I’ve been waiting for you. :)

pairing: dark!erwin smith x fem!reader

tw: dubcon, power imbalance, dead dove do not eat

about: your fear almost gets you killed, much to the commander's displeasure. 

a/n: i'm sorry i disappeared for almost a year. i have been visiting hell and haven't quite returned yet.

You sit in the Commander’s barracks, uniform dripping from the rain that falls down in torrents outside. You hate that you’re shivering so badly, that your teeth are clicking together. Worst of all, you hate how ashamed you feel, how utterly and humiliatingly weak.

Lightning flashes, illuminating a dumb, grotesque face seconds before a giant hand reaches out to grab you and your horse both. You’d been warm from the exertion of the expedition, despite the rain, but now a feeling of such deep, icy terror takes root in you, you don’t know if you’ll ever move again.

“Fall back to me!” Commander Erwin shouts. Yes, you hear the order, know you should obey, but something primal in you decides to revolt. You give into the fear you thought you were above.

Maybe the Commander calls out your name. Maybe someone else does. Your memory’s clouded by the screaming in your head, a voice telling you to run, run now.

You clasp your hands between your thighs and the shaking stills slightly. Captain Levi had left a little while ago, but not before skewering you with a glare so full of anger and disappointment you thought you’d be beaten on the spot. You suppose you should be grateful that he’d left you intact. After all, it was his men that had gone after you when you’d bolted from the Titan, his men that had nearly been eaten alive. All because you’d given into your fear.

“I remember you from the graduation ceremony.”

The sound of the Commander’s voice makes you jolt a little in your seat, but you keep your head bowed, remorseful, while the worst possible punishments flit through your mind—dishonorable discharge, imprisonment, death.

You’re so caught up in the noise of your thoughts, you don’t hear the Commander approach, barely notice his presence, until cool, calloused fingers mold themselves to your cheeks, forcing your head up. You’re surprised that you don’t cry out from the unexpected touch. You’d never seen the Commander touch anyone. This should be impossible. This is...unacceptable, right?

pairing: musician!gojo satoru x graphic designer fem!reader

tw: cursing, slightly suggestive at the end, way fluffier than my usual stuff

about: gojo satoru is the worst kind of client. picky, micromanages everything you do, arrogant, the list goes on…eventually you lose your temper and quit. it doesn't end in the way you expect.

a/n: i started this drabble fully intending to turn it into hate fucking, but then gojo went rogue and decided to be sweet. what can i say, i can't control the six eyes.

"satoru, i swear to god, i'm about to quit!" your exasperated voice causes a couple at the table next to you to turn their heads. the cafe you're in is one of those overpriced establishments your client insists on meeting at. the kind of place that's trendy online, with over-the-top decor, gourmet coffee, and cutesy pastries. they even have a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. ugh.

gojo satoru, the white-haired guitarist whose album cover you've been trying to design for the past ten months, doesn't seem phased. he's dressed like he just got out of a show: tight black pants, ripped black t-shirt, silver piercings in his eyebrow, bottom lip, and both ears, and a pair of sunglasses to top it all off. if he wasn't so fucking insufferable, you'd say he's pretty hot.

"i don't want an ugly album cover," he whines and it takes a monumental effort for you to not tear your hair out.

"i've sent you dozens of thumbnails at this point and you've paid a lot of money in extra revision fees. you have to make a decision because i can't keep doing this."

his sky blue eyes flick to yours from over top his sunglasses and he gives you a big, lopsided grin.

"come on," he says, "i'm your most famous client. you don't want to dump me. plus, i pretty much pay for that cute little apartment you live in."

you grit your teeth and shove yourself away from the table. "i'm done," you say. "keep everything i've already made so you can give it to the next poor designer you decide to torture."

you grab your phone and wallet, and you're turning to leave when his fingers wrap around your wrist. you whirl around and glare at him until he lets go, hands in the air.

"i'm sorry," he insists. "don't go. sit back down. i'll even pay for your cinnamon roll."

you spin on your heel and storm out of the cafe, cursing his name under your breath the whole way.

***

a couple weeks pass and you don't hear from him, which is a huge relief. you've managed to make back the income you lost by taking on a few more level-headed clients. you vow never to work with people like gojo satoru again, no matter how hot they are or the amount of money they want to throw your way.

you finally feel like you can breathe again. no more infuriatingly vague emails like "could you make it pop more?" and "idk i'm just not vibing with it." no more ridiculous requests like "could you move this text one millimeter to the left?"

pretty soon, you're too busy to even think about him, until one evening when you get a knock on the door.

you can't say you're terribly surprised when you find him standing on your doorstep. your most toxic clients alwayscome crawling back, but there's something extra pathetic about satoru. maybe it's the way his usually perfect hair is disheveled, as if he's been running his fingers through it in agitation. maybe it's the bags under his eyes or the small, wounded pout he's giving you. whatever it is, it's kinda glorious.

you arch a brow while you take in the sight of him.

"okay, i might have been difficult on purpose," he starts. when you don't say anything back, he continues. "i don't think the album covers you designed for me are ugly." your brow arches further and satoru huffs. "are you really going to make me admit it out loud?"

"yes," you say.

"ugh, fine. i think you're cute and i was purposefully being a pain in the ass just so i could keep working with you. happy?"

pairing: yandere!nanami kento x fem!reader

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, ddlg dynamics, use of daddy, implied kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, uh brat taming?, spanking, pet play as punishment, sexual content, derogatory language

a/n: this came from the most depraved corner of my brain. 😂 enjoy!

in another life, yandere!nanami kento thinks he might've been a good girl dad. he loves the process of waking you up in the morning, helping you brush your hair and teeth, picking out a cute little outfit for the day, making you breakfast.

at the kitchen table, while you swing your feet happily and eat your fruit cup (you're settling into captivity so nicely!), he writes out your daily chore list on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. it's simple stuff for the most part, just activities to keep your mind and body occupied while he's at work. things like making your shared bed, putting away the clean dishes, and completing a few pages in the university prep workbook he bought you. naturally, he would never dream of letting you leave him to go off to university, but you need to keep your mind sharp, sweetheart!

his favorite moments, though? when you misbehave. because those are the moments when he can indulge in his real fantasies, the ones that involve you naked and bent over his lap, begging him to stop spanking you, that you're sorry for ignoring him when he came home from work. he never listens and he's never truly satisfied until you're stuffed full of him and he's kissing your tears away while you promise you'll never be a brat again.

you're lying, of course. you're always looking for ways to act out. you love your daddy, but there's also the teeny tiny problem of how he kidnapped you in the first place. how rude! so you like to push his buttons a little bit. it drives him up the wall when you throw temper tantrums. they're usually harmless, like refusing to do your chores, wearing clothes deemed too "mature" for you, or staying up past your bedtime watching grown up movies. those infractions are easily corrected with a firm hand and a stern scolding. sometimes, though, your fits turn dark, more dangerous. sometimes, they even frighten your captor.

when you're really mad, you trash the house while he's gone. you tear wallpaper off the wall, shred the couch cushions, break all the dishes in the cabinets. it happens enough times that he has to install new security cameras throughout the house that alert him as soon as you're up to no good.

the punishments after your fits are nothing close to the spankings you get for being a brat. no, ungrateful bitches who destroy his house get locked up in a big kennel for hours on end. you're no longer allowed to wear clothes, or speak. you wear a collar every day and eat out of a dog bowl at his feet. if you're lucky, he might allow you to sleep in the bed next to him. most of the time, you're relegated to a plush dog bed on the floor with a light pink fleece blanket to cover you up.

keeping up appearances is hard.

color-coded calendar with your schedule planned out to the minute? check. gentle smile plastered on your face even when you feel like crying? check. perfectly pressed and no-nonsense wardrobe? check and check.

you're the first one to speak up in student council meetings. you're the last person out of the library before finals. everything you do is calculated, purposeful. perfect. everything. is. fucking. perfect.

at least that's what you'd have everyone believe. your yandere!classmate knows better.

he sees you sneaking off to the stairwell almost every day.

he sees your puffy eyes and red cheeks, the little droplets on your glasses.

poor thing. you're so busy trying to be the best at everything that you're neglecting yourself. he sees the dark circles under your eyes, the strain in your smile. he sees how your eyes get wet when you get an answer wrong on your history exam. he sees the way you squirm in jealousy when someone else gets the lead part in the musical.

you just won't stop and he's so, so worried about you.

that's why he has to snatch you up and hide you away. you'd make yourself sick otherwise. your body was already falling apart, can you blame him for intervening? and sure, keeping you locked up in his concrete lined basement isn't the most romantic thing in the world, but he's sure you'll fall for him eventually.

your spirit must truly be unbreakable for you to be this horny while in captivity.

in your previous life, before satoru and suguru decided to kidnap you and keep you locked up in their home like a pet, you touched yourself at least once a day, if not more. so this new schedule of yours, which mostly consisted of either satoru or suguru watching you like a hawk (aka babysitting), really cut into your personal time. on top of that, you refused to fuck them willingly, much to their disappointment, so they also banned you from masturbating.

"you need to learn to rely on us for everything," suguru said while tapping your nose. "even for things that embarrass you." his peaceful smile didn't fade as you tried to squirm away from satoru, who was busy locking a sparkly collar around your throat.

"hold still," the white-haired man whined and suguru gave your ass a warning pinch. finally, the collar's lock clicked shut and satoru let out a satisfied hum. the two men admired their handiwork: you, dressed in nothing but a bedazzled collar and knee-high socks.

suguru, still smiling, took both your hands in his and knelt so you had no choice but to meet his violet eyes. "do you want a treat, pretty girl?"

you weighed your options.

saying no was always a gamble. if you said no, they wouldn't touch you. but if you said no to something like food or drink or (more rarely) sedatives, you'd find yourself bent over suguru's lap while he spanked you with a belt. then, once he deemed your ass red enough, he'd pass you off to satoru who would hand feed you. after that, you'd be relegated to drinking out of sippy cups and sucking on pacifiers until the end of the punishment, which could take weeks.

on the other hand, if you said yes, you risked agreeing to something you actually didn't want. the word "treat" could mean many things according to satoru and suguru's twisted logic so it was a dangerous gamble. you might be agreeing to a bite of milk chocolate. or you might be agreeing to wear a butt plug around the house. it could go either way.

"don't think too hard, sweets." satoru tapped your forehead, making you jump a little, and his grin widened at your discomfort.

"uh." you chewed at your lip and you could tell the minute suguru started to lose his patience because his jaw began to tick. "yes," you said quickly. "yes, i want a treat."

god help you.

suguru's smile was back, and you weren't exactly comforted by satoru's gleeful laugh.

"we know you've been feeling a little frustrated," suguru said. his eyes made a lewd trail down your body, then back up your face. "so we thought you might want a little…personal time."

you perked up. personal time? you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation.

"yep," continued satoru, whose grin bordered on manic. "except there's one condition."

your stomach dropped when he leaned in close to your ear, whispering, "we get to watch."

suguru pointed to the bed. "hop to it, pretty girl."

satoru laughed at the expression on your face. "don't worry!" he pulled a laptop out from somewhere behind him. "we have some naughty videos queued up in case you need them."

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, noncon, implied kidnapping, use of daddy, abusive relationship

pairing: yandere!captor x fem!reader

about: yandere!captor returns from a shopping trip. :)

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, (jjk) erwin (aot) yea I know I add tendou (hq) to all my lists it's because he's my fave. also oikawa.

"turn to the left a little bit, sweets."

you do as he says, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from talking back. yandere!captor just came back from his outing (you weren't invited, unfortunately), arms laden with shopping bags. you're trying on all the new clothes he bought for you to replace the "rags" he'd kidnapped you in.

the frilly clothes he chose for you make you cringe and the contraption he's forcing onto you now is the worst of them all — a skimpy lace nightgown that leaves little to the imagination. the bust area pushes your tits up obscenely and you're sure if you bent over, your ass wouldn't be covered. that's probably the point, though, especially when you spot the growing bulge in your captor's pants.

"perfect," he says, snapping pictures on his phone. "you're so cute."

you've never felt more embarrassed in your life, but you keep that little tidbit to yourself. he never listens, anyway. whenever you complain or don't engage with his stupid little activities, he'll pout and make puppy dog eyes at you until you give in and do what he wants. if you don't give in…well, it's best not to think about what happened last time you didn't cooperate. your scalp still hurts from where he'd yanked your hair in anger.

finally he's done taking pictures and tosses his phone to the side before pulling you into a tight hug.

"you look good," he says into your hair. "don't you feel good?"

"yes." your voice is soft and listless, but it doesn't seem to bother him today.

he pulls back from the embrace, eyes dark and glimmering with something a little too close to mania for your liking.

"what do you say when you feel good, sweets?"

your face heats. you feel sick calling him daddy, it's gross and embarrassing, but you don't have a choice.

you guess there are worse things in life than humiliation.

"thank you, daddy," you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

"no, no." he tilts your chin up. "look at me when you thank me."

you swallow, tears overflowing and spilling down your red cheeks.

"thank you, daddy," you say again, this time meeting his cold eyes. he doesn't seem bothered that you're crying, instead humming to himself and swiping at the wetness on your face.

you're on the phone with your bestie. yandere!boyfriend — who's been acting creepy for weeks — starts listening in to your conversation a little too intently. so you hide in your closet and start whispering about how weird he’s being and can bestie please, please stop by the apartment and pick you up?

except you never get to make the request. because he’s yanking you out of the closet and throwing your phone to the ground and stomping on it until it shatters.

"whoops!" he's got a big stupid grin on his face, except it doesn't reach his eyes, and you really, really wish you'd wake up from this nightmare.

about: continuation of I wrote this for you. yandere!captor forces you to write smut for him every day. title taken from the anne sexton poem "despair."

tw: 18+ only, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, implied kidnapping, a sprinkling of stockholm syndrome, dubcon

characters: written with tendou satori on my mind, but also applies to gojo satoru, suguru geto, yuta okkotsu, armin arlert, oikawa tooru, insert your fave here

a/n: basically my grad school experience except without the chain.

you remember when you used to worry about silly little things like how many hearts your writing got online or the steady increase in followers every time you posted. you used to be addicted to refreshing your page, again and again, mood attached to the outcome.

you can't exactly say you miss those worries now, but they seem trivial when compared to your current situation.

you're chained by your ankle to a large wooden desk, a typewriter placed in front of you. across the room is a queen-sized bed where you spend your evenings. the only thing that could be considered decor is a wooden dresser with a couple changes of clothes. no art on the walls and the window has bars on it. you suppose it's better than a more traditional prison cell, but not by much.

it's in this room where you clack away at a typewriter, churning out smut stories for your captor. stories like the ones you used to post online for your followers, except now you only have one follower and he's the most importantfollower.

and unfortunately for you, his expectations are high.

"not enough fucking," he tells you one day after reading your latest story. you bite the inside of your cheek and try not to cry. yesterday, he told you there was too much fucking and now you guess you've gone too far in the opposite direction.

"I'm not sure what you want." you can't keep the whine out of your voice. "you keep telling me contradictory things."

he pouts at you. "I just want you to go back to the way you used to write! is it really that hard?"

yes! you want to scream at him. yes, it really is that hard. you've been kidnapped by your unhinged, number one fan. can he blame you for not being in the writing mood?

nights are the absolute worst. if you haven't written to his satisfaction that day, he'll cling to you in bed, nuzzling into your neck, sometimes crying.

"why do you hate me?" he'll ask, and you'll cringe away from the dampness on your neck.

"I don't hate you."

except you kinda do, you just can't say it out loud because you're afraid of his reaction.

true, there are some days when you wake up inspired, bursting with creative energy, actually eager to write. days where you can't help the warm glow from blooming in your stomach when he praises your work, says it's the best thing he's ever read.

and yeah, maybe you get carried away on those days. maybe you end up kissing him a little bit, maybe you end up falling into bed with him. maybe fucking him gives you even more inspiration for the next story.

you didn't think it was possible, but your yandere!captor is even more insufferable and clingy when you're sick. 

"baby, I know your stomach's upset, but you need to stay hydrated." he's shoving a glass of ginger ale in your face and, honestly, you'd rather curl up and sleep for twelve hours straight than force anything else into your stomach, but here you are. 

you fight him a little bit, batting away his hand like it's a bothersome fly. 

"I'm fine," you mumble. "let me die in peace." 

"nope! open up." he starts tipping the glass towards you and you have no choice but to open your mouth or else get a face full of ginger ale. you sip at the drink, narrowing your eyes at your captor. once you're done drinking to his satisfaction, he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a happy hum and pulls your blanket-wrapped body into his side. your stomach churns at the movement and you groan. 

"you're suffocating me," you complain, but you don't have the strength to push him away. 

"you seem to be breathing just fine." he taps your nose gently with his finger. "come on, little miss grumpy, let me take care of you."

you don't respond, but you settle into his side with a heavy sigh anyway while a romcom plays on the TV. it's nice in a way. as a child, when you used to get sick, you'd be treated like a burden, but here, wrapped up in your captor's arms, you feel cared for in a way that you haven't in years. 

and then he has to go and ruin it. 

can't stop thinking about yandere!kidnapper who is intimidated by your independence and success. so when he finally snaps and locks you up in his secluded house, he makes sure you don't have access to anything you might use to assert your independence from him. you're stuck with boring little novels and children's coloring books for entertainment. he lets you watch tv once a month and only if he's supervising, so forget watching the news or anything like that. you've probably seen frozen a hundred times by this point.

whenever you discover a hobby you're even remotely interested in or good at, yandere!kidnapper snatches it away and hands you something embarrassingly childish, like dolls or stuffed animals. you get so bored one day that you start cutting your doll's hair with a pair of nail clippers, only to be severely scolded and spanked when you're discovered.

about: obnoxious upstairs neighbor x fem!reader

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, name calling, derogatory language, hate fucking

wc: 680 words

characters: sukuna, toji, gojo, mmmm i want to say ino, eren, oikawa, insert your fave here

a/n: inspired by my upstairs neighbors. 😀

you're pretty sure you're going to lose your mind. the ceiling shakes with each heavy footstep of your neighbor, audible even over the soothing white noise you're playing through your headphones. you flinch and drop your textbook when a heavy slam echoes above you.

"that's it!" gritting your teeth, you grab a broom and start pounding on the ceiling. "shut the fuck up!"

there's a beat of silence before your neighbor responds in kind, stomping down over and over again, hard enough that you hear your dishes rattling in their cupboards.

"make me!" he yells back.

you're seething when you step out into the hallway and slam your front door behind you. you've had it with your asshole upstairs neighbor…how he parties almost every single night with no regard for your schedule or your study time or the fact that the building has quiet hours. no matter how much you complain, though, he never gets in trouble and you're stuck suffering.

you guess it's time to take matters into your own hands.

you stomp upstairs and bang on his door with your fist. he answers the door in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and nothing else.

you swallow hard at his bare chest and the defined muscles of his abs. dammit, why does he have to look so attractive? and of course, he's standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, a carefree smirk on his face.

"can I help you with something, doll?"

"you can start by wiping that stupid smirk off your face, asshole!" you hiss. "some of us have exams to study for."

"fucking nerd." he's taunting you, you know it, but that doesn't stop you from giving in to your rage and shoving against his warm chest.

you're not exactly sure how you both end up in each other's arms, tongue and teeth clashing while you each fight for dominance over the other, but you guess it's better than listening to him trample above you…

"I knew you were a slut," he growls against your lips. he drags you further into his apartment before shoving you onto a couch. you land with a gasp and pull him closer towards you, sucking and licking on his neck. "you dress like a fucking librarian, but I bet there's a hot body underneath all this shit." he's pawing at your clothes now and you hiss at him again.

"do you ever know when to shut your mouth?" you drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low groan.

"not when it involves you. I've been trying to get you up here for months so I can give you a piece of my fucking mind."

you each make quick work of your clothes and soon enough he's shoving himself inside of you. his cock is heavy and hard and it feels so good rubbing against your walls. you can't help the animal cries coming out of your mouth and you cling to him for dear life, hoping that your nails will leave scars along his back.

he's whispering filthy nothings in your ear, how you're so good for him, so tight and wet, how you squeeze him just right. he adjusts his angle and starts hitting a spot that makes your moans lower, more desperate. you don't think you've ever made sounds like this before. you hate him but that makes it somehow better, dirtier.

you cum long and hard when he starts rubbing your clit and he follows soon after, biting into your shoulder as he shudders above you.

you both collapse into the couch, shuddering for breath. somehow, his arms find their way around you, pulling you deeper into his chest. you think maybe the pounding of his heart doesn't sound so bad.

about: stepdad!nanami kento x fem!reader

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, STEPCEST, all characters are 18+, spanking, fingering, slight yandere at the end

a/n: I just want nanami to spank the shit out of me ok?

stepdad!nanami kento who picks you up from the university police station after you punch your ex in the face. the car smells like his cologne - subtle heat and spice - and you can see his jaw ticking in irritation out of the corner of your eye.

stepdad!nanami kento who took you his under his wing after your mom died, made sure you were taken care of properly, sending you to the best schools, making sure you never wanted for anything. and this is how you repay him? by acting like a delinquent?

stepdad!nanami kento who decides it's time to start treating you like the brat you are.

stepdad!nanami kento who parks in a secluded area hidden by trees before pulling you out of the passenger seat and into his lap. he yanks your jeans down so your panties are exposed.

stepdad!nanami kento who makes you count while he spanks you. you're sobbing and twisting on his lap. mostly mortified, but also so, so turned on. he pauses when he notices the wet spot you leave on his work pants.

stepdad!nanami kento who clicks his tongue and, without warning, shoves two fingers under the waistband of your panties, gathering the slick there.

stepdad!nanami kento who whispers filth in your ear while he fingers you, telling you what a bad, bad girl you are, how he's going to have to keep a better eye on you from now on.

pairing: yandere!stalker x fem!reader

about: your stalker discovers your smut blog and decides to find you irl.

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, mentions of knife play, mentions of pet play, stalking, general creepy behavior, breaking and entry, implied noncon

wc: 677 words

a/n: written with tendou satori on my mind, but also applies to gojo satoru, suguru geto, mmm maybe yuta okkotsu, armin arlert, oikawa tooru, insert your fave here

graduate school fucking sucks. the endless piles of reading, the late night paper-writing frenzies, teaching the classes none of the professors want, dealing with department politics, the grading, the poor pay. and the pressure. the pressure to sound smart during lectures, to write consistently brilliant papers, all with a grateful smile on your face.

you have to do something to relieve some of the stress that doesn't involve drinking yourself into oblivion every night…so you turn to writing out your most depraved fantasies and posting them online for strangers to read. what could go wrong?

turns out, a lot.

you're careful when you post online, ensuring to use a pen name, not including your real age or location on your blog. the fantasies you write about are so twisted you doubt anyone in your life would ever suspect you, but you can't be too careful. you write about sprinting through the woods, breathless, while a masked man chases you with a knife. you write about being caught, of having a stranger's name carved into your back while you writhe and ache for him to fill you up. and that's not even the worst one. sometimes you write about being led around by a leash, forced to eat from your owner's hand, purring in contenment when he pets you. it's so sick and beautiful and you laugh a little to yourself thinking about how your professors and classmates would react to you writing such filth.

by now, you're used to the thirsty comments coming in: "omg this is so hot, i came just reading it," "girl, i'm so wet," etc. etc. most of them are anonymous, others are from users you've grown to consider friends. they've never been weird. at least not until recently, when a user named devotedtoyou starts commenting and sending messages.

"you dirty, dirty girl"

"i wish i could see your face when you're writing your disgusting sexy little stories"

"i think about you when i jack off now"

"i can't cum unless i'm reading your words"

at first, you're flattered, and maybe even a little excited. school was so boring and uptight, after all, and this fed into your fantasies. it's a delicious secret to keep, but the messages start getting too familiar.

"hehe you looked so cute today"

"you hurt my feelings talking to other guys :("

"baby, you're hurting me"

"you stupid fucking bitch, why won't you respond to me?????"

eventually, they bother you enough that you delete your whole blog, and try to forget about it. whenever you get freaked out alone in your bed at night, you remind yourself that your creepy commentor was probably a harmless guy who still lived at home with his parents. nothing to fear. right?

one night, you hear a strange scratching sound at your window.

at first you think it's part of your dream, but then you remember you have a first-floor apartment and your eyes shoot open when your bed dips.

someone's in the room with you.

"why did you stop writing?"

you don't have the chance to scream before he's on you, covering your mouth with a long-fingered hand, breath hot on your face.

"don't be scared, baby," he murmurs against your cheek. "it's me."

you're thrashing beneath him, but he easily pins you down, doesn't uncover your mouth.

"tell me," he pleads with you. "why did you stop? I adored your writing."

your adrenaline is spiking, but you stop moving, trying to conserve your strength, trying to calm down enough to think clearly.

"mmph," you try to speak past his hand and he lifts it.

"because you were scaring me." you're too terrified to speak above a whisper. your stalker rests his head in the crook of your neck, humming.

"I'm sorry I scared you, baby," he says. his voice sounds generally remorseful, but any relief you might've felt quickly disappears when his free hand moves down your body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"let's start over and give you some new material to write about, yeah?"

pairing: yandere!suguru x fem!reader

about: your captor finds the secret diary you've been keeping from him. things do not go well for you.

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, oral (m!receiving), noncon, pet play as punishment, implied kidnapping

wc: 1.4k words

a/n: my heart was pounding, suguru is so so awful in this. I feel like this is slightly naoya-coded, too!

as far as captors went, suguru geto wasn't the complete worst. he let you sleep in your own bed, left you to bathe and feed yourself, even let you pick out your own clothes. he didn't restrict your tv usage and bought you piles of books and games from the shops down the road. he was a little controlling with your diet but you knew better than to fight him. he always won.

no matter how many gifts he brought you, the fact of the matter remained the same: you were his hostage. and if you dared to ruin his pretty little fantasy, well…things wouldn't turn out so good for you.

the first time you tried to run away, suguru was so angry he locked you in an oversized dog kennel for a week, letting you out only for bathroom breaks or to suck his cock like the bad monkey you were. every morning and evening, he'd open the kennel to give you your food, which mostly consisted of lukewarm oatmeal, tasteless boiled chicken, and small fruit cups for dessert.

"disobedient little brats don't get my affection," he hissed a couple days into your punishment while you choked on his cock. you whimpered around his thrusts, tears trickling out of the corners of your eyes. suguru only laughed, a cruel sound, as he gripped your hair in his fist and pulled so hard you started crying in earnest. "don't you ever run from me again," he continued, his thrusts speeding up, the plush, velvety head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you choke. "unless you want to live in a kennel for the rest of your pathetic fucking life."

needless to say, you learned your lesson.

even though suguru was back to pretending to be kind and gentle, cuddling you on the couch whenever he wasn't attending to his cult, back to buying you books and games and whatever trinkets he thought suited his little pet, you couldn't help the resentment that was rapidly reaching a boiling point inside of you.

it was torture. you couldn't openly resist him or express your hatred without risking his wrath. yet everytime he cooed softly at you or fed you warm, delicious meals at night, you got closer and closer to slapping him or scratching his eyes out.

you never really meant to start a diary.

but it was the only thing you could think of to allow you to express your feelings without making suguru mad. you were too nervous to ask him to buy you a notebook and pen, knowing that he'd probably think it was suspicous, that you were plotting a second escape. instead, you started tearing out the blank pages in the books he brought you on a weekly basis. he never touched the books you read, deeming them too silly and childish for his tastes, so you assumed he'd never notice.

getting a pen was a little trickier, but not impossible. suguru usually kept his home office locked, but one day he left the door cracked open and, when he left to take care of cult business, you jumped at the opportunity. heart pounding, you snuck into his office and rummaged through his desk until you found a long-forgotten pen that he probably wouldn't miss.

and so you started your diary, waiting for suguru to leave before pulling out the torn book pages and pen from beneath your mattress. writing out your thoughts after bottling them up for so long felt like slipping into a steaming bath. your breath left you in a long sigh and your shoulders dropped as you wrote out your frustration:

i hate suguru

i hate suguru i hate suguru i hate suguru i hate suguru i hate suguru i hate suguru i hate suguru

you filled pages with your fury and it felt so good, like ridding yourself of a terrible poison. you insulted everything from his hair to his cooking, laughing to yourself when you managed to come up with creatively cruel jabs. he deserved it, after all, for forcing you to live him with like this in some fucked up little fantasy.

you didn't think much of continuing to hide your diary under your mattress. suguru hardly ever entered your room - it was one of the things you didn't despise about him. "pets deserve their own safe space," he'd once told you sweetly.

you should've known better than to trust him, though, hadn't considered that he was always monitoring his pet, always watching with suspicious eyes, always ready to dole out punishment as he saw fit.

you'd just finished your evening shower, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, when he called your name lovingly from the living room. your stomach dropped a little and you worried about what fresh hell he had in store for you now. maybe he wanted you to sit on his lap again while his cock slowly grew hard against your ass. maybe he'd force you to brush out his hair while he lectured you about curses and disgusting monkeys and how lucky you were that he decided to spare you, to lift you up from the filth of your species.

you schooled your features into a pleasant, blank mask as you padded into the living room. suguru sat on the oversized couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and loose sweatpants, one leg crossed over the other. a manilla folder sat on the coffee table and you scrunched your forehead in confusion.

"is something wrong?" you asked. you paused just in front of him, digging your toes into the plush carpet in nervousness. suguru tilted his head to the side in response, smiling gently at you, as if you were a particularly cute kitten.

"I don't know, love," he replied. "is something wrong?"

you swallowed and stared down at your feet. "um…I…I don't…" you chewed at your lower lip, heart in your throat.

suguru, angelic smile still plastered on his face, leaned forward and past you, grabbing the folder from its place on the coffee table. your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you saw its contents.

"dear diary," suguru read. his voice had lost its saccharine sweetness, taking on a crueler edge. mocking you. "today suguru bought me the ugliest dress. it's pink and frilly and barf-inducing. his taste is the absolute worst, no wonder he can't get anyone to love him."

you felt like you were going to throw up. your cheeks burned with humiliation and you couldn't bring yourself to meet his cold gaze.

"that's not even the worst one," suguru continued. he shuffled the papers until he found what he was looking for. "this one's my favorite. dear diary, I hate suguru so fucking much, I wish he would die."

he crumpled the paper in his fist and you gasped as he threw the folder to the side. your diary pages fluttered to the ground and you barely had time to catch your breath before he was gripping your cheeks in his hand, violet eyes searing into yours.

"how dare you," he hissed into your face. you couldn't control yourself, couldn't hold back the sobs from escaping your throat.

"I'm sorry!" you cried, "I didn't mean it!"

suguru laughed, loud and condescending. you tried to shrink back, but his punishing grip wouldn't let you. tears burned hot trails down your cheeks and you couldn't stop yourself from shaking under his murdurous expression.

"I've given you everything," he said, "and this is how you repay me? childish insults and ungrateful whining?"

with a scoff, he threw you away from him and you tripped over the coffee table, landing on your back with a hurt whine. in an instant, he was on you, tearing the towel away from you while you sobbed uncontrollably.

about: yandere!captor x fem!reader

tw: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, DARK CONTENT, reader is depressed, male yandere captor, piv sex, comfort seeking, unhealthy relationship, maybe some stockholm syndrome?

wc: 619 words

a/n: I wrote this with geto suguru in mind, but could also apply to gojo satoru, tendou satori, nanami kento, insert your fave here.

you used to fantasize about not having to work, of maybe inheriting lots of money from a secret guardian, or marrying a rich man who'd insist you didn't have to lift a finger, that he'd take care of everything. infinite time to enjoy your hobbies, to enjoy a slower life free from mundane worries. that was the dream.

or so you thought.

the reality of not working, of sleeping in day-after-day, not doing much except watching TV and reading books you've read dozens of times before is much bleaker than you imagined. you're bored. you feel useless, like a waste of space, like you could just wither away and it wouldn't be a loss.

"you're depressed," your captor insists, pulling you into his chest while the two of you lounge on the couch, a silly show playing low on the tv. “remember when I found you? you were overworked at that awful job, coming home late, not taking care of yourself. you don't have to worry about that anymore. you have me.”

you hold in a sigh as he nuzzles into the side of your neck, leaving little kisses on the skin there. yes, you guess you're depressed. you are being held against your will, after all, with heavy locks on the doors and windows, a monitor resting heavy around your ankle. you don't have internet access, a cell phone, or any other way to make contact with the outside world. there are cameras in every corner of the house, which is conveniently located in the middle of nowhere, on a few acres of cracked, dry farmland with no neighbors in sight.

"pretty girl?" your captor taps your forehead and you slowly focus back on him. he pouts a little and you offer him a small, half-hearted smile.

"if you say so," you mumble. that seems to appease him and he turns back to watching tv while you stew in his arms.

every night, you pray you're actually having one long and terrible nightmare. that once you wake up in the morning, you'll be back in your old apartment in the middle of the city. you'll see your old kitchen with the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, the cute little coffee maker your mom gifted you, and the mountain of plushies piled up on your bed. instead, every morning, you're met with disappointment and the ever-slow slide into despair.

"stop overthinking it." he's whispering in your ear now, petting your hair with languid, soothing strokes. you can't help but lean into the touch. you haven't seen another person besides him in so, so long. not your friends, not your family, not even your coworkers. you've been cooped up in this house for what's felt like years (even though it couldn't have been more than a couple months, right?)

you crave a gentle touch, even if it's from your captor.

you think that's why you let him fuck you at night. he treats you so, so gently at first, like you're the most delicate blossom, like he's afraid of tearing you apart. the gentleness doesn't last very long, though. soon enough, he's pinning you to the bed by your wrists and pushing into you with a ferocity that threatens to drown you. yet, you meet his desperation with some of your own. when he fucks you, you feel alive for once, filled with him and nothing else. you think maybe if you squeeze his cock hard enough, arch beneath him prettily enough, moan loud enough, he'll never ever leave you empty again.

but eventually he stops fucking you when you both are spent and morning comes and the cycle starts all over again.