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ladyddanger · 2 years

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21 and/or 23 for our duck, plus any of the other/bonus prompts that you think will fit

ofc Aqua enjoy <3

(Authors notes)

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Disclaimer: All Dsmp/rp about characters not real people.

prompts:

21.) I think i'm traumatized

23.) I don't deserve this

Credit: Both the prompts and this au was made by @proudfreakmetarusonniku it's a wonderful person and my favorite c!primer so show them love.

(Tws)

Torture

conditioning

c!Dream neg

Whump

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Ok enjoy!!!1

Quackity almost fell as he backed away, his nails digging into his palms. His eyes darted around the room he had woken up in. It looked like a doll house, a lamp set to the left of a perfectly made bed. A low laugh sent his attention darting back to Dream who slowly stalked forwards, backing him farther and farther into the wall.

Quackity bared his teeth. “ Let me go.” It was difficult to talk. He had not only woken up on the floor but with a fucking collar pressing on his neck. Dream smirked slightly and lifted his hand to show a lever with a simple red button on the top. “Quackity I think you need to calm down. You’re terrified. You’re a dumbass, you got in a bad place, it's fine.” He moved closer as he talked, pushing Quackity closer and closer to the wall. Quackity’s veins filled with white hot panic. “Fuck off. Why don’t you shove it up your-” Dream pressed the button.

Quackity’s last clear thought was “so that's what the collar was for” before his brain was overode with pain. He crumpled to the ground unable to even scream, the skin of his neck feeling like it was being held over open flame. It felt like someone was ripping his bones out by hand. As quickly as the pain came it was gone and Quackity was left on the floor. He heard Dream’s footsteps and struggled to lift his head pushing himself upwards with hands. Dream laughed above him, stepping on his left hand. The bones cracked and Quackity plummeted, his face almost slamming on the ground before Dream reached down and grabbed Quackity under his arms dragging him to his feet. Quackity shoved him away with his good hand. “Stop. Fuck off- Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Dream laughed and removed his hands dramatically as if to show that he could hurt Quackity again at any moment but chose not to. “Do you like your new room?” He asked casually if he hadn’t just been torturing him. Quackity stepped away, hurt hand tucked to his chest to protect it.

“This isn’t my room.” He snapped not making eye contact. Old survival instincts rose up and told him to not speak too loudly or make eye contact even as he shoved it down with anger.

Dream laughed loudly. “Your room is gone now Big Q. The whole server is! It’s just a handful of us now. A big happy family.” He didn’t seem sad at all, smiling brightly as if the destruction of the server was a funny joke. Quackity hissed. “You’re not my family.” In answer Dream pressed the button collar.

Quackity managed to stay on his feet this time leaning on the wall. Dream just kept his hand on the button. A minute passed then a second. Quackity’s knees finally buckled and he fell to the ground, slumping on the wall. He bit his tongue hard, refusing to whimper or sob or make any kind of noise. After a moment his vision went black and spotty and he barely even felt Dream grab him and lift him to his feet once more. He carried Quackity easily, one finger still on the button. Quackity screamed between his teeth as the pain kept going. He was thrown into a chair, his ankles and wrists bound to a chair. Dream leaned forwards and gently patted his cheek brushing involuntary tears off.

“Too much Big Q? You can dish it out but can’t take it?” Quackity hissed between his teeth. “Fuck off.” he gasped. Dream released the button. Quackity slumped backwards into his chair and would have fallen to the ground if Dream hadn’t bound his wrists or ankles.

“Don’t you deserve this?” Dream asked. Quackity coughed spitting blood on the ground from where he had bitten his tongue “I don’t deserve this.” He snapped. Dream laughed. “Quackity come on now.” Quackity shut his eyes trying to teach himself to breathe once more. “I don’t deserve this,” he repeated. Dream’s playful smile faded and pressed the button once more.

Quackity had no idea how long it lasted. It could have been four minutes, thirty minutes or two hours until Dream stepped away. Quackity kept his eyes open, his body still shaking. He would not pass out. Not while Dream was still in the room. Dream laughed at his defiance. “So brave.” He reached over and yanked a feather from Quackity’s wings. Quackity screamed before he could stop himself trying to pull away. Dream twisted the bloody feather between his fingers. “Anything you want me to tell Tommy?” Quackity swore at him. He didn’t see Dream swinging at him until it was too late.

The next few days, weeks, months were a limbo. Dream visited randomly. When he wasn’t there Quackity paced the room trying to stay fit until he was too weak to move. Dream was a fickle host feeding him a feast one day and then starving him the next. Months, weeks, years after Quackity first woken up in the room he woke up on the floor once again this time to Dream shaking his shoulder.

Dream smiled when he saw Quackity was awake. “Hey.” he patted Quackity’s shoulder and this time Quackity was too exhausted to flinch away. It felt good, the first gentle touch he had gotten in ages.

Dream’s hand traced down Quackity’s shoulder blade to his wing and tugged gently on the feathers. Quackity froze. Dream twisted the ax in his left hand . “These wings are so pretty, they would be a great cloak don’t you think?” Quackity panicked. He couldn't lose his wings. He shoved Dream away scrambling back too weak to actually stand. “I’m sorry ok? I’m sorry. I think I’m traumatized. Just.” Dream stepped forwards and Quackity moved backwards until his back hit the wall. “I deserve this ok?” Quackity sucked in air. “I deserve this.” Dream leaned down, raising his hand. Quackity flinched but the other just patted his shoulder again. “That wasn’t so hard right?” Quackity leaned into the touch, eyes shut so tight he didn’t see the ax raise.

#whew i hope you liked this because i love this au #c!quackity #c!dream #c!dream neg #tw!torture #big happy family au #aqua my dear #meta my favorite freak

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intersectionalpraxis · 3 months

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I just posted a thread on the history of colonialism and ongoing oppressive Indonesian occupation of West Papua. If you have time, please read the educational slides. This is absolutely horrendous, and has been going on for decades. The Indonesian government and military must be held accountable. Free West Papua.

#feminist #social justice #settler violence #settler colonialism #current events #current news #free west papua #west papua #history #indonesia #colonial violence #colonialism #global news #world news #torture tw #end the occupation

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genderkoolaid · 23 days

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So happy this man and his husband are safe now but good God he experienced some horrific shit.

#m.#torture tw #examples of transandrophobia

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ao3-crack · 9 months

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(x)

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midnightlockhearth · 3 months

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WARNING: recounts of torture and and humiliation

OG vid by: @/Middleeasteye on tiktok

Link to OG video:https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFMmJngo/

The Caption under the OG video:

"they brutally beat us up, we were denied food and water"

Elderly Palestinian man who was released after being detained by the isnotreal army, gives a horrifying testimony of torture and humiliation.

#current news #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #israel #gaza strip #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #fuck israel #jerusalem #save palestine #tw: torture #palestine news #palestine resistance #palestinian #gaza genocide #this is genocide #end the genocide #isnotreal should not exist

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sayruq · 2 months

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Palestinian children in the Israel military detention system face physical and emotional abuse, with four out of five (86%) of them being beaten, and 69% strip-searched, according to new research by Save the Children. Nearly half (42%) are injured at the point of arrest, including gunshot wounds and broken bones. Some report violence of a sexual nature and some are transferred to court or between detention centres in small cages, the child rights organisation said.

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paintedtaygolden · 27 days

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DAYLIGHT // THE BLACK DOG

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eclipsedsuns · 1 month

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WERE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE 🚶‍♂️WHO WANTED ME DEAD 😵 DID YOU SLEEP 💤 WITH A GUN 🔫 UNDERNEATH OUR BED 🛌 WERE YOU WRITING ✍️ A BOOK 📖 WERE YOU A SLEEPER CELL 🧫 SPY 🕵️‍♂️ IN FIFTY 5️⃣0️⃣ YEARS WILL ALL THIS BE DECLASSIFIED🔎 AND YOU’LL CONFESS WHY 🤷‍♂️ YOU DID IT AND I’LL SAY 🗣️ GOOD RIDDANCE 👋 ‘CAUSE IT WASN’T SEXY 🫦 ONCE IT WASN’T FORBIDDEN 🚫 I WOULD’VE DIED 🥀 FOR YOUR SINS ☦️ INSTEAD I JUST DIED INSIDE 😫 AND YOU 🫵 DESERVE PRISON 🚔 BUT YOU WON’T GET TIME ⏰ YOU’LL SLIDE INTO INBOXES 📥 AND SLIP THROUGH THE BARS 🍻 YOU CRASHED 💥 MY PARTY 🥳 AND YOUR RENTAL CAR 🚗 YOU SAID NORMAL GIRLS 👩 WERE BORING 👎 BUT YOU WERE GONE BY THE MORNING 🌅 YOU KICKED 🦵 OUT THE STAGE LIGHTS 💡 BUT YOU’RE STILL PERFORMING 🎙️ and in plain sight you hid 🫣 but you are what you did 🖕 and i’ll forget you 💭 but i’ll never forgive the smallest 🤏 man 🧍‍♂️ who ever lived 🧬

#bitch pack gets to see this twice #the tortured poets department #taylor swift #tw caps #ttpd #carley’s soliloquy #*greatest hits

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nerdpoe · 3 months

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While Tim was setting up the final touches to rig Ra's base to blow, he finds someone that could be his carbon copy in the dungeons. The guy is unconscious, chained to the wall with multiple chains, and branded.

Tim, obviously, grabs Pru for a last minute extraction and gets the prisoner the hell out of there.

He knows this isn't a clone, because the earlobes are different, as is the brow shape and hair thickness. This is just...someone that apparently looked enough like Tim that Ra's, unconfirmed but APPARENTLY, decided to use to take out his aggression. Probably whenever Tim didn't listen.

They get the doppleganger out, get him treated, and he still isn't waking up. Tim takes him back to Gotham. The dude doesn't wake up. Gets him secured in the Bunker with Alfred. Alfred reports that the under-fed teen isn't waking up.

They get Bruce back.

Bruce goes to take a look at the ex-prisoner once he's recovered. Bruce gets Zatanna.

Zatanna tells them that the brand is acting as a seal, and the only way to get the kid to wake up is to disrupt the seal. But warns them that said seal only works on Beings from the Realm between Realms, and that to unleash one that had been abused would surely lead to the destruction of their own.

Tim calls bullshit.

Or; Danny was tricked and trapped by Ra's, who was siphoning blood out of him to add to the Pits and increase their efficacy. Tim finds Danny, misreads the situation, and rescues him. Now, even though Danny would probably just roll over and go back to sleep, JLD is telling the Bats that if they break the seal then he'll destroy the world. Tim disagrees.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #prisoner tw #torture tw #implied abuse tw #abuse tw #tim: of course you would be so creepy you'd kidnap a random person that looks like me #ra's: NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU TIMOTHY

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reputayswift · 3 months

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CLUE (Taylor's Version): The Case of Este's Husband

11 partygoers. 8 rooms. 1 mystery. Trace the evidence, make it make some sense below↓ (flashing gif) insp. 1 2 3

#tswiftedit #taylor swift #the eras tour #cluedo #clue #my edit #the tortured poets department #ttpd #usergif #flashing tw #flashing gif #long post #photopeablr #tuserella #screenshot game

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aimasup · 1 month

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evil loving relationships are too fun to write oh no

Hope they all get a horrid ending and they do it together (preferably if one or two of them die)

#my post #my art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #velvox #vox x velvette #hazbin hotel vees #velvoxval #techically #vox x velvette x valentino #tw scopophobia #implied torture #staticdoll #poly vees

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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DCxDP: Immunity system

Danny gets confused for Tim Drake when he stop for gas in Gotham on his way to visit Dan. His clone had set up shop- a literary comic book shop- in Metropolis.

Danny was going for the weekend to help him run the red dot sale and also spend time with his Clone turned older brother.

Dan after being released from his prison and getting a Core Cleanse in the FarFrozen ectoplasm iced pools, had mellowed out greatly.

It turns out Dan had gone mad after suffering a dip in contaminated ectoplasm. He called it "Pit Madness" and Clockwork assured him it was a real medical condition

Much like getting bitten by a rabies-infected animal, Dan's condition was not his fault despite turning him violent.

After the Big Reveal with his parents - who took the news surprisingly well- Team Phantom introduced Elle and Dan to them.

The two clones had been quickly made official Fentons and now Danny had an older brother and a young sister.

Elle lived at home with Danny and his parents, but Jazz and Dan moved out after high school graduation. Danny was thinking of moving in with Dan to go to college.

He wasn't sure, but he still had a whole year to decide.

Danny found a gas station within his GPS map and stopped at the closest one. There weren't a lot of people around, so he assumed that was a slow day.

He was not aware the locals avoided the area due to the danger of feuding gangs. He was also unaware that while pumping the gas, a Scarecrow goon was watching him.

That goon knew his boss had been getting a bit bored with his experiments, and he knew it wouldn't be long before his boss turned on his employees to relieve his boredom.

He was just starting to sweat, thinking he would be the new genuine pig until Tim Drake himself rolled out of a beat up car in the bad part of town.

He practically gift-wrapped himself for Scarecrow! The goon grins, creeping up behind the distracted young man.

One of the employees' inside the gas station had clocked Tim Drake too and had been staring at him - how could he not when Tim was a Bi icon?- and sees the moment the goon covers the boy's mouth with a clotch and yank him into a van that speeds away.

For a moment, the employee only gawked after the speeding vehicle, too shook to do anything as it disappears around a corner.

He scrambles for his phone to call 911. He prays that his slow reaction does not cost Drake's life.

(His call's transcript pings on Oracle's program designed to pick up the civilian names of the Bats if ever used in the emergency hotlines)

Sadly it is hours before the Bats have even an idea of where Tim (actually Danny) was taken to.

Danny wakes up in a warehouse, strapped to a table. He only had a brief moment of thinking his worst fear was coming true ,his parents, were going to rip him apart molecular by molecular, despite it being two years since they learn.

Thankfully a man dressed in a ridiculous Halloween costume steps into the light and he knows it's not his parents.

"Lovely expression Mr. Drake. Let's see how lovely that fear truly is," the man says in a raspy voice, holding up a needle. He stabs Danny with it and the boy blanches as the hot liquid enters his blood stream.

A minute goes by.

Two.

Three.

"Ugh was that supposed to do something?" He questioned, moving around his restraints to check his chances of escape without outing himself as Phantom.

The camera pointing at him limits his options.

The man dressed as Scarecrow lets out a gleeful cackle. He doesn't answer Danny, instead turning to the door- from where Danny can lift his head, it looks like he's in a basement of some kind- and shouts, "Bring me experiment six two six!"

A bulky man comes in carrying a tray of tubes. Danny watches as Scarecrow carefully selects a tube and pours it into another needle. "Lets see how you handle this"

The answer is Danny handles it very well. In fact he takes all seven tubes without a single reaction. Honestly it's the needle that's a real bother.

Scarecrow is both impressed and slightly insulted by the end of it. "How did a simpleton chloroform work on you but not my brilliant science!?"

Danny squints at him. "I would call this many things but never science, let alone brilliant, you fruitloop."

He gets knocked out again for his cheek with a new chloroform rag.

He wakes to the same made leaning over him again, but this time, there is also a clown in purple. Danny can only stare as the clown cackles.

"I think you're losing your special touch if Tim Drake is immune to your Fear Gas." The clown says, and Danny wonders if a costume convention exists in town.

Danny is happy to see that besides being knocked out and tied him down they haven't really done anything to him. "Who are you supposed to be?"

The clown face spams before a wide, mad grin breaks across his face. If Danny were to look of the definition of madness in a dictionary he knows this guy would be the example for it.

"I'm just a simple chum who wants to see the world laugh," The clown tells him, holding a squirt flower in Danny's face. "Let's see that smile!"

Danny squeaks as the liquid splashes in his face, some going up his nose. He coughs while the two men stare intensely at him.

After a moment Danny gets himself under control. "Ugh what was that? Is smell nasty"

The clown face freezes, rage bleeding into his eyes as the scarecrow one scoffs "seem you are also losing your touch, chum"

"No no no. Our little friend just needs a higher dosage! I'll have him laughing in no time!"

He doesn't. After a gas tank full of that nasty-smelling stuff is forced onto his face, and five different needles stabbed into his arm the clown is forced to admit Danny is immune.

They still call him "Mr. Drake" even though Danny tells them between needles that's not his name.

After hours of attempting to get a reaction out of him- both by clown and scarecrow- , Danny is knocked out again by the little rag.

When he comes two three people stand over him. The two from before, though clown now looks murderous and scarecrow politely interested, and a women in green with leaves splat across her outfit.

So Danny got kidnapped by a Scarecrow, a clown, and a nymph? Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

The gas mask is forced back onto his face and another Danny struggles he can do nothing as he is forced to breath in a new gas.

The woman watches his reaction with a keen eye before nodding "He should be pretty far gone now"

Scarecrow shakes his head. "There isn't a single reaction. He isn't affected by your pheromones."

The woman scoffs, leaning over Danny and fluttering her eyelashes "You're going to kill dear old dad for me"

Danny glares at her. "Like hell, I will."

His voice is muffled by the mask but they hear him and the woman actually looks shocked "He might need a higher dosage "

"By all means, give it a try. Neither Joker or I saw a difference in Mr.Drake even after adjusting his intake."

"How is that possible?"

"Maybe because you all suck!"

The clown slams his hands on the table. "I am one of the best chemists in the world, brat!"

"And the ugliest!"

Danny doesn't see the knife until it's pressed repeatedly into his left leg. He screams around his mask as the Clown spits and swears at him.

The other two only watch, neither seemingly bothered by the man stabbing a teenager.

Then the knife is plunged into his stomach, and he screams as the world almost whites out in agony.

Danny, blinks the white hot pain, and is just barely thinking of going ghost when the door bursts open and a group of people wearing more costumes pour in.

A man dressed as a Bat flings the clown away with an outraged cry. Danny can't see where the clown lands, but he hears fighting all around him.

A boy in a hood and mask appears in his line of sight. There is a worried frown on his face as he quickly picks at the locks keeping Danny down "Do not worry, Drake, we are here."

Danny finally gives in to the pain, running to blissful darkness as a man in a red helmet lifts him off the bed and makes a run for the door.

The kid provided cover for them.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Immunity system au #Danny is confused as Tim #Then stumped all the villians with his immunity #he was there for three days #the bats think hes tim #where is the real tim? no one knows #TW: slight torture

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intersectionalpraxis · 6 months

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⚠️tw: for torture, abuse, and brutality in the following posts⚠️:

#feminist #feminism #social justice #freepalastine🇵🇸#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #suicide tw #torture tw #settler colonialism #settler violence #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #palestinian prisoners

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one-time-i-dreamt · 6 months

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I died and went to Hell (hell was a bland but somewhat cozy townhouse) and they tried to torture me but none of their torture methods worked on me so I decided I had nothing to lose and tried to seduce the Devil (did not work - he is asexual).

#dream #text #November 7th 2023 #hell #death tw #violence tw #torture tw #asexual #devil #seduction #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

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ramblingmindofrayyan · 22 days

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Sometimes it’s really lonely being me.

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment.

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right.

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens.

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease.

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor.

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled.

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast.

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure.

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick.

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat.

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair.

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her.

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve.

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly.

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact.

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes.

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.”

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch.

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious.

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat.

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance.

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!”

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance.

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw.

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else.

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care.

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it.

(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date.

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause.

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist.

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue.

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.”

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think.

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back.

so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

#im a lil unsure how to feel abt this piece i feel like it lost its flow pretty quickly 😔👉👈but i rlly did have fun writing it hehe #my baseline for yan!gojo is basically; a kind man who’s so in love w u that he’s willing to compromise his own morals to keep u safe #he’s not particularly possessive or even obsessive?? to him violence really is just . a necessary means to keep u happy #this is almost definitely the only yan piece ill ever write bUT im very fond of this gojo … he’s a tortured little meowmeow <33 #cw yandere #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #tw yandere

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