, Balerion.
She genuinely hated Daemon Targaryen with a searing passion.
"Come now, Sweetling," Rhaenyra tries to coo at the little girl as dotingly as she could, using the tone of voice she only used with her children. "I'll take you to see Syrax if you'd like." It was a kind gesture, even (Name)'s muddled mind could comprehend that, but she was too distraught to say anything back to her stepmother. Instead, she takes Jace's hand as he leads her back to her room, knowing that all she needs to do is cry and take a long nap.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
(Name) is only ushered out of her room once dusk hits, Luke taking her to Dragonstone's dining hall so she can eat with the family. She sits in between her "brothers," shielding Daemon from her view. She could hardly look at him, her lip wobbling as she sipped at the cider in her cup. Rhaena had gifted her a dragon figure made out of dragon glass, and (Name) grips it tightly in her small hand as she tries to eat.
"..."
The dining hall was usually bustling with conversation, but tonight, it was starkly quiet. Rhaenyra sat and made sure little Joff wouldn't choke on his food, Baela was sharing looks with her sister, and the boys kept sending worried glances to their mother. (Name), once tired of eating her food, just glared at the table. Daemon held his chin in his hand, ignoring the disappointment looks his other two girls were sending him.
"(Name), come with me tomorrow to ride on Caraxes, he's very -" "No." She grunts out her response, poison dripping from her voice as she glares at the table even harder.
She didn't want to fly on his stupid dragon. She wanted to fly on her amazing, graceful, gorgeous dragon. Balerion had a certain ferocity to him, of course, but he was gentle with her and treated her more kindly than most humans. It hadn't even been a full day, and she missed him dearly.
Before any arguments could flare up, a guard comes storming in, panic written all over his face.
"What's happened, Ser?" Rhaenyra questions, thinking that perhaps something had happened to her youngest children. White in the face, the knight clears his throat before answering. "It is the princesses dragon. The Black Dread is attacking Dragonstone!"
Daemon goes slack, his eyes closing in irritation.
He hated that overgrown cat.
"Daemon, take her to him. Now." Rhaenyra warns her husband, her amethyst eyes narrowing at him.
Daemon takes his daughter on Caraxes, and they fly down to the bridge of Dragonstone where Balerion was wreaking havoc. The onyx scales of Balerion shone in the evening sun as he trampled all over the place. In his jaw, the bloody remains of a knight. (Name) grimaced at the sight, because she knew that Balerion wouldn't have done this unless he was bothered enough.
He was angry, she could feel that much.
Noticing them, Balerion drops the corpse, crimson blood dripping from his black teeth as he huffs at the sight of Daemon. Daemon found the entire situation funny, which prompted (Name) to squirm on the dragon saddle. Balerion was never one for jokes, and he didn't like her father in the slightest. Balerion's ginormous frame barely fit on the bridge, and one of his clawed feet were in the water as he shook his scales as a warning to Daemon.
(Name) pops her little body off of Caraxes, running towards Balerion, not caring if her dress got all messy in the process. Noticing his small rider on the ground, Balerion lowers his large head, his nostrils flaring as he lets her stroke her hand over his snoot. Daemon looks at the black dragon with resentment in his eyes, pursing his lips in annoyance, Caraxes lets out a whistle in response to Daemon's emotions.
The Rogue Prince watches as his youngest daughter climbs up her dragons wing, settling herself on the saddle that rested on Balerion's back. The smile on her face was simply too sweet, Daemon couldn't be too angry. He eyes the bloody mess on the ground as Balerion turns back to return to his resting place with (Name) in tow.
"Ugh..."
Daemon really hated that damned dragon.
daemon: you can't ride balerion today
(name): :'(((
balerion: >:O 🔥
@your-favorite-god
#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere blog#yandere content#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere balerion#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#yandere headcanons#yandere drabble#yandere imagines#yandere#rhxegal#kay writes
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Hear me out... Yan priest with a non believer reader....like just imagine....Yan priest"you don't believe in heaven huh...then I'll take you to heaven...then continued to 💥 her....
Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI🔞 Fem reader! Throatpie, coercion, corruption, dubcon, religious aspects, creampie, cum shower, slight humiliation, degradation, praise, overstimulation, Zebad turning you into a true believer
—————/—————/—————-/————/———
Zebad sighs in contentment as he watches you collapse onto the altar, his wet slick and cum covered shaft slipping out of your overused cunt with a wet pop. He takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own softening member hardening with avengeance as he sees the marks and bruises he so graciously bestowed upon your skin. Before he quickly flips you over, ripping off your top with a gentle smile.
"Mmm, my lost Dove~ did this prayer session help to enlighten you by chance?"
The Priest hums with a twisted expression on his face confronting the non believer gasping for breath within his holy sanctum. Right before the lords eyes of the marble statue which stood tall above them and judged with a solemn stare.
He reached out a hand to firmly grasp onto your hair, his rock hard cock hovering near your lips. While he smacks his meat against your face, before nudging the tip of his leaking fat tip against your lips smearing it with your collective love juices from prior rounds.
"Oh how precious you are my dear, your pretty head looks as if it’s all empty inside. Allow me to fill it with something meaningful"
The Priest coos lovingly before he shoves his penis into your mouth, forcing it down your throat. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't care. This was meant to teach you a lesson on how not to turn your back on the gracious blessings. That the lord could bestow to you if you’d just let your heart open fully to the wonders of the teachings he gives…
In all honesty Zebad was bullshitting about his preaching for a god he didn’t even have half a mind to remember the name of. He couldn’t care less about said god nor did he fathom entertaining the prestige beliefs of his pious church brethren. Why would he spend time trying to convert you into worshiping the lord when he could make you revere him as your sole savior.
"That's it, Love suck just like how we’ve practiced. Being such a good girl for me"
He purrs continuing to thrust into your mouth, his balls rubbing against your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. Grinning with satisfaction as he feels your fingers wrap around his thick length, your mouth still wrapped around it like a newborn. The corrupt holy official could feel his cock twitching with impatience, eager for your attention. He starts to buck his shaft inside your salivating mouth, relishing in the moist heat of your tongue sliding back and forth on his foreskin.
Yes, he’d make you utterly reliant on him for the rest of your days. Spend his sweet time training you, molding you into his perfect believer who’d only get on their knees and revere him as both your lover and guiding light to damnation. He alone would encompass the entirety of your mind, body, and soul.
"You’re gonna learn to accept me as your lover and savior and become an obedient bitch for me yes?"
Zebad coaxes with an sugarcoated timbre whilst he continues to rock his pelvis against your face, his body wracked with pleasure as he feels himself getting close to cumming again. He can ascertain how much your esophagus was tightening around his dick, making his balls twitch from the sensation. Of how he knows that you're so eager to please him.
"Oh what a delectable sheep you are, my darling~ so docile and compliant for me."
The Priest pants as he finally drives his shaft to the hilt, smacking his balls up against your drooling face. He lingers there for a moment, enjoying the tightness of your throat around him as you gag. He can feel his cum building up inside of him, and he knows that he's getting close to the edge.*
"Fuck, Dove, go on and take it! Take your lord and saviors cum like the good believer I know you are."
He starts to flood your taste buds with the peculiar taste of his gummy sperm, making you gag even more. The amount is too much for you to handle, so he spills the rest of his cum all over your tits and face in white beady rivulets. He grins with satisfaction as he watches his cum dripping down your body.
"Mmm, you look so beautiful covered in my cum perhaps I should make you walk around in it all day. And make it test of your faith towards me wouldn’t you say?”
Zebad goads, his voice low and seductive. Paired along with a devilish smile that was present on his face full of infatuation and obsession for his poor little sheep that wandered helplessly into his clutches.
#Zebad the Priest#yandere priest#yandere smut#smut imagine#smut headcanons#smut scenarios#smut drabble#yandere male x reader#yandere art#yandere drawing#male yandere#yandere male#yandere x female reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yanderecore#yandere concept#yandere cw#yandere content#yandere blurb#yandere blog
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-> part one
and that was how you two got here. clothing long since discarded and fucking like wild animals. your lover was beautiful under you. pink blush dusted across their face, eyes lidded, and their mouth open while spewing adorable moans. every time your dick hit their deepest sweet spot, it like you were marking your territory. they would never get tired of your cock stretching them open, never get tired of being one with you, if it were possible, they would want to be filled with you forever.
the couch you were on was rocking along with your thrusts, your sweat making stains on the fabric, and the atmosphere around you became humid every thrust in their hole. you were determined to make your lover feel good both emotionally and sexually, you grunt when your lovers hands grip onto your shoulders and dig their nails until marks were for sure to show up. but their hole tightening around you made you forget the pain and increase your pace.
"a-ah! oh you feel so good inside me darling, so good!" you hold onto your lover's waist tighter as you groan into their chest. one of your lover's hands suddenly grabbed onto your hand to keep you on their chest. "please, mark me, bite me, make sure people know that i'm yours!" without a second thought you follow your lover's demand and begin to cover their chest live bites and hickeys. your lover lets out a high pitched moan when you begin playing with their nipples and suck on the weak spot on their neck. "y-you're mine, right? you love you, right? ah, hahh, please tell me." the tears came back, except they were of pleasure, such good addicting pleasure.
"of course i love you- oh god- i'll always be yours. and y-you'll always be mine." you answered breathlessly, your pace now becoming sloppy as you were growing close to to cumming inside your lover. not that they mind at all. they wouldn't mind getting filled again, and again, until your balls were empty. after hearing your answer, your lover's legs tightened around you and grinded their hips down to match your thrusts. "fill me with your cum, fuck me harder, please, anything! just make me yours- OH!" you suddenly pulled out and flipped your lover over onto their hand and knees and roughly thrusted inside them and started moving at a faster pace than before.
In this position, your cock was deeper inside them and they could literally feel you in their stomach ruining their insides. you felt do fucking good, nobody else could have you, they would kill anyone who dared laid their hands on you. "i'm cumming, oh i'm cumming, please cum with me darling, light of my life, my one and only!" they were so close, they just needed a little bit more- "i love you so much, cum for me." that was the end for your lover, their vision was blurred with bright white as images of you filled their mind. it wasn't long until you snapped too, and you filled them to the brim.
you and your lover collapsed onto your now dirty sofa, your sweat covered bodies held each other as your orgasms washed over you. "thank you darling, thank you so much. you can't leave me. you won't ever leave me, right?" it didn't really matter what your answer was, your obsessed lover would still not let you leave them either way.
#cw yandere#yandere x reader#sub yandere#yandere#top male reader#dom male reader#seme male reader#male reader#x male reader#top!reader#top reader#dom!reader#dom reader#dark content#amab reader#soft yandere
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tio miguel o'hara au
art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-
TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.
˖⁺ ⊹୨ notes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content you’re more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.
I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara ✧*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.
[PART.1.]
♡ ┆Tio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.
♡ ┆ He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.
♡ ┆ You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.
♡ ┆ Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.
♡ ┆He is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.
♡ ┆When you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight ─ and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.
♡ ┆He always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinõ'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.
♡ ┆He drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you ─ you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.
♡ ┆Most of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.
♡ ┆He doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.
♡ ┆He always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.
♡ ┆He tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.
#yanderestarangel#afab reader#tw smut#cw smut#cw suggestive#tw stepcest#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x male reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x ftm reader#miguel ohara x gender neutral reader#miguel ohara au#alternate universe#miguel ohara smut#tio miguel o'hara#ftm!reader#male reader#dark romance#dark concept#dark content#dark miguel o'hara#yandere miguel ohara#miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader#miguel o'hara x male reader#miguel o'hara x ftm reader
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❣💌[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]💌❣
Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.
A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!
Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.
╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗
▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎
𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊.
╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝
Part 2 ↥
You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained and your staff adored you. When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire, you just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.
You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras. When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.
So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational. Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge. You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.
You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out. As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.
You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." His breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth. While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast. He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.
He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around. You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled. You summarized it up to well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.
You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away. You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opens at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive. Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughter and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!" Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.
When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute." "Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine. "No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones, he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it. But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.
"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tapping the counter. "Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.
As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back. He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron. "I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.
He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation. He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin. It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.
Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned. You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly. "Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.
You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try. It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion. You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train. "It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call me James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.
"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table. turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.
He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "What…did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you." As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it. You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated. His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him. Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.
He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants. "This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate. He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thick fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch. When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.
He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers. "That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster. Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand. He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.
He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was. Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance. He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheek with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips. Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.
His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him. The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered face above you.
So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been. BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit. Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.
You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb. As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time. The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.
He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock, still inside you. "Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over your sleeping figure. The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect" James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.
After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms. Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.
Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....👩🏽🦯
Update there’s a new hole to hide now 🕳️ 👩🏽🦯
#yandere#yandere x reader#dark content#cw noncon#tw noncon#x reader#yandere oc#Yandere x reader lemon#yandere noncon#yandere smut#noncon touching#female reader#male yandere#💌yan#like or reblog#cw stalking#cw somnophilia#tw somno#cw drugs#tw drugging#pretty yandere#original oc#oc character#tw.breeding
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Yandere who is physically weaker than the other men of his age, politically powerless, restricted by the social hierarchy and who has often been bullied are like a seath of a sword. They have tasted hatred, humiliation and death like no other. Fear has long left his bones, he is used to this crude treatment of fate; has grown comfortable actually.
But when this very man is subjected to certain acts of kindness, suddenly he is experiencing fear, fear of losing you, fear of not seeing you again, fear of the unknown; and to avoid that unknown fear he will cling on to his darling like a leech: manipulate people around him to get close to her, be always the victim to receive her kindness even if that meant facing hatred, humiliation and be an abomination; just anything to get comfortable with this newfound fear.
#paradiswrites#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x female reader#yandere male#yandere#yandere imagines#tw yandere#yandere cw#yandere hcs#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere core#cw yandere#cw dark content#tw dark content#yandere scenarios#soft yandere#yancore
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algorithmic
pairing: xiao x afab!reader II 1.8k
disclaimer: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, dark content, yandere content, use of they/them pronouns, cyberpunk:edgerunners au, sci-fi, hacker!xiao, inappropriate use of ai (xiao), nonconsensual use of likeness, masturbation, handjob, blowjob, couch sex, impact play. Creampie, momentary foursome (if you’ve seen the anime, you know what I’m talking about), stalking, invasion of privacy, nonconsensual voyeruism, rough sex, biting, descriptions of vagina, unedited
synopsis: when you joined the yaksha gang after stealing the sandevistan upgrade, xiao finds himself falling harder and harder for you until he’s completely obsessed. To statiate his obsession, he creates an algorithm to help him experiences situations he can only dream of doing with you.
Wǎnshang City—night lights shining for the very rich at the upper towers reaching for the heavens while the smog and sin consume the poor who couldn’t fathom reaching their hands that high. Xiao had seen glimpses of both in some sense.
He had a comfortable apartment, not at the highest towers but somewhere near but away from the slums he grew up in. As a kid, he was always talented when it came to programming, hacking and netrunning. His new lifestyle was funded by unsavory methods working with a gang known as the Yakshas. Led by Bosacius, they got gigs from an unknown sponsor. It unsettled him but Indarias and Menogias swore it was fine.
He didn’t feel bad the blood he knew that was on his hands or the blackmail he gathered against Celesti-corp. Xiao knew to keep his head down and do what he was told and he would live a comfortable life for the days he had left unless a gig went wrong—but he didn’t fear death either.
He did fear you though.
There was something about your eyes, and determined face that made Xiao’s heart palpitate tightly in his chest. His cheeks grew flushed as he furrowed his brow.
You had come under the Yakshas’ radar after you managed to steal a military grade Sandevistan implant that Bosacius was supposed to get. Even when the group insisted on stealing it and even killing you for the upgrade, he uncharacteristically chimed up saying you could fill in Pervases old role as a Solo, just helping them run schemes with your Sandevistan implant that made you faster than human comprehension.
As Bosacius hesitantly agreed, demanding Xiao become your “babysitter”, he could feel that fear begin to shake at him. The fear of how quickly and innocent you had wormed your way into his heart.
Spending time, going on runs, Xiao felt himself falling harder and harder for you but struggling and choking on words on how to go about it. Even as he closes his eyes, he can see your image laughing with him in a simulation he programmed on the moon.
He scoured through any bit of information he could on you: discovering you were a college dropout after getting into a fight with a classmate, living in the slums your whole life, you losing your best friend in a highway accident due to an egotistical executive not paying attention to the road.
Anything. Pictures, videos, your social media, your address, he knew everything he could about you.
It was like a sickness, a virus that infected his mind; always thinking about that genuine smile and laughs you gift him with.
God, how much he would love for those lips to wrap themselves around his cock.
Xiao snapped his eyes open, downing the rest of his drink and placing it in the kitchen skin. He could feel his cock beginning to strain his sweatpants. He leaves the kitchen, cupping his appearing bulge with a soft sigh before finally reaching his bedroom. He closes the door, quickly taking his shirt off—revealing the various tattoos and upgrades he has along his torso.
He grabbed a hair tie, pulling his hair up in a small ponytail and shivering from the change of temperature on his now revealed neurolink port. His hands grab the waist of his pants, slowly pulling the bunched fabric down along with his boxers. Xiao’s cock springs up, trembling and flushed.
He crept his hand up, gently clasping on it as a whine emitted from him causing his cheeks to flush harder. He dragged his thumb to his tip, feeling the moisture of his budding pre-cum coat the pad of it. He jerked along his member a few times before letting himself go as he walked over to his nightstand drawer and rummaged, grabbing two things: a bottle of lube, and a masturbator port.
Throwing the port on the bed, he squeezed lube into his other hand and clasped his throbbing cock once more, pumping it slightly faster and completely coating it in the translucent, thick liquid. Goosebumps began rising in the few places that don’t have upgrades at, the coolness of the lube adding to his sensitivity.
He lets himself go once more, grabbing his VR headset and throwing it on the bed before he joins. As he rests his head on the pillow, he grabs the masturbator port lining it up to his cock and sank down, velvety and gummy walls of the toy clamping down when it sensed he had bottomed out.
“I’ll see you soon…” he muttered, putting on his VR headset and closing his eyes. As his consciousness finally adjusted to the simulation.
As Xiao opened his eyes, he saw you in front of him—eyes half-lidded guiding your finger along his lower abdomen. He was fully nude already along with you, seemingly on the couches of the yaksha’s headquarters.
You pressed your lips on his chest, leaning back up and flashing a not-so-innocent smile at him.
“Aww, Xiao. You always treat me so well…it’s time I pay the favor back,” you cooed, leaning into his ear. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, anything.”
“Anything. You should be careful with those words, you know. You better not tell anyone else things like that,” he grunted. You pouted, pressing your lips against his tanned nipple, darting your tongue out and letting it swirl around the bud. Your hand drifted up, grabbing tightly on Xiao’s cock, beginning to slowly pump him—he could feel the machine beginning to suck down and milk his cock.
“No one but you Xiao. There is no one but you. But don’t worry, I’ll remind you over and over again, just like this,” you cooed. A moan escaped from Xiao’s lips and his hips bucked, feeling you jerk him tighter. His eyes settle at your chest before reaching his hand out to squeeze tightly, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Is this how they really feel…is this what they really look like?” he asked himself, resisting the urge to sigh. His thumbs roll over your nipples before pinching them as you yelp. You stop pumping his cock before slowly falling to your knees, kissing along the base of his cock until you reach the tip.
“You still seem so tense today Xiao. Relax, let me help you!~” you cooed. You opened your mouth, taking him inside of you. He watched as you gagged, trying to adjust to his length before sucking sharply and kneading the area you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Watching your bobbing your head, Xiao digs his nails into his thigh. When he looks up, he is shocked when he looks up at another, glitchy version of you gazing beside him.
This version played with your puffy folds before rubbing along your clit, moaning his name repeatedly. His eyes zeroed in at your slick oozing out of you, strings of it connecting to both of your soft thighs. Just as he looked away again, another glitchy version of you appeared legs lifted high showing off the dildo you were pushing inside of yourself—also moaning out his name.
Overwhelmed, Xiao looked down at the first version of you, still sucking his cock as his hips began to buck once more. Shutting his eyes tight and clenching his jaw, Xiao unraveled himself pressing your head down further on his cock as globs of his cum shot into your mouth. You struggled to swallow all of it, taking a few gulps as some managed to slip down your lips and chin, staining the title floor with his shame.
The glitched versions of you disappear as he left your mouth with a pop. Adjusting your body so your ass was in the air. He pressed his hand down on your head, into the leather of the couch—cock-drunk smile on your lips as he guided his tip along your slit.
He grunted sliding it back and forth, trying to slip in and missed before nudging against your clit. You whined, shaking your hips together as Xiao clicked his tongue in frustration. Xiao’s pace is relentless as he plunges his cock into you. The sound of slapping skin echoed throughout the room, vibrations from his pace rippling through your ass.
“Xiao! Xiao! Fuck, harder! Even harder, please!!” you beg out, only causing his frustrations bubbling.
“They wouldn’t say it like that!” he growled, feeling them clamp tighter against him. He leans down brushing his canines along their shoulder and roughly bit down, digging his nails to their waist.
“More, more, more, more! I need more. I need all of you. I need it. I need you,” he hissed out. He could tell the copy of you said something back along with the line of ‘I love you’ but it was distorted, causing tears to begin to develop in Xiao’s eyes. His fantasy was crumbling down, this thing he was fucking was merely a cold, fake copy of you.
Xiao’s hips halted, as a grunt escaped himself as his second high of the night overtook him. Thick ropes of cum spurted deeply inside of the copy, before Xiao abruptly slid out and slapped their clit as they whined. The copy hummed while a small river emerged from their hole, dripping out and along their thighs.
“Y’know I still wanted you inside of me—”
“I still have to play with the programming if I want to protect it. Maybe make an algorithm to see how they properly would respond to these situations based on interactions I had with them,” Xiao muttered, ignoring them. “All the errors and the glitching is proof this isn’t ready yet.”
Xiao’s vision went black before he ripped the VR set off of him, revealing his bedroom—alone, with you nowhere near him. Sweat clung onto his forehead, bangs sticking to it as his eyes focused on the masturbator; never truly inside of you as he wished.
“Tck, pathetic,” he grunted. He slid the contraption off, throwing it to the side and grimacing at the cum clinging on his softening cock. Throwing his head back to the pillow and looking at the ceiling, Xiao sighed.
He doesn’t know how much longer he can go with just having you with his programming.
He clicked his tongue, getting up from his bed and moving to his desk determined briefly to recode his pathetic algorithm but his eyes drifted to the spyware he had. Xiao clicked it, revealing your form. You were in minimal clothing, trying to deal with the hot summer’s night without air conditioning lounging in your bed and scrolling on your phone.
A rare soft smile fell on Xiao’s lips, before it darkened, noticing your hands beginning to wander beneath your pants.
It seems he may have the means to upgrade his algorithm with your true responses after all.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin smut#xiao x reader#xiao smut#yandere xiao#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#cw yandere#cw dark content
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cw: yandere!fyodor, he treats you kinda like a doll, slapping, religious themes, daddy kink, hard/mean dom!fyodor
yandere!fyodor who really treats you more like a pet than a lover. sure, it started off normally, with him courting you, taking you on nice dates, whatever you wanted to do.
now, though, it’s different. ever since you moved in with him, fyodor had been subtly switching his demeanor around you. from encouraging you to quit your job because he could handle everything, darling, to making letting you stay home from any and all events.
you hadn’t even realized the changes were happening. you were so swept up in your love for fyodor that the alarm bells had been silenced, just as he’d planned.
even when he’s fucking you, he really sees you as more of a toy. a pretty little doll that he can pull his pleasure from.
“oh, you’re just so pretty for me, aren’t you, doll?” he asks, lithe fingers pinching and pulling the thin fabric he’s dressed you in.
a soft, flowy white lingerie set that, of course, he’d bought just for you. he just adores you in white—you are, after all, oh so innocent.
you melt under his affections, your cheeks growing warm and your brain utterly dulled from the danger you were truly in. instead, your heart just flutters and your pussy gets wetter.
fyodor dips his fingers between your legs before licking your arousal off of them.
“so wet for me, babydoll. y’that needy for my cock? just need to be stuffed to be happy, don’t you?”
you nod at him eagerly before he gives his command to “lay down then.”
you comply, of course, your mind knowing no other course of action than to be good for him. oh, he’s trained you so well.
the thought makes his chest puff with pride as he pulls his cock out, already hardened just from seeing you submit to him so easily.
“such a perfect pussy, princess. gonna stuff it so full, just like she wants,” he groans against your ear.
you whimper out a desperate, “please.”
“please, what?” he prompts, rubbing his dick through your soft folds.
“p-please, daddy,” you manage to get out, desperate tears pooling in your eyes.
he swipes away the first tear as it falls, “aw, no need to cry, my dear. you know i’ll always take care of you and that princess cunt, don’t you? don’t i always take good care of my little girl? keep you safe, keep you happy, keep you full,” he punctuates the last word by pressing his length into you, forcing a cry from your lips.
“ohh- thank you daddy, oh my god,” you cry.
your plea earns you a sharp smack on the mouth, “ah ah. you know better than to use our lord’s name in vain. guess daddy’s going to have to punish you for that, hm?”
“ah!” you moan, “ah- ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, please don’t punish me!”
“i’ll have mercy on you, just this once, darling. but it’d do you well to watch that mouth of yours,” he replies sternly, rutting his hips against yours, stretching you even more.
he thrusts into you relentlessly, pulling every single moan and sob out of your body. at some point you go limp beneath him, but that does nothing to deter his desire, his need, for you and your tight cunt.
he reaches a hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, and that’s the only warning you get before he’s coming deep into your womb, pumping you full of his warm seed before even a drop can spill out.
eventually his thrusts still, but he keeps his cock stuffed inside your pussy, keeping his baby full, just like he promised.
he lets you fall asleep like that, holding you tight against his chest, savoring what is undeniably his.
masterlist
#cw yandere#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#bsd smut#bungou stray dogs smut#bsd fyodor#bsd fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#fyodor x reader#fyodor smut#cw daddy kink#cw dark content
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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1
Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄
Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader
Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist
Word Count: 2679
Ao3 Link
Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)
A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃
Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.
You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.
The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.
“Hello, how’s your day going?”
A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.
“I-I’m well thanks. How…”
“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”
Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.
‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’
How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?
‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’
I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.
‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’
I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!
You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.
This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.
But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.
Please fix me.
This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.
“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.
He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.
As long as he can fix me…
“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”
Hands.
Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.
Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.
Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.
The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.
As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.
Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.
“May I look at your form, miss?”
‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”
“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”
Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.
He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.
“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.
“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”
“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”
His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.
But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.
“Why are you favoring that hip?”
“Oh, it…”
Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.
“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”
He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.
“And your right knee?”
“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”
“Did you sustain any injuries?”
“N-No. None that I can recall.”
His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.
Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.
“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”
His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.
“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”
“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”
He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.
“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”
“Did you used to have longer hair?”
“What?”
“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”
“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”
“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”
Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.
“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”
“Okay.”
The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.
He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.
“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”
Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.
“Doctor?”
“You can take a seat.”
Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.
He stood, towering over you as he came close.
“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”
“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.
“Do you consent to me touching you?”
His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.
Those fingers…
His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.
“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.
The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.
“It has.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”
You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.
“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.
“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.
“I’m sorry, doc–”
“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”
His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Please, call me Law.”
He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.
“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”
“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”
He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.
“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”
“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.
“How does that feel, Y/N?”
“Fine.”
He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.
“How’s this?”
“Fine.”
He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.
“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”
“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.
“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”
“How’s this?”
“Still fine.”
“You can go further?”
“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.
“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”
“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.
“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”
He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.
“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”
Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.
“Yes, they do.”
His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.
“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”
“I…”
“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”
He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.
“Why are you–”
“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”
His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.
He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.
Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.
“Do they believe you?”
“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”
“How’s this?”
“It’s fine.”
“Alright, last push.”
Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.
“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.
“No.”
He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.
“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”
“Can you fix it?”
Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.
“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”
“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”
You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”
A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.
That can never be fixed.
The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.
“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”
There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.
“I trust you, Doctor.”
“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”
Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅
Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel
Part 2
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
#cw dark content#cw yandere#cw doctors#trafalgar law smut#eventual smut#trafalgar law x reader#one piece smut#reader insert#fem!reader#x reader#turtletaub fics#one piece x reader#trafalgar law fanfiction#fic requests#use of y/n#cw chronic pain#cw medical#smut
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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO
⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)
⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.
all sexual content present in part two.
⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k
link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.
LINK TO PART TWO
⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.
⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.
“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.
⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.
There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too.
Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear.
More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands.
The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago.
Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.
(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)
Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that. It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly.
Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory.
Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at.
Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.
He’s very, very intrigued by that.
The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man.
The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too.
He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.
He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling.
You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony.
He approaches slowly, quietly.
When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you.
“Oh, uhm. Hello?”
The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile.
“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.”
“Surprised?”
And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly.
“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.”
You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new.
“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?”
Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little.
“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.”
You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record.
“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.”
He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.
“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.”
You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.
“You seem plenty friendly to me.”
He pretends to think about it.
“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”
“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip.
The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins.
“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?”
“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little.
“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle.
“A little,”
“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile.
You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor.
“And yours?”
“Gojo Satoru.”
__
You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor.
Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly.
There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk.
He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall. You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar
And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking.
He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening.
(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously feeling quite jealous about.)
You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades.
And you always put your best into everything, no matter what.
This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite.
But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same.
He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere.
For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.
You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean.
It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions.
He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade.
He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it.
By you in general.
It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.
It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk.
It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground.
What’s heaven to a man born there?
__
In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted.
He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.
(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return. There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.
It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.)
Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children.
In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is.
But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply.
Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.
But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade.
It had led him to a conclusion, but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of.
Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late.
Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most.
It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home.
(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.)
But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant - there, all the same. As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be
It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen.
He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings, notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.
The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone.
You’ve never called him before.
“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.
“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”
You laugh quietly.
“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.”
“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet.
“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?”
He smiles to himself.
“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,”
“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.”
His first instinct is to disagree.
“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.”
“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”
He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him.
“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.”
“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.”
“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?”
You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.
“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.”
“Shy, huh? Cute.”
“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.”
“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.”
“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?”
“Don’t wanna.” He states outright.
“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.
“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.”
“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know?
Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles.
“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?”
You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.
“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.”
He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.
“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.”
__
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.
He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction.
More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on.
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.
Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it.
Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester.
There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late.
He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality.
That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet.
He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.
It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him.
When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried.
You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there.
It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it.
He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear.
(A small, small part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)
“Can you see it…?”
The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in.
“....It?”
Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him.
“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths.
When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least.
No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is.
He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.
“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.”
He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most.
Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least. He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one.
Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined.
“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.
You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.
“Yes,”
Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward.
When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly.
He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap.
“T-Thank you,”
He grins at you.
“Of course,” He says “Can I ask you something?”
You nod your head and sip your tea.
“Do you know who I am?”
You look confused.
“...Are you a celebrity?”
He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you.
“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.”
Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them.
“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?”
“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply.
“I thought you were a high school teacher.”
He smiles.
“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”
“Oh.”
You look befuddled.
Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.
“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”
You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.
“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.”
“You can’t use cursed techniques?”
“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.”
Vulnerable.
“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words.
“Is it that bad…?”
Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.
“Do you carry anything with you?”
“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.”
“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.
“What other kind would there be?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?”
“Everybody gets scared sometimes.”
“Mm,”
His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.
“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.
That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look.
“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?”
He smiles.
“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face.
You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over.
“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”
__
Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.
The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.
He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing.
Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat.
He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie.
Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.
It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles.
None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen.
A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary.
He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit.
But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached.
Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head.
He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror.
Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that.
He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic.
He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.
It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.
But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to.
The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results.
He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays.
__
Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.
Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.
Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction.
Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it.
Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next.
Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident.
The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control.
The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure.
These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.
Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.
He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same.
Then, he’s inside.
The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate.
All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that.
Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything.
He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do.
Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you.
They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for?
It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything.
It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line.
“Showing signs of anxiety.”
Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.
He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do.
“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,”
He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy, but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.
He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon.
He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.
But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump.
Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty.
Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns.
His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.
Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with…
He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms.
The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.
Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious.
He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job.
Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question.
“Why’re you still here?”
“I knew I was going to get caught soon.”
An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs.
“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?”
“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.”
“What a weird kid. What led you to that?”
There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking, but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying.
When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient.
“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”
“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.”
“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.”
“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?”
She gives Gojo a pointed look.
“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.”
“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head.
“No. Your aura.”
Gojo stares ahead.
“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.”
“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.”
“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?”
“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.”
“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.”
This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.
She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.
“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”
Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input.
“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.”
The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare.
“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.”
Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened. He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently.
“I’m sorry you went through that.” Gojo replies.
He’s being sincere.
“Should you be sympathizing with me?”
“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”
Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand. She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone.
“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“
“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.”
“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is: “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.”
Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.
“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”
Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.
“I can tell you're like me. That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“
Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react.
“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”
“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away.
“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.”
“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head.
“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.”
Gojo shakes his head.
“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.”
Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.
The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.
“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.”
“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread.
“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”
She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath.
“…Yeah. I’ll do that.”
__
The case ends anti-climatically.
Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken.
The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.
On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser.
Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene.
He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.
Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now
So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves.
He’s been seeing you again regularly, too.
He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.
He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him.
(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too.
Above all, the offer is tempting.)
In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little.
He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire.
He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees.
He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body.
He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen.
He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most.
As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles.
(sent 11:15am) Ready ~
He laughs to himself.
(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion.
(sent 11:16am) For coffee?
(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡
You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up.
He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing.
The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you.
He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate.
You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so.
“Hey,”
“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush.
“They’re an important friend,”
He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.
“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?”
This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush
“Not at all,”
He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.
“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good.
It’s a pleasant sort of day.
Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time.
Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together
There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.
After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too.
(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for.
There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.
The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story.
“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes.
You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do.
“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.”
Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you. Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.
It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light.
It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.
He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.
“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him.
“Are you complimenting yourself right now?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,”
He gasps in offense.
“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh.
“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.”
Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs.
Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.
“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.”
Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater.
“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?”
Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.”
Your frown deepens.
“I don’t care for your tone, mister.”
“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?”
“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute.
“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims, soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours. The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you.
“What do you want?”
“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully.
“Heard,”
Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him.
“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums.
“Mm, there’s always next time?”
“You say that every time!”
“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.”
You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout.
“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums.
“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?”
You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now.
In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly.
“Then, I’m glad you asked me.”
There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy.
The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag.
You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo.
“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?”
You nod enthusiastically.
__
You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.
He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go.
There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school.
(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task)
So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out.
That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon.
Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that.
He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him.
It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend.
Time passes comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned.
But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember?
“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―”
So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind.
It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.
He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.
“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?”
Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye.
Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time.
“Hey. Hey, look at me?”
When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar.
He doesn’t like it.
You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.
“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.”
“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,”
Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails.
You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft. You become helpless in front of his eyes.
“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest.
“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”
You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously.
It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.
“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling.
Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant.
“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?”
Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it.
It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed.
Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading.
Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved.
He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying.
“Who are you?” He asks.
“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―”
“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,”
He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”
“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,”
Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.
“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.”
Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts.
He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you.
So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.
Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself.
He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice.
“About time to get out of here, huh?”
You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together.
The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless.
Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?”
You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?”
You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day.
You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time.
The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close.
He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter.
“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away.
“Okay,”
He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything.
And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you.
You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.
“Let’s go sit,”
You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying.
Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe.
“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,”
The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth.
“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.”
“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh.
“You….knew?”
“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?”
The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge.
“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.”
“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?”
You nod softly.
“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.”
Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.
“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,”
“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh.
“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly. Gojo squeezes where his hand rests.
“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,”
There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own.
And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes.
In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does.
But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.
It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t.
Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you.
“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,”
You cry and cry and cry.
And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound.
__
In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him.
It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation.
“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,”
So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger.
In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it.
He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.
When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him.
Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan. He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law.
(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)
He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run.
(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.)
He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets.
He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses. It’s a lot like killing a curse.
It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide.
The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.
His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell.
He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets.
It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret.
His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair.
If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him.
Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all.
He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best.
Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.
Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job.
He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job.
There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them.
After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time.
It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it.
You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind.
Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.
If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them.
He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7.
When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet.
He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark.
Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out.
“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around.
When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body.
“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins.
“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up.
“Who the…what the fuck is going on?”
“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?”
“W-w-what…how did you…”
Gojo shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.”
For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must.
Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish.
It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.
It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys.
Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.
He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.
“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs.
“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?”
No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice?
“P-please, I have—”
“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,”
He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent.
“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.
Gojo hums.
“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly.
Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen.
“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,”
Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms.
It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even.
When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders.
He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would.
His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.
With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving.
Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back.
A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone.
__
The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed.
(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)
At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself.
It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs.
“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…”
The rest of the report Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.
“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,”
“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod.
“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,”
Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.
“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?”
You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor.
“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,”
Gojo pretends to think about it.
“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement .
“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”
Gojo hums.
“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,”
#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#manipulation cw#writing tag#dark content cw#yandere cw#noncon cw#murder cw#yandere!gojo#stalking cw#i tried to add the most major tags#lmk if you need more#ok. gn#part two will be out whenever ame has read lol
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Thinking about Aegon being absolutely whipped for his wife...
warnings: yandere content, aegon ig, idk he's horrible but not here lol, sexual content, babytrapping, I have baby fever again, ppl who write him as a top blow my mind bc what part of this man screams dom to you lmao 🤣
(Name), his precious wife, is the absolute center of Aegon's world. To be fair, there isn't much else going on with him, but it's the thought that counts.
She's the oldest child and only daughter of his half-sister, so many would imagine that their marriage is somewhat toxic, which is true, just not in the way most people think. Aegon is so dependent on the affection from his wife that he hardly has time for anything else. She's his savior in many ways, and Aegon's terrified of losing her.
Just thinking about how Rhaenyra would want to annul their marriage because she doesn't believe that Aegon is good enough for her baby girl! Aegon hears this from his brother and cries the entire night.
He would be absolutely lost without his dear wife and knows that his life would mean nothing without her.
Then he comes up with an ingenious plan.
He'll pump her full of his babies so the marriage can't be annulled!
Aegon uses that pathetic puppy look every night to convince his lovely wife to fuck him. He's on his back each evening as she rides him as though he were her dragon, and Aegon absolutely loves it.
He's such a whore for her, too. Aegon always puts on a performance for his wife, and he's incredibly insatiable.
And once she starts to swell in her midsection, Aegon can't help but feel relieved. The next time his sister returns to Kings Landing, she finds her daughter heavily pregnant.
Aegon couldn't be more smug.
idk guys, he looks like he'd call me mommy and let me peg him 🤧
#ignore my end note#cw: yandere blog#cw: yandere content#yandere aegon targaryen#yandere aegon ii targaryen#yandere team green#yandere smut#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#yandere got#yandere game of thrones#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere content#yandere#kay writes#rhxegal
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I remember hearing from bird owners on the internet never to pet a bird's wings and back due to it arousing the bird, so many bird owners say to just pet their heads.
So, if someone where to "accidentally" brush past a certain Harpy's wings and lower back, or to playfully mess with the feathers a bit, how would said harpy react?
Love to mess with others and want to rile up Lynx a bit heh
Cw: Fem! Reader, NSFW🔞 creampie, knotting, praise, Lynx being a horny birb, overestimation, cum inflation, breeding, exhibition, use of public toilet stall, possessive/obsessive tendencies. Slight degradation.
Synopsis: You decided it would be a good idea to figuratively and literally ruffle the harpy’s feathers and you ended up getting more of a reaction than you bargained for.
☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:
"My muse~ you know how I can’t bear to resist you on a daily basis.”
The harpy scolded, his voice low and husky with desire. Using his clawed hands to cover your lips in order for your explicit sounds not to escape the bathroom stall y’all were currently boxed inside of.
“So Why would you do that when I was just about to be handed my Grammy?"
The singer could feel himself getting closer, his own pleasure building up inside of him as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. He struggled to hold on, gritting his teeth as he tried to savor the five minutes. That he so desperately asked for, just to momentarily hold off on accepting his trophy for having the best selling album.
Using the excuse that he needed to use the bathroom to get rid of his cold feet. When in reality the moment you ruffled his sensitive feathers. Lynx damned near almost snatched you up and fucked you on stage. But thinking about his managers pleas on not causing havoc. The birdman instead hustled you into the nearest bathroom stall.
“You must’ve done this on purpose. Did you really want me to give you my knot that badly baby?"
He panted, relishing in the harsh wet smacks of his balls against your plump ass. His long lashes fluttered shut as he humped you frantically knowing that time was running out. Twitching sporadically as his fleshy pointed cock. Kept spurting out copious amounts of clear precum which continually fattened you up.
"Fuck! You’re sucha bad girl, getting me all worked up. I can feel your juices splashing on my knot, such a dirty chicky you are~”
The Harpy no doubt felt his impending orgasm threatening to burst from his leaking dick. like a pressurized dam, his family jewels throbbing to unload his hot jizz inside of you. As he felt you squirting on his meaty rod that was hitting all your weak spots.
"Imma stuff you up with so much cum, that your gonna leave a snail trail wherever you go. That way people will know that you’re taken."
Lynx trilled melodically, his tail feathers swishing as his plumaged fluffed up from the sensation of your cunt clenched down on his length that was bullying its way against your womb.
“You’d like that right? My pretty mate? Of course you would!”
He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck biting and licking at the sweat dripping from your skin. Not even taking not of how you were crying fat tears of overstimulation from being stuffed to the brim with his growing knot lodged inside your clammy walls. His shaft still fucking itself into your weeping quim as he prepared to let go. Since it was almost time for him to get back stage and accept his reward ceremony.
“Don’t worry I’ll take care of you more later on, so for now just open up that cute womb of yours so I can flood it with my hatchlings yeah?”
With a bodily shudder racking through him he pressed his body flush against you. His wings hugging you within a protective cocoon. Whilst he released his hot harpy sperm deep inside of you, filling you up completely with his seed. He let out a breathy, guttural keen of exhilaration as he continued to ride his high inside of you, his knot still expanding in depth within your pussy as he proceeded to ground himself empty completely inside of you.
"Mmm, you feel s-so good, my muse… You think I can squeeze in one more load inside of your pretty pussy?"
Lynx drawled out , his voice scratchy and needy as he slowed down his movements. The Harpy stayed inside of you, his cock still twitching as he enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. From hearing your small moans in response his penis already returned to half mast eager to fuck another batch of his baby batter inside you.
#Lynx the harpy#yandere harpy#yandere smut#smut imagine#smut headcanons#smut scenarios#smut drabble#yandere male x reader#yandere art#yandere drawing#male yandere#yandere male#yandere x female reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yanderecore#yandere concept#yandere cw#yandere content#yandere blurb#yandere blog#monster smut#yandere monster
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One Moment Was All It Took Part 3
Inspired by Yandere! Soulmate! Satoru HC @envy-of-the-apple
This is kind of a flashback/ Satoru POV. Gives a little insight into his state of mind. Will drop another part tonight or tomorrow!
Hope you enjoy!
Warning!! MDNI!!!
Contains sexual thoughts/ delusions, masturbation, and kidnapping.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!
Masterlist
Over the last few days, Satoru has been researching the phenomenon of sorcerers and their soulmates.
For the first time in years, since high school, he used his clan's library. There, he found out that each sorcerer has their own soulmate, but it is rare for them to ever find each other. They were the only ones alive who would be immune to their technique, even remaining unaffected by their domain. He was told these things as a child and thought of them as tall tales, but now he couldn't ignore the evidence in front of him. Satoru's curiosity was piqued, and he was determined to find out more about his soulmate.
Propping his head onto his palm, he read through the writings he had at his desk in his room with a pout on his lips. The sun had just begun to set, casting his room in a warm glow. Boredom had long crept in; he had been in the same spot for hours with the smelly, ancient books, their brittle pages a pale yellow.
He looked over at his laptop to see a live feed of your apartment. Without his six eyes, he had to resort to more traditional ways of keeping track of someone. From the looks of things you had just returned from work, cooking dinner for yourself while you danced to some music playing. He smiled softly at the sight. As he watched you move around the kitchen a bit clumsily, he felt a sense of admiration and curiosity growing within him.
While you were pretty, you weren't his usual type. Nonetheless, he was drawn to you because you were carefree and genuine, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. You weren't one to sugarcoat things or get caught up in drama. It was refreshing to see someone so grounded and content in their own skin. He was eager to learn more about you and discover what made you tick, what passions drove you, and what dreams you held close to your heart.
Satoru had no trouble getting all the information on you without his six eyes. The man had plenty of money and connections to make up for it, and he knew exactly how to use it to his advantage. It was easy to pay off your landlord to give him a copy of your key, and it was even easier to plant the hidden cameras all throughout your place.
The book was long forgotten on his desk; his attention was focused on you. Hours could have gone by, maybe just minutes, but he didn't move an inch. Now you have moved to your master bathroom, unwinding from the day. You began to shed your work clothes, dropping them to the floor in front of your sink. He took in every detail of your body as he watched you shower greedily. The clear water is running down your body to every lump and crevice. Soap slowly foamed down your breasts and supple ass perfectly; he felt his cock harden at the sight in his slacks.
Groaning, Satoru pulled his shirt up and slowly unzipped his pants. With his shirt in his mouth, he let his erection free from the confines of his pants, making it slap his stomach a little. It was long and pale with veins throughout it; the tip was red and glistening with desire. Now he was grateful for buying high end cameras, the quality showing every drop of water cascading down your skin in crystal clear detail.
As he began to touch himself, he knew this footage would be worth every penny. Precum dripped from the tip of his cock, lubricating it more, which made his hand glide across it easier. He tightened his hand, moving faster as he watched. Biting on his bottom lip, he let out a few moans, his cock twitching in his hand.
On his laptop, he saw as your hand traveled across your body—a hand began to play with your breast, the other feeling between your legs. From the looks of things, you were also feeling some urges, with small moans escaping your mouth. Closing his eyes, his hips bucked up into his hand, wishing he was inside you, not in his hand.
The sight of you pleasuring yourself only fueled his own desire, his breathing becoming more erratic as he imagined being with you in that moment. He imagined touching you himself, with his long fingers touching parts of you that your own couldn't reach. Your small hands would rub his length fervently, and your fingertips would barely not be able to touch from his girth alone.
Moans would escape your lips for him, and you would plead with him to fill you up and let you cum all over his cock. The thought of exploring your body together made his heart race with anticipation, aching to feel the warmth of your skin against his. Listening, he synced his strokes to your movements, a tight, coiling sensation building in his stomach as he watched you.
The thought of being together in person intensified his arousal, making him ache for the real thing. More pre dripped from his cock, his breath quickening as he imagined the sensation of being inside you, feeling your tightness around him. The feeling of your slick covering him, soaking his skin from your finishing. He wondered how you would taste, imagining the sweet and salty combination of your essence on his tongue.
With a final shudder, he released himself, his cock falling limp against him. Even after that, his body is still craving the intimacy he longed for with you. He panted in his chair, his abs painted white in his release. Cheeks flushed red from how intense he came, his hair sticking to his forehead from his sweat. As he caught his breath, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of finally making his fantasy a reality with you. Looking over at the screen, he saw you had gotten out of the shower and were just finishing getting dressed now.
You wore a simple black oversized shirt, and your hair was still damp from the shower. Rubbing lotion on your smooth legs, he couldn't wait to be wrapped around him. His eyes scanned over your form, and his mind was imagining all the ways he would explore your body. To his dismay, your fiance came back, and the two of you were in a loving embrace. Your lips are locking together as an icy rage fills his heart with jealousy.
Quickly, he turned away from the screen, busying himself with cleaning up his mess. Seeing the two of you soured his mood greatly. He tried not to be mad; you didn’t know you were supposed to be his, and he was yours.
He knew he had to figure out what to do with your fiance; he needed to be out of the picture.
Nearly three weeks have gone by since Satoru met you—three weeks that he kept constant watch on you and prepared his home. To keep himself from acting too quickly, he often went into your apartment when you were gone. Knowing you wouldn't be back for a while, he took his time looking through your belongings, making sure to take home a few of your trinkets.
He was sad to see that you had thrown away the gifts he had gotten you, but no matter. He'd be sure to spoil you once you were fully his. Everything was falling into place. Your room was ready; he made sure to stock it with clothes in your size and excitedly grabbed ropes and chains to use. A specially padded cuff was made per his request, sturdy but comfortable to an extent. And your fiance was dispatched on a perfectly timed business trip; Satoru didn't even have to intervene, as he had originally anticipated. He was counting down the days and had almost acted on his impulses. He happened to see you at the park, looking so beautiful and unsuspecting that he had to fight himself from taking you then and there.
It was finally ready, and he was beyond happy.
Holding you in his arms, Satoru was smiling like a fool. He was in his own little world with just you and him in the car; he ignored the driver, who didn't blink at the sight of you, who was taking the two of you home. You lay in his arms, your breathing relaxed, and your face serene. The man was still bleeding from his wounds, but he could care less. Having you in this moment proved everything to be worth it. He took in every detail of your face, as if you were about to vanish into the world of molecules and blobs of energy in which he grew up.
Tentatively, a finger traced your cheek carefully and trailed down to your lips. He couldn't get enough of your smooth skin, the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, or the warmth of your body against his.
As he held you closer, his face nuzzling your neck, he whispered softly, "You have no idea what you do to me."
His eyes looked over your form, intent on never letting something so dear to his heart go.
He would never make that mistake again.
#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#yandere gojo satoru#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#cw dark content#reader insert#cw kidnapping#cw yandere#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere jjk x reader#dark gojo satoru#cw smut#One Moment Was All It Took
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╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗
▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎
𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊.
╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝
𝕿𝖜: ☞ 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝙽𝚘𝚗-𝚌𝚘𝚗, 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 thoughts, 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝙱reeding, 𝙼ind break, 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖, 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃! «🛑𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸🛑» ☜
Note: This is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and Good Girl, etc. are used.
If I forgot something plz tell me. Like and re-blog, it helps getting these stories to new people!
🫧𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓', 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓' ❣️💌💌 part 1
Y/n was startled awake and panicked. Holding the sheets over her naked body, she found herself in an unfamiliar room.
Silent tears streamed down your face as you began to shake. He tricked you and took advantage of your kindness.
You mourned your lost innocence for a short time when a knock on the door interrupted you.
“ I apologize for waking you up, miss Y/n.” a handsome man wearing a suit and carrying a tablet said.
The scared woman clenched the sheets tightly, “ My name is Ray. Mister Blackwell has asked for you to join him for breakfast.” the man expressed.
“n-No! I want to go home…let me go!” Y/n cried, face red from crying. “ I'm afraid I can not let you do that.” he shakes his head, “The maids will come and help you dress,” Ray commented before turning and leaving the room.
You cried until your lungs burned and hurt. Until your body could no longer produce tears, the maids shortly came. They helped you bathe and dress in a beautiful gown. They tried to cheer you up, but it was to no avail.
Soon, Y/n sat next to James at a large binning table. He kissed your cheek and caressed your skin. His touch was sweet and caring if it didn’t disgust you. Food was served, but you didn’t want to eat. You don’t trust that it’s not drugged again.
“ Say ah~ my dear,” he says, pressing a fork to your mouth. When you don’t respond, he squeezes your inner thigh. When your lips parted in a yelp, he fed you. He continued to feed you. If you didn’t open your lips fast enough, he would swirl your sensitive pearl.
The food was finished, and tears dripped down your soft skin. “ Come on, smile for me, sweetheart,” he asked, cupping your face and whipping your tears. “ I just want to go home.” You tearfully repeated.
“ We can’t have that, dear. This is your new home.” James informed her as he stole a kiss from her. “ I want to go to my store,” Y/n pleaded.
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“ I already told your employees to take a weeks-long paid break.” James, shut your request down. He wasn’t going to tell you that, but Ray hacked your email and made such arrangements.
Your face dropped all hope of escaping, where shattered.
It had been a few days, and James made sure that all doors were locked, and Ray informed you that you could go anywhere. But strongly warned that you couldn’t be outside without supervision.
James never left your side for your entire time locked in the large mansion. Sleeping, bathing, or even walking, he was there touching any sliver of skin he could. If he couldn’t find you for a moment or have his hands on you, he would lose his shit.
James knocked on the door to his room, smiling when he found your sleeping figure under the covers.
He kissed your lips, his tongue intruding your mouth. Lifting the covers from your naked body, his fingers began to caress your sensitive bundle of nerves. He thanked himself for prohibiting you from wearing clothes to bed.
Your back arched as you woke up with a moan. He knew you were still sensitive from last night. His fingers began to pump into your flower, while his thumb still caressed your clit. Y/n hit his toned chest, but that only fueled his passion even more.
Your lips parted as he gave you a dreamy sign. “ I have to go into the office, honey,” James spoke, latching his mouth to your chest. Your hand pulled on his hair, making the man moan.
James curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, over and over. The tight coil in your stomach made you whine, walls clamping on his fingers.
With one more firm thrust, the coil in your tummy snapped. Honey gushed over his hand, withdrawing his hand, and licked it clean.
“ I have a meeting today, so unfortunately I won't be with you for a few hours. Be a good girl and behave.” He kissed your sweaty forehead, taking his leave and leaving you tired.
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Y/n walked towards the side door, hoping, begging that she would get lucky. And it seemed that her prayers were answered. The maids forgot to close the door.
Her hand trembled and twisted the doorknob, slowly opening it. The wind blew, signaling she was one step closer to freedom. The door was left ajar as the woman ran to the street, with no phone and no way to contact her family and friends.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, ending up in the station. One she couldn’t enter because she had no money. An old lady exiting the station called out to her, asking if she was okay.
Y/n said she was, but her eyes betrayed her. The kind old lady offered her help, to which she took it. “ I…I just need help to run away,” she admitted, desperate to leave. She didn’t know when they would have already noticed her absence.
The kind lady smiled and accompanied her to buy a ticket. When she handed the ticket to Y/n, the girl cried, thanking her.
Y/n gave the lady all the jewelry she had, as a thanks and wanting to part with them in fear of recognition.
The train had arrived, and she left. Free, she was free.
She planned to return home, take all her valuables, and disappear. She would be sad to close her store, but it was needed.
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James sat in the meeting, bored, his assistant as always trying to get his attention with skimpy clothes. She would never be like Y/n. She was dirt under his goddess's feet.
Ray came into the meeting room, whispering something into the CEO's ear. James looked like a deer caught in headlights, “ You sure?” he asked, looking at Ray. The man only nodded.
“ I apologize, but something important has come up.” he expressed, standing up and abruptly ending the meeting.
“ Ray, get the helicopter. I’m bringing my little darlin’ wife home.” James expressed, loosening his tie.
The train ride was an hour and a half, so she could get some well-needed rest. But her mind raced, what ifs consumed your every thought.
“ Ladies and gentlemen, we inform you that the train will have a small delay. We shall be on standby for some time.” the conductor announced, as the sound of a helicopter could be heard.
Dread filled your stomach, making it sink.
“ Miss, please come with us.” a man in a suit said, “ You have the wrong person,” Y/n said, hoping it would work.
“ My sweetheart, don’t make me punish you. Not in front of everyone here.” James said in a low voice. His threat made you shake, trembling, hand taking his extended one.
There was no hope of escaping the lion's den once you had stepped inside.
✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦
James held Y/n’s hand tightly, making sure she wouldn’t escape as he took her to his room. He thrusts her towards the bed, “ If you love me, you’ll never do that again. Understand?” he warns, removing his tie.
Y/n backed away until her back hit the headboard. The muscular man graded her leg and pulled her under him.
She began to beg him to let her go, that she would stay and not run away. He shoves his tie in your pretty plump lips.
Only allowing for moans and whines to filter through.
He has you caged in between his meaty arms, his gaze held a lustful and hungry glint to them.
Tears fell as if rain from your eyes, “ Don’t cry, I’ll make you feel good. I promise.” he kisses your tears.
Your tears felt like acid to his skin. He much rather you cry from pleasure. With his free hand, he removed his belt, tying your hands with them as if they were handcuffs.
He rose and looked at your posed figure, his legs trapped by your hips, so you couldn’t escape from his embrace.
He was going to make you feel better, make you see the high heavens. He began to worship your being kissing every scar, stretch mark, and so on. Any imperfection to you was perfection, a divine perfection to him.
Created by a higher being to be held, kissed, bitten, and claimed.
He hiked your leg over his shoulder as he caressed your skin. Leaving kisses and hickeys over the skin.
His hungry eyes looked at your teary ones, as he bit your leg.
His gaze lowered to your panties as he stared at them in hate like the small piece of clothing was holding your honey captive.
The small piece of clothing became shredded into pieces when he ripped them. His rightful treasure was now on full display to him and only him.
His large hand that once held your hip moved to your sex. With his index and middle finger, he spread your fold, groaning at the glittering sight of your slick.
His painfully hard member twitched upon seeing your dripping, aroused flower.
He groans, “ All this honey just for me?” he cups your cunt, feeling how it clenched around nothing.
Without warning, two larger fingers impale you, thrusting at an unforgiving pace. A long whine spills from your lips as you arch at the feeling.
He's hitting every sweet spot and curve inside you. His bulge grows even more at the sound of your watery juices.
His thumb connects with your sensitive, neglected pearl, making you squirm and try to close your leg.
He slaps your pussy at the defiance, making electric pleasures shot throughout your body and brain.
Y/n can feel the coil in her stomach tighten. Her hips met his thrust in chase of her own high.
James speeds up his movements, watching as your eyes cross when he hits that spot.
Your walls begin to constrict his fingers, telling him that you're close. He bites the meat of your leg, his finger hitting deep inside you.
Y/n came undone, eyes rolled to the back of her skull, drooling, back arch, and a pornographic moan of pleasure.
Cum covered his veiny fingers and his toned stomach.
The sight almost made him cum in his pants. But, that milk was saved for his darlin's womb.
James pulled his pants down, allowing his hardened member to slap your sex. Thick and veiny.
With your cum he gave himself a few pumps. The big man leans forward, his tip kissing your inviting honeyed entrance.
“ See, you're so wet and sweet for me. You wanted this didn’t you?” he asks, his face flushed.
His cock began to enter your wet, gummy walls, inch by inch.
His hips stutter a little, and his body trembles with pleasure. The feeling of your lips sucking him in.
With one hard thrust, he bottoms out in you. You moan, feeling so full, he begins to hump his manhood against your entrance.
His almost in a trance, the sound of slick and moans adding to his resolve.
Each furious thrust thrusted her forward in the bed. His tip kissing her womb over and over, you’re moaning and pleas falling on deaf ears.
The makeshift gag swallowed all any sound that was not your monas, the sweet sounds of pleasure he wanted to hear from you.
Y/n’s leg was still hooked over his shoulder. With his hands, he held her hips in a boa-constricting grip.
Your overstimulated wall pulsed and twitched, “ Oh, you like that, huh?” he says, still drilling into her like a jackhammer. His hand pressed on the bulge in your small tummy.
This made your walls tighten and pulse. His words and actions manipulated your dizzy pleasure-filled mind.
“ My pretty darlin’ going to look so beautiful, all swelled up with my child.” he groaned at the thought. Each thrust made your vision sparkle as if stars.
The all-too-familiar feeling of the tight coil forming in your belly told you that you were close. James's thrust became uncoordinated as he chased that mind-numbing high he was looking for.
“You’ll make a cute mommy.” he moans. He removes your gag, as you beg and cry for him not to, but he crashes his lips against yours.
He was going to snap you in half with the way he was bending your leg and fucking you at the same time.
The kiss was stymie, adding to the many pleasures you were feeling. Your mind was becoming blank, and you could only think of his dick inside you.
With a final harsh thrust, the coil in your gut snapped like a water gun. squirting over the man's abdomen and your inner thigh.
James began to convulse, spilling his large fertile load at the feeling of your womb milking him dry.
You felt so stuffed full and overstimulated.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to become a mommy, a slave to his man's cock. James’s load pulsed inside you, making his cum spill from your spent hole.
You will be the perfect cock-sleeve darlin’ for him, your eyes closed as sleep takes over you. a content smile on your face.
Tag list:
✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦
A new 🕳 to hide in 👩🦯
@tremendousdinosaurpizza @violetvase
✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦
©𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢! 𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎. - 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢🩻!
#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#dark content#cw somnophilia#cw noncon#tw noncon#yandere x reader lemon#x reader#yandere oc#yandere smut#original yandere#pretty yandere#noncon touching#female reader#male yandere#💌james#💌yan#like or reblog#tw somno#tw.breeding#mind break#smutty#smut fanfiction#darlingcore#obsessive love#pretty yan#yandere x y/n#roughfuck#tw overstim
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I wonder if Can you write Yandere Omega Seth (from Ennead) if you okay with it
I'll find you
hide as much as you can // I'll find you
♡ fictional mythology, unhealthy behaviour, lovehate dynamic (love -> lovehate), animalistic behaviour, pet names, power exchange, mention of bloodletting (seth), hints of incestuous relationships?; beta!reader -> alpha!reader, heqet/khnum!reader implied
♡ rough treatment, mild blood kink, mild scent kink, heavy petting, dubious consent -> consensual, unprotected sex / breeding, bondage by sand, power imbalance -> power exchange; word 'womb' used once for Seth
𓂀 Contacting this omega is not the best solution — you realized when you first met him, while coming out of the Nile, the keeper of the floods of which you were.
Of course, it's not that you were obliged to communicate with any of them or even be interested in your distant relatives, who were no more than the seventh water on the jelly, but you needed to come out of the depths of the Nile at least from time to time — and when you finally come out, for the first time you meet an unusually red shade, burning like a torch against the background of burning golden sand and the sky blue as the waters of the Nile.
He was like a creature that was born from the spilled blood of all the fallen warriors who did not find their way home, but took refuge in your waters, sprinkling your waters over and over again until the river turns red like the sunset.
His name was 'SETH', he was the god of war and the desert, his parents were Geb and Nut — and when your gaze first crossed, it was as if you were hit on the head with something; almost a low cry of 'YOU WERE NOTICED' so loud that if you were human, you would turn away and run away, — under the sand, under the ground, under the water, no matter where, — but you are not a human and, even if you were weaker than him, you would not run away.
After all, who is the 'God of War and the Desert' against the Deity who keeps the Nile?
“Don't you dare look at me like that anymore.”
wolf cub.
You can guess that his behavior is probably an attempt to attract, as a fertile young omega provokes a fertile young alpha to get angry and chase after him, showing everything they can, just to prove that they are good enough to fill the womb. You know all this. After all, you were the one who created the figures of people who were illuminated by Ra, and you were more than able to watch these playtimes when the lovers went too far in their games and fell together into the coastal waters after a long chase.
And you more than know the brilliance of those eyes — and react faster than realize, like water, which acts intuitively, not relying on reason, to survive. They say that betas have a stronger intuition with understanding of the world — it's not for nothing that you are one of those gods who prefer maximum detachment, 'spirituality', achieved through refusing to accept the role of omega or alpha.
And you let your instincts dictate.
Before his cheeky mouth has time to say anything, you just have to make a wave so that the waters of the Nile aim at him like a beast that has found prey — and break against a strong, slender figure, without causing severe pain, but forcing him to take steps back, no longer bursting into your space.
SETH'S hair, dripping and darkened from the water, sticks to body — but before he has time to resist you in any way, calling to himself the sands of the desert, submissive to him like a tamed pet, you dissolve into the water, returning to your native current...
“I'll find you!”
... The waters of the Nile easily take you into themselves as a natural part, hiding you from the outside world, dissolving like everything that falls into the water abyss and stays here; it's not for nothing that people say that it was water that gave birth to life, and that water is necessary for life.
And although you are not a water Deity, you are also worth something.
𓂀 You know that this is not Ra — although the method of summoning is the same, Ra would rather strangle herself than summon you, especially so soon after the last arrival. Even if you had a... good relationship, — you both contributed to the appearance of 'humans' — it was obvious that you were still different.
Your clay figurines needed a bright fire to come to life, just as she craved worship and followers — it was an interchange where mortals became what brought you closer and pushed you away from each other.
However, SETH was looking for you for other reasons, quite different from 'worshippers'.
Although you are used to being summoned in other ways, such as sacrifices and festivals, you must admit that you clearly underestimated the son of Nut and Geb, who were no better than any of them — but at least they were smart enough not to try to find out from Ra a way to summon you without having to wait at Nila.
Because more than herself and power, Ra loved only to have fun — and sometimes you wondered if she was looking for power just to have fun.
“... Heh.”
When he looks down at you, like a child who has found a gift hidden from him, his scarlet lips stretch in a cheeky smile.
If most gods and goddesses somehow have more alpha and omega traits, then SETH looks like there are too many of these traits in him, like an omega-like alpha or alpha-like omega than beta.
“It turns out that this is the only way you can be summoned? I thought to the last that she was lying...”
The scarlet spot spreads across the water surface of the unusually calm Nile, dissolving in the streams of water that carry the particles with them, absorbing a new part of itself into its course. If people knew how much Nile water contains particles of their children, parents, friends, spouses, enemies, detractors, traitors — would they drink it?
If they knew that the same water absorbs the blood of the gods they worship, what would they look like, scooping up water like the purest gold — the same as he controls, the God of the Desert, smelling of sand dust, dry grass and heat?
“I don't care. You're here, so it was worth it.”
You don't think that the blood of God should be used for such things, like simply calling you from the river bottom, but don't say anything, giving someone to continue — and SETH continues without hearing an answer.
And although he, in fact, created a trap for you, filling the entire stone floor with his sand to make sure that you don't run away anywhere, you feel more like in the paws of a small puppy than in the cave of a mature wolf.
Wasn't it really an exaggeration to be afraid of him?
... Apparently, you have been under water for so long, absorbing the blood of warriors and animals, that you have become too sensitive to any danger...
“I promised you I'd find you.”
𓂀 SETH smells of freedom — not the freedom that has no limits or restrictions, only dead bodies that float along the Nile can have such freedom, but the freedom that is like the hot breath of the desert during the day and the icy whisper of the desert at night; it smells of heat, dry grass, the blood of soldiers and treasures captured with the help of weapons.
You pretend that you don't notice when treasures fall to the bottom of the Nile, and that, moreover, don't understand who gives you them; but it's hard for you to deny that you don't like the look of them. After all, the Nile is not just a 'river' or 'your home', but your temple and refuge, and the sight of expensive and precious things sheltering the once bare, dreary bottom undoubtedly improves the view and your mood; especially when the current of the river carries you further, and gold, like a lighthouse, shines; sprinkling the dark bottom is like the moon shining on the darkest desert night.
SETH is hot and fervent, like burning blood flowing out of him until you hand an object that can immediately contact you, instead of flooding waters, as if out of spite spending more than really needed, as if the more blood, the faster you will rise to the surface.
(in a sense, it is, but for other reasons...)
You can understand that this relationship is frowned upon, at least by his brother, but there's not much you can do — the waters of the Nile are all-encompassing and almost omnipresent, and the way SETH regularly calls you is almost charming if it wasn't so intense, as if every time he struggles with himself in the desire to devour you or to drag away, but at the same time I have to give up this need, which is close to the human need to drink water. You don't need to ask him about it to know — the way he looks at you, as if wanting to sink his teeth into your skin and take you to his cave, is more than eloquent, and even the way his smell intensifies, silently shouting that he is a strong, healthy and fertile omega, in itself is an obvious sign.
And the fact that you are just as quiet and calm, like serene dark waters, untouched by gusts of sandy wind, only further inflames his burning passion and desire, which he himself cannot describe in any way except as 'mine'.
Mine.
Mine mine mine — you give life, carry life, no matter in a running stream or standing water, watching as the surface is filled with bodies and blood, dirt and tears, bodies entwined in passion and love embraces. It doesn't matter — everything will be dissolved in your current and carried away until it becomes no more than another drop in billions of the same, carrying information that only you know.
SETH, on the other hand, carries with him the smell of something wild, giving life, — but also ruthlessly taking it for himself, strewing everything with the red-hot gold of the desert, which becomes more and more every time you rise, noticing how the waters that used to caress the fertile lands now nourish the sand.
And you know what will happen next — SETH has never been a secretive type, even if his method of hunting was closer to big cats hiding until they get close enough to bite into the throat and gnaw, taking them to their hideout. SETH is the same cat — big, red and strong, smelling of mature omega when he notices that you are more responsive to this fragrance.
SETH is not at all deeply interested in the topic of "let's mate" — are you sure that he is attracted not at all to your physical data or smell, but to how comfortable and safe he is next to you, letting him finally relax, looking for comfort in your waters, and that if he decided that you would be his, then you will be his.
He will always find you.
𓂀 SETH is persistent, stubborn and aggressive. Even if his emotions are a sphere that is easy to push and cause pain, you understand perfectly well that he is the god who will break rather than bend.
But when he asks you what happens to the bodies of those soldiers that he led to war, when they find themselves in the Nile, like bags full of blood, breathing and thinking recently, at first you don't know what to answer — not because you can't share his silent pain, looking like a scorpion that suddenly bared you have a soft vulnerable tummy, but because you have nothing to answer.
What happens to the bodies? The Nile absorbs them — everything that was dumped into the waters finds itself in the stomachs of animals or in water particles, carrying with it such an amount of memory that nothing else can contain.
“... If I die one day, will you promise that my memory will be preserved in your waters?”
You no longer know if you are talking about the waters of the Nile or something else — but you know that you will probably never find SETH like this again.
Unusually fragile, as if really an ordinary omega who just wants to have a family, a common nest and puppies. To have you as an alpha, to be in the same nest with you and to have children together.
What can you say other than consent? No matter what happens, he will always remain in your memory — as a special memory that will never be erased.
“... Thank you. I'll never forget you either. And I won't let go.”
His eyes are burning just like the sunset on the background.
“We'll be together. Always. Because I chose you and I won't let you go.”
𓂀 His power becomes stronger, and when you meet him again, you have nothing to oppose when the sand from the land and the bottom rises to grab you.
Undoubtedly, it wasn't something that you 'didn't expect' — SETH was never the type who tried to hide what intentions he had if he saw that it would affect your attitude, and even if he found comfort in your touches and hugs, covering him like a blanket from the whole world, he never had this safe habit of 'being content with little'. His intentions were obvious from the first meeting and did not change at all — you were perfect, from head to toe, the only one with whom he would like to spend one heat and then make you spend thousands more, finally feeling complete, finished.
He, the god of the Desert and War, with you, Deity of the Nile flood — is not the best couple that can be?
'No'?
... Ha, does someone think that things like "imperfect couple" or "more worthy" or "more accessible" or "morally wrong" or something else will stop him?
Does he need permission? If he wants it — he will get it. And nothing can stop him.
Even if you are a beta, you smell fertile, pleasant, sweet — you smell of life, sex, from which children are born, absorbing the spilled blood and creating from it what brings birth and fertility, and SETH has always been more than gambling and ready to put everything on the line.
And you knew it.
Even if you are safe in the water, once you get out, nothing can save you — especially when you step on the sand, which immediately becomes your cage, locking you in. The waters immediately splash out of the Nile, crushing on him, but now SETH moves only a couple of steps, becoming much more powerful — and when palms grab by the wrists while teeth close on neck, everything inside you starts screaming again that you need to run right now.
Now the sand turns out to be decorated with spots of the deity's blood.
His mark pulsates on never-marked neck — and although it is not the same among deities as among people, you clearly see that for him it was not at all 'just a bite' or a 'mating mark', but a sign of possession, while the pupils in the blood-red iris, the shade of red-hot metal, expand, and a nimble pink tongue licks the blood from scarlet lips.
Red.
RED RED RED.
Nails are no worse than the claws of a wolf, and even fangs look like they can easily tear apart a dozen other people who decide to intervene.
The sand squeezes your feet so tightly that you can't even twitch.
This is all completely wrong.
You cowardly escape into the waters — betas are not capable of mating, are not created for this, closer to 'asexual beings' who do not have a biological task in the form of giving birth, much closer to the primordial asexual matter than to the omegas and alphas giving birth, but for some reason a mark with an imprint burns on his neck which didn't exist before.
Was it you? Or was it the part of you that you denied? You didn't know. It is easier to plunge into the native waters than to try to figure out why for the first time its fragrance was so dizzying, or why you went for something like this. You're not like that at all — not like that at all. It's not normal.
But you'll have to get out soon anyway.
You don't want your omega to get hurt while calling you, right, alpha?
Interlude
“I'm surprised you decided to step in anyway, dear.”
When the sand almost gently wraps around your hands, you realize that the biggest stupidity you can do is to try to escape.
Even if there is water in things like vases in the room, this is too little to create the necessary amount — and even to make sand soft and heavy, such a meager amount is not enough, except to pour it on him and break a vase on this face.
“Wasn't it you who liked to be constantly huddled in your little shell? Hiding there from any danger and thinking that it will help you?”
His hands are not the same as before — slightly rough, wide palms that easily slide over your cool skin, leaving warm traces, slightly scratching with sharp nails, as if hinting that you should not do rash things; if he did not smell like a blooming omega, you would think that he was alpha or alpha-like beta.
“But it turns out that if it's not me, but someone else, then you're ready to help them! No matter how much blood I shed, you didn't come out — but as soon as it was Isis, you immediately got out to help.”
His mark on your neck has not been pulsating for a long time, but when his fingers touch your neck, he freezes for a moment, assessing the scar left, which is almost impossible to notice — and from something, your body again feels this soreness, fettering for a moment from the realization of what happened before the brain began to work feverishly.
Then.
Now you are experiencing phantom pain until you realize that it is not 'phantom' — SETH shamelessly licks your blood from his fingers when he realizes that he scratched the old mark.
“This is wrong.”
Even when blood drips down from the shoulder, you know that's not what you need to worry about — his body is hot as the desert during the day, especially when his hips easily sit on top of yours, taking care that the sand does not let go of your hands.
“I promised you I'd always be there for you; although it was you who avoided me all these years, not appearing even when the corpses filled the entire Nile, while the other gods were terrified of what was happening — but I understand. A lot to do, yes? You've always been busy and strict, ever since our first meeting, when you doused me like some kind of animal.”
The thick scent of omega is so strong that you are not sure if it smells from him or if it is something else — the same thing that made you bite his neck then; your bite is also still burning on his skin, although it looks much more noticeable on him, although you are sure that you bit weaker than him.
The sweet bloody fragrance makes you dizzy.
“And when I saw you, I realized that you didn't live well either; after all, who but me could take care of a hermit like you?”
His hands, in spite of everything, are omeganine soft and pleasant, even if he uses them to look even more wrongly charming, as if he did not sneak into your bedroom — in which you were definitely expecting this meeting — to "talk heart to heart" while his hot wet slippery thighs touch your hips,
obviously.
“I was doing the wrong thing. I gave you the 'right to choose', thinking that this is what lovers should do — but, you know, people around me explained to me what I did wrong. By own example. And I'm ready to show you what I should have done back then, instead of this idiotic thought that you'd think it over and make a nest with me...”
He purrs — deep in his throat, like a big cat, when a strong flexible hand gently rests on your chest while the second one uses the surface behind as a support, rubs against your thighs, leaving sticky wet traces of juice on your bare skin, from touching which your skin burns, and you don't look at him, making sure not to do anything you might regret,
“Look at your omega.”
but it's hard to do when his hand moves from your chest to your throat, not squeezing, but feeling quite threatening, even if you are sure that it will not cause any harm.
“Don't you dare take your eyes off me or I'll scratch them out. You can only look at me and see only me. No one else and nothing else.”
The way he hovers feels almost the same as when he was able to summon you for the first time — his hair hangs down freely, like the flames of candles burning around you, and the same abnormally bright glow burns in his eyes, like the eyes of a cat. Or a wolf.
An abandoned, starved wolf.
“... Like I said, no one cares about you but me — you can fight this idea all you want, but we both know it's true.”
It's wet, wet, hot, sticky, tight between SETH'S thighs — you didn't consider yourself a 'virgin', but when the smell gets stronger and sharper, even you need time to get rid of the veil of excitement that covers eyes in the basest way, looking at his strong thighs while red hair falls over his shoulders, revealing a view of the most handsome omega in your life.
“Therefore...”
His lips are scarlet, thin, beautiful, and when he bends over you, you can't feel the inarticulate delight and the misunderstanding that follows it, associated with the simultaneous desire to pull away from repeated unusual stimulation and the desire to take this stimulation, grab by the hair and breed until it becomes clear that you will need a joint nest, in which he will keep the puppies while you fill him again and again.
Over and over, until his belly is rounded.
This is wrong.
His legs are slender and strong, ideal so that you don't have to do anything while SETH is able to at least move his knees — but you are sure that if you just wrap your hands around his hips and squeeze, you will get much more pleasure and delight, hammering into him with the basest this is wrong in a way.
It's the smell of omega. Definitely the smell of omega.
You yourself can't feel like this for him — for omega, who first marked you, then pursued you for many years and now, finally getting a chance, immediately pounced like an overexcited wolf, to such an extent that you can see the juice flowing down his thighs, although you are sure that even he does not realize it himself, considering it nothing more than a 'punishment'.
“... let me take care of–”
Of course you will.
Everything happens in the blink of an eye — the water, the sand, astonished expression on his face and how it takes you no more than a couple of minutes to find yourself in a deliciously tight heat, from which his claws immediately scratch your hands holding him on his back until it bleed, but nothing in him tries to escape, even if SETH growls mixed with purring, choking on words as you snuggle tighter, allowing something more animal, dirty to take control.
You smell of life, passion, sex — 'the very sex from which children are born', the very life that gave rise to mortals, and you know that you have something to fill this womb with.
When his cheeks are covered with a bright blush, reminiscent of the shade of his eyes and hair; you can't help but reach out to burrow into his neck, not caring about the sand that is wrapped around your ankle — and not caring about the aggressive imperiousness with which SETH squeezes you while sharp fangs bite your lips almost to the point of blood, greedily kissing, almost devouring.
If you leave me again, I'll find you and kill you.
#.spicy♡#❖.my jewelry#🥮 — ennead#✉.seth#🧸.yandere au#🧸.omegaverse au#🧸.unhealthy#🧸.blood play#gender neutral reader#cw dark content#seth x reader#top reader#ennead smut
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Hi! I love reading your story's, can I request a yandere Hannibal x fem reader please?😊💕
It’s not surprising that Hannibal plays the long game but Hannibal also makes the game.
It was easy for him to set up the game, almost laughably easy. He was a renowned therapist who helps police on cases, strong, smart, made a name for himself- a good name. Your parents didn’t even have a chance to have doubts when he came to ask for your hand in marriage. If anything your parents were elated, over the moon that you, the black sheep of the family, had the eye of a man like Hannibal. They practically threw poor little you to into his hands.
One thing Hannibal likes is politeness, manners, and no matter when or how Hannibal had meet you he was struck with the need to understand you, figure you out and not in his usual killing urge type of way. After a few months or even years of following you around he finally realises what it is, love.
Does he really think its love? Not really, its something deeper, more sinister than love. He would rip apart anyone that would try to hurt you, he wants to keep you safe with such feral intensity it’s not sane. But he himself can’t even breathe at the thought of hurting you himself either so he chalks it up with a simple word. Love.
He should have seen it coming, really he should’ve since he had been watching and ‘protecting’ you for so long, but he’s still struck shocked when you fight back your holy matrimony with such pettiness and sass. You couldn’t stop your parents from practically forcing you to agree to marry him, getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t really care about, everything too grand and nothing like what the little girl in you envisioned. So, in retaliation you tried everything to get him to re-think his decision, anything to get him to divorce you, even if it meant being a sassy brat. Turning your nose up at his delicious food just to piss him off, doing little things you knew he hated just to push his buttons.
It’s cute, he thinks, really cute that you think being a brat would stop his heart from yearning for you so much his physically body aches being away from you. But you aren’t a brat, are you? Your just pretending because your sick of your parents stupid pressuring expectations, hating how they dictated every little thing in your life and now your ‘life’ partner.
Every time you push and shove and take bits and pieces of his sanity it just fuels his obsession for you, every time he feels himself get frustrated or irritated it just makes him more head over heels over you. Staring at you with hearts practically in his eyes as you make his blood boil, he takes everything in stride. With a polite smile on his lips and insanity in his heart eyes.
But he does feel bad, really he does, he feels bad that you have terrible no good rotten parents who are ready throw you to the wolves once they get their greed filled, or bad enough for a man who feels no remorse or guilt. Maybe its pity, he thinks, like how one looks at a wounded animal. But he could never see you at a level as an animal, no matter how adorably cute you are. Maybe a goddess then, a fallen goddess, he worships you as if you’re a goddess anyways, taking your sass and anger as some sort of twisted love from a holier being.
He can’t help the feeling of amusement that bubbles up when he see’s you try to be a brat, but the manners engraved into your very soul peek out, like your body and mind are fighting on your decision to pretend to be mean when your really such a sweet nice darling.
The little ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ that come out when you demand something from him or the sweet little ‘no thank you’ that you give him when you pretend to glare at him with faux hatred in your eyes, because you didn’t really hate him. How could you? He was unbelievably sweet and attentive, picking up on the little things you didn’t even know about yourself until he picks up on it. He was the best husband anyone could ask for, in and out, even if he could be a little serious, cold and calculative at times. Hannibal shields you from everyone, including your parents, shutting them down so quickly and efficiently when they start their bullshit of bringing you down it seems natural.
And one day your fake anger towards him slips, your tipsy on alcohol and his love, its all consuming but it feels oddly soothing, like cool balm on an open wound. You stumble and almost trip, but his arms are already there to catch you, ready to do anything to keep you safe and without thinking you lean up and press a soft, albeit clumsy, kiss on his lips.
Something in Hannibal snaps. The kiss, as quick and fleeting as it was felt like heaven. Like he was reborn, like for once in his life he could finally breathe.
You gave this dirty, blood-stained sinner a slice of heaven and now he’s your most devoted worshiper at your alter. For better, or for worse.
~~
Hannibal has you pressed in a mean mating press, one of your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. The thin handmade anklet he got you for your wedding present, dainty and small, designed from start to finish by him with a little ‘H’ dangling on it chimes in his ear and makes his head spin.
“I- god- I love you so much.” He groans out, sweat clinging to his brow as his messy blonde hair sticks to his skin. “Goddess." He murmurs into your skin, pressing his lips against your ankle, kissing all the way up to the side of your knee as he saours the way your skin feels on his lips. Pulling back he licks your sweat that smeared on his lips and he smirks.
His pupils are wide and blown as he gazes down at you with so much love and tenderness it hurts. Sweat clung to his muscular frame as he threw his head back, groaning so low you feel it in your tummy.
Your in worse shape than him, yourpractically writhing under him, not able to escape the torturous pleasure as he puts all his weight down onto you. As sweaty if not more than him, twisting and bucking and shaking, hair messed and sprawled out on the bed beneath you, eye brows knitted. Your breath being selfishly stolen by him as he takes and takes, gasps the only thing able to leaven you as well as broken keens and whimpers. You had long stopped trying to muffle your embarrassingly lewd noises, he had practically growled at you to let them out, not letting you hide anything from him.
Sparks zing up your spine as he hits deep and a wail leaves you, your hand coming to push at his lower stomach, nails scratching over his muscles. Hannibal moans and his eyes roll at the feeling, quickly snatching your hand he slams it softly next to your head. His fingers entwining with his as he locks them together.
Long deep slow strokes makes your brain melt out of your ears, brain gone all fuzzy as you get addicted to him and his touch.
“Take it sweetheart, I know you can.” His breath hitches as he forces your thighs open wider to accommodate him, he looms over your more and the change of position makes you cry out. “Let me worship you my goddess, your mine, all mine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woo wee thats finally done! I hope my first proper attempt at smut was ok
I think there was another ask for Hannibal but it was H/C's, I'LL GET TO YOU MY LOVELY I PROMISE 😭
Im trying to get back into writing but its hard, im sorry but I will get to you all. Some might be before others just because some things kick start my writing process 🥺 But please keep sending requests I love the ideas and support even if it takes me a bit to get to them. Hope you enjoy lovelies.
~Mwah ♡
#yandere#soft!yandere#tw yandere#darling core#chubby reader#yandere x reader#cw yandere#softyandere#soft yandere#yandere smut#yandere lemons#yandere hannibal lecter#yandere hannibal#tw.yandere#tw.dark content
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