#implied non con

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good. 

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell. 

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see. 

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free. 

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area. 

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness. 

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever. 

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble. 

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt. 

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it. 

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask. 

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself. 

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?" 

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you. 

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?" 

The smile is more real now, less manufactured. 

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind." 

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things. 

His smile grows. 

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

 

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed. 

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore. 

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him. 

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied. 

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood. 

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you? 

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses. 

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly. 

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now. 

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns. 

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit." 

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?" 

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore. 

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?" 

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare. 

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind." 

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it. 

"Either way, I don't regret my decision." 

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin. 

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently." 

The petals tickle your skin. 

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru." 

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it. 

"And I, you." 

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it. 

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities. 

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't. 

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work. 

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer. 

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body. 

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this. 

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?" 

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel. 

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God. 

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-" 

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. 

Maybe this was why. 

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he. 

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year." 

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears. 

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take." 

Suguru regards her for a moment. 

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then." 

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look. 

"You-you do, Master?" 

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers. 

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too. 

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience. 

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath. 

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are." 

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile. 

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific. 

Something evil. 

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple. 

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru. 

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you. 

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing. 

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe. 

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next. 

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person." 

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety. 

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out. 

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet. 

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind. 

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on. 

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point. 

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time." 

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying. 

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating. 

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful." 

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words. 

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you killed her." 

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance. 

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity." 

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter." 

"You said you were glad with my-" 

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-" 

"They're not people." 

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before. 

Never, until now. 

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is. 

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it. 

"They're worthless." 

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero. 

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom. 

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays. 

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future." 

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions. 

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless. 

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse. 

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset." 

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw. 

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles. 

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you." 

#dark content #yandere jjk #yandere #dark geto suguru #yandere geto suguru #x reader #manipulation #implied non con #hint of satosugu

[secretwhumplair]

Whump prompt XVII

Fake relationship but it's a prisoner and a guard. The prisoner desperately needs some favours. The guard enjoys the "affection" and power play.

Until the guard starts falling for their own lies and starts thinking that maybe, they both mean it. They break out the prisoner to start a new life... what will the prisoner do, now that they are free and the guard whose whims they've had to entertain for so long is no longer protected by their surroundings?

Bonus (It Came To Me In A Dream): It's a fantasy death row, and the guards have some say over who gets to be this week's public entertainment on the gallows, making the whole thing a literal life-or-death matter for the prisoner...

#whump #whump prompt #forced relationship #whumper turned whumpee #potentially >:) #implied non con #though I cannot stress enough how much this is not (only) about sex #doesn't have to be at all

[babygirlthor]

When Thor gets banished to Midgard, he learns that omegas get treated very differently here. Omegas are a protected commodity to be purchased like exotic pets, and anyone who cannot afford to own a personal omega, can pay to visit one in an “Omega Cafe”. However, soon Thor finds that these fancy shops hide the nasty realities that omegas really face.

For the Thormegaverse fest day 9: heat / rut agency

#Thor whump #my art #thormegaverse #pet whump #locked in a ​cage #implied non con

[ddarker-dreams]

Awh..😭 I loved it. It's amazingly written. Although it hurt my feelings a little bit at the end. Is Chrollo sharing her a way to get back at reader for abandoning him and no longer wanting to be 'his'?

Also, is the implication here that they're going to assault her together? It's suggested but I'm curious about what happens after this.

THANK YOU THANK YOU !!!!!!!!!!!

so, since it's from reader's POV, we don't really get to see chrollo's thought process... i actually thought about including a scene before the events of the story where it's chrollo sitting down and discussing the plan with feitan, but i felt like it would ruin some of the surprising elements of the fic later down the road, so i scrapped it.

basically, the scene would kinda lay out chrollo's psyche. while he's never underestimated HWR reader per se, her giving him the slip forced him to realize handling her by himself isn't exactly ideal... she's too cunning. he'd prefer to keep this "incident" to himself, but after ruminating on it some, felt like feitan would help him with the job/keep his lips shut.

while it is sorta a punishment in a way (especially since chrollo knows he's generally easier to deal with than mr sadistic bastard feitan), chrollo is approaching it from a more practical sense. if he's going to keep HWR reader under his thumb, he needs all the help he can get lmao. these men will be needing to sleep in Shifts.

i left the ending purposefully ambiguous, but i could see that being a possibility tbh ... my thinking was that they were going to keep trying to get a rise out of her (mostly feitan, maybe chrollo trying to present himself as a comforting "ally" figure in a subtle manner).

anyway this is an actual picture of me now that i have an excuse to gush about HWR universe lore

#implied non con #just to be Safe #sweet asks #answered #Anonymous

[newbornwhumperfly]

whump aesthetics • ari

(a as-yet unpublished werewolf whumper-to-whumpee of my beloved @much-ado-about-whumping)

#she’s so awful - i adore her. 🥰 #much-ado-about-whumping #whump aesthetics #whump #whumper to whumpee #werewolf whumper #werewolf whumpee #implied non con #torture #ari

[datcravat]

pe ru so na

#MY ART #I SPENT FOREVER ON THIS #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #makoto yuki #okay so while it is super iconic I didn't want to draw someone with a gun to their head (love it in P3 love the symbolism #just dont want to explain it all to my mum or have non persona fans see it at my booth at comic con) #so I was forced to get creative #I hope this comes across #but I wanted to imply he just shot that bullet hole into the background that makes thanatos' eye #the bullet hole also sort of looks like a big glint of than's eye #those white parts on the white are than's hand curling around the MC #and I tried to make the colour scheme CYMK to symbolise how the MC is the wildcard #he is the blueprint and can make anything. #a lot of thought and effort went into this one. persona 3 baby!! hope you like it

[letitbehurt]

The moment a defiant Whumpee relents for the first time. The first “please” that breaks from their lips. The first time they do what they’re told without a fight. The first night they don’t attempt an escape. The first meal they don’t throw back in Whumper’s face. The first kiss they don’t refuse. The first, the first, the first, until there are no more firsts. Until they are no longer defiant.

#the whole and the broken are good and fine #but it’s the breaking I love #implied non-con #whump

[mhathotfic]

I’m having fucked thoughts about roommate Kirishima noticing that your new medication makes you a very sound, practically impossible to wake, person.

You think it’s sweet that he reminds you to take your meds before bed, you have no idea that behind his kind face is a predator waiting desperately for their prey to be ready for him to sink into

#bnha kirishima #mha kirishima #i guess technically #implied #non con #tw somno

[whumblr]

Whump dialogue #49

"Shh, shh, it's okay. It'll be fine. Hey," Whumper crooned in a soft voice, "Just tell me when it hurts. Okay?"

Whumpee sniffled and nodded. They grit their teeth, tried to bite away the pain but soon they had to cry out: "No, stop. No, it hurts. It hurts!"

"That's good, darling, that's good."

"Stop! Please!"

"I never said I'd stop. I just wanted to know when it really starts to hurt."

#whump #whump prompt #sadistic whumper #implied torture #not my intention with this prompt but gonna add to be sure #implied non-con #I imagine knife :3 #whump dialogue #my writing #my prompts #my dialogue prompts

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark! Gojo Satoru x reader (Soulmate Au blurb)

(warnings: dark content, implied kidnapping, implied noncon, masochism)

I really like the idea of soulmates in the JJK world. They're rare, but the reason why they're so coveted is because they are the only person in the world who is immune to their soulmate's cursed technique. 

Being Gojo's soulmate would be like hitting the jackpot, at first. You're a regular person, with no cursed energy. Maybe you and Satoru's hands bump into each other while you're at a cafe, grabbing your respective drinks. To you, it's just an accident. You apologize, make your way out. 

To him, it's like submerging himself into an ice bath. For the first time in years, someone had gotten past his limitless technique. It was so unexpected, and real, and so warm.

Your hands were warm. 

It's the thrill of it that gets him first. The unexpected. No one's ever come close to him. He is the summit of the mountain. The strongest. And yet, there you were, effortlessly able to bypass his barriers without even trying. With women, with Geto, he'd always have to turn his technique off. He'd have to let them do something to him. You could do anything to him, and his powers wouldn't even stop you. You could kick him, punch him, bite him. Anything you wanted, and for once, he'd be powerless to stop you.

He can't detect you with his six eyes. It makes the hunt even better when he catches up to you. It's days of stalking and harassment and the touching that finally makes you snap and slap him. 

It hurts. 

It hurts and he fucking loves it. 

He already made up his mind days ago, but this only cemented it. When he finally takes you home, to his bed, it's euphoric. You scratch and bite and scream and hurt him over and over again. Hours later, when you've passed out from sheer exhaustion, he has more bruises than you do. They'll fade eventually, but that's okay. 

You could always make more. 

#dark content #yandere jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #mentioned masochistic tendencies #implied kindapping #implied non con #future fic ideas #gojo being bad person once again #me totally ignoring Gojo's actual powers once again

[justbreakonme]

“Whumpee… what happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“You flinch anytime someone comes near you, and I’ve heard you screaming in your sleep… I understand that you don’t what to tell anyone, but, please let us help you.”

“You don’t get it. NOTHING happened. Do you see any bruises? Any scars or burns or anything?”

“Well, no, but something-“

“Stop asking me then. I’m fine.”

Whumpee was never going to tell anyone what whumper did to them. They way they overrode their mind and body, broke them without ever raising a hand against them.

The shame of it was enough to make them sick.

#tw: implied non con #whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompt #kidnapping #whump scenario #stoic whumpee #night terrors

[alectoperdita]

18 for the put that guy in a situation asks??

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

18. Possession/Mind control

content warning: implied non-con at the end

---

Jounouchi was quiet. Eerily so.

The only time that Kaiba had seen the deadbeat this silent, this still was when his breathing stopped after Ra struck him. But Jounouchi remained upright, rigid as stone, his eyes wide open but distant and glazed.

The expression reminded Kaiba of another incident, the one at the docks involving chains, bombs, a hostage with a cyanide pill clenched between her teeth, and supposed mind control.

Kaiba shifted, once again becoming aware of the heavy weight within his white-knuckled grip. The Millennium Rod, that was what Yugi called it. It was the very same trinket Malik had carried through the Battle City finals.

All Kaiba knew was it was an eyesore, just like the gaudy piece his rival perpetually wore around his neck. Kaiba wanted nothing to do with it. He would've been content to continue to ignore its existence if it didn't keep turning up among his belongings like a bad penny.

He was anything but amused to open his office drawer and find it sitting inside. He returned it that same evening, threatening Yugi over the unfunny prank. The second time that it turned up inside his briefcase, he walked out five minutes before his next meeting, went down to the Turtle Game Store, and basically chucked the Rod at Yugi's head. And the third time, after appearing on his bedside table after an uneasy night of tossing and turning, Kaiba was ready to commit murder.

Yugi claimed no responsibility for one second, before switching gears and babbling some nonsense about destiny and past lives. And whatever Kaiba might think of Yugi's delusions, he never took his rival for a liar. So Kaiba held onto it, reluctantly, and shoved it deep into a desk drawer to bury it.

At least it stopped actively haunting him afterward.

But his troubles didn't end there. No. More turned up in his office one early morning, as the sun barely peeked over the horizon to herald a new day. Kaiba had been driven from his bed by vague and amorphous dreams he couldn't put a name to, only to discover an intruder rummaging through his things.

"What are you doing here?" growled Kaiba, slamming the door behind him.

Swearing, Jounouchi jumped, swearing as he spun to face him. Of course, he was a shitty thief on top of being a third-rate duelist. Nor should it surprise Kaiba when he bared his teeth without a hint of shame and snarled, "Helping Yugi get back what's his!"

With that bold declaration, he yanked his hand out of Kaiba's drawer and hefted the Millennium Rod into the air.

"You think I want that miserable trinket?" hissed Kaiba. His head pulsed. From a migraine. From sleep deprivation. From a gradually building rage. "I was this close to stapling it to his forehead so it can't leave him like that stupid Puzzle he wears."

Jounouchi's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. Yugi might believe you, but I know better. You stole it!"

Stole—as if Kaiba ever needed to stoop that low. Kaiba wanted nothing more than to be rid of the nuisance—both the Rod and Jounouchi. But he'd be damned if he overlooked Jounouchi's trespassing.

"That's rich. Considering you're the one caught stealing red-handed. I'm calling the police. We'll see who they believe."

He crossed the room in a few long strides. He reached directly for the phone on his desk.

"Stop!" exclaimed Jounouchi.

Perhaps the fear of law enforcement sent him into a blind panic, because he took a swing at Kaiba with the Rod.

Kaiba caught it with his hand. The sharp blades protruding from the specter's head dug into his palm, threatening to break skin. Did Jounouchi know about the blade hidden within the shaft? Was that what he'd try for next?

Pain bloomed in his head and radiated down the arm holding the rounded end of the Rod.

"Let go!" he roared.

The deadbeat dropped it like it was hot coal. "What the hell?"

Kaiba felt it too. Underneath the pain, an electric sensation zipped through him, scorching his nerve endings. It was neither pain nor pleasure.

"Shit, did you do that?" asked Jounouchi. "Can you use—"

"Shut up," ordered Kaiba.

Miraculously, Jounouchi did. His mouth immediately snapped shut with an audible click. He opened his mouth to try again.

Kaiba denied him. "Not another word out of you."

Jounouchi choked while his throat convulsed, trying to spit words without success. His eyes darted wildly, terror growing in their amber depths as they frantically searched Kaiba's face.

Jounouchi didn't fear him. He despised Kaiba. He insulted him. On nauseating occasions, Jounouchi even pitied him. But he had never been afraid of Kaiba.

Until now.

A heady rush shot to Kaiba's hind-brain. Suddenly, he understood why people took drugs.

"Here, I thought nothing would ever stop your yapping," he laughed. "This just proves what you need is a shock collar."

Rage blanketed Jounouchi's face. Since he could no longer express it verbally, he resorted to other means. Somehow, Kaiba already knew his intentions before he moved a single muscle. And he put an end to it just as swiftly with one command.

"Stop."

Stop moving. Stop fighting. Stop defying Kaiba.

Jounouchi froze. His defiance drained like blood from a slaughtered cow. His expression slackened, eyebrows unfurling and lips going loose. His eyes went as blank as his face.

Captivated, Kaiba had stared at him ever since. At first, he wondered if this was the payoff for an extended prank. To trick him into believing the Rod's power and that he could wield it. But as the minutes ticked on, Jounouchi stayed rooted to his spot without an errant twitch of his muscles, breathing slowly but steadily as if in a trance.

Kaiba was so clear-headed. His headache had receded. What remained behind was a deep-rooted instinct, the knowledge to bend Jounouchi's will to his whim.

Speaking out loud wasn't necessary. But it gave him a rush to issue the command verbally. "Down."

Gracefully, Jounouchi dropped to his knees. A pulse of something other than power rushed through Kaiba's veins.

"Look at me," he said as his breath grew ragged.

Jounouchi obediently tilted his face up. He held it at the perfect angle so that the sun's rays streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted his bleached locks, brown eyes, and his full lips.

He was quiet, and the storm raging inside Kaiba's head for the last weeks dissipated too.

Without releasing the Rod, Kaiba cupped Jounouchi's jaw, feeling the faint scruff of a hasty shave job. Jounouchi didn't fight him or try to throw off his touch. But he didn't lean into it either. He was no different than a doll, and dolls didn't react. Kaiba pressed his thumb to the corner of Jounouchi's mouth, squeezing until it parted. Jounouchi's wet tongue grazed against his finger pad, warm but still.

He wanted him to suck. This time, Kaiba didn't have to speak aloud before he felt the answering wet suction. Jounouchi's lips closed tightly around his thumb, his cheeks hollowing as he obeyed.

Docile was an unexpectedly good look on Jounouchi. If nothing else, it was a rarity that few people saw.

Before he knew it, his hand had settled over his fly. His groin throbbed with every hard suck of Jounouchi's mouth. The rhythm was as regular and mechanical as a toy, no stuttering and no mistakes.

It was perfect.

Kaiba could have this and more—his heart's secret desire that not he even wanted to admit to. The forbidden fruit was within his reach. His sins were innumerable. His ledger ran red. So what was one more?

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#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #replies #mysandwichranaway #my fanfiction #writing prompts #you're warned; this is not a fluffy ficlet #also it's not as dark as I could've gone soo... #mostly went with manga characterization for this one even though it makes no canon sense timeline-wise #i hope you like if you give it a read #feeling mega nervous about the implied non-con but it's also kinda built into the prompt #don't look at me 🙈