yandere jjba x f!reader (oneshots)

Risotto Nero

Warning/s: Gore, Metallica is used correctly👍👍

"Do you love me, darling?"

"Go to hell," You spat. The words were a struggle to get past your mangled tongue, each syllable a fresh agony as it dripped from your lips like the blood and saliva splattering on the cool tiles, but you put as much venom as you could into the three words all the same. Movement shifted in the reflections of the razors you had vomited; you could only watch helplessly as your attacker melted into the shadows, disappearing completely and no doubt awaiting your next move.

The fucker, that fucker... Impotent anger made you brush them aside, scattering them with an almost musical chime of colliding metal, but then you remembered where you were and that every movement was precious. Stand up. You had to stand up.

Stand up.

Getting back on your feet was a battle in itself, but you had no choice. You forced yourself to focus: one foot, and then the other, to one knee, and then the next knee, a deep breath and lift...

"Ohh...." the moan came as if dragged out of you. The world jumped and spun the moment you were fully upright, the lights and gleam of the floor tiles melding together in one hazy blur. You felt yourself slump against the nearby wall. You trailed a long smear of red behind you, but you forced yourself to keep standing, to keep moving. Every part of your body that had been slashed open with Metallica screamed its protest as you hobbled along, but the adrenaline was louder, pulsing through your head with each beat of your frantic heart.

It was a testament to the futility of it all that Risotto still hadn't moved to stop you again. Whether he was in front of you or behind you or even keeping pace as you struggled along was irrelevant. Any resistance you could have offered was absolutely laughable.

Then why...?

"I love you, you know." Nero's voice sounded somewhere to your side, close enough that you could swear you felt his breath on your cheek. It was unnerving how calm he was, even now. "That's the only thing it could be. There is no other reason you would invade my thoughts so constantly. Did you know? I never dreamed before I met you, not ones that I could remember, but it's become normal for me to wake up reaching for you."

You let him keep talking, long enough to make an educated guess about where his throat might be. When you thought you were sure you lashed out, swinging your elbow in a wide arc that only met empty air. You overbalanced, falling to the ground again with a cold thud that knocked the wind out of you and brought tears to your eyes. You blinked furiously, bringing the world back into focus; he was still stubbornly, frustratingly nowhere in sight. Your eyes locked on the limp hand in immediate view-your hand, you knew-and noticed with dull shock that your fingertips were blue.

"When I first brought you home, I knew it was possible you would never come to understand my feelings. I thought I was fine with the idea." Nero's voice came from somewhere above you now, continuing as if nothing happened, as if there wasn't a vague shape taking form under the skin of your fingertips, as if no agonized scream ripped out of you as perfectly formed needles burst forth, spraying the floor with yet more of your blood. You shook your hand desperately, trying to get them out, but the fatigue made your movements rough and uncoordinated, and you only succeeded in losing a couple before the rest shoved in deeper. If you were on your feet, you might have seen what Risotto saw-a beautiful abstract painting of glossy red against stark white, an art piece just for him. Struggle Against Finality, mixed media, multiple artists.

You didn't, though, and you had bigger problems. There was a haze in your thoughts, weak at first but more noticeable now, that transmuted overwhelming hysteria into faint confusion. How much blood had you lost? Were you always so cold?

"Yes. Yes, exactly," Risotto said encouragingly, your cry an answer to a question he hadn't asked, "it hurt. You can't imagine how painful love is."

"I think...I can guess..." You struggled to pull yourself along, unclear as to whether you had actually said the words or whether they stayed trapped in your head. Perhaps he was going to kill you. The thought sent a thrill of relief through your spine; you would only have to endure a little more of this torment before you could slip away into oblivion, forever free of him.

"I didn't know what to do. Living without you was unacceptable, but you threatened to affect my work: equally unacceptable. I became...confused. You were air, and I wasn't getting enough-how is that feeling, by the way?"

Your breath had been coming in unnatural, painful gasps, and there was a special cruelty in the concern in his voice when he pointed that out. You pulled forward again, jerking in surprise when you felt yourself collide with the wall; weren't you moving away from it? Where were you going? You felt yourself still as your eyes slid shut on their own, unable to make the effort of staying open any longer.

It was only now, in the moment you seemed to have finally given up, that Nero took you. He knelt down and pulled you into his lap with an uncharacteristic tenderness. You were too tired to try to check and see if he had become visible again, focusing only on trying to breathe as he gently plucked the needles he'd formed out of your fingers and tossed the to the side. He pressed his lips to the last couple left, dissolving them back into your blood with the same effortless grace he used to create them.

You still didn't move. You couldn't. The agony and fear had faded into a dull thrum as more oxygen made its way into your system, mingling with the adrenaline into a vague light-headed pleasure.

"I am patient. I have practiced. It was easy to pretend your feelings were out of my control, but no longer. I won't stop until you see how useless it is to live without loving me as I love you." He punctuated each sentence with a kiss-this one on your hand, this one on your neck, this one on your cheek-neither knowing nor caring that he was getting your blood on his own face. You felt the ground pull away as he lifted you up, the only thing in your world the tightness of his grip and the beating of his heart.

"I want you to love me so much it drives you mad."