Work Text:
Pairing: Unhinged Yandere!Choso × F!Reader [Modern AU]
Genre: Dark Fiction, Psychological Horror, Yandere, Thriller, Obsessive/Possessive Obsession, Stalker Horror, Captivity Horror
Word Count: 12.6k
⚠️Content Warning:
This story contains extremely dark and potentially disturbing themes, including:
Non-consensual sexual content, Graphic sexual violence, Dubious consent, Kidnapping and captivity, Stalking and obsessive surveillance, Psychological manipulation, Forced restraint, Fear-based coercion, Physical abuse, Emotional abuse, Weapon and chemical threats, Blood and gore, Menstrual blood and bodily fluid references, Fetishistic behavior, Invasion of privacy, Theft of personal belongings, Collection of intimate personal items, Graphic sexual acts, Disturbing power dynamics, Emotional distress, Isolation, Trauma responses, Psychological horror, Unhealthy obsession, Yandere themes, Murder references, Disturbing imagery.
Please DO NOT read if you are sensitive to these subjects.
🚫 IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences capable of separating fantasy from reality. The behaviors, relationships, and dynamics portrayed in this story are abusive, criminal, and deeply unhealthy, and are not meant to be viewed as romantic or acceptable in real life. This work is written solely for psychological horror, suspense, and dark fictional storytelling purposes.
This piece was written as a commission. The core idea and dynamics were requested by the client, and I expanded on it with my own interpretation. Thank you for commissioning me<3
~•~
You had always preferred the aquarium before opening hours. The absence of visitors transformed the entire place into something almost dreamlike.
Water flowed through pipes above and beneath the exhibits, creating a steady background noise that had long since become comforting. Schools of fish drifted lazily through carefully maintained habitats while artificial reefs cast shifting shadows across the glass.
Usually people would probably find it repetitive after a while, spending every day surrounded by the same exhibits and routines, but you never had. If anything, the familiarity was exactly what kept you here.
Most of your work consisted of checking water parameters, monitoring temperatures, cleaning viewing panels, inspecting filtration equipment, and ensuring each habitat remained stable.
The animals themselves required constant attention as well. Feeding schedules had to be followed precisely, certain species needed closer observation than others, and every new arrival required proper acclimation before being introduced into a display tank. To be honest, most days weren't difficult at all.
You were finishing a final inspection of one of the freshwater displays when a familiar coworker approached from behind, clipboard tucked beneath their arm. They glanced briefly toward the back storage area before turning their attention to you.
"Did you finish preparing that setup?"
You straightened from where you'd been crouching beside the tank and nodded. "The custom order? Yeah. Everything's ready."
Your coworker seemed satisfied with the answer, "Good. I wasn't sure if the decorations arrived yesterday." But before they could continue, another thought crossed your mind.
"Did he come by yet?"
The look they gave you was immediate. "The fish guy?"
A small laugh escaped you. "Yeah, him."
"I haven't seen him today. Choso, right? But if he's coming, it'll probably be soon. Didn't he ask you to hold those butterfly koi?"
You nodded. For nearly two weeks now, he'd been stopping by every few days to ask about them. Not because he intended to buy them immediately, but because he wanted to make sure they were healthy, eating properly, and adjusting well.
Most customers pointed at whatever looked pretty and pulled out their wallets. He asked questions. A lot of them.
"Then I'll get everything prepared just in case."
"Honestly, at this point we should just give him employee benefits!"
You rolled your eyes as your coworker walked away, though the comment wasn't entirely inaccurate. He visited often enough that nearly everyone recognized him by now. Not in an annoying-customer sort of way, either.
He was polite, respectful, and genuinely interested in the animals. Compared to some of the people you dealt with on a daily basis, he was probably one of your favorite regulars.
The sound of the entrance doors opening drew your attention toward the front of the building. Without thinking, your gaze lifted from the clipboard in your hands. Right on time.
The man who stepped inside looked much the same as he always did. Dark clothing hung comfortably from his tall frame, loose enough to appear casual without looking careless. Long black hair had been pulled back, though a few strands had escaped near his face, softening otherwise sharp features.
A pair of silver piercings caught the overhead lighting briefly whenever he moved, creating small flashes of reflected light before disappearing again. There was nothing particularly loud or attention-seeking about his appearance, yet somehow he always stood out among the usual visitors.
Several employees greeted him as he passed. "Morning."
"Good to see you again."
"Back already?"
He acknowledged each greeting with a small nod before continuing further inside.
You found yourself smiling slightly as you approached. "Good morning."
His gaze shifted toward you immediately. There was something oddly reassuring about that.
No matter how busy the aquarium was, no matter how many people happened to be around, he always seemed to notice you first.
"Morning."
"What are you looking for today?" you asked to make sure.
"The butterfly koi."
You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you. "They've become your favorites, huh?"
"They're beautiful."
That was another thing you'd noticed about him over the months. Whenever he talked about fish, there was a genuine fondness in his voice that was difficult to miss.
He'd told you before that collecting different species had become a hobby of his years ago, something he'd gradually expanded until several aquariums occupied entire sections of his home. Most people collected stamps, books, or figures. He collected living ecosystems.
It was strangely charming.
"Well, you're in luck," you said. "They're doing great."
Before either of you could continue, a voice called from behind the counter. "Hey! If he wants to look around, take him to the new arrivals section. We got a shipment in this morning."
You glanced back and nodded. "Sure." Turning toward him once more, you opened your mouth. "Sir-"
You never even finished the sentence.
He was already standing beside you, prepared to follow before you'd actually asked.
For a moment, you simply stared. Then you shook your head with a quiet laugh and started walking, hearing his footsteps fall into place behind you almost immediately.
You spent the next half hour showing him around the new arrivals section.
He walked beside you quietly while you pointed things out, occasionally stopping in front of a display tank as fish drifted between rocks and vegetation.
"These ones are still being monitored," you explained, gesturing toward a smaller tank. "They handled transport pretty well, but we always observe them for a while before introducing them into larger displays."
He hummed softly in acknowledgment. Every now and then he would ask a question about a particular species or comment on a decoration that caught his eye, but otherwise he seemed content simply hearing you talk.
It was strangely easy.
You'd dealt with plenty of customers who interrupted constantly or acted as though they knew more than the employees responsible for caring for the animals.
"My newest aquarium is still unfinished," he said suddenly. "I've been redecorating it."
The way he said it made it sound less like a hobby and more like a long-term project.
"What are you keeping in it?"
"A few koi. Some freshwater species." He studied one of the tanks briefly before continuing. "It's not exactly how I want it yet."
You smiled. "Perfectionist?"
"Maybe."
A laugh escaped you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he looked at you. "Once it's finished, I'd like you to come see it."
The request caught you slightly off guard. You knew he wasn't asking with any strange intentions. At least, you didn't think so. He was one of the aquarium's most trusted customers, after all.
Still. Visiting a customer's home wasn't exactly standard procedure.
"Oh..." You hesitated. "I mean... maybe some other day?"
His gaze lingered on you for a moment. Just quiet. Then he nodded. "Whenever you're free."
Something about that answer immediately eased whatever tension had briefly formed in your shoulders. Just acceptance.
Honestly, that was one of the reasons you found him easy to be around. People could be surprisingly persistent when they wanted something from you. But he never seemed to be.
"Sounds good," you replied with a small smile.
-
Eventually the two of you returned to the counter where the butterfly koi had already been prepared.
The fish floated calmly inside a clear transport bag filled with water and oxygen, secured tightly at the top before being placed inside a protective carrier bag.
You carefully lifted it onto the counter. "Here they are."
Choso reached for the bag at the same time you adjusted your grip. His fingers brushed yours briefly.
The contact lasted no longer than a second before he took the carrier from your hands. "Thank you."
With one final glance toward the koi, he gave a small nod and headed toward the exit.
You watched him leave before returning to work.
-
The next time he visited was two days later. Then again a day after that. And then the day after that.
Eventually his presence became as familiar as the filtration systems humming throughout the building.
Most of the time he wandered between exhibits studying different species with genuine interest. Sometimes he would stop beside a tank and ask a question about compatibility, feeding habits, or habitat requirements.
You often caught him watching while you fed the displays or recorded maintenance notes throughout the day. Not in a way that felt intrusive. Just Curious.
When you explained something, he listened. When he asked questions, they were thoughtful. And whenever he talked about expanding his own collection, there was an unmistakable enthusiasm behind it.
You found yourself looking forward to those conversations. It was nice meeting someone who cared about these things as much as you did.
-
It was supposed to be an ordinary day.
The aquarium was busier than usual, enough that you'd barely had a moment to sit down since your shift started. Between helping visitors, checking exhibits, answering questions, and handling a small issue with one of the filtration systems, the hours had slipped by almost without notice.
By the time you finally managed to sneak away for a few minutes, you felt more relieved than anything.
The staff restroom was tucked away near one of the back hallways, far from the main exhibits where guests normally wandered. It was quiet there, removed from the constant chatter and excited voices that echoed through the aquarium.
You pushed open the restroom door and stepped into the hallway. Only to stop- someone was standing directly outside.
"Choso-?"
He stood a few feet away, his tall frame nearly filling the narrow corridor. He seemed just as startled as you were. The moment the door opened and his eyes landed on you, he immediately took a small step backward, almost as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.
You blinked. "What are you doing back here?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.
"......" His mouth opened slightly. Then closed again. For a moment, neither of you said anything. And your confusion only deepened.
The hallway wasn't exactly somewhere customers had reason to be. Most visitors never even saw this section of the building.
Maybe he'd gotten lost. That seemed like the most reasonable explanation.
"Oh, this area's for staff only." You lifted a hand and pointed toward the opposite end of the corridor. "The public restrooms are over there. If you keep going left and follow the signs, you'll find them."
His gaze followed the direction you indicated before returning to you. For some reason, he still didn't move.
"Umm," You shifted your weight slightly. "Do you want me to show you where it is?"
For a second, Choso looked almost hesitant. Then he shook his head.
"No." His voice was quiet. "It's fine. I can..." The sentence trailed off before he seemed to know how to finish it.
"Oh okay." You gave a small nod, waiting for him to move first.
Expecting him to head toward the public area you'd pointed out. But he just stood there looking back at you as if waiting for something else.
Maybe four seconds? It was kind of getting awkward...
Eventually, deciding there wasn't much more to say, you offered him a polite smile and started walking down the hallway.
One step. Two, three. By the fifth, curiosity got the better of you. You slightly glanced over your shoulder to check but... the corridor was empty.
Gone...?
The hallway wasn't particularly large. There weren't many places to disappear to, and yet somehow Choso was no longer standing where he'd been only seconds earlier.
Maybe he'd turned the corner...? Maybe he'd finally gone toward the public restrooms.
That had to be it. Still, the speed of it felt oddly strange. And, before you could think about it any longer, another voice called from farther down the hall.
"[Name]!!!"
You turned immediately. One of your coworkers was standing near the storage room entrance, struggling with a stack of boxes balanced against their hips.
"Can you help me with these? Please."
The thought vanished from your mind almost instantly. "Yeah, of course." Changing direction, you headed toward them without another glance behind you.
-
After helping with the boxes, you had barely managed to return to your own tasks before another issue demanded attention. A shipment needed logging, supplies had to be reorganized, and someone had misplaced maintenance records that took far longer to locate than they should have.
By the time things finally began settling down, the strange encounter in the hallway had almost slipped from your mind. Almost.
You were carrying a stack of paperwork back toward the front counter when one of the staff members looked up from their computer.
"Hey."
They glanced around the aquarium before looking directly at you. "Did Choso already leave?"
The question caught you off guard.
"What?"
"Yeah." They shrugged. "I haven't seen him in a while."
Another employee nearby laughed. "When have you ever needed to ask that? Just find [Name] and you'll find him somewhere within five minutes."
"That's exactly why I'm asking her!" A few others chuckled quietly.
You rolled your eyes, though there wasn't much argument you could make against that logic.
Over the past few weeks, it had become somewhat of an unspoken joke among the staff.
If Choso was in the building, chances were he was either talking to you, following you around while you explained something, or standing nearby watching you work.
The thought should have been amusing. Instead, your mind immediately drifted back to the hallway. To the way he'd been standing there. To how strangely nervous he'd looked.
And then-Gone. Just... gone.
No goodbye, no quick wave, no small nod before leaving. Nothing... which was odd. Because usually, whenever he was about to leave, he'd let you know.
It wasn't anything formal. Sometimes it was just a brief "See you next time."
Sometimes a quiet nod in your direction while carrying whatever he'd purchased. Once, he'd simply paused beside the counter long enough to say, "Take care."
Small things. But enough that you'd noticed their absence.
But today, why had he left so suddenly? Had something happened? An emergency?
Maybe you were overthinking it. Still... the more you thought about it, the stranger it felt.
"[Name]?"
You blinked.
The employee was still looking at you expectantly.
"Oh..." You shifted the paperwork slightly against your chest. "I don't know."
"You don't?"
You shook your head. "I was busy on the other side of the building."
"Huh. He probably left already then."
For everyone else, it was a completely ordinary interaction. For you, however, the thought lingered quietly in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.
-
The next morning passed peacefully.
You were halfway through checking one of the freshwater exhibits when the familiar sound of the entrance doors opening reached your ears.
You looked up automatically. And there he was.
For some reason, relief settled over you immediately. Maybe because the previous day had felt oddly unfinished. Maybe because now you could finally stop wondering.
Choso stepped inside, offering polite nods to several employees who greeted him before his gaze found yours. As always...
A small smile tugged at your lips. You set your clipboard aside and approached him. "Morning."
"Morning."
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, the question slipped out.
"Can I ask you something?" You folded your arms loosely. "What happened yesterday?"
"You left really suddenly."
A brief pause.
"You were back near the staff hallway, then next thing I knew you were gone." You laughed lightly.
"I thought maybe something happened."
Another pause. Then Choso gave a small nod. "Something like that."
You blinked. "An emergency?"
"Mm." His answer was quiet, calm. Nothing about him seemed particularly troubled. No signs that whatever had happened was still bothering him.
Almost immediately, your concern eased.
"Oh. Okay, good." You rubbed the back of your neck.
"As you know, you're one of our regular customers. If something happened, I'd want to know."
That wasn't entirely a lie. Maintaining good relationships with regular customers was important. Especially customers like him.
It made sense to be concerned. At least, that's what you told yourself.
The corners of his mouth softened slightly. "I'm fine." The simple answer settled the matter.
Whatever had happened yesterday clearly wasn't serious enough to dwell on. And with that reassurance, the strange feeling that had followed you home finally disappeared.
The two of you resumed walking through the aquarium together, stopping occasionally in front of various exhibits while discussing fish species and habitat setups.
Eventually, the conversation drifted toward his collection again.
"So." You glanced over at him. "Is your aquarium finished yet?"
After all, you'd been hearing about this mysterious project for weeks.
His gaze remained fixed on the exhibit in front of him, following the slow movement of a koi as it glided beneath a cluster of water plants.
"Not yet."
You glanced at him. "Still not finished?"
A quiet sigh escaped him, almost lost beneath the hum of filtration systems running throughout the aquarium.
"I'm stuck."
The admission came without argument. If anything, he sounded vaguely frustrated with himself.
You folded your arms loosely and leaned against the railing separating visitors from the display tank. "What's the problem now?"
For a moment, Choso didn't answer. His eyes lingered on the fish swimming lazily through the water before he finally spoke.
"The decorations. They don't look right..."
A smile tugged at your lips. "According to who?"
His attention shifted toward you. "Me." A faint crease appeared between his brows. "The layout feels unfinished."
"You've said that every single time we've talked about it!"
"Because it does."
The stubbornness in his voice made your smile widen.
Honestly, if anyone else had been this obsessed with arranging a fish tank, you probably would've found it ridiculous. But somehow it felt different coming from him.
Maybe because he genuinely cared about it. Maybe because you'd spent the last few months listening to him talk about aquatic ecosystems with the same seriousness most people reserved for major life decisions.
"You know," you said after a moment, tilting your head thoughtfully, "at some point you're going to have to stop staring at it."
He looked at you. "What if I can't tell what's wrong anymore?" The question sounded surprisingly genuine-like someone who had spent so much time examining every tiny detail that he'd lost all perspective.
Honestly, you understood the feeling. You'd experienced it often enough while designing exhibits for the aquarium. Sometimes you spent so long looking at something that eventually every possible arrangement started to seem wrong.
Before you could stop yourself, the suggestion slipped out. "Okay fine... I could come take a look if you want."
The moment the words left your mouth, you hesitated. Visiting a customer's house wasn't exactly standard procedure. You'd never done it before.
But at the same time... this wasn't exactly a normal customer anymore, was it?
By now Choso was practically part of the aquarium.
The staff knew him by name. Half of them greeted him whenever he walked through the doors. You spent more time talking to him than some of your actual coworkers.
Besides, after hearing about this mysterious aquarium project for weeks, you were curious. Very curious.
Your upcoming days off crossed your mind...
After a brief internal debate, you nodded. "Actually, yeah. I have a couple of days off coming up. I could stop by one afternoon."
For a second, Choso simply stared. The reaction was subtle enough that most people probably wouldn't have noticed.
His eyes widened slightly before he seemed to catch himself. "You would?" The question sounded almost cautious.
You laughed. "Sure."
"....." His attention remained fixed on you.
"We both like the same things, don't we?" A small smile tugged at your lips. "If you're really stuck, I don't mind helping. Besides, I spend all day building habitats and arranging displays anyway."
The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds, but something about it felt strangely significant.
Then, quietly, he said, "Really?"
You blinked. "Yeah. Why are you so surprised?"
For a brief moment, something unreadable crossed his expression before disappearing entirely. "I'd appreciate that."
"Then it's settled!"
The words had barely left your mouth before he responded.
"I'll pick you up."
You paused. The offer itself wasn't strange. In fact, it was probably the most practical solution. Still, your immediate answer was a shake of your head.
"No, that's okay."
His expression didn't change, but you could feel his attention sharpen.
You gestured vaguely toward the front entrance. "There's a convenience store near the station, right? The one on the corner?"
He nodded. Almost everyone in the area knew it.
"I'll just wait there."
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Choso's gaze settled on your face. "You don't want me to come to your house."
The observation was so blunt and unexpected that you nearly choked.
"What?" The second the word left your mouth, realization seemed to hit him. You watched it happen in real time.
The slight tightening of his shoulders, the brief flicker of regret in his eyes.
"Sorry."
The apology came immediately. Too soon. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"......"
Honestly, that wasn't where your mind had gone at all. You were simply being careful. You didn't hand out your address to people easily. Especially not to customers.
Yet somehow he'd immediately assumed he'd crossed a boundary.
"It's... not like that." You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. "No, seriously. It's nothing like that."
A small, awkward laugh escaped you. "I just don't give people my address."
He still looked vaguely guilty. As if he was replaying the conversation and trying to pinpoint exactly where he'd gone wrong. The sight was oddly endearing.
"Choso..."
His eyes lifted.
The corners of your mouth curved upward. "I'm literally agreeing to spend my day off helping you rearrange fish decorations."
You shook your head with a quiet laugh. "You're fine."
The atmosphere finally eased. Deciding it was probably best to leave things there, you glanced toward the maintenance area.
"I should get back to work."
You stepped away before looking back over your shoulder. "You can keep looking around." Then, smiling, you added, "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
His gaze followed you.
"Okay..."
As you walked away, weaving between exhibits and visitors, you found yourself smiling for reasons you couldn't entirely explain.
Choso really was easy to be around. Almost painfully considerate at times. Sometimes a little too considerate. Quick to apologize and blame himself.
It was strange.
But the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself noticing those small things.
And, perhaps without realizing it, beginning to like them.
-
As promised, you arrived at the convenience store near the station two afternoons later. The weather was pleasant enough to make the short wait enjoyable. A light breeze occasionally brushed past as you checked your phone, glancing up every now and then toward the road.
You hadn't been standing there for long when a familiar vehicle pulled into the parking lot.
Choso stepped out almost immediately after parking. His eyes found you before anything else, and some of the tension in his expression seemed to ease once he realized you were already there.
"You've been waiting long?"
You shook your head. "Only a few minutes."
"I see... that's good."
The simple answer made you smile.
The drive to his house was easy. Conversation came and went naturally, never feeling forced. Sometimes you talked about work, sometimes about fish species, and sometimes there was nothing but comfortable silence between you. It was surprisingly relaxing.
As the city gradually gave way to quieter neighborhoods, you found yourself looking out the window more often. Eventually Choso turned into a driveway, and your eyes widened slightly as the house came into view.
It was much nicer than you had imagined. Not extravagant or overly luxurious, but large, well-maintained, and peaceful in a way that immediately felt welcoming.
"You live here?" you asked before you could stop yourself.
A faint amusement flickered across his face. "Yeah."
You stared at the house for another moment. That earned the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth before he led you inside.
The moment you stepped through the front door, you immediately understood why some of your coworkers referred to him as the fish guy.
Aquariums...
There were aquariums everywhere.
Not enough to make the house look cluttered, but enough that they were impossible to ignore. Several tanks occupied different rooms, each one carefully maintained and decorated.
Some housed freshwater species while others contained fish you rarely saw outside specialty exhibits. Every tank looked healthy and spotless.
"You weren't exaggerating," you said, slowly turning to take everything in.
"I usually don't."
A quiet laugh escaped you. "Fair enough."
The amount of effort required to maintain so many tanks was impressive enough on its own. The fact that all of them looked this good was even more surprising.
Eventually Choso led you toward the aquarium you had heard so much about over the past several months. The unfinished project that somehow found its way into half your conversations.
The tank was beautiful. Large pieces of driftwood stretched through the water while carefully arranged stones and plants created a natural-looking environment.
Everything felt balanced without looking artificial. Several koi moved gracefully through the water, their colors flashing beneath the lights.
Almost immediately, something caught your attention.
There were noticeably more butterfly koi than anything else in the aquarium. Their flowing fins drifted behind them as they swam, creating elegant movements throughout the tank.
"You practically bought half our stock."
"There's still left..."
The answer was delivered so seriously that you were slightly taken aback.
For a while the two of you discussed the aquarium exactly as you had imagined. You pointed out areas that looked particularly good, offered a few suggestions, and listened as Choso explained some of the changes he'd made since the last time he'd talked about it.
While examining one section near the back of the tank, however, something unusual caught your eye.
You leaned slightly closer to the glass.
There was a thin white shape tucked among the decorations. At first you thought it might be part of the equipment, but the more you looked, the less certain you became.
It looked almost like a string or...
"What's that?" you asked. "The white thing?"
His expression remained unchanged. "Decoration."
You blinked. "Decoration?"
"Mm."
You looked back at the tank. The answer wasn't exactly convincing, but it wasn't alarming either. It was just... strange.
You'd spent years around aquariums and had never really seen anyone decorate a tank with something that looked quite like that.
Still, there was probably some hobbyist explanation behind it.
"Oh. Okay."
The curiosity lingered for another minute or two before eventually fading into the background as your conversation continued.
The afternoon passed more quickly than you expected.
At one point Choso disappeared briefly into another room before returning.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Oh, you don't have to...."
"It's fine."
You hesitated. Accepting things in someone else's home always felt slightly awkward to you, and Choso seemed to notice the uncertainty almost immediately.
"Water is okay too." The suggestion was so straightforward that you laughed.
"Okay."
A few minutes later he returned with a glass, which you accepted with a quiet thank you before continuing to wander between tanks.
The rest of the visit remained peaceful. You spent time discussing different species, admired several of his other aquariums, and helped him make a few small adjustments to the main display tank. Nothing major-just moving a piece of driftwood slightly and suggesting a few changes that might help the overall balance of the layout.
By the time sunlight began turning golden outside the windows, you were genuinely surprised by how much time had passed.
Stepping back from the aquarium one final time, you nodded approvingly.
"Honestly, it looks really good."
A faint smile appeared on his face at the praise. It lingered for a moment before your attention drifted elsewhere, toward the closed door on the left side of the room.
You had noticed it earlier, but with everything else around you, hadn't thought much of it until now.
Tilting your head, you pointed toward it. "Wait... do you have an aquarium in there too?"
His gaze immediately followed yours. For a second, he simply stared at the door. Then he looked down at you.
"...Yes."
Your eyes brightened with curiosity. "Really? Can I see?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly that it caught you completely off guard.
You blinked.
He always took a moment before speaking, before reacting, before deciding what he wanted to say. Yet this time the response had come instantly, almost before you'd even finished asking.
The realization seemed to hit him a second later.
"It's..." He hesitated, fingers tightening slightly at his side. "...too messy in there." His voice lowered. "You wouldn't like it."
A brief pause.
"...Yet."
The last word came out strangely, as if he hadn't meant to say it aloud.
You watched him for a moment. The slight tension in his shoulders. The way he refused to look directly at you. The faint uneasiness in his expression.
Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe the room genuinely was a mess or maybe you simply shouldn't have asked so suddenly.
Either way, you decided not to push. You smiled instead.
"Okay, no problem."
The visible tension in his posture eased ever so slightly.
"Just let me know when you're finished with it, though." You pointed toward the door again with a small grin. "I'd love to see it."
For a second, he just stared at you. Then you noticed it. A faint shade of red slowly creeping up the tips of his ears.
His eyes dropped to the floor almost immediately. He gave a small nod.
"...Thanks."
The word was barely above a murmur.
You were already turning back toward the aquarium when he spoke again.
"You're too nice to me, [Name]."
The sound of your own name on his lips made you freeze. Somehow it felt different this time. More personal...
You glanced back at him, momentarily caught off guard.
"Ah..." A nervous laugh escaped you as you rubbed the back of your neck.
"It's nothing like that." You offered him an easy smile. "But... thanks, anyway."
The redness in his ears only deepened. He lowered his head again and gave a quiet nod, unable to meet your eyes.
And for some reason, the sight left an odd feeling lingering in your chest long after the conversation ended.
-
When it was finally time to leave, he insisted on driving you back despite your brief attempt to argue otherwise. Eventually you gave up and accepted the ride.
The return trip felt just as comfortable as the drive there.
By the time the convenience store came back into view, the sky had begun turning soft shades of gold and orange.
You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned toward him.
"Thanks for inviting me." You paused before opening the door. "I had a really nice time today."
For a moment, something softened in his expression. "I'm glad..."
You stepped out of the vehicle and closed the door behind you. "See you at work!"
"I..." He hesitated, fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. "I probably won't be coming by for a while."
"Hmm? What's wrong?"
"....." His eyes remained fixed ahead, avoiding yours. "This month is... busy."
A brief pause.
"Work. Other things." The explanation sounded vague, even to him. "If I get time, I'll visit."
You blinked, momentarily surprised. You studied him for a second, but he didn't elaborate further. Whatever was keeping him occupied, he clearly didn't want to talk about it.
"Well, alright then." A small smile returned to your face. "Just don't overwork yourself."
His gaze flickered toward you.
"And take care of yourself, okay? The aquarium isn't going anywhere."See you whenever you come back then."
For a second, he simply looked at you. Then gave a small nod. "...Yeah. See you..."
You watched the car disappear down the road before beginning the walk home.
-
The next day at work, your pretty, little, period started...
It wasn't exactly a surprise. You had been expecting it for the past few days, tracking the familiar signs that always appeared beforehand, but it was still annoying.
The dull ache settling low in your abdomen made it difficult to focus on anything for long, and the slight irritation that came with it only worsened your mood.
Thankfully, you'd thought ahead this time. A few tampons/pads had already been tucked away inside your bag because you knew your cycle was close, which meant you didn't have to deal with the inconvenience of asking around or making an emergency trip to the store during your shift.
Around mid-morning, you slipped away to the employee restroom. The aquarium was relatively quiet at that hour, leaving you with a few minutes to yourself before returning to work.
You changed as usual, wrapped the used tampon/pad carefully in toilet paper, and dropped it into the small trash bin beside the stall before washing your hands. By the time you walked back out, the entire thing had already left your mind.
Almost an hour and a half later or more, however, you found yourself returning to the restroom again.
The moment you stepped into the stall, your attention immediately landed on the trash bin.
You paused-and frowned.
The bin was empty... completely empty.
For several seconds, you simply stared at it, trying to understand what exactly you were looking at. There should have been something there.
You remembered throwing away the used thing earlier because the memory was still fresh in your mind. It had only been a little over two hours ago.
Slowly, confusion settled over your features.
What...?
You looked around the restroom as though the answer might magically appear somewhere else. The sinks were untouched. The floor was clean. Everything looked exactly the same as it had before. Except for the bin.
Your brows furrowed.
Had the cleaner come through? But when?
The cleaner usually came early in the morning before opening hours and then again near closing time, sometime after six in the evening. You had never once seen the restroom serviced in the middle of the day unless there was some kind of emergency.
So who emptied it?
The question lingered long after you left the restroom.
It shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did. Realistically, there were plenty of explanations. Maybe someone had changed the cleaning schedule. Maybe another staff member had been assigned to it.
Maybe there was some perfectly normal reason that simply hadn't been communicated to you. Yet despite all those possibilities, the sight of the empty bin continued to nag at the back of your mind throughout the rest of the afternoon.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the only strange thing occupying your thoughts.
Over the past few weeks, little things had been disappearing.
At first, you hadn't paid much attention to it because everyone misplaced things occasionally. A missing pen wasn't unusual.
Neither was a lost hair tie or a notebook that had somehow ended up in the wrong place. Life got busy. People forgot things. It happened.
Except it kept happening. And the more you thought about it, the harder it became to dismiss.
Items you used almost daily. Even small things that seemed impossible to lose simply stopped existing one day, as though they had been quietly erased from your life.
Normally, lost things turned up eventually. They fell behind furniture, slipped beneath piles of laundry, or appeared in places you'd already checked three times before. But yours never came back.
Lately, it had become so frequent that you found yourself constantly searching for things.
Where did I put that? Didn't I just have it yesterday? Wasn't it right here?
The questions repeated themselves so often that they had become part of your daily routine.
You had even started asking your coworkers about it. Casually, of course. You didn't want to sound strange...
But every answer was the same...
"No."
Nobody had seen anything, nobody knew where your belongings were going.
As the days passed, the disappearances began piling on top of each other until they formed something impossible to ignore. It wasn't just frustrating anymore. It was unsettling.
By the end of your shift, you found yourself zoning out more often than usual. Questions from visitors sometimes had to be repeated before you realized they were speaking to you. Conversations drifted past without fully registering. Even your coworkers noticed.
"You okay?"
The question came more than once.
You always answered the same way. "Yeah. Just tired."
It was easier than explaining.
Because how exactly were you supposed to explain these shits? The concerns sounded ridiculous the moment you tried putting them into words.
So you kept them to yourself.
But even as you continued working, smiling at visitors and carrying on with your responsibilities, your thoughts kept circling back to the same things.
-
A whole month had passed like that-the same thing every morning and evening.
At first, you thought you'd notice the difference immediately.
You thought the absence would feel obvious somehow-that you'd keep looking toward the entrance every morning expecting to see familiar dark clothing stepping through the doors, or catch yourself scanning the exhibits whenever someone tall passed by.
But... he had simply disappeared. Exactly as he'd said he would.
For the first week, you barely thought about it.
By the second, you occasionally found yourself wondering whether his project was finally finished.
By the third, you caught yourself glancing toward the entrance more often than you cared to admit.
Then slowly, you stopped expecting him entirely. Whatever work had pulled him away must have been keeping him busy.
Besides, you had enough things occupying your thoughts already. The disappearing belongings hadn't stopped. If anything, they'd become more irritating.
Eventually, you stopped bringing it up altogether.
It was easier to accept the frustration than continue sounding like someone convinced their belongings were developing legs and walking away on their own.
The month rolled onward...
Then one afternoon, just as you were sorting through a stack of documents, a voice broke through your concentration-
Your colleague, leaning over the cubicle divider with a curious tilt of her head. "[Name], have you received the letter yet?"
The question hung in the air, and you blinked, your hand pausing mid-motion. Letter? You frowned, trying to recall any notice or memo that had crossed your desk, but nothing came to mind.
"What letter?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and mild curiosity.
Your colleague let out a light laugh, shaking her head as if she had expected your answer.
"Oh, guess you haven't heard it yet. Actually, the manager was asking you to move," she said, her tone dropping into something more conspiratorial, as if she were sharing a secret that everyone else already knew.
Your brow furrowed deeper, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. Move? Why? You could feel the heat of concern rising in your chest as you set down the documents, your mind racing through possibilities.
"Did I do something?" you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended, laced with a defensiveness you couldn't quite suppress.
But she waved a hand dismissively, her expression softening into reassurance. "Oh, nothing like that. You're just getting transferred for your good work," she explained, and you noticed the subtle note of envy in her voice.
"Maybe you should talk to the manager yourself."
You nodded slowly, absorbing the information, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, you made your way to the manager's office, your footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor.
He welcomed you with a genial smile, as if he had been expecting you, and confirmed everything your colleague had said-yes, you were being transferred, a promotion of sorts, a recognition of your efforts.
You would receive the official email or letter soon, he said, his tone final and administrative, leaving little room for further questions.
You thanked him, your mind already churning with a mix of frustration and resignation, feeling the wheels of change turning without your consent.
-
When you finally returned home that evening, there was an envelope waiting inside your mailbox.
You stared at it for a moment before pulling it free. Your name was printed neatly across the front.
The organization's logo occupied the upper corner.
You carried it inside.
The subject line was formal, the body of the letter filled with praise for your dedication and skill, thanking you for your contributions and expressing their delight in having you move to the new position.
By the time you reached the end, however, all you could manage was a long sigh. Your head dropped backward against the couch.
The transfer was good news. Yet somehow it still felt so exhausting.
After setting the letter aside, your attention shifted toward the envelope resting on the table.
Your name, address, personal information printed clearly across the front.
You reached for it automatically, intending to throw it away. Then paused. A memory surfaced unexpectedly.
Your mother standing beside a trash bin years ago. Her voice carrying the same warning she'd repeated countless times throughout your childhood.
"Don't throw things away like that."
You remembered rolling your eyes. "It's just paper!"
"And it's also your information." She'd always insisted on tearing documents apart before discarding them. Letters, bills, packages. Anything containing personal details.
At the time, you'd thought she was being overly dramatic. Paranoid, even. Nobody was digging through trash looking for random pieces of paper.
At least, that's what you'd always believed.
But lately...
With belongings disappearing. Items going missing without explanation. Questions that never seemed to have answers.
You looked down at the envelope. Then slowly folded it in half and tore it. Reducing it to several uneven pieces before finally dropping them into the trash can.
Only then did you stand and make your way toward your bedroom. The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you collapsed onto it with a tired groan.
The room was quiet. Outside, distant traffic drifted faintly through the window.
You stared up at the ceiling with so many thoughts.
Day after tomorrow... that was when the new position started. A completely different workplace.
You wondered what it would be like. Whether you'd fit in, whether the people there would be friendly, whether you'd miss the aquarium more than you expected.
-
The apartment has the particular silence of a place that has already half-emptied itself, and you are the only thing left breathing in it.
It's 1:04 in the morning, and you are still awake. You don't think you're going to stop being awake any time soon.
And that's-when the knock comes.
Three soft, even raps against the door. Not loud. Almost polite... you slowly move from the bed before the knocks come again.
Nobody should come here at this time-
You don't let yourself finish that thought and quickly put your eye to the peephole.
For one full second, your brain simply refuses to process what it's looking at - dark hair, tall, still posture, hands clasped in front of him like he's waiting to be let into somewhere holy.
Choso.
Standing in your hallway. Inside the apartment whose address you never, not once, gave him.
A short, stupid, unthinking flood of it, warm in your chest before your mind even catches up to ask the question it should have asked first: Why is he here? And how?
"Choso?" Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, muffled through the door.
He doesn't answer right away. You watch him through the warped little lens, and something about his stillness.
"It's me," he says finally. The same voice you remember. Low. Even. Almost gentle. "Can you open the door...?"
"......"
You will ask yourself later why you didn't just speak through the door. Why some old, trusting part of you hadn't yet caught up with everything else that was already screaming.
But a month of silence from someone you'd quietly, helplessly worried about does strange, traitorous things to your judgment.
You unlocked the door, your hands trembling slightly, and pulled it open, the chain still on. "Choso?" you said, your voice a mix of relief and confusion, the words tumbling out before you could think. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in-"
"I need your help," he said, cutting you off. His voice was calm.
He didn't smile, didn't offer any explanation for his disappearance. His eyes were fixed on you, dark and unwavering. "You have to come with me. It's important."
You blinked, processing the abruptness. "What? Now? It's the middle of the night, Choso!"
"I'm-I'm packing. I have a transfer. Can we talk tomorrow?" You gestured vaguely behind you at the boxes, the chaos of your apartment, hoping he would understand.
But he didn't. His brow furrowed, a line of confusion cutting across his forehead, as if the concept of tomorrow was foreign to him.
"No... It has to be now. You said you would help me... You told me, remember?"
"When I needed it, you would be there."
The words hit you like a cold splash. You did remember. You had offered a platitude, the kind of kindness you gave to strangers. "If you ever need anything, I'll help you," you had said, not thinking much of it, assuming it would never come to this.
"Choso, I meant like-normal situations," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though a thread of unease was winding through your chest.
"Not showing up at my door at one in the morning and asking me to leave without telling me why. That's not-that's not what I meant."
His expression didn't change. If anything, he seemed to grow stiller, a statue in the dim light. "You said help. You didn't say when or how. I need you now."
He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to rest on the doorframe, and you noticed his fingers were trembling slightly, though his face betrayed no emotion. "Something is happening. I can't explain it here. But you have to come."
You noticed details you hadn't before-the way his pupils seemed too large, swallowing the iris, the faint smell of something sharp and chemical clinging to his clothes, like antiseptic or a cleaning agent.
And then a thought struck you, cold and distant: how did he find your address? You had never told him where you lived. You had never mentioned the street name, the building, nothing.
"I can't," you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart was hammering. "I'm not going anywhere with you at this hour. I don't even know where you've been for the past month. And now you show up like this?" You started to close the door, the chain grinding against the lock.
But his hand shot out, pressing against the wood, stopping it. Not violently, not with aggression, but with a quiet insistence that sent a jolt through your arm.
"You don't understand," he said, and his voice dropped, softer now, almost a whisper. "I've been... Just... Please come with me for once."
The words didn't make sense. You stared at him, your breath shallow, and in that pause, you saw something shift in his demeanor-a flicker of something not quite sane, hidden behind the calm facade.
He tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he had solved but was waiting for you to catch up.
"I found..." he mumbled, barely audible. "Don't do this... I know you're moving. I know you think you're going somewhere else. But you're not..."
"What-what are you even talking about?"
"I went through everything," Choso says, not quite anger, but the fraying impatience of a man whose generosity is being met, in his own mind. "You said you're no longer uncomfortable around me. You said you trust me. You called me nice. You-"
"Choso, please!" Your voice cracks slightly, every polite, disbelieving thread that's held you here finally snapping at once. "Let go of the door. Please. I need you to leave. Right now!"
"I... can't do that." He says it gently. Almost apologetically. As though your request simply doesn't exist.
"I told you. This is important. More important than you understand right now. You'll understand once we're there. I promise you, you will..."
"There is no ''there', I'm not going anywhere with-"
"You don't have a choice."
Choso says, stripped at last of every last trace of politeness, "I wish you didn't have to be afraid right now. I never wanted that part of this."
He reached into his pocket, and your muscles tensed, ready to slam the door shut, but he pulled out only a small vial-clear liquid inside, catching the light.
He uncorked it with a soft pop, and before you could react, he flicked his wrist, sending a fine mist toward your face. The sharp chemical smell hit you full force, burning your nostrils, and a wave of dizziness crashed over you.
The hallway began to warp, the edges of your vision blurring, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else.
Your knees buckled, and you felt the door frame slide against your palm as you tried to hold yourself upright. Choso's face swam in front of you, his expression still that same calm, terrible certainty.
-
"......"
You tried to blink, but there was nothing to blink against-no light, no shapes, no hint of where you were or what had happened.
The last thing you remembered was the sharp chemical sting in your nostrils, the way your legs had given out, the feeling of Choso's hands catching you before you hit the floor.
And now this: a void so complete it pressed against your eyes like a physical weight. Your heart lurched, a wild, panicked animal trapped in your ribcage, and you tried to move, tried to lift your arms, but they wouldn't budge.
Something tight bit into your wrists, rough fabric or rope, and your ankles were bound too, the pressure anchoring you to what felt like a hard chair beneath you. You were sitting. You were tied. You couldn't see.
Panic erupted in your chest, hot and suffocating. You gasped, but the air tasted stale, heavy with the smell of stagnant water and something metallic, like old coins.
Your fingers curled into fists, straining against the restraints, and you jerked your legs, but the bindings held firm, digging into your skin.
A whimper escaped your throat, and then you tried to scream, but your voice came out cracked and thin, barely a whisper. "Hello? Hello?! Choso! Choso, where are you? What did you do to me?!"
Silence answered, thick and waiting. Your breathing grew ragged, each inhale a struggle against the blackness that surrounded you.
You didn't know if your eyes were open or closed-there was no difference, no reference point, just the endless void that made you feel like you had been buried alive.
Your skin crawled with the sensation of being watched, of something close, too close, but invisible.
The panic clawed up your throat, and you screamed again, louder this time, a raw, desperate sound. "Stop-please-let me go! I don't know what you want, but this isn't funny! Choso!"
A faint rustle to your left. Then a whisper of breath against your neck, warm and deliberate, sending a violent shudder down your spine.
You flinched, jerking away, but the ropes held you in place. The voice came soft, almost tender, right beside your ear.
"It's just a blindfold."
Choso's voice.
You turned your head sharply away, but he followed, his lips hovering just above your skin.
"I want to surprise you," he murmured, and there was a smile in his voice, thin and satisfied. "You've been so stressed lately. I thought you deserved something special."
"Let me go!" you snarled, your voice cracking with fury and fear. "What the hell are you doing?! Stop this right now!"
He sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale that carried an edge of disappointment. "You really seem to forget things nowadays, don't you?"
His hand brushed against your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that made your stomach turn. "Remember? You said you wanted to see my hidden exhibition. All those times at the aquarium, you asked about my projects. I told you it wasn't finished yet.
"I'm done now," he continued, his voice dropping lower, conspiratorial. "And I want to show you... I... I've been waiting for this. For you to see it."
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Uncertainty crept into your chest. You didn't want to see anything he had made.
His fingers found the knot at the back of your head, and you felt the fabric loosen. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulled the blindfold away, and the world rushed back in fragments-first a blur of dim light, then shapes, then colors, your eyes struggling to adjust.
And then you saw.
The room was huge. The walls were lined with fish tanks-dozens of them, stacked in rows.
The tanks were filled with water, murky and still, and inside them, suspended in the liquid like grotesque ornaments, were fish.
But they weren't moving at all.
Their bodies floated at odd angles, eyes glazed and clouded, fins limp, bellies pale. Some were pressed against the glass as if trying to escape, frozen in the final moment of their death.
You stared, your breath catching in your throat. Row after row of dead fish, arranged in silent, rotting rows. The smell hit you then-a thick, sweet, putrid odor that had been hiding beneath the metallic tang, now unmistakable.
"...W-what..."
A low, creepy giggle bubbled out of Choso's throat, soft at first, then growing, a sound that didn't belong to the calm man you had known.
He was standing beside you, his face inches from yours, his eyes wide and gleaming with a hollow satisfaction. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered.
"I've been collecting them for months. From the aquarium. From anywhere I could find them. They're all part of the exhibition now."
You couldn't speak. Your tongue felt glued to the roof of your mouth, your mind reeling, trying to reject what you were seeing. He watched your reaction with intensity, his head tilted, his smile thin and knowing.
Then he lifted his hands, and you saw what he was holding: a small pillow, roughly stitched together, its surface covered in a dark, matted material.
That was a damn hair.
Human hair, woven and compacted into a dense, soft mass. He cradled it like a treasure, bringing it up to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
"Look at this," he said, his voice dreamy. "Can you tell which one of your hair I made it from?"
You stared at the pillow, your mind struggling to grasp everything.
Your hair? He had taken your hair? When? How?
...From your brushes, your combs, the strands that fell behind normally. Even the restroom sink... he had collected them, saved them, woven them into this grotesque object.
He waited, his eyes fixed on you, his smile fading slightly as the silence stretched.
"You're right," he said finally, a note of approval in his voice. "It's mixed. I used hair from your head, from your clothes, from everywhere I could find. But..."
He brought the pillow to his face again, burying his nose in it, inhaling with a deep, shuddering breath. "I love the smell of your down hair more."
He had taken that too...
From your underwear, from your laundry, from the intimate remnants of your body that you had never imagined anyone would touch.
The violation was so deep, that a sob broke from your chest.
He didn't seem to notice. He was still nuzzling the pillow, his eyes half-closed, lost in a sensory world you couldn't comprehend.
Then, as if remembering something, he paused, his head snapping up, his gaze sharpening.
"Oh. Right." He turned away quickly, his footsteps echoing on the concrete floor as he crossed to a bag lying near one of the tanks.
He rummaged inside, and when he turned back, he was holding something in his hands-a piece of paper, crumpled and fragile, covered in strips of white tape.
He held it up in front of your face, close enough that you could see the faint text, the creases where it had been torn.
Your envelope. The one you had torn apart and thrown into the trash.
But here it was, every piece fitted back together, the tape holding it like stitches on a wound. He had found it. He had taken it. He had put it back together, piece by piece, just to find you.
Choso tilted his head, bringing his face close to yours, his breath warm against your cheek, his eyes searching yours with an eager, childlike earnestness that was more terrifying than any rage.
"Tell me..." he whispered, his voice soft, almost pleading. "Did I do good?"
"........" You couldn't hold it in anymore. The horror that had been building in your chest exploded.
Your body thrashed against the ropes, your shoulders wrenching, your wrists burning as you tried to break free, but the bindings held you fast, biting deeper into your skin with every violent jerk.
"Let me go! Let me go, you sick fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?! You're insane! You're fucking insane!"
Your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks, your vision blurred by the sting of them.
"I trusted you! I thought you were normal! Why are you even doing this!?-You fucking stalked me-get away from me, get away!"
Choso stood perfectly still, watching you with that same calm, patient expression, but his brows slowly knitted together, a crease forming between them.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that didn't make sense. His lips parted slightly, and he let out a soft, confused exhale.
"Why are you acting so difficult?"
The question came out flat, genuinely bewildered. There was no anger in his voice, no irritation-just confusion.
He stepped closer, and you tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere to go.
He leaned in, his nose brushing against your hair, and then he began to sniff you. Starting at the top of your head, moving down the side of your face, pausing at your neck where he breathed in deep, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.
He continued downward, his face trailing over your collarbone, across your chest, your stomach, your hips, until he was crouched low, his nose hovering just above your thighs.
You held your breath, every muscle in your body locked tight, your panting uneven and shallow.
He paused there, his face inches from your cunt, and then he lifted his gaze, looking up at you through his lashes, a faint, almost shy smile curling at the corner of his lips.
"Ah... again?"
Before you could process what that meant, his hands shot out and grabbed your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with a firm, possessive grip.
You screamed, twisting wildly, but your bound legs were useless against his strength. He spread them apart, forcing your knees wide, and despite your frantic wriggling, he hooked your ankles over his shoulders, your tied feet resting against his back.
His head was now positioned directly between your thighs, his face level with the damp fabric of your panties.
"No-NO, STOP! Don't do it, hey! Don't you fucking dare!" Your voice was high and ragged, but he paid no attention.
He pressed his face against your crotch, his nose grinding hard against your clit through the thin cotton, and you felt the heat of his breath, the moisture of his lips as he placed slow, deliberate kisses over the outline of your lips.
The fabric grew wetter, darkening from your own arousal and his saliva. Your hands clawed at empty air, reaching for him, trying to push his head away, but the ropes held you back, your fingers twitching uselessly in the space where his hair should have been.
"Mm," he hummed against you, the vibration sending a sick shudder through your core. "You smell so good here. Even better than I remembered."
You sobbed, a mix of fury and helplessness. "Get off me! I swear I'll-"
But his hand moved, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties and sliding them aside, exposing your bare cunt to the dim yellow light.
The air hit your wet folds, cold and wrong, and you caught sight of the white-pinkish string of your tampon resting just inside your hole-or, if you wore pads instead, the crumpled pad stained with a faint rust color, shifted out of place.
He stared at it with the same eerie reverence he had shown the pillow of hair, his smile softening into something almost tender, almost sheepish.
"This one is going to my collection as well," he murmured, his fingertip toying with the edge of the string, pulling it gently, letting it slip back, watching it disappear into your body.
Your entire being screamed in protest. But his fingers closed around the string, and within a single second, he yanked it out in one swift, clean motion.
The tampon slid free, soaked deep red-or, if you used pads instead, the pad peeled away, heavy with blood. A thin trickle immediately began to run down, tracing your inner thigh before pooling in the crease of your groin.
The pain was sharp, a sudden cramp in your lower abdomen, and you gasped, your body arching against the ropes.
Choso held the bloody tampon/pad up between his thumb and forefinger, examining it like a curious artifact. Then he dropped it on the floor beside the pillow, his attention returning to your blood-slicked cunt. He licked his lips.
"Heard of a trick?" he said, his voice casual, almost conversational. He brought his other hand up, spat onto his own fingers, coating them with a thick, glistening saliva.
"If you stick your fingers in and pull out the whole thing... you'd be at ease."
His mouth descended on your clit at the same moment his two thick, rough fingers forced their way into your cunt, plunging deep without warning.
The stretch was brutal-your walls clenched, trying to reject the invasion, but he was relentless, his digits driving deeper, curling, searching, scraping against the tender inner flesh.
The pain exploded from your abdomen and your vagina simultaneously, a white-hot spike that stole your breath and left you wheezing, tears pouring down your face.
"Stop-stop! Please-you're hurting me-!"
"Hm?" He leaned in closer, his nose almost brushing your clit as his tongue flicked out, licking a long, slow stripe directly over the swollen nub, tasting the mix of your blood and your natural slick.
His fingers continued to pump inside you, each thrust sending a fresh wave of agony through your pelvis, and you felt him searching for something, his fingertips pressing against the walls, digging, trying to hook onto something.
Your body was rigid, every muscle locked in a desperate attempt to endure, but your sobs were uncontrollable now, your throat raw. "What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing to me?!"
"....Shh..." His fingers finally found what they were looking for-you looked down through your tears and saw his hand, the one that had been inside you, pull out, coated in thick red blood that dripped onto the floor.
Without wiping it, he rested that hand on the concrete, palm flat, leaving a crimson print, and then his other hand-the one that had held the pillow-moved to replace it, two fingers sliding into your sopping, bloody entrance without a moment's pause, starting the brutal rhythm all over again.
He hummed against your clit, his mouth smeared with the mix of your juices and your blood, and between licks he murmured, soft and dreamy, "You feel so good when you're like this."
He slowly pulled back. The sudden absence of his mouth against your clit left a cold ache, you thought it was over-that maybe he had satisfied whatever sick curiosity had driven him.
But then he tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach clench.
"Hm?" His face was serious now, no trace of that sheepish smile, no dreamy hum. Just a flat, observing stillness.
You could only pant, your chest heaving violently, your body slick with sweat. The mess was everywhere-between your thighs, smeared across your inner legs, pooling on the concrete floor beneath.
You were too scared to look down. But you felt it.
The pain in your abdomen that had been a sharp, twisting knot just moments ago-it was gone. Vanished. Like it had never existed.
Your body felt empty in a way that should have been relief, but instead, it only amplified the horror, because you knew-you knew-It was his doing. His fingers.
Your silence stretched, and Choso's lips curled into a slow, creeping chuckle.
"So," he said, his voice low and smug, "I'm better at researching than you, hm..."
"......"
Before you could form a response, he lifted his hand-the one coated in your blood, fingers still glistening wet-and brought it to his lips.
He held your gaze, unwavering, as his tongue slid out, slow and deliberate, and he licked a long, flat stripe up the length of his palm, from the base of his wrist to the tips of his fingers, tasting your blood like it was fine wine.
His eyes fluttered half-closed, a soft moan escaping his throat as he savored it, his lips parting to reveal a tongue stained red.
"Uhck-" A gag rose in your throat, bitter and acidic, and you turned your head away, but there was nowhere to hide.
The sight was seared into your mind-his mouth glistening with your essence, his satisfaction written in every line of his face. You were disgusting to yourself, and he was reveling in it.
He lowered his hand, but he didn't wipe it clean. Instead, he leaned over you, his body casting a shadow that swallowed you whole.
His eyes drifted down to your wrists, where the ropes had bitten deep, leaving angry red welts and raw, chafed skin.
He looked back at your face, and the smile returned-soft, almost fond, but with a glint in his eye that promised more.
"Well," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek, "I, yet have to go through you..."
He smashed his mouth against yours, hard and bruising, his lips wet and slick with the residue of your blood.
The taste hit your tongue instantly-copper, salt, the unmistakable metallic tang of your own body flooding your senses.
His mouth moved against yours, not gently, not exploring, but taking as his tongue pushed past your lips and swept inside, spreading the taste of yourself deeper, coating your palate, forcing you to swallow the mixture of his saliva and your blood.
You tried to pull away, but your head was trapped, his hand came up to grip your jaw, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place.
When he finally broke away, a thin string of red-tinted saliva stretched between your lips before snapping. Your breath came in ragged, broken gasps, your lips numb, your tongue heavy with the taste you couldn't spit out.
Your eyes dropped, dragging across his body with a sick kind of involuntary curiosity, and that's when you saw it-the dark, glistening stain spreading across the front of his pants.
Despite the zipper being closed, despite the denim being buttoned tight, the fabric was soaked through, a dark patch of wetness blooming from his crotch down his thigh, as if he had been leaking this entire time.
The material clung to him, transparent in places, revealing the outline of his cock straining beneath, the tip pressing against the seam like it was trying to break free.
Like a dog in heat.
He had been dripping, drooling inside his pants while he kissed you, while he licked your blood off his fingers, while he smiled at your terror.
Choso followed your gaze, then looked back up at you with that same soft, dreamy smile. He didn't seem embarrassed. He seemed proud.
"Ah..." he breathed, his voice husky, almost reverent. "You noticed."
He reached down, not to hide it, but to cup himself, his palm pressing against the soaked fabric, squeezing gently as a low moan escaped his lips.
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the pressure, and when they opened again, the innocence was gone. What stared back was raw, hungry, unhinged-a yandere's glaze that promised nothing but consumption.
"I've been really holding back," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "waiting for the right moment. But I can't anymore hngh... You're too... good."
He fumbled with the button of his jeans, his fingers slick with a mixture of your fluids and his own, and the metal clinked as it came undone.
His cock sprang free, jutting out from the opening of his underwear, fully erect, veined and leaking.
You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your jaw again, forcing you to look.
"Watch," he commanded, his tone soft but steel-edged. "You need to see what you do to me. What you've always done to me."
He was salivating, a thin line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth as he stared at your bound, trembling form, and when he leaned in, his tongue darted out to catch the drool...
"Don't worry," he murmured, positioning the head of his cock against your soaked, battered entrance. "I'll make you feel everything."
He pushed.
There was no teasing, no slow entry-just a single, brutal thrust that buried himself inside you to the hilt.
Your back arched, a scream tearing from your throat, but the sound was swallowed by the wet, obscene squelch as his cock drove through your blood and your slick, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.
He filled you completely, his hips flush against yours, and for a moment, he just stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours.
"Augh," he groaned, his voice shaking. "You're so tight. So warm. And all this blood-it's like a glove made just for me."
He pulled back, nearly all the way out, and then slammed in again, harder this time. He set a rhythm-fast, punishing, relentless-his balls slapping against your skin with every drive.
One time. Two. Three. You stopped counting after ten, after twenty, after the world dissolved into a haze of pain and the slick, filthy noise of his hips meeting yours.
He fucked you through the ropes, through your tears, through the blood that dripped from between your thighs to pool beneath.
His drool fell onto your chest, onto your neck, mixing with your sweat, and he licked it off you between thrusts, his tongue scraping against your skin like he was trying to consume you.
"More..." he gasped, his pace never slowing. "I need more.... so much more... ngh-"
He came inside you the first time-hot, thick spurts that painted your insides white and red-but he didn't stop.
He kept thrusting, his softening cock sliding in and out of his own cum and your blood, and within seconds, he was hard again, grinding against your oversensitive flesh.
A second time, a third, he lost count himself, he fucked you until your mind went blank, until all you could do was stare at the ceiling with glassy, unfocused eyes, your mouth hanging open, drool mixing with his on your chin.
When he finally pulled out, cock still half-hard, dripping with a milky red sludge, he collapsed on top of you, panting, nuzzling into your neck. His voice was soft now, almost affectionate.
"Hah..." he whispered, kissing the bite marks on your shoulder. "You'd be the most expensive thing in my exhibition..."
"And then it'd finally be finished..."
-
The aquarium's main hall was quiet in the late afternoon.
A staff member-one of your former coworkers, a young man named Derek with a bored expression-leaned against the counter near the exit, scrolling through his phone.
The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and he looked up, his face shifting into a practiced, pleasant smile.
Choso walked in, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty space. He was dressed in his usual plain clothes-dark hoodie, jeans, a backpack slung over one shoulder-but there was something different about him today.
A faint, almost imperceptible sheen of sweat on his forehead.
"Hey, welcome back," Derek said, straightening. "Haven't seen you in a while, man. Thought you might've found a new place to hang out."
Choso didn't respond immediately. He walked past the counter, heading toward the back where the larger tanks were kept, the ones used for special orders. Derek followed, curiosity piqued.
Choso stopped in front of a massive tank sitting on a wheeled dolly. It was nearly the size of a refrigerator, made of thick glass, its top sealed with a dark, opaque lid.
The tank was already filled-packed, actually-with what looked like water, but the lid prevented any view of the contents.
"This one," Choso said, his voice calm, almost casual. He placed a hand on the tank's surface, his fingers spreading wide as if claiming it.
Derek blinked. "That's a big tank. What kind of fish you planning to put in there? Something from the deep sea?"
Choso's head turned slowly, his eyes meeting Derek's. There was a flicker of something behind them-amusement, perhaps?
"It's one of my favorite kinds," Choso said, his lips curving into a small, secretive smile.
Derek waited for more-a name, a species, anything-but Choso simply turned back to the tank, his hand still resting on the glass.
The other guy scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the price tag taped to the side. It was high. Very high. More than enough to make the manager happy, and frankly, Derek didn't care enough to pry.
"Well, uh-you want help loading it into your car?" he asked, stepping forward. "It's pretty heavy. I can grab a cart."
Choso nodded, a single, quiet motion. "That would be good."
They worked in near silence, Derek wheeling the dolly toward the loading bay while Choso walked beside him.
Derek grunted as they maneuvered it into the back of Choso's old sedan, he wiped his hands on his pants.
"Alright, that should do it. Take care of that fish, yeah?" Derek said, forcing a grin.
"......" Choso stood by the open car door, he looked down at the tank, and his breath caught in his throat-a shaky, almost, that ran through his entire body.
"Yeah..." he whispered, more to himself than to the other dude. "I will."
He got into the driver's seat, closed the door, and started the engine. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Derek watched him go, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.
Something felt off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged, turned, and walked back inside, already pulling out his phone.
Choso watched the aquarium shrink in his rearview mirror, the grin spreading across his face. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and his breathing was shallow, rapid.
The pieces he had collected till now, pieces of you. It'll be all completed now...
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