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smuthospital · 7 months

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⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

#non con #lemon #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere husband #dead dove do not eat

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getodrools · 1 month

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warnings. yan! true form sukuna, implied non/dub con: ( forced marriage and pregnancy ), kidnapping.

All of them looked at you.

You recognized those faces. And you tried to hide from them behind the mighty stature built of an abundance of muscles and cursed energy…

But, all of those familiar faces contorted differently, some not knowing how to react; some gaped wide as others felt pity when you were shoved in front of the king by those large hands you grew to loathe.

That cruel and selfish thing held a wide wry smirk as your body — so frail, yet heavy with a large bump wobbled embarrassingly and tired ahead… You couldn't bear to lift your crown to confront them, too mortified. Yet, they couldn't see that attempt, you only looked too weak to try in their eyes…

You felt it in your heart, deep down they had a sense — they knew what was going to happen soon as he left with you.

As much as they forever wished for your safety and honored your valor of vengeance, carrying on your name as the savior when Sukuna swore he'd seize havoc if he got what he wanted — to marry you and earn an heir, he'd settle with leaving all merciful. Leaving behind the chaos he caused and settling far from their territory with the only promise of you.

You remember that very doomsday when he held you with two bloodstained arms — blood of your own comrades who fought with all their might… weak legs dangling in the smokey air as flames erupted from buildings and screams begrudged through the entire city, you remember scraping at the tough skin, seemingly unbreakable, but in hopes he'd release you, you tried unduly before you could end up with no head… But fighting with the last of your might, you swear to this day you could still feel that very cruel squeeze to your sides as he stalked the others with ease, cursing a promise out you had never expected to hear, truthfully.

Almost all warfare seized. They all looked just as disgusted as they do now, just how they were watching the way you shivered when Sukuna’s leather-like tongue lapped over your neck to the whole side of your face as he panted out those very words you toss and turn from every night,

“Take too long to give an answer, I’ll kill another. Or, I will set ablaze to everyone if you don't.”

There was no winning.

Leaving with you far beyond the horizon and years to come, the people you once called family and friends were never to be seen again.

Sukuna wasn't as surprised as they were once they found his concealed empire plagued with cursed energy. He didn't even care, he already got what he wanted and they couldn't do a single thing about it. They knew that very well too.

Especially seeing how you lived now.

They tried to prepare themselves though, knowing his ruthless acts were to be brought upon you once you agreed — you didn't need to, but for the sake of countless lives and for the ones you cherished, you sacrificed yourself, a single life, to him without thought, and now you harbor a dreadful wedlock and bear a child.

Yuji’s face was the worst. He felt disgust and outrage – you poor thing. He couldn't imagine what you've gone through, especially now as you carried a half-being inside of you. Something mixed with the King of curses genes brewing into something undoubtedly revolting, something he couldn't conjecture how you had to submit to such monstrosity to get this far…

Megumi steps back, “Y/n…” You flinch. You haven't heard your name in years, only the title of being Sukuna’s wife dug a deep scar into the tissue of your brain.

Even the other members flinch.

But now, they had their eyes on you for long enough and Sukuna grabs your shoulder to reer you behind him again, right where you belonged.

“Interesting seeing you all.” The king stood tall; a pair of strong arms crossed over his chest as the others waved around smugly.

They knew his strength and didn't want to erase all the disarray you've went through to save them once, so they stepped back, cursing themselves as they did. Crossing boundaries they never thought they'd see, Sukuna knew it would be idiotic for them to waste your life if they dared to overstep it.

They couldn't do that to you.

Waving them off, “She's expected soon,” Ryōmen smacks his lips, keeping his chin up high and all eyes low as if he wasn't already towering over them, “Once that's out, she’ll be busy on the next – as promised.” You shiver, huddling behind the only thing you grew to get used to — so to speak, forced to.

Clinging to his side, you barely peek through his arms to catch their faces once again, but oh, how much you've missed them… Too repentant, weary eyes only tremble at the floor they creaked on, and the further they got, the longing to run alongside them and to be free worsened…

You squeeze your belly.

Shoving your ridden face into his naked back as your husband continued threatening them with your life, you remind yourself this was worth saving them… even if…

… You still needed to give him five more.

PINNED ・ JJK MASTERLIST ・ RYŌMEN SUKUNA

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮!#ᝰ ryomen sukuna!#yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk yandere #tw yandere #tw pregnancy #tw non con #tw forced marriage #tw dub con #tw kidnapping

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

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Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8k wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe.

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life.

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries.

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue.

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that.

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two.

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes.

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened.

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself.

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed.

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion.

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head.

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception."

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later.

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what.

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately."

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance.

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place.

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake.

"Take care of yourself, will ya?"

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault.

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken.

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years.

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street.

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't.

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure.

He smiles wider.

"Long time, huh?"

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it.

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does.

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't.

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee.

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it."

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue.

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable."

His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate.

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me."

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child.

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first.

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you."

You tilt your head. "What for?"

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to."

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers.

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception."

You squeeze back.

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough.

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types.

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher.

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was.

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered.

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed.

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer.

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you.

"Have they?" you prod.

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'.

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated."

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially.

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches."

He laughs, light and pretty.

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be.

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?"

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back.

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you.

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely.

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say.

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze.

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body.

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you.

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-"

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become.

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger.

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man.

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving."

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious.

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat.

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while.

You don't speak to Suguru, after that.

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent.

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways.

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder.

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it.

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly.

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me."

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer.

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out."

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams.

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks.

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze.

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you.

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance.

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky."

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am."

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head.

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood.

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers.

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips.

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings."

What? You look behind you again. Nothing.

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction.

Immediately, you wish you hadn't.

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts.

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over.

Run.

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-"

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs.

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently."

His tone is almost pitying.

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums.

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you."

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger.

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then.

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-"

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?"

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this.

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body.

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist.

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?"

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips.

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving.

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek.

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on."

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you.

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip.

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good."

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work.

"Why?"

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face.

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me."

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs.

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure."

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours.

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me.

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

#yandere #yandere jjk #x reader #dark content #dark jjk #non con touching #tw:noncon #dark geto suguru #yandere geto suguru #tw:gore

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cobwebs-in-autumn · 2 months

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Hngggggg. Nikto being balls deep inside you, face buried into your shoulder, murmuring in Russian about how perfect you are, how tight and warm and loving. Made for him. Reparations from the universe for all his pain and suffering. He’ll never leave you, never. He is yours and you are his. He doesn’t care if he has to chain you to him and throw away the key.

#call of duty #cod #cobweb writes #cw: non-con #Nikto #nikto x reader

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diejager · 5 months

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not exactly a specific prompt or anything but - could you write more stepdad!könig and dbf!horangi pls? 👉👈

Cw: DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, AGE GAP public sex?, exhibitionism, fingering, under the table, mention of forced piercing, rough sex, unprotected sex, PinV, mention of anal sex, tell em if I missed any.

You jerked, dropping the fork in your hand and biting your lower lip to stop a moan from slipping through between them. Unfortunately, the sudden click of your fork and you shift in expression worried your mother, making her question you, brows furrowed and lips pursed into a frown. She was worried, you knew she was, but that was the last thing you had on mind, neither her quiet quarry about your health and unpredictable act, nor König’s piercing eyes and the food that was now sprayed on the table.

What truly worried you was Horangi and your own inability to hold your voice back. He looked nonchalant, brow quipped up in faked confusion, knowing that your reaction resulted from him, his wandering hand that slipped under the waistband of your short and into your cunt, pumping in and out fo you with a slow and unbothered pace. You jumped from the unexpected tap against your gummy wall, three fingers curling before they hit your sweet spot, sending an arousing pulse up your spine. You’d be fucked stupid by his fingers alone, thick and long - not as long as your stepfather, but they were better than yours - stretching your hole open to take his cock later that night.

“I’m ah-okay, mom,” you smiled shakily at her, hand gripping tightly around your knife, tremors wracking your body as you swallowed down moan after moan. “Just a stomach ache.”

“Oh dear, do you need to lay down?” She frowned good-naturedly, the skin on her brow wrinkling.

“Yeah,” you internally cheered, you’d be able to get away from this situation until later, when you’d be stuck under Horangi, ”Thanks mom.”

You were gagged, mouth stuffed with a soiled pair of your panties, drooling around your thong, down your lips while you wailed. You were stuffed with cock, legs jerking with every push of Horangi’s cock, walls forcibly pried open to take his thick shaft and his prettily trimmed pubes rubbing your swollen clit. You felt his cock carve the walls of your cunt to fit his girth, thicker in the middle with a petty and angry head and veins crawling up the shaft. It cured lightly, light enough to stand between his legs, but heavy just enough that you could feel it weigh you down, pounding away at your crumbling resolve.

He was panting, a husky and laboured breathing on your neck, his hot breath hitting you as he kissed down your shoulder, teeth scratching your soft and tender flesh, weak under his sharper teeth. He hungered for more; he lusted for eternal pleasure. Suckling the curve of your collar, teeth skimming the swell of your jostling breasts, nippled flared and wet from his manhandling. He dove back in, lips wrapped around your least swollen nub, sucking as if he was trying to milk it of all substance. You cried out when he bit down, sinking his fangs into the fat of your chest before he unlatched himself with a wet pop, leaving the indentations of his mouth on you. Then he did the same to your other tit, mind keen on fucking you, his dick ramming into you roughly while he gave attention to your sore nipples.

“Fuck, imagine these pierced,” he chuckled dreamily, a low, addicted daze in his mind, dreaming of piercing your nipples himself, “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You shook your head frantically, dreading giving them mor to use against you, more leverage to make your body betray and succumb to their whims, especially with how often your stepdad’s at home. You struggled under him as if to prove your point, feet kicking around his narrow waist, the scarred flesh a touch different from the rest of his body, pulling at the restraints keeping your hands tied to your headboard —his belt. You let out a ragged and angered scream, silenced by the gag but your body still shook with the force behind it, teary eyes closed while they rolled back in reluctant pleasure.

Horangi’s chest rumbled, a smile stretched awkwardly by the tiger-like scars on his face. In retaliation, he gave a few hard thrusts, rocking your bed against the wall, his cut head kissing your bruised cervix after brushing against your sweet, gummy wall. It punched the air out of your lungs, leaving you heaving and gasping for air, fully at the mercy of your stepfather’s friend-

“Ja, she would look so pretty,” König’s sudden appearance scared you, his mocking coo and statement reaffirming Horangi’s thought.

Your closed around Horangi, flinching away as much as you could in your restrained state, your fear and trepidation made you tighter and wetter, slick suddenly bursting around Horangi’s leaky cock. You could hear your stepfather move, his purposefully-loud steps booming in your ear, but you couldn’t see him, eyes rolled so far back in an explosive release. You felt the bed shift under him, dipping to a side while he loomed over you both, looking at your swollen nipples as if he was admiring how pretty they’d look if he had you pierced them, a rod straight through your round nub.

“Sehr hübsch, Schatzi,” he hummed, his rough hand sliding down the curve of your navel where he could feel every hard thrust and found your clit, rolling it with a big finger, “Or a piercing here, on your little clit.”

König smiled handsomely, a brazenly hungry stare covering his threatening and dominating composure. His ice blue eyes squinted mirthfully, gleaming with a dark urge, something that demanded control, that wanted submission and subservience from you. He’d fill that rimmed hole of yours after Horangi’s done with your pussy, spreading your ass around his thick and veiny cock that pressed uncomfortably against his briefs.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

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konigsblog · 2 months

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WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, INTOXICATION, SOMNOPHILLIA. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

to write about stepbrother's johnny, kyle and simon...

all of them being so perverted, yet so predictable. :(

you can't wear a short dress around simon, otherwise he'll bombard you with questions, asking where you think you're going whilst dressed like a hooker! believe him, he's just looking out for you... but, when you come home drunk, attempting to hide in your room, simon is already convincing and coercing you into his bedroom, where he'll demand you to suck him off and let him fuck your tight, little asshole. gripping your soft tits over your short dress, rolled up around your waist as he begins to thrust and grind deep into your swollen, puffy and glistening folds.

you can't wear shorts around johnny because it drives him crazy. even your other stepbrothers will tell you to cover up, because johnny's acting depraved; palming himself in front of everyone, and eyeing you up like a feast. if you do, he'll be humping you constantly, trying to get you to bend over so he can get a nice view of your ass... you may even wake up to johnny rubbing his hard boner over your clothed ass, all drowsy and conditioned, tip soaking your skimpy pajama shorts, thick and milky cum oozing from the head of his achingly hard cock, while he apologises profusely, telling you to go back to sleep, that he'll be quick...

you can't wear anything revealing around kyle, nothing whatsoever, he'll find a way to sexualise you somehow. when you're wearing a low cut top, one that reveals too much cleavage, he can't resist. he'll grope you and kiss your breasts, telling you it's alright for a stepbrother to touch you like this because it's done with protectiveness, making sure you're safe in his arms, the perverted bastard lying straight to your face and being so touchy and perverted.

wearing bikinis? it's like you're asking to be fucked like a whore... :( during a pool party, he'll corner you in the bathroom and have his way with you, fucking your sweet pussy while you tell him it's not alright for a stepbrother to be so depraved with his stepsister!

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theftmprincess · 6 months

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Seriously need a friends with benefits to rub their dick against my pussy and grind against it. To press their dick between my folds, to almost catch on the edge of my entrance a few times but correct and tell me they know not to actually push in. Then when I'm pliant and on the verge of orgasm from having my clit rubbed by their heavy cock, they push in, I don't think anything of it for a moment, thinking they did it on accident before they start thrusting and before I can even try to push them off, they've already filled my pussy with cum

#ftm girl #ftm feminization #ftm breeding #cnc kink #non con breeding #dubcon

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 9 of Charmed Slasher Simon

(CW: this is all basically noncon. Like, yeah they had a “deal” but it’s not like it was agreed on in good faith ya know? Stay safe while reading, please, and let me know if this warning needs to be more descriptive)

You shake as Simon trails his fingers absently along your tummy, amused by the way it twitches, tickling and frightened in equal measures. So much he wants to do to you, but only so much you’ll be able to take for this first little triste.

Besides, though not long for this world, there’s only so much he wants that little worm to see of you.

“You ever spend so long fantasizing about something that when the moment finally comes, you’re just spoiled for options?” he muses aloud, pinching your nipples through your thin shirt. He can hear the high pitched noises trapped in the back of your throat, tsks at the denial.

“I’m usually a decisive man, you know that, sunshine. But all the things I want to do to you…”

You squirm when he pinches a bit harder, adding a little twist. He shuffles his knee between your thighs and pulls you back, making you grind against his thigh with every involuntary twitch and shudder.

“Could bruise this pretty ass for running out into the snow like that, reckless thing.” You jolt when he palms the plush fat of one cheek. “Or I could just torture your tight little hole. Leave that pretty pussy aching…”

You make a noise like a sob as his thumb rubs through the layers of your pants and underwear. You try to lean away but he’s got such a tight grip on your wrists that all it does is arch your back.

He inches his fingers over the crest of your hip again, dips back to your swollen clit and soaked cunt. Hell, you’re even wetter than before, a sticky line running down your thigh, fabric clinging to overheated skin. He groans against your throat, has to see it for himself.

You try to protest as he yanks your waistbands down to mid thigh, but he quiets you with those same two fingers stuff in your mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles. You nearly gag as he pets the back of your tongue, imagines how it’ll feel against the fat head of his cock.

In the firelight, you’re gleaming, something out of a fever dream. He leans you back farther and forces your legs wider with his own, lets the heat caress at the insides of your thighs, the creamy slick webbing between your lips.

“Fuck, maybe I should just play with this, huh?” He rasps. “Watched you do it so many times. You don’t know how to edge yourself properly, luv. Always let yourself give in too soon.”

You make a startled noise, huge, watery eyes finding his. He chuckles at the mortified question in them, teases his fingertips over your slit.

“Yeah, sunshine. I watched you fuck this pretty pussy, cryin’ ‘n pleadin’ for me,” he purrs in your ear. “Took everythin’ in me to let you have your fun, to keep from showin’ you how it’s done…”

He circles a finger over your clit, a barely-there brush that makes your pretty wet lashes flutter. Over and over, watches that flush bloom steadily over your face, down your neck. The haze glossing over your eyes.

“How about that, hm? We’ll start from the beginning and work our way through my list.”

He slips his fingers from your mouth, watches you lick unconsciously at the taste of him lingering on your lips.

“Y-you’re not gonna…?”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes. Fills in the blanks and can’t help growling.

“Oh, you want me to hurt you, is that it?” he asks. “You want - no, you need an excuse to hate me. You’re hoping I tear you up so that you have an easy out for all these confusing feelings.”

You try to babble out a denial but the shock in your eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He tamps down his anger by dragging his teeth along your neck, working a dark mark into the skin.

You don’t know any better, he reminds himself. But you will.

“Don’t you worry, luv, there will be plenty of punishment for you,” he rumbles. “But you’re going to beg me for it.”

You open your mouth, maybe to deny it, but he pinches your sensitive little clit between two fingers and revels in the way you squeal.

He instantly soothes the ache with gentle circles, trailing kisses along your jaw. Tastes fresh salt on your skin.

“Best save your tears, precious,” he warns, smirking. “You’ll need them.”

He parts your lips with two fingers, leaving you open and exposed, groaning through his teeth at the sight of you. Wet and swollen, so needy for him. You try to buck away when he rubs a finger over your clit, firm strokes up and down.

“If you don’t stay still and take it like a good girl, I’ll tie you down and make you be a good girl.”

You duck your chin, eyes squeezed miserably shut as you try to lock down your body. It’s ridiculously endearing, how you wiggle and then catch yourself, breath hitching as you wait for him to lose patience. He hums whenever you start getting to squirmy, delights in the way you shiver and sink your teeth into your lip. Settle down only for him to change the tempo or the pattern and ruin all your self control.

He amuses himself drawing patterns all over your pulsing clit - circles and stars. Hearts that make your eyes roll back in your head. Zig zags from your weeping hole up to the very top of your slit.

It takes a while for you to truly approach your orgasm with the way he denies you a proper rhythm to build on. But he notices the moment you finally start to reach that peak, not even his reminder to hold still can keep you from twitching and rocking, helpless little jolts of your hips.

He coos. “So desperate to finish. Is it because you think I’ll be done with you once you do?”

You don’t answer, too busy trying to get more friction, more pressure. He lets you rush right up to the edge and then stops, skipping down to circle your hole. Luxuriates in the fresh flood of wetness coating your thighs. It yanks you back like a dog on a leash, your orgasm right there but just out of reach.

You don’t even seem to realize what’s happened for a second, mouth hanging open and a cute little furrow between your brow. When he chuckles, teasing up to that sensitive bundle of nerves again, it seems to click. You shoot him a dismayed look, the most precious hint of betrayal lurking in your glassy irises.

“N-no…” you nearly beg.

He smirks, nips at your puffy bottom lip. “You can say no if you like. Or even stop. We had a deal, though, didn’t we?”

“R-Riley…”

You scream when he spanks your pussy. Not nearly as hard as he craves, but it sends pretty streamers of tears down your hot cheeks. Another, two fingers directly to your clit. You nearly crumple, only his hold on your wrists keeping you upright.

“My real name, sunshine, or I’ll give you a reason to say no,” he warns.

“S-Simon,” you whimper, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He shushes you, petting apologetically at your throbbing core.

“I know, luv, I know. But you’ll never learn if I don’t teach you right.”

The tears don’t stop as he drags you right up to the edge again, bullying through the lingering sting of getting spanked with overwhelming pleasure. When he pulls back a second time, you start up the “no’s” again, voice shattered into pathetic little pieces.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, “say whatever you need to get you through, I won’t be mad.”

He gets you so so close once again, cock twitching against your ass as it grinds back against him. But he lightens his touch, not stopping but not letting you fall, easing the pressure up and up and up until even the slightest graze would break you.

Instead, he pulls away entirely to squeeze at the plush of your thighs and hips, cooing over the way they shake for him.

“Simon,” you sob, tucking into his chest. He slows his touches, watching you try to curl into him, chest burning with something bloodier than love. “Simon, please. It hurts.”

He hums, sliding his hand back up to your pussy, massaging your labia. Careful not to touch your needy clit.

“It hurts, hm?” he croons, unable to keep the mean pleasure from his voice. “It wasn’t supposed to. Where does it hurt?”

You hiccup, sniffle. “M-my… my…”

“Tell me, sunshine, or I can’t make it better.”

You fold a bit, bounce, almost like a tantrum. So out of control on sensation and emotion that you can’t keep it together as you form the words.

“M-my pussy. It — I need…”

He hums again, fingers trailing down to your hole. Teases his finger at your entrance and feels it spasming around nothing.

“So empty,” he breathes. “Is that it, luv? Your little cunt is aching to be filled?”

You shudder on a cry but nod, face hidden against his neck. He lets you, far too endeared by your attempts to find comfort from the man torturing you in the first place.

“Hurts,” you repeat.

“Do you hate me yet?” he mocks.

You keen softly. “Y-yes.”

A tap to your clit again. If you weren’t so strung out you’d probably even find it pleasurable but right now it makes you writhe and beg him to stop.

“Dont lie,” he warns, voice low, “where are my good girl’s manners?”

“‘M sorry,” you whine.

“One more time now - do you hate me yet?”

Your words seem to get caught up in your throat so you shake your head. Hes tempted - so, so tempted - to make you admit it aloud. But he doesn’t want to be too mean, not yet.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “that’s my girl. You want me to make you feel better now?”

You sniffle again, lean back into him a bit more. “Please.”

“There we go,” he praises, “nice and polite. I’ll take care of you, luv.”

Your body is so ready that it’s nothing for him to slide a finger into you, slick already running down his palm.

“N-no no,” you mumble.

“No what? I’m making you feel better.”

“‘S not — need more. Please, please, Simon.”

It’s hearing his real name in your small, reedy voice that finally appeals to what little mercy he has. He fits two fingers into your cunt and curves them to rub your silky walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sunshine,” he groans through his teeth. “You’re gonna choke my cock.”

You squeal as he starts rocking his hand, fucking you at an easy pace, getting you accustomed to the new stimulation. Starts building up your orgasm again, piece by moaning piece, finding every spot that makes your back bow with pleasure.

“Please, please, lemme cum this time Simon, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He huffs in amusement, caressing his thumb over your crossed wrists.

“Oh baby, you don’t have a choice.”

He flattens his palm against your core and pumps his fingers faster, harder. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit with each twitch of his wrist. You get tighter and tighter, voice pitching up and up, until your entire body goes taut, walls clamping down almost painfully.

He strokes you through it, brutal and relentless until you’re screaming at him to stop. That it’s too much. He releases your wrists to wrap his hand around your throat, obsessed with how delicate it feels in his palm. Just the slightest squeeze of his fingers and your eyes roll back. The second orgasm gushes from your abused cunt, all over his wrist and your thighs, dripping puddles onto the carpet.

He loosens his hold slowly, work you over through it, feeling you squeeze and pulse with aftershocks.

When he glances at your pretty, flushed, and tear-stained face, your eyes are shut. Out cold.

He chuckles and gently lays you out closer to the fire, grabs a pillow from a nearby chair to set under your head. Lingers for a moment, rubbing over your back, massaging gently at your shoulders. Your wrists are already bruising.

Then a muffled noise calls his attention.

Brandon.

“Now the second half of the deal.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #charmed slasher ghost #final girl reader #non con #dub con

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darkroomkisses · 1 year

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Uh, can I request a dark!ethan with quinn's scene in the bathroom but instead of her being the reader, where gf!ethan is waiting for her to fuck her w non-con. Thank you!

hope it is understood, English is not my first language

Rejected (Dark!Ethan Landry x Reader)

A/N: Oh spicy! Yes, pretty sure I understand you! I hope this is to your liking, I changed some stuff from the scene in the movie. Danny doesn't see ghostface in the room. Went a little darker toward the end (oops) Thanks Anon <3

Pairing: Dark!Ethan Landry x Reader

Summary: After rejecting Dark!Ethan when he asks you on a date, he's angry enough to kill. So he does just that, he kills your hookup and fucks you after. READ TAGS!

Warnings: NON-CON,SMUT, Dark!Ethan Landry, Ghostface Ethan Landry, fem!reader, Murder, Choking, Unconscious reader, Dacryphilia, Possessive!Ethan, Jealous!Ethan, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, marking, biting, Face Slapping, slight slut-shaming. Don't read if uncomfortable with dark themes, other than that ENJOY!! 🥀

Banner by @straywords 🥀

Ethan has been obsessed with you from the moment he met you. Whenever he would come over to the apartment you shared with Sam and Tara, he would watch you so intensely, some of the times you noticed but it didn’t bother you too much, but it made you a little uneasy.

His eyes were so dark and fierce you felt like your skin might set ablaze. His eyes never leave you when you all hang out. All that ran through his mind was wrapping his hands around your neck watching you shiver under him as he forced himself in you. He wanted to look into your fearful eyes and see sweet tears running down your pretty face.

About a month ago, Ethan mustered up the courage to ask you on a date, you giggled at his shy attempt to ask you out and rubbed his face, telling him you only see him as a friend. Those words haven’t left his mind since only playing on repeat as he laid in bed every night.

It was late in the evening, The house lively with the gang spending time together in the kitchen, completely distracted from what was going down in the other room.

That was perfect for Ethan, he was preparing for his attack, hiding away in your closet. He was ready to kill the loser who just fucked you in two pumps leaving you disappointed and needy for more. Ethan was seething with rage because what the fuck did this fucker have that he didn’t? The fucker didn’t even make you cum. His cock half hard thinking about what he wanted to do to you. The fucker went into the bathroom leaving you alone in the bedroom. You slipped your nightgown back on and pulled out your phone, turning to the side. Ethan couldn’t wait anymore.

“Babe, you coming to join me?” The guy yelled from the bathroom; you met him earlier that night at a frat party, he was cute, and you were drunk. You put your phone down for a second to respond “No and don’t use my face wash it’s pH-balance for women” you yell, “yeah whatever you say” he yells back. You go back to your phone, giggling at the video you were watching. Unaware of the dark figure looming over you, after a few seconds of Ethan running his eyes over your figure, his fingers twitching desperately wanting to touch you. He slipped out of your room to kill that loser in the bathroom.

Ethan finished the job, he sighed out, fuck it felt good to kill that alpha fucker who was a two-pump chump. But what he had planned next would feel even better. Ethan slipped back into your bedroom quietly to not disturb you. You hadn't moved from your position. Ethan leaned over you in a quick motion, hand over your mouth, all his bodyweight pinning you to the bed the blade was at your neck, the slightest pressure pushing into you.

Your eyes widen, you gear up to scream as you meet the big dark eyes of Ghostface. You started to cry, Ghostface just stared down at you, his hand tight on your face. You screamed against his hand, your body shaking with fear, you were going to be killed. Ghostface shook his blade in your face, shutting you up instantly.

Ethan smiled under the mask; happy his plan was playing out perfectly. His cock was hard and leaking already. You looked even more perfect than he pictured late at night when had his hand wrapped around his hard cock, getting off to the thought of you. Your eyes were puffy and red, your tears couldn’t stop falling. Ethan took his blade and ran it down your short nightgown, tearing it in half and exposing your bare body to him, your breathing started to speed up at the realization of what was about to happen.

You heard a quiet moan from Ghostface, your blood running cold. “Scream and I'll kill all your fucking friends in the kitchen” Ethan said in the Ghostface voice making you shiver. You couldn’t let your friends die because of you. You shook your head quickly. Ethan took his hand from your mouth to squeeze one of your boobs he leaned his head down to your neck, rutting against your core, it took everything in you to not throw up at the feel of his hands exploring your body and the heavy breathing in your ear made your stomach turn.

Once Ethan got his feel, his free hand moved down to your wet pussy, his gloved hand stroking all over. Ethan was surprised how wet you were, and it was all for him. Ethan hovered over you to get a better look at your wet core. Ethan let go of the knife to remove his gloves. He had to feel you properly against his skin. He returned his hand rubbing your clit, you let out a soft hum, Ethan snapped his head up to see your face. It was exquisite, your face twisted like you were trying to hold back your pleasure.

That twisted his desire to get you to make more pretty noises for him. He wanted to hear you cry out, with that he pushed his fingers deep into you, hard and fast. You let out a broken moan, whimpering for him to stop. “p..please stop, please” you pant, with your lips quivering. Ethan let out a half laugh. “Why would I stop when you feel so good?” he said rutting faster and making circles on your clit with his thumb, determined to make you cum...hard. “Fuck you feel so good y/n” Ethan moaned your name lewdly. Your eyes widen, your thoughts running a mile a minute now, trying to think who the fuck this was. You didn't have much time to think, your fear and arousal ramping up to another level, your orgasm threating to crash down on you.

Your legs start to shake, your back arches against him your chest raising, and he takes his other hand and grabs your boob squeezing so tight, he pinches your nipple, rolling it with his fingers. He wanted to bring your tit into his mouth and suck hard on your hard nipple.

You clenched down hard on his fingers, he’s breathing deep into your ear, encouraging you on. “Good girl, cum on my fucking fingers” Ethan growled into your ear. You came down from your high, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out. Between the crying and the orgasm that had you shaking uncontrollably you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Your head whipped to the side, your cheek stinging. “Wake up, we are not done yet” Ethan growls. His cock was painfully hard now, he needed to be inside you. Your eyes fluttered, Ethan grabbed your neck tightly he whimpered softly, fuck he wanted to do that all night. Ethan releases his hard cock with his free hand.

Your panic hits you like lighting you tried to squirm out of his grip but that only made Ethan more excited. He lines his cock up with your slit, Ethan rubs his cock up and down on your wetness. In one quick thrust, Ethan forces himself in you, he lets out a low moan, steadying himself, he felt like he was going to burst inside you. Ethan almost couldn’t contain himself and thrust hard a few times, this is the first time Ethan felt pussy this good, the only time, actually.

His hands choked you hard with each rock of his hips. “Fuck, you know how long I wanted to stick my cock deep Inside you?” Your head feels light, and you are barely able to register what he’s saying to you.

You reach up to tear his hands away, but you couldn’t find the strength. “Your pussy is fucking mine, only for me” Ethan pants as he drags his cock against your hot walls. “You’re so tight, I feel like I'm tearing you apart.” You could hear the smile in his voice, each word dripping with lust.

“I c-can’t-” you choke out before you feel yourself fading into unconsciousness. Ethan didn’t let go of your neck for a few seconds, watching you fall limp under him. Ethan pulled his mask off throwing it to the ground. Sweat beating down his face, his hair a wild mess. He stops his movement for a second hiking your knees to your chest so he can fuck deeper into your slick hole.

The only sounds that filled the room were Ethan’s desperate moans and groans and the wet sounds of him fucking sloppily into you. He kissed your lips roughly, moaning into your mouth. “You’re mine, you’re mine, all for me” Ethan chanted darkly. He moved his lips to your neck sucking and kissing the marks he left on you. He was so close; he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Ethan roughly grabbed your hips, making your back arch. He was gripping so tightly he definitely left marks. “Fuck baby, take my cum you little slut” Ethan pumped in you harshly one last time letting out a deep moan as he spilled inside you. Ethan slowly pulled out of you, watching your slit dip his cum.

Ethan kissed your lips softly, roaming his hands all over your soft limp body one more time. Finally, he sits up, tucking you under the covers. Ethan kisses your forehead and puts his mask back on before fleeing the room. You were out cold, breathing softly and completely unaware that your shy friend Ethan had attacked you and you never will know.

#Dark!Ethan Landry #Smut #Scream 6 #ethan landry imagine #request #Ethan Landry smut #dark fic #tw noncon #Ethan Landry one shot #Non-Con #rough smut #bad time for reader #tw r4p3 #gf! Ethan Landry #ghostface fanfiction

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

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The Earth Kills the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part two of The Sun Eats the Moon

Synopsis: A retelling of The Sun Eats the Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you.

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in.

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you.

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other.

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.”

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.”

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru.

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.”

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty.

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.”

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore.

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you.

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals.

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter.

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before.

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before.

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like.

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru.

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk.

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects.

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday.

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash.

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you.

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says.

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side.

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger.

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru.

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were.

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction.

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks.

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them.

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful.

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything.

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you.

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal.

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms.

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten.

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times.

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed.

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru.

It took a while for you to fully learn that.

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar.

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough.

You made Satoru angry.

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this.

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago."

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-"

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?"

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze.

"I'm sorry...’Toru."

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness.

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it.

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it.

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's.

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you.

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you.

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things.

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most.

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again.

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru.

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets.

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does.

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end.

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down.

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore.

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him.

And then, you break.

Just a bit.

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him.

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing.

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there."

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away.

You were leaving.

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words.

You seem to realize this too, freezing.

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve.

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out.

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further.

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town.

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru.

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes.

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back.

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit.

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise.

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace.

And Satoru breaks.

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day.

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it.

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend.

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds.

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun.

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark content #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #non con touching #gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #bullying #harrassment #non con kissing #geto suguru

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