𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Yandere! Vigilante

Word Count: 1158 words

The city outside was restless, a chorus of honking horns and distant sirens that seeped through the cracked walls of your apartment. Slouched at your desk, glasses slipping down your nose, you stared at the glowing screen. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, midway through typing, when you heard the door click open. You didn’t bother looking up.

He was home.

The air thickened, his presence magnetic, suffocating as he stepped closer. You could feel him pause in the doorway, his eyes burning into you like a predator locking onto prey. You didn’t react, your gaze fixed on the screen, disinterested, indifferent. He was nothing more than another mundane part of your day.

“Did you miss me?” His voice was low, smooth, almost conversational. But there was an edge to it, something razor-sharp hidden beneath the calm.

“No,” you said simply, your tone flat.

His smile was slow, dangerous. “You always know how to wound a man, don’t you?”

The soft click of gloves being removed reached your ears. You caught a glimpse of his figure as he stepped closer, the dried blood splattered across his gloves and jacket catching the dim light. You noticed but didn’t comment. This was normal—hero by day, savior of innocents, painted red and black by night.

“Work was messy tonight,” he murmured, peeling off his gloves and letting them fall to the floor. “Do you want to know what I did?”

“No,” you replied, your eyes never leaving the screen.

In an instant, he was behind you. The laptop snapped shut under his hand, and you inhaled sharply as his fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something unhinged, something wild. Despite the chaos in his stare, his touch was almost tender, careful.

“You’re so cold,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “I wonder… Do you have anything left in there? Or do I have to rip it out myself?”

Your brow arched slightly, more curious than alarmed. “You’re talking nonsense again.”

A dark chuckle escaped him, humorless and chilling. He crouched in front of you, his face so close you could feel his breath. “Nonsense?” he echoed, his smile widening. “No, no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. You don’t understand what you mean to me.”

His fingers brushed along your neck, trailing over your pulse. You could feel the faint rhythm beneath your skin as his words seeped into your ears, low and venomous. “I want to consume your mind. Tear your heart out, rip your soul in two…” His lips ghosted over your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “And make love to your dead body.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. “That’s… dramatic, even for you.”

He let out a breath of laughter, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Slowly, he pressed a series of soft kisses to your neck, his movements deliberate, teasing, as though savoring every moment.

“You know,” he murmured after a moment, crouching again so his face was level with yours, “I save people for a living. It’s exhausting work. But you…” His fingers trailed along your jaw, maddeningly precise. “You’re the one person I’d rather destroy than protect.”

You raised an eyebrow, more annoyed than alarmed. “That’s new.”

“It’s not,” he said, standing to his full height. “I’ve just never said it out loud before.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the kitchen counter. He tugged off his gloves and tossed them carelessly onto the surface. His jacket followed, revealing the crimson stains smeared across his shirt. The metallic gleam of a blade still strapped to his side caught your attention, and you frowned.

“You didn’t clean up,” you said, your voice tinged with faint disapproval.

“Why bother?” he replied with a shrug, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “It’s not like you care.”

“I don’t,” you confirmed, leaning back in your chair. “But you’ll ruin the couch again.”

His chuckle was soft, dangerous, a sound that sent unease flickering through your chest. Turning back to face you, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering.

“You’re fascinating,” he said, tilting his head as though studying you for the first time. “That hollow little stare, that calm voice. It’s like you’re daring me to break you.”

You sighed. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the calm, rational one.”

“I am,” he said with a smirk, setting the glass down. In a heartbeat, he was in front of you, hands braced on either side of your chair, trapping you. “But when it comes to you, I like making exceptions.”

Your pulse quickened despite yourself, but your expression remained neutral. His face was close now, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“I could do it, you know,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less menacing. “I could tear down every wall you’ve built, piece by careful piece. You’d hate it.” His lips curved into a predatory grin. “But you’d love me for it.”

You exhaled slowly, your voice steady. “You’re unhinged.”

“And you love it,” he said, his hand tightening around your throat just enough to make you gasp. “It’s your choice, sweetheart. We can do things the easy way…” He paused, his gaze dragging over you, hungry and dangerous. “…Or the hard way.”

Your lips parted, but before you could form a reply, his free hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet and pinning you against the wall.

“Either way,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a sinful whisper, “I’ll make you crave the pain and misery, my love.”

“That’s a bold assumption,” you said, your tone flat, though your breath hitched as his fingers curled under your chin.

“It’s not an assumption,” he corrected, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “It’s a promise.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re not denying it.” His grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “But it’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to admit it. I’ve got time.”

The soft laugh that followed sent chills down your spine. As his hand trailed down your side, his grip unrelenting, he leaned in, his lips hovering over yours.

“I have ninety-nine ways to make you scream to the heavens,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And one way to make you fall in love with a monster.”

Your pulse quickened, and for the first time, you felt the cracks in your carefully maintained composure. His smile widened, triumphant.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice softening but no less terrifying. “Let me in, sweetheart. You were never going to escape me. You knew that from the start.”

And when he kissed you, searing and unrelenting, you realized something. It wasn’t fear that made you tremble.

It was him.