#Yandere Sephiroth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diacetyldemon · 8 months

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Touch from the Dark

Rating: E (18+)

Yandere!Sephiroth/Reader

Words: 3,279

Description: Nothing in your life matters besides submission, and Sephiroth wants nothing more than for you to find your true place in life and eternally submit to him. The small piece of your mind that's left won't let it happen, but it's not clear if that small piece will last.

AO3 link

this could be viewed as a sequel to my other fic, but i didn't write it with that in mind. i'll admit, i went a little crazy with this one. there's a lot of abuse, mindbreak, and non-con in this so you've been warned!

You don't have anything now, not even your thoughts.

This realization - this particular thought - isn't exactly a new one. You'd known it for so very long by this point, long after you've lost count of the days or the time or anything because nothing in your life matters anymore except submission. Nothing else matters.

It's something you've come to terms with, but for some odd reason, this time it feels especially brutal. The condemnation to a life of agony with a truly monstrous man was a bitter pill, but you swallowed it, the complete lack of agency. This time, however, the thought cuts like a wire through your brain, a shock to the system unreplicated since your initial capture.

Something deeper unsettles you - it comes to you as a vision of the future. The future feels vague, and fuzzy, almost like a far-away city. All it contains is you, and nothing. You've become nothing, no personality at all, a completely blank slate in the future, no thoughts or ideas or any original action, just an eternal cycle of yes-sir-of-course-sir, casually looping on, never changing, never stopping, never faltering. It makes you feel sick, in a way the whole situation hasn't before, like the disgust and fear and desire are rotting inside you, tainting everything else hour by hour. You try to squeeze the vision, the concept, out of your mind.

The thought came to you at the feet of Sephiroth. He was kicking you in the stomach.

You run your fingers over the deep bruises, flinching at the touch. It's not clear why you keep touching the wounds, but it makes you feel more real. (What is "real"? You don't know anymore.) A particularly tender spot makes a jolt of pain rush through you that’s so sharp you suspect he’s accidentally cracked a rib, and it doesn’t surprise you. It’s happened before.

There’s no point in trying to relax since you know it’s impossible. Since day one in this Godforsaken compound, you couldn’t relax, and that was likely the point. Over time, you’ve learned that if Sephiroth is anything, it’s calculating. Every square inch of the compound - the blankness of the walls, the lack of windows, the lack of clocks, the constant cold - is to help weaken you, break you down into what he wants you to be. His perfect little pet at the perfect little position - at his feet.

For a brief moment, there’s the echo of footsteps and you immediately straighten up, completely at attention. It’s funny, the little ways your brain has been trained to respond perfectly yet unconsciously. It was not an easy shift; at first, there was fight, at first there was soul, but now you’ve become insipid. Maybe that’s what you wanted this whole time. After so much pain and agony after breaking the rules, you realized you needed to wave the white flag, at least in most ways - you still had a little piece of yourself, seldom-seen, but still there.

However, over time, you can’t help like the little bit left is fading. Sometimes, entirely at random, you feel good about your situation. They’re so brief and fleeting yet intractably devastating, the idea that eternal submission is a great deal, that you love Sephiroth and everything he gave you. Yet they keep coming, and each time you get more and more concerned, wanting to punish yourself a thousand times over. You’ve lost your mind - in more ways than one.

Later in the day? Night? Sephiroth comes to you, again, as icy and mysterious as ever. He approaches you in your room, a small blank space with a (surprisingly comfy yet so incredibly cold) bed and not much else. There you sit, dumbly, and he doesn’t say anything; after looking at you for a few stomach-churning moments he reaches a hand up and strokes your hair, rather delicately. Initially, you attempted to avoid his gaze, but you quickly corrected yourself. Such a basic rule couldn’t be violated at this point, or he might actually make you pay the ultimate price. Then again, you’d deserve it.

He still hasn’t said anything, instead traveling his fingers down your jawline, trailing across your neck. After another moment of staring, and then he sits next to you and grabs you in a tangle of limbs to sit on his lap. Pain from your core immediately shoots through you, exceptionally sharp, and all you can do is whimper at the sensation and you notice the self-satisfied expression on his face. After the initial wave of pain, you relax, leaning against his toned chest, trying to breathe deeply enough to help cope with the stinging. He starts stroking your hair, again, and you suddenly feel very, very tired and extremely elated and satisfied. It’s hard to hide the weariness on your face, although you always looked weary so it’s not like much changed.

However, since Sephiroth seemingly knows you better than you know yourself, he seems to be able to tell the difference between actual tiredness and the general exhaustion that plagues your whole being. “Go to sleep”, he says, more a command than any sort of suggestion, but you obey; the tiredness in your body wouldn’t have allowed you to stay up anyway.

In the early phases of sleep, you feel your body being moved, clothes being methodically taken off, but you don’t even respond to it. It’s not even really on your radar anymore, so you simply plunge more deeply into dreamless sleep.

All you can do with your free time is wander the halls of the compound, counting steps and walls and the few pieces of furniture that you were allowed to have. You’ve read the few books here 15 separate times, it seems, so there’s not much else to do with your life. The true purpose of your life was right in front of you but you kept denying it. The cherry on top of the cruelty and sadness of your life was the simple fact that it had become nothing more than a waiting game - waiting for your master Sephiroth to arrive, whenever he did, and inflict whatever he saw fit upon you. It was a gamble, all day every day, and when he arrived this time, you wondered if you were gonna get lucky, but you knew you probably were going to lose.

He walks up behind you, slowly, and places his hands on your shoulders, and you flinch. It felt like you couldn’t compose yourself well, today. Tonight. Seemingly ignoring your mistake and leaning in closer, his voice suddenly seems thinner than usual, like a shadow of a whisper. “You’re almost there.”

“What?” Your voice is so quiet that you wondered if you even said anything.

He grabs your forearm, tightly enough to bruise. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he replies, the darkness immediately back in his tone. Your voice catches in your throat instead of being able to respond, and the punishment is swift; a sharp slap across the face, stinging brutally. In other words, you got what you deserved.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can squeak out. He lets go of you, and you stumble and fall suddenly, seemingly off balance. He begins to walk away, stopping only once to glance at you, in a sickeningly-familiar look of disgust, yet also affection - both affection out of pity, and a genuine, sick, disgusting, amazing love for you. Will you ever be able to return it?

“How pathetic.”

You, being the silly, sad, precious little thing you were, had to push the limits. You made a mistake. It was a serious mistake, and you knew it at the time but at the same time something had possessed you and you couldn’t stop it, it was like a forest fire, wildly out of control, completely consuming until there was nothing left -

“Just what were you thinking?” Sephiroth’s grasp on your hair is so tight, he practically picks you up off the ground. “I do all these things out of love, and this is how you repay me?”

“I - I -”

He drags you by the hair a few feet over, causing you to cry out in pain - he’s strong enough to rip the hair out of your head. He pulls out his sword, endlessly long and sharp, and holds it against your throat, just grazing the edge on your skin. “I thought you knew better than trying to leave me.”

You hiccup with sobs, again. The words won’t even come out of your mouth despite your best efforts, only coming out as an incoherent, sloppy mess of tears. The sword is still at your throat. “Perhaps I should break your legs,” he says, casually. All you can do is whimper in response, trying to plead with your eyes, although you knew it couldn’t outdo the sheer hatred in his.

He pulls the sword away from your throat, but quickly settles for a solid slash against your arm, making you squeal in pain and blood to pour down your arm. You think it’s deep enough for stitches - all the cuts you’ve gotten make you have a solid sense for these things. Redirecting his efforts, he slices through your clothes and gives you plenty of little cuts in the process, and you’re reduced to gasps, trying to get air through your abused lungs.

Wordlessly, he picks you up - all your wounds, and you scream in protest - and slings you over his shoulder like it’s nothing (it is nothing) and you love being nothing. He carries you over to your bed and roughly throws you down on it, making you writhe in pain, blood still leaking from your arm onto your bedsheets, tears freely flowing from your eyes. No sounds are in the room besides your desperate sounds of struggle.

He approaches the head of the bed briefly, wiping away your tears. “Poor thing,” he cooed, condescension dripping from each word. “Too stupid for your own good.” You offer a wheeze in response, and he slaps you so hard you swear you can feel it in your neck.

“I-I’m hic sorry!”

“You’re not,” he snaps back, wrapping his hand around your throat so tightly you begin to struggle for breath. “Don’t worry, darling, you will be.” You cannot wait.

He takes his jacket off, but not his pants (probably to make you feel more vulnerable in the nude), and grabs some ropes, beginning to tie you to the bedposts with ease. It’s hard not to struggle in response to the sheer pain, screaming louder than ever and the material of the rope seems to gnaw right through your skin. Blood is still leaking from your wound.

Admiring his handiwork for a moment, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, in a way that is far too delicate for the situation. “You’re perfect like this,” he murmurs, and you’re positively elated that you’re perfect for him notices the blood on your arm, trickling down all over it and soiling the sheets. He leans down and licks a bit off, making your wound stab you and making you whimper meekly. Before standing back up, he gets close to your ear and gives you a simple instruction.

“Embrace the feeling.”

You’re thinking you might know what he means.

Of course, since this is a punishment that you deserve, he quickly begins running his hands over your body, intentionally putting pressure on your most sensitive wounds, particularly the potentially cracked rib, making you scream and making him smile smugly. “We haven’t even started yet, and you’re screaming already.” The words put the fear of God and a deep excitement in you.

He retreats from your tear-blurred vision for a moment but quickly comes back with a flogger. You’re almost sick at the sight, knowing full well what’s coming already. Sensing the fear in you, he smiles, prideful and disgusting and beautiful. “I’m teaching you your place. I think you know it already”, he adds, and something stirs inside you. It’s not clear what.

He whips you, hard. You can’t help but scream and writhe in agony as he hits you hard enough to leave welts, and it feels like he’s practically ripping your skin apart. Not too long after the beginning, you lose the will to scream and are reduced to pathetic mumbling and sobbing, feeling the pain intensify over and over and over. It’s like he’s trying to kill you with pain alone, and maybe you’re willing to die.

Bordering on unconsciousness, the something inside you that was stirred is still kicking, deep inside you, and you’re almost as worried about what it is as the situation at hand. It’s strangely sick yet soothing, and you’re almost longing for it, even though you don’t know what it is, you seem to want it but also not want it and it’s all too confusing and you just want all of it to be over. But deep down, you don’t.

Suddenly, you are awoken out of your dream-state by another harsh slap to the face. “Pay attention”, he commands, anger clear in his voice, and punctuated with another slap for good measure. There’s a seemingly endless amount of red marks on your stomach on top of your wounds, stinging and making your heart beat faster than ever before, feeling like you may actually die this time, but you don’t want to. And you’re not sure why you don’t.

Staring blankly, you watch him reach down and pull his cock out in all its glory. It’s hard not to stare at his body for a moment - the almighty Sephiroth, so much power, so much strength…

He approaches the head of the bed and grabs a solid fistful of your hair with one hand, using the other to slap his cock against your face a few times. Instinctively, you try to shy away, but the hand in your hair guarantees that won’t happen. It’s another indignity in a series of indignities, and yet, it felt different than anything that he had done before.

“Open,” he commands, and you obey. All hell breaks loose as he immediately slams his cock down your throat, making you gag and tears well up in your eyes. He keeps your head nice and steady as he fucks your throat, seemingly trying to ram himself as deep as he could get. Violently, you gag and sputter, too distracted by the relentless assault on your throat to do anything to give him any sort of satisfaction. Still blocked by the last barrier in your mouth, he growls in frustration.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth and giving you a few more good cock slaps - getting even more spittle and saliva all over your face - he makes a second attempt. “Come on,” he says, voice unusually husky as he plunges into your mouth again. “Take it.”

Relaxing your throat as best as you can, he finally pushes past, causing you to essentially choke on his cock, and he leaves it in so you can thrash about for a few moments before withdrawing. Coughing violently, you writhe in pain, not only in your throat and body but also mentally. You felt as if you could almost reach out and touch it, this invisible thing you wanted oh so badly.

In the moments after his withdrawal, where you caught your breath and fought with your both physical-and-psychic pain, he was looking you up and down, admiring the sad mess you were.

“How disgusting.”

He reaches aside and pulls out a towel, roughly rubbing it against your face, to get most of the mess off of you, but not all of it, and it doesn’t make you feel much better about anything.

“Open,” he commands again, and you immediately comply for him to spit in your mouth. “There,” he says, stroking your hair. “Since you seem to like it so much.” The action didn’t sicken you as much as your immediate compliance did. The immediate compliance didn’t sicken you as much as the brief jolt of pleasure that came with obedience. What was happening to you?

In the back of your mind, you knew Sephiroth could feel the internal battle inside of you, but he gleefully let it rage on in favor of untying your legs, stroking them a couple of times, a strangely tender action in a moment like this.

“You’re right there,” he says huskily as his hands go up and down your legs. “All you need to do is embrace it.” Without much else preamble, he rams his cock inside of you, causing your eyes to roll back at the white-hot sensation of pain, mixed with pleasure. It was so much, everything everywhere all at one moment, and it makes you disgusted, but you love it. The combination seemed so strangely intoxicating, in a way you couldn’t put your finger on but all you knew is it made you feel good.

“So wet for me already,” he chuckles, running his hands across your body, triggering quiet protests from your wounds. As soon as he starts moving, his pace is fast and ruthless, slamming into you so hard that the pain in your wounds scream out and you’re reduced to mumbling as he scrapes the edges of your cunt. The lewd, wet sounds fill the room, but everything seems so strangely out of focus…

A jolt of pleasure goes up your spine as he reaches down to rub your clit, making you feel even more overwhelmed yet deeply satisfied as if you’ve sated some deep need. There’s a sudden wave of euphoria flowing over you, and you realize Sephiroth is doing you a favor, giving you the greatest gift of all - the position at his feet.

After that single thought, you cum, clamping down on him, genuine moans of pleasure leaving your throat for the first time in forever. He doesn’t slow down, ramming into you for another solid, sweaty minute while overstimulation begins to kick in and make you squirm before cumming inside you, completely flooding your cunt.

He pulls out, watching cum ooze out of your abused hole with complete satisfaction. You lay in front of him, completely exposed, twitching and bruised and beaten but satisfied - almost perfection in his eyes. You weren’t perfect, not quite yet, but you had made major strides. It seemed it was all beginning to take, and he couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

However, much like all his internal mechanisms, Sephiroth doesn’t express anything. He stands up and dresses himself, leaving you tied to the bed overnight. Yet before he leaves, he pulls you in for a deep kiss, tongue plunging into your mouth and you replied eagerly, suddenly unable to get enough of him.

Once you’re untied - seemingly in your sleep, since you don’t ever recall seeing him - you’re completely at peace. It dawned on you that what you wanted, what you needed, had been there all along. Once you finally got your strength back to walk (took a couple of days, but you needed the lesson), you strode around the compound still feeling empty, but not for a lack of freedom. It was a lack of Sephiroth. In fact, you had realized you had achieved complete freedom in slavery, nothing else mattering in your world except submission.

Even through all the agony and abuse and pain, your loyalty could never falter. He loved you even when you were a bloody mess on the floor, having to pay the price for your transgressions. He loved you through all your weakness and whininess and insubordination. You weren’t perfect, not yet, but you were determined to be, all for him. You loved Sephiroth.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #sephiroth/reader #sephiroth #yandere sephiroth #my writing #yandere #the era of sephirothposting is back

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asexual-abomination · 2 years

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Getting better Pt. 1

Platonic!Yandere!Sephiroth x Autistic!Physically disabled! Reader

Hello I am back with something and idk if it’s very good but this whole thing was lodged in my brain so I needed to spit it out.

Also the whole elevator scene is almost directly taken from a one shot I once read on here that I cannot find for the life of me. I really wanted to get this out but I also want ask the original writer if they’re okay with me using their idea. If anyone recognises the idea and can send me the original link that’d be great!

CW: single use of the r-slur, if I’m missing anything please let me know!

Oh and also the reader’s physical disability in this is based on my own irl one - I don’t use mobility aids just yet, but I end up in lots of pain very quickly and have to wear joint braces, especially on my legs.

As always, I’m not a professional writer, I have no formal education in writing whatsoever, so any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Hope you enjoy reading!

—//—

You pull yourself up towards the bar, every joint in your body squealing out in pain, despite this being your first exercise of the evening. You had thought, naively, that lifting your own body weight should be doable, especially since it took pressure off of your legs, where the pains were worst. You were clearly mistaken, your entire upper body now just in hot agony.

But you couldn’t quit. Not now, not as you were barely beginning.

You said you’d get ten reps in, so you were going to get ten reps in.

The complete silence of the Shinra employee gym gave you confidence to speak aloud, trying to keep yourself hyped for the exercise.

“One… T-two… ah! Ow! Three…”

“Your form is awful.”

The voice was calm, buttery smooth and deep, with a lilt of confidence that told you this man knew what he was talking about.

“Oh… so how do I do it right then?” The question was asked with an unappealing grunt as you dropped from the bar, listening to the sound of footsteps covering the ground towards you.

Once you realised the man was standing over your shoulder, you stiffened, not having actually expected him to come over and help.

“The main problem is your balance, you need to pull your legs with you, and use your core too. This one is a full body workout, not just for the arms.”

Damn it.

“Ah, that makes sense… do you have any recommendations for arms then? I’m kinda new to this whole thing.” You spoke with a nervous chuckle, turning around to look at your newfound companion.

He was tall, with gorgeous long silver hair that floated past his wide, muscular shoulders, covered with a beige, blank tank top. He was, objectively, attractive as hell. Even without feeling that way, you knew what society found sexy and you could appreciate the aesthetic beauty of this man. You swore you knew him from somewhere.

You hoped you weren’t too visibly flustered by the closeness that you had only just recognised, taking a nervous step back while you awaited his answer.

“I’d say a beginner should start at the beginning. If you want to work out your arms, use the lighter weights, just over there.”

He gestured over towards the weight section, where there was a rack of dumbbells of many sizes, including ones so tiny you wondered if they even classified as weights.

“That’s… a good idea,” You laughed, “I guess I just wanted to throw myself in at the deep end.” You joked, keeping the mood light as you trailed over to where he had directed.

Looking over the selection of weights, you decided to go with second lightest pair, which made your elbows creak, but you grit your teeth and moved over to the seating so you could get back off your feet. The man had followed you to the same section, but he seemed to be preparing an ungodly amount of weights into what you assumed was a bench press.

“So…” You pulled your left arm up with the weight, following a diagram on the wall, “Why are you down here? So late at night, I mean?” You specifically chose to come here so that you wouldn’t have to be seen, so you supposed you may as well pick this guy’s brain if he would be annoying you.

“The SOLDIER training facility can only be kept open for so long each day, so I thought I’d get in some regular exercise too.” He still hadn’t finished loading up the weights, and you were a bit concerned by what he considered ‘regular’ exercise.

“You’re a SOLDIER? I guess that makes sense, I’ve probably seen you on the news or something.” You were on your fourth rep, and your left elbow was crying out for a break.

“What?”

“I just thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it, so I’ve probably just seen you around.”

“How interesting…” He spoke with a chuckle, “And who are you, hmm?”

“I’m YN, I just work in the analytics department. Who are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Should I?”

“Sephiroth. My name is Sephiroth.”

“That’s… a lovely name.” You remembered a bit clearer now, hearing about a first-class SOLDIER on the news by that name. How funny that you got to meet him in real life.

“What about you? Why are you working out so late at night?”

“I was sort of hoping I could be alone… I already said, I’m new to this, so, I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“That’s not the best idea, you know. You should have someone mentor you, make sure you don’t hurt yourself while you’re just starting out.”

He finally seemed satisfied with the amount of weight on the bar, as you began reps with your right arm. You wondered if the bar was actually strong enough to hold all that.

“Well, I don’t think anyone would want to mentor me, it’d probably be quite the hassle since I’ve got no idea what I’m doing.” You explained, not expecting an answer.

“I could always help you.”

That took you by surprise, surely a SOLDIER, especially a first-class one would be far too busy to help out someone like you, but at the same time, who were you to turn such an offer down?

Your only response ended up being a bewildered laugh, finishing up your reps before looking around and trying to decide on the next best course of action.

Sephiroth also went quiet, the look on his face was tense, deep in thought.

“I mean it. Perhaps it’s odd, but I find it’s useful to follow my impulses. Besides, they say a true master must be able to teach.”

“I guess that makes sense, alright then, what should I try now?”

—//—

“So, are you from Midgar?” Sephiroth offered a gentle hand hosting over your leg as he showed you how to lift yourself on the bar, as you had decided to return to the difficult exercise.

It had been a few weeks since you had come under Sephiroth’s wing, meeting him at dead of night in the gym several nights a week, so you trusted him enough to give an honest answer.

“Nah, only moved here a year ago, I assume you’re Midgar born and raised?”

“But of course.” He said with a soft smirk, walking away once he was satisfied that you were on form. “Why did you come here? Given the war with Wu Tai and Avalanche, it’s not exactly a dream home, wouldn’t you say?”

“I came here for the same reasons most anyone comes here, work and medicine. I think this place is quite the dream home honestly, I’ve got everything I need.”

You lifted yourself with a grunt, having stopped caring about how you sounded a while ago.

“Medicine? Who do you need medicine for?”

“Myself! Is that not obvious?” You laughed at what felt like an insane question from the SOLDIER.

“You don’t seem sick… have you recovered?”

What a strangely genuine question.

“Have you seen me?! My body is a wreck, honestly!” You raised your arms incredulously, showing off what you considered the state of your body, while not visibly broken, internally felt ruined.

He gave you nothing more than an odd look, turning away.

“I mean it! There’s a reason I struggle so much to exercise, I’m not just lazy.” You defended yourself, believing that he was judging you.

—//—

You were stumbling through the throng of people standing by the elevator, wondering why no one was stepping inside since the stairs were a death sentence.

When you saw Sephiroth standing inside, you scoffed, walking in before hitting the button for the 36th floor. You noticed that he was heading to the 58th floor, where the Turks did most of their office work.

The doors slid closed as you turned around and stood at his side, letting out a long suffering sigh once you were out of view of others.

“What a day…” You sighed, truly and deeply tired, but hoping you could turn this into some kind of friendly banter between technical coworkers.

“It’s 8:30 in the morning.” He turned to you with what you thought was a lighthearted smile, which quickly became a frown. “Has something happened?”

“My boss… yeah, my boss happened!” You laughed, to keep the sourness out of your tone. “He just turned up like half an hour before the end of my shift yesterday, dumped a whole week’s worth of work on me, then told me he wanted it done by today! I spent four whole hours in overtime, but it’s still not done.” You sighed again, the reality of the situation setting in.

“This… this might be the last time we ever see each other.”

“What do you mean, over one mistake?” He seemed incredulous.

“My boss has been looking for a reason to fire me since he met me. He thinks I’m a drag on the company.”

At that, he merely hummed in response, turning away and quite efficiently ending the conversation.

You cursed yourself internally for making things awkward and annoying Sephiroth. You hadn’t intended to upset your silver-haired friend, only to state what you knew was true about your workplace.

At the 33rd floor, the elevator rumbled to a stop and opened its doors to reveal your boss.

“You.”

The second he turned his eyes on you, anger spilled clearly into his entire body language. He didn’t move from his place in the doorway, preventing the elevator doors from closing as he began to rant angrily.

“You’ve put the whole upstairs office in chaos! I can’t believe this! I give you one simple task and you fuck it up! This is why we shouldn’t keep retards like you in the office, you hold everyone back!” He growled out, taking a breath and giving you a chance to respond.

“Sir -I- the task was, um, far beyond my capabilities, especially in such a short time-“

“Shut up! You’ve done nothing but irritate me since you got here, go and pack your shit! I can’t wait to get rid of your pathetic ass!”

You breathed heavily, digging your nails into your arms as you held back ugly tears, not wanting to seem more pitiful than you already were.

“Right- right awa-“ You began, your mind racing with thoughts and plans of what the fuck you could do next, where you could go, who you might have to get help from, when you were suddenly reminded of Sephiroth’s presence next to you.

He took one, two, three long, heavy strides towards the elevator door, grabbed your boss by the arm and uttered two simple words.

“Get out.”

Your boss, shocked, stumbled back into the open entryway of the elevator, before giving you a sharp glance and turning on his heel to run. As the doors closed once more, you cleared your throat through your tears.

“Thanks, Seph.” A nickname that very few were allowed to call him. “There was no - no need for that though. I’m still fired, either way. But I guess it’s nicer to not be dealing with him anymore.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not? Not what?”

“You’re not fired. I won’t have it.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, Seph, but I don’t think it’s your call to make.”

The doors opened again on your floor, but as you were stepping out, muttering apologies and goodbyes to your friend, he grabbed your arm firmly to halt your words.

“You aren’t leaving me, you’re mine.”

He said it so simply, as if stating scientific fact, before releasing your arm and returning to his full, now suddenly intimidating stature. In your hurry to get out of the elevator before the doors closed, you had no chance to respond.

With the doors closed, you heard the machine whir of the elevator rising and continued to stand dumbfounded for a long moment. Eventually, you stumbled over to your desk, setting out the work you were meant to complete today, all while packing as many miscellaneous items as you could into your bag.

At the end of the day, you returned to your home, provided by Shinra, which you were sure you’d lose within a couple of days.

There was a single letter on the floor inside your door, from the corporation, seemingly sent just today. My eviction notice, you grimly thought.

—//—

Rufus Shinra smirked as he signed the papers before him.

The firing and promotion of some mid-level analytics workers was not usually his business, but today he found himself following the odd request of the greatest SOLDIER to ever live.

In truth, he already had parameters in place to ensure the strange person Sephiroth had set his eyes on would not be leaving the company any time soon, setting them as a useful tool for controlling him.

But what he did not expect was for Sephiroth himself to come to him and request the immediate firing of his new ‘friend’s’ boss, along with a request for said friend to get a promotion that would put them in much more contact with the Turks and SOLDIER departments.

So although the paperwork might have been trivial to some, Rufus, even if confused, took joy in getting one more clasp on the SOLDIER.

—//—

Thanks for reading!

#autism #autistic reader #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #sephiroth #yandere sephiroth #physically disabled

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sephirthoughts · 3 days

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what if sefikura but cloud is the horny yandere who won’t leave sephiroth alone

#sefikura #sephikura #sephiroth #ff7 #ff7 rebirth #cloud strife #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth x cloud #sephiroth ff7 #yandere #is #hot #af #cute twink

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hopplo99 · 1 year

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I have never played Final Fantasy VII in my life but I recently had a dream where I was playing the game and then Sephiroth came out of my screen and I panicked, then he came towards me, grabbed my jaw and then called me a good boy???

I am so confused by this.

#sephiroth #you can turn this into a fic idk #kinda yandere-ish i guess??#final fantasy vii #dreams are weird and i don't get them

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blueluneacy · 2 years

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tumblr bringing porn back is a sign for me personally actually

fr tho its crazy to think i started this blog when i was in one of the lowest points of my life, and now, im in my last semester in college, im working, and i finished applying to vet school. i hope you all have grown and learned to love as well

#not writing #mine #personal #its time to come back and write my magnus opus #yandere sephiroth in 2022

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crisiscutie · 4 months

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dollhouse

One of my yandere musings inspired me to write this! I always found the idea of a yandere Sephiroth stealing the darling of Fluffy Sephiroth to be really interesting, so why not do it now? Fair warning though, these are pretty gloomy.

Pairing: AC Sephiroth/Domestic Darling.

Content Warning: NSFW. Noncon. Emotional Abuse. Milk/Nursing Kink. Corruption Kink. Pregnant Darling.

Your weak moans broke the defeaning silence as he languidly fucked your cunt, his hand on your left thigh and the other on your right hip.

Damn your body working against you. Your cunt had a mind of its own; a trembling, gushing, wet mess that relentlessly pleaded for more of him.

But this wicked mockery of the man you loved disgusted your hurt mind.

You wished you were strong enough to support Sephiroth in the fight against his dark mirror...

His slit blue eyes and his twisted smile bore into you and your swollen, pregnant belly. It was clear that in his wicked fantasy mind, he thought this moment between you two was intimate, as if it was natural. It couldn't have been further from the truth, your truth.

"You've never looked so lovely before, my darling," he whispered, his velvety, "sweet" voice tainted with malice. He often tried to mimic your sweet husband to break you, but you always saw right through him. You won't give in. You don't want to.

He increased the power of his thrusts, coaxing a louder moan from your sweet lips, but still keeping that tortuously slow pace.

Oh, how you wanted this to end. How you wanted your Sephiroth back and live the happy life you two had before.

As his hand moved from your hip to your pregnant belly, you clenched your teeth, your protective maternal instincts triggering. No. No. Not your baby. Not what you had left of him.

But as usual, you couldn't move very much. It's like something is keeping your arms down, pinned to the bed. As much as you tried to move against this force, you only arched your back.

Your inner walls tightened around his cock as he delivered a particularly brutal thrust when you failed to respond to him.

"Our child will grow up to be strong. I will be the one to guide her - forever!" He growled.

His vast, dark wing sprouted from his back, wrapping you in its embrace as he continued to stroke your belly.

"You don't need to worry, darling. He's intertwined with me... a part of my very essence," For a brief second, his eyes widened as he said those last words.

He leaned down towards your pregnant belly, his lips hovering close but not quite kissing it.

You didn't react to what he said about your baby. Your focus was on his unsettling words. It's impossible, he couldn't be him. Your Sephiroth is still out there somewhere!

The initially gentle hand on your pregnant belly became possessive and rough as it moved up one of your milk-filled tits.

Your body twitched, a mixture of pain and pleasure unraveling within as he coaxed milk from your engorged nipple, his dark grin slightly widening at your reaction.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll make sure every drop of this precious milk is put to good use."

He squeezed your abused tit harder, reveled in more milk seeping over his hands and your belly. The traces of JENOVA'S imprint within your milk sent him into a primal frenzy.

His luscious lips hungrily latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirled around the flesh as he was determined to make true on his last words.

The thick and creamy liquid danced on his tastebuds, making his chest rumble with a twisted delight.

His cock constantly kissed your cervix, while only ever so slightly increasing his agonizing tempo. Even in his primal frenzy, he's still such a calculating bastard.

He released your nipple with a "pop" when he finally cummed inside you.

You screamed, feeling every drop of his corrupted seed mixing with your cunt juices. It's overwriting your desires and twisting your thoughts to fixate on him.

And it's disgustingly lukewarm, moving within you and coating every part of your insides like it's another entity. Why do you want more of it?!

He had a rare, radiant smile on his face, just like your lost husband. He watched tears streaming down your cheeks, your resistance finally started to melt.

Your husband was weak, he never deserved you... The man with you now could always protect you and your daughter. He could give you everything you ever wanted... Right?

Sephiroth licked the tears from your left cheek, before nuzzling into it and whispering softly in your ear.

"With me, all of my dolls will know true joy."

Next I do Yandere 7R Sephiroth musings? 👀

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after-witch · 1 year

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That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Title: That Great Triumphal Arch [Yandere Sephiroth x Reader]

Synopsis: Sephiroth took you. And now all you know is pain. FF7R-verse.

Word count: 2096

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, physical abuse and violence, noncon and sexual abuse, unwanted pregnancy for reader

You’ve been hurt before. You’re not some dainty thing, kept in a tower all your life. You knew the streets. There were arms broken in alley tussles, noses bloodied through a drunken bar fight, and lately--far more lately--cuts from blades and the edges of Turk bullets and all those aching wounds that come with willingly signing up for a fight far bigger than yourself. You were under no illusions, when you joined with Cloud, what might lie ahead.

Though perhaps, being kidnapped by Sephiroth was not in your visions for the Could Happen in the Future. Getting hurt, yes. Being wrapped up in some insane plot to save the world, sure.

Being targeted by Sephiroth? Not so much.

Yet it happened. It happened so fast that if you were asked to recall the specific details, you couldn’t say. You remember the blow to your stomach, the blow to your head. You remember looking up and seeing Sephiroth staring down at you, a smile on his face, the grayness of your vision blurring with the glimmering silver of his hair. You remember, or at least you hope it’s a memory and not just something you imagined, hearing Tifa shout out something, hearing the clash of blades.

But then there was nothing but grayness and fog and an awful, dreamless sleep.

When you woke up, he was there.

Smiling.

Speaking words that felt like black tar in your ear. How you were his. How you were a gift. How you were meant to be there.

And he hurt you.

So, so much.

He hasn’t stopped.

The pain is relentless, fresh, raw. You can’t get used to it, not like you might eventually get used to the ache from a broken rib from a single ill-timed bar brawl. It’s ever-changing, day by day.

Maybe that is why it’s taken you out so completely over the past few days (and just how long has he had you, in all?); got you weak and speechless, barely able to breathe much less think much less fight back much less--

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

The voice from above you is grating to your ears, like gravel being rubbed right into your bleeding, sore kneecaps. You’ve heard that damned voice so often lately, and sometimes you swear--you swear--that his lips aren’t moving when he speaks.

But why is he above you, again? You remember him hitting you this morning, you remember the kick that broke your ribs. You remember spitting in his face. And then, quite clearly, you remember the tip of his sword puncturing right through your wrist, leaving an almost disgustingly clean wound behind.

That was the last clear memory before all this.

So why is he above you, hair almost shimmering, eyes bright and piercing--what is that sensation, that awful, awful sensation? Like being pierced from the inside out.

“Beautiful… when you’re bleeding for me.” His voice is just a little breathy. A practiced sound, you think, because he doesn’t break so much as a sweat when he spends hours hurting you. It’s not like sex was going to knock the wind out of him, like his boot connecting solidly with your stomach once or twice or umpteen times did to you so readily.

Unwillingly, reality finally comes back to you, sore and sticky and painful, with his gloved hand tapping at your cheek; with the realization that he’s inside you, again, thick and intruding and insistent. It’s like a drum beat in your lower body, a rhythm you’ve come to understand after all this time--and it makes you feel sick, still, no matter how familiar it’s become.

A gloved thumb runs along your lower lip, catching on a scab healing over.

“Everything you do is for me… bleeding… breathing… your very existence.” There’s a sticky coolness to his voice that makes you want to peel your skin off even more than the ever-present sensation of his body above yours.

His voice continues, no matter how much you wish it would not.

“When will you come to accept that?”

You ignore the content of his words (you so often do, when you can get away with it) and merely squint your eyes, desperate to make sense of things despite your aching body. But you still can’t tell.

Did his lips move… or not?

His thumb presses down on the scab. And it’s such a small pain, really, compared to what you’ve been through. But you groan nonetheless, and squeeze your eyes shut to block out the stinging sensation spreading across your mouth.

“Answer me, and I may grant you mercy.”

You laugh, or at least you think it’s a laugh. A hoarse stuttering sound that wheezes out of your used and abused chest. In response, he thrusts harder, and your fingers curl on the sheets underneath you, desperate to gain purchase.

Above you (and inside you)-- there are signs that he is human, that he is not some infallible granite creature. Sweat on his naked chest. The movement of his hair, tickling your skin, as he begins to thrust quickly enough to signify his end.

A soft, low sound as he pushes inside you so deeply that it hurts, and then warmth--a burning warmth that shouldn’t feel like it does, stinging and slick. Is it because he’s fucked you so often, creating tears? Or is there something wrong with him, to make his seed more unpleasant? Or--the thought comes, unbidden, awful--something wrong with you?

His gloved hand taps your cheek again. It’s like being chided by a friend for dropping off in the middle of a conversation, but nowhere near as lighthearted.

“Where did you go, I wonder?”

You can’t answer him right away. Not without sacrificing dignity. So you keep your mouth shut and wait until your breath isn’t coming in so hard, and your heart rate has regained some sense of normalcy.

You look straight at him, at the eyes that seem to glow from within now, something awful inside them. You wait until he’s raised an eyebrow, just a little, a sign that he’s expecting you to speak.

And you do.

“I’ll never accept whatever delusion you’ve created about me.”

Yes, your voice is tired and hardly filled with the bravado you might have spoken with before he took you. But at least you got the words out. At least you know you spoke them with your own damn mouth.

His thumb returns to trailing gently on your lips. Almost soft, almost kind.

“But you’ve already accepted so much…”

You don’t ask what he means, exactly.

Later on, you’ll wish you had.

Your head lolls side to side. The pillow underneath, damp with your sweat, does nothing to ease your discomfort or the gnawing ache inside your chest.

“Do you really think they’ll come for you?”

Yes, you want to say. They are my friends. We would never give up on one another. But you press your lips tight.

“Don’t you know how long it’s been? How far they’ve traveled? They haven’t even tried to retrieve you.”

He’s lying. They would never just give you up, let you stay in his clutches. If they traveled, it was out of necessity, to find help or create a plan or get a better vantage point. Yes, that would be it. He’s… lying. Isn’t he?

“They’re concerned with far greater things than you, aren’t they? Do you think they’ll choose you over this world’s pretended sanctity?”

Yes, you want to say. Yes, yes, yes! But even you can’t pretend that wouldn’t be a bold, ridiculous lie. One life--or the world? Even if it was you… Even if it meant you were trapped here, with Sephiroth.

His voice continues to drip honeyed poison straight into your ears--straight into your mind. Soft whispers in the dark, over and over, reminding you, taunting you, telling you things that you must surely admit (deep, deep, deep down) are likely the truth.

But he can’t be doing this to you. It’s impossible. Because he’s not speaking. You’re staring right at him, right at his detestable face, a face you could now describe with uncanny certainty… and his lips are not moving.

You weren’t sure, before; you’d wondered at the way his whispers seemed to squirm right into your ears, no matter how far away he was or how fuzzy your vision got from pain.

You let out a confused groan that covers up whatever vile thing he blows into your ear next, though it doesn’t stop the awful sensation that comes with hearing him inside your skull.

“I don’t understand.” You practically moan the words out, like a sick child on a feverbed. The damp sheets and your clenching fingers, rubbing the sheets raw, are much the same. “How are you doing this?”

“Oh, darling.” He says--but doesn’t say--as his hand skims down your chest and rests on your stomach. The feel of the leather is cold and harsh, like a ragged seam dragging down your skin. “Don’t you know?”

You don’t know. You don’t know what he means, or why he’s doing this, or how the fuck he’s talking inside your head.

His hand doesn’t move, exactly, but presses down in a remarkably gentle gesture.

“Don’t you know what I’ve put inside you?”

There’s a terrible, long moment where the world drops out from underneath you. And then you’re back above with no air in your lungs, because you’ve screamed--you didn’t even know it.

He stares down at you with a patient smile until your breathing comes back, ragged and uneven.

“You’re lying.” Hot tears prick at your eyes, because you’re not stupid and you know what he means now, and you know that it’s the awful truth. You can deny a lot of things (and have done so at every opportunity) but this? This was real. It was sick and real.

“I never lie to you,” he says, lips still unmoving.

You know. You know. The calmness in his tone terrifies you more than any of his sweet poisons, than any of his bruising grips or swift strikes to your vulnerable body.

“It’s remarkable, what her cells can do. And you took to them so quickly.” His smile has an almost edge of ecstasy to it that turns your insides sour. “It’s destiny. Even you must admit that.”

You think the word “no” comes out, but you can’t be sure you actually said it. Maybe you’re talking without opening your mouth now, too. Maybe you’re losing it, like frayed edges of an old blanket, just waiting to be pulled out.

Sephiroth, if he notices your growing inner hysteria, chooses to ignore it. Instead, he leans down, taking a moment to rest his cheek against yours. He inhales softly through his nose.

“I thought you were at your most beautiful before, but this?” The hand on your stomach trails up until he’s grasping your chin, keeping you in place. “This might be preferable…”

“Stop.” The words come out soft and perhaps pitiable to anyone but the man above you.

He doesn’t even acknowledge them. Maybe you didn’t say them at all.

There’s something determined in his eyes now, as he stares down at you. You’re almost afraid to find out what it is.

“Mother has given me two gifts,” he says, softly, with reverence. “And I now will prove myself all the more worthy to her.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. It could be chaste, if anything Sephiroth ever did might ever be called that. The kiss tastes of his breath and your own tangy blood.

This time, when he speaks, his lips move--cruel and hot against your own.

“Do you think Cloud will be able to look you in the eye, once he knows what’s inside you?”

Hot tears slide down your cheeks and join the sweat already dampening the pillowcase.

His hand returns to your belly, cupping the skin there. There is warmth--he’s removed his gloves now--and the sensation makes you shudder.

“Do you think you can belong to anyone but me now?”

This time, his lips don’t move.

#yandere sephiroth #yandere final fantasy 7 #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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cyborgpulsebooks · 1 year

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the fact that urianger is neck and neck with sephy in that poll is probably the best thing that'll happen to me all week. my gorgeous queer femme in an open backed dress and slit up to his hip. my partnered-up man who co-parented a kid and likely fucks savage and tender on the reg. oh my god.

#this is not a bash against sephiroth but that delightful yandere cannot hold a CANDLE to my transfemme queen #cyborg rambles

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kitsunefox1108 · 1 year

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I really like your remnants of Sephiroth. can you do all three of them being yan self aware with one player/reader.

you mean all three are obsessed with the same reader? sorry if i misunderstood _________________________________________________

in fact, if all three are obsessed with you, you can put an end to yourself personally.

they like the fact that you are able to look at them. Often during a fight, they make everything more elegant and beautiful so that you enjoy watching.

They are interested in the fact that you potentially know more about them than anyone else they have seen, so they are interested in your personal encounter with the remnants of Sephiroth.

They will hunt you like hungry wolves, find a way to transport you to the final fantasy world, and be by your side whenever they find you.

They don't lose sight of finding Jenova, but they also make it a priority to keep you around.

You are like a soft plush toy that cannot be shared. One minute Yazoo hugs and caresses you, another moment Loz is crying on your shoulder, the third Kadaj makes you praise him and admit your weakness. they are interested in listening to your stories about how you lived in your world. But they always emphasize that you are better off with them.

Yazoo is most gentle with you. I have already said that he is charismatic and charming, so he will be more tender than everyone with you. Why not Loz? well… Loz isn't much softer than Kadaj and Yazoo, and uses you to cry on your shoulder if he's upset about something. Either likes to show you his fistfighting skills. if you do not listen to them, their instructions and so on, they do not stand on ceremony in teaching a lesson if they really want to scare you. ________________________________________________

speaking of the NSFW part, they really like to tease you about it. They try to be gentle so that you get the maximum pleasure, although it would seem that you do not like spending time with them so much, but the way you moan in agony while all three drive you to extreme exhaustion, you really enjoy it. as well as their characters, they also manifest themselves in terms of sex.

#yandere final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #kadaj x reader #yazoo x reader #loz x reader #sephiroth x reader #yandere sephiroth

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silverflqmes · 1 month

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Do you have any hcs for yandere Sephiroth? 👀

໒⦂ ‘𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄’ 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi so uh i don’t do yandere stuff, it’s not a topic i’m super comfortable with writing ( as mentioned in my rules ) but i will provide a more subtle, toned down version if that’s okay instead :’)

genre. angst + suggestive

tw. possessive behavior, implied manipulation, jealousy

disclaimer. there is a visible flip in the headcanons from pre nibleheim sephiroth to post — which takes on a darker approach. if it’s not something you are comfortable with reading, then don’t.

sephiroth x gn!reader.

⌗ as a person who dealt with the loss of those he allowed into his life, having brought his walls down for them.. i do think sephiroth might have developed a bit of overprotective behavior — which honestly, is expected..

⌗ he doesn’t want to lose you or for any harm to come your way. whether losing you refers to death.. or to someone else — he doesn’t want any of that to come to fruition.

⌗ everything in life he cherished has been taken from him and you are not about to be one of them..

⌗ normally he’s as cool as a pickle if you’re talking to someone else, but there’s this aura emitting from him.. one look at sephiroth and the innocent bystander is practically shaking in their boots.

⌗ you of course — would be confused as hell on this.. i mean when sephiroth pulls you closer, you just assume he wants proximity..

⌗ until you go home, that is, and he’s just holding you without any means of letting go.. it’s silly, watching that subtle, yet visible pout of his and the furrow to his brows and all is understood

⌗ piece of you by shawn mendes tbh that is where my brain is rn

⌗ sometimes it’s a little more than an inescapable hug and turns into a storm of kisses — perhaps even a mark or few would be left in his wake.. but nothing that makes you uncomfortable cuz he doesn’t want to hurt or force you into anything. consent!!

⌗ while he has selfish desires and would prefer to have you all to himself, he values boundaries and freedom — it’s something he wasn’t given and he isn’t about to take that away from you, too.

⌗ but if you were trying to get a reaction out of him by PURPOSELY trying to make him jealous.. good LUCK walking in the morning are the only words i have for you LMAO

⌗ there is after care tho trust and it’s all part of the plan because he gets to have you stay over and spend time with him<3 which — despite your grumbles — you are more than happy to do<3

⌗ now uh, post nibelheim sephiroth.. he is a different case cuz he’s under the influence of jenova cells — which are obviously making him do some wild stuff..

⌗ following the concept that you would have said cells opens up the opportunity to mess with you a bit, as a means of getting you to execute his whims. kinda like he does with cloud..

⌗ he’s aware you’re trying to take him back and save him from what he’s become, and uses that to his advantage. you would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?

⌗ slowly, he would isolate you from your companions — they want him gone, anyway, but you don’t. you couldn’t sit with the idea of your lover being gone, even in spite of all he had done.

⌗ you told yourself it wasn’t him, and it was true, it wasn’t. for that.. you wished to continue your attempts at saving him, even if it was a descent into madness..

⌗ gradually, you are succumbing to his words, allowing them to reshape the view you had made for yourself.

⌗ he was right, anyway. the humans who blindly believed in shinra- were the ones that gave the company the power and means of further destroying the planet for their glory. sephiroth was right in almost every way to execute the goals he made for himself.

⌗ he only ever appeared briefly to you, his caresses leaving enough of a linger to leave you touch starved — yearning for contact.

⌗ the one winged angel only whispered soon in that velvety tone of his, a reassurance of the reunion that would be upon you both in time.

⌗ but at times, you pressed, pleading for just another second — minute or few of his time.. and with that desperation in your voice, the expression that crosses your features, how could he refuse you?

⌗ he would spare his precious time and entertain you a moment longer, indulging just a bit in you, and himself, of course. but once more leaving you lingering, longing for more.

notes. not one for writing yandere oriented content, so i hope this was okay and fulfilling enough since i watered it down quite a bit :’) just not super comfy associating him with the qualities of a yandere..

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#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics.#sephiroth x y/n #sephiroth x you #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #sephiroth ff7 #sephiroth ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth headcanons #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy sephiroth

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