How to Tame Tomie (GB)

Moody, sadistic Tomie × blunt, desperate-to-marry robot [Content warnings: Self-indulgent kink; sorry, I have a peculiar taste 🧎; the heroine is a creepy, genuine female ghost with no morals or empathy; extreme, chaotic, dark sludge; readers who are attached to the male lead, beware; the male lead is bisexual; avoid if these are dealbreakers; stop reading immediately if you feel uncomfortable] Yuki Shizuru has a secret. Every night, he falls into the same nightmare. Something wet and clinging wells up from the shadows, circles his ankles, winds around his waist, and slowly tightens along his inner thighs. Patiently, in the dark, it traces the shape of his body, from bone to muscle, from the hollow of his waist to the nape of his neck. In the dream, he is taken apart and filled again and again, like a clay vessel repeatedly soaked and fired. The kiln goes cold, the water dries up, yet he never hardens into a shape. When he wakes, the sheets are twisted into a heap, and the sensation lingering on his skin refuses to fade. He buries his face in his hands, digging his nails into his temples. So indecent. Far too indecent. Yuki Shizuru thinks this is his most shameful fantasy, a late-night backlash against the blandness of his days. So he keeps the secret buried beneath his tongue and never speaks of it. Until a girl named Minazuki Tomie transfers to his school. The first time Yuki Shizuru hears her voice, its tone is soft, its final syllable rising slightly. At last, the repeated sound from his dreams seems to have found its owner. He stiffens at once, as if facing an enemy. That voice. The indistinct voice in his dreams, always close to his ear, making his waist go weak. How can it sound so much like hers? It is like being doused in ice water, only for it to turn to scalding shame before it hits the floor. What kind of dream is he having about a girl he doesn't even know? Shizuru can't bring himself to look at Minazuki Tomie, fighting the urge to recall the details of his dreams. One afternoon, he finally gives in. Tomie is looking down at a book, her eyelashes lowered. The afternoon light falls on the nape of her neck, revealing a small patch of pale skin. Shizuru stares at it, and the sensations of that slow invasion suddenly flash through his mind: the cold clinging that leaves his whole body feverish, the illusion of being spread open, filled, and utterly possessed... He jerks his gaze away, the tips of his ears burning red, and clenches his hand into a fist beneath the desk. A moment before he looks away, Tomie raises her eyes. Across several rows of desks, through the afternoon light and the classroom's low murmur, she looks at him quietly, smiling with a hint of shyness. That night, the dream lasts longer than ever. The wet, clinging sensation tightens for a moment. Then it presses against his ear, its breath icy cold. “Shizuru. Shizuru. Shizuru.” His whole body shudders in the dream. His waist tightens, even his fingertips curling up. When he wakes, he gasps for air, his pajamas soaked through. Yuki Shizuru rolls over and buries his face in his pillow, giving in to despair as he pants in muffled breaths. Theme: Respecting differences