Sold to the highest bidder—your nightmare begins now.
♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology
♡ Pairing. Yandere! Owner (?) x Fem. Reader
♡ Oneshot. #1
♡ Word Count. 856
The room was suffocating, dimly lit by the hazy amber glow of chandeliers that hung like skeletal remains from the cavernous ceiling. Smoke and decay mingled with the heady stench of sweat and alcohol, every breath a sickly reminder of the atrocities unfolding. The crowd murmured, an undulating hum of depravity and greed, punctuated by bursts of fevered laughter or the crack of a whip echoing somewhere unseen. The auction stage, elevated and grotesque, bore the heavy weight of despair as the next item of interest was dragged forth.
You.
The chains that bound your wrists rattled with every tremor of your frail body. They had stripped you of everything—your dignity, your voice, your freedom. The thin scraps of fabric clinging to your frame did little to conceal the bruises painting your skin, each one a testament to your captivity. Your gaze, however, remained unbroken. Wide, unyielding eyes burned with a defiance that belied your trembling form. You had mastered the art of fear, knowing when to show it, when to wield it like armor. But he saw through you.
He always did.
“Lot 34,” the auctioneer drawled, his voice slimy and nasal, amplified by a distorted microphone. “A rare find from the northern territories. Delicate, obedient, and unspoiled.” Lies. “Starting at 500,000 marks. Shall we begin?”
The bidding started like a match struck against dry wood, a quick burst of flames. Voices clamored, numbers thrown like daggers into the air, each one higher, sharper. Your heart pounded in your chest, your ears ringing with the cacophony of greed.
“750,000.”
“One million.”
The numbers climbed higher, the air thickening with anticipation. You could feel their eyes crawling over you, dissecting you, reducing you to nothing but a sum of money and flesh. Yet, amidst the chaos, one voice cut through like a blade.
“Five billion.”
Silence fell like a guillotine, the entire room turning to the source of the bid. He sat in the shadows, a towering figure radiating power and menace. The dim light caught the sharp planes of his face, the cruel curve of his lips. His eyes—cold, calculating, and utterly predatory—locked onto yours. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was dissecting you, savoring you, claiming you.
“Five billion?” the auctioneer stammered, his facade of control cracking. “Do I hear five and a half?”
No one dared challenge him. The crowd’s attention shifted, their greedy excitement dampened by the oppressive weight of his presence. He was an anomaly here, a predator among scavengers. The hammer fell with a deafening crack, and it was done.
“Sold.”
The guards hauled you off the stage, your chains clinking with every reluctant step. They brought you to him, depositing you like a prize at his feet. Up close, he was even more terrifying, his sheer size and presence overwhelming. Muscles coiled beneath the tailored fabric of his black suit, his movements deliberate and controlled. You refused to cower, though your knees buckled under the weight of his gaze.
He reached for you, his hand—large, calloused, and commanding—gripping your chin with calculated force. He tilted your face upward, examining you like a specimen under glass. His thumb brushed over a bruise on your cheek, the touch deceptively gentle, yet laden with possessive intent.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your skin crawl. “But you’re not as broken as they think, are you?”
Your eyes flared, the faintest flicker of defiance betraying you. His lips curled into a dark smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Good,” he said, almost to himself. “I prefer it that way.”
He rose to his full height, towering over you like an unmovable shadow. With a nod, his men—silent and efficient—hoisted you into his possession. The chains bit into your skin as they dragged you toward a waiting car, but it wasn’t the metal that suffocated you. It was his gaze, unwavering and relentless, promising that escape was not only impossible but unimaginable.
As the car door shut, sealing you in with him, the suffocating silence returned. He sat across from you, his elbows resting on his knees, his piercing eyes never leaving yours. The space between you felt like a battlefield, his presence filling every inch, leaving no room for resistance. The engine roared to life, and the car surged forward, taking you deeper into his domain.
“You’ll learn,” he said, his voice breaking the silence like thunder. “To fear me. To obey me. To love me.”
His hand reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was deceptively tender, a grotesque parody of affection. You wanted to recoil, but you held still, your defiance burning quietly beneath the surface. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, his voice a whisper of promised torment.
“Because you’re mine now,” he said, his lips grazing your ear. “And I never let go of what’s mine.”
𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭 