𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Yandere! Vigilante

Word Count: 1,057 words

Jealousy: A Catalyst for Madness

For him, jealousy isn’t just an emotion—it’s a violent, all-consuming force that drowns every rational thought. He doesn’t see rivals; he sees threats. And threats must be eradicated.

• The idea of someone else touching you, even brushing against you in passing, ignites something primal in him. His grip tightens, his breathing slows, and his gaze sharpens to a deadly focus.
• He doesn’t trust you, not because you’re untrustworthy, but because he knows how irresistible you are. To him, you’re an object of perfection, a treasure others are foolish enough to covet.

“You don’t even realize, do you?” he growls one night, his voice gruff and venomous as he corners you. “The way they look at you. Like you’re theirs to take. I should kill them just for the thought alone.”

Possession Through Pain

Jealousy turns his love into something dark, something sharp and brutal.

• When he’s jealous, his touches are rougher, almost bruising. He presses himself against you, trapping you in his arms, forcing you to feel every inch of his strength. “Do they make you feel this way?” he snarls against your ear, his breath hot and uneven.
• He marks you in ways that are both physical and psychological. A hand wrapped tightly around your throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder, leaving bruises in places only he can see. He needs you to remember who you belong to, especially when you’re apart.

His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as his hands trail down your body: “When they see these marks, they’ll know. They’ll know you’re mine.”

Unleashing Sadistic Desire

His jealousy doesn’t just lead to violence against others—it seeps into the bedroom, where his need to claim you turns feral.

• He doesn’t just want you to feel his touch; he wants you to feel his absence when he’s gone. His lips, his hands, his teeth—they all become instruments of torment, leaving trails of pleasure and pain that linger for days.
• When his jealousy reaches its peak, he becomes ruthless. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. “Do they make you sound like this?” he demands, his voice a husky growl. “No. Only I can do this to you.”

The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the soft sounds he drags from you, and the quiet, almost heart-gripping words he murmurs against your skin: “No one will ever love you the way I do. No one will ever destroy you the way I can.”

Eliminating Rivals: The Horror of Possession

Anyone who dares get too close to you is a dead man walking.

• He doesn’t just kill them; he makes an example of them. Blood is his love letter, written in crimson strokes that stain his hands and clothes.
• When he returns to you after eliminating a rival, he’s still charged with adrenaline, his movements wild and desperate. He pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours with bruising intensity. “Say it,” he demands, his voice rough. “Say you’re mine.”

If you hesitate, even for a second, his grip tightens. “I’ll kill them all,” he promises, his eyes dark with madness. “Every single one. Until there’s no one left but you and me.”

Dialogue: Words Like Chains

• “Do you think they could love you like I do? Hurt you like I can? No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you.”
• “I should break every finger that ever brushed against your skin. But I won’t. Because you’re the only one I want to ruin.”
• “You smile at them. You smile. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like ripping their throats out just to see the terror in their eyes.”
• “You think you have a choice, don’t you? You think you can walk away. But you’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re mine until the day you die. And I’ll make sure it’s me who decides when that day comes.”

• His jealousy is a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving behind ashes and scars. It doesn’t just consume him—it consumes you.
• When he touches you after a fit of jealousy, it’s as if his hands are dipped in blood, the heat of his rage seeping into your skin. His grip is both a warning and a promise: no one else will ever have you.
• The air grows heavy when he’s near, thick with the scent of copper and the weight of unspoken threats. His eyes bore into you, dark and dangerous, as if daring you to deny him.

“I’d rather see you dead,” he says one night, his voice quiet but unwavering, “than let someone else have you.”

• His love is a noose, tightening around your neck with every passing day. It’s suffocating, inescapable, yet you find yourself clinging to it, unable to let go.

Moments and Memories With Him

The Confrontation:

He finds you talking to someone else—a harmless conversation, a passing exchange. But when you return home, his mood is anything but calm.

He shoves you against the wall, his hands rough as they grip your waist. “What were you thinking?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you want me to kill them? Is that what you want?”

His lips crash against yours, desperate and punishing. His jealousy is a storm, and you’re caught in its eye.

The Aftermath:

He comes back late, his clothes splattered with blood. You know better than to ask where he’s been. Instead, you try to retreat, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you into him.

“They’re gone,” he whispers, his voice low but chilling. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore.” His hands slide down your body, possessive and unrelenting. “You’re safe now. You’re mine.”

The Breaking Point:

He sees you smiling at someone else, and it’s the last straw. That night, he ties you to the bed, his hands trembling with barely restrained rage.

“You need to understand something,” he says, his voice low and deadly. “You belong to me. Your body, your soul—everything. And if I have to break you to make you see that, so be it.”

Closing Thoughts

His jealousy is an armed weapon, a double-edged blade that slices through both of you. It’s dark, terrifying, and inescapable—a testament to the twisted love he feels for you. “You’ll never leave me,” he murmurs, his voice soft as his hands tighten around your throat. “Because you can’t. And deep down, you don’t want to.”